Somewhere in South-West Judea
Judean Security Patrol Operations
November 26th, 2010 0400 Hours
Commander Will Ternon
"Diplomacy is a disguised war, in which states seek to gain by barter and intrigue, by the cleverness of arts, the objectives which they would have to gain more clumsily by means of war.” ~ Randolph Bourne
The great steel beast slithered through its peaceful water. The ship seemed to rise from the blue depths, its gray steel coming out of it like a serpent slithering to cut the throat of its prey. It was truly a naval snake, crawling around the water, waiting for prey to arrive. For it to be able to kill with a single slash of its fangs. To be able to cut the throat of the enemy with a single wisp of its mighty tail. To utilize its grip upon the waters where it rests to kill its prey from miles afar.
The SNS Velan sat comfortably on its expansive throne, trudging through the water at a slow, even pace. Its metallic cling against the water roared out across the waves. The ship was a mere fraction of the Solmian naval presence in the quadrant, but it belonged to a myriad of links, if this link was broken, the entire web of protection would cease to exist.
The bridge of this mighty vessel stood looking out over the waters, watching the dull horizon flow across the endless ocean. Concealed within the steel of the bridge was the crew, moving with their brisk steps across the entire ship, all following the orders stemming from the bridge and their commander.
The Commander himself was sitting awkwardly on his reserved chair, viewing the proceedings of the ship with careful examination. He was a pedantic ruler of his ship, ensuring that every little detail was cared for with precision and accuracy. The Commander walked away from his chair, standing tall, and marched towards a man staring into a brightly-lit computer screen.
The Commander's head stood hovering above the shoulder of the man, who did not move to accommodate or recognize the Captain's presence, he was intently observing the screen. The Commander breathed into his ear, "Report, Jenson."
"Yes, Sir," he quickly said without moving any other appendage beside his jaw, "No activity today, sir, a trading flotilla is suppose to come in from the North today, but they are cleared to arrive without stop."
"Thank you, Jenson, resume your duties," the Captain said and then the Captain turned around to converse with a woman, whom was hidden from the man's view.
"Wait, Sir!" yelled the man, who clumsily stood from his chair, grabbed a piece of paper sticking out of the wall and in one swift motion gave it to the Captain.
The Captain excused himself from the lady's presence and read the letter carefully, softly said thank you to the man and then yelled to the entire bridge, "All men on deck! Align Position 40 degrees Starboard! Maximum Speed to intercept unidentified foreign vessel!"
The bridge erupted into a chorus of movement and voices, the Captain's voice awaking the sleeping bridge and the piercing siren that flared to life awakened the entire crew. A dull red light pulsated over each room in the ship, men rushed to their respective areas and were somewhat pleased that there was a change to the daily routine.
The Captain smiled at the swiftness of his crew to prepare, he yelled another order, "Get that bird in the air! Hail the unidentified ship!"
He stared down at the deck, watching the five marines sprint into the helicopter, the marines held their assault rifles, and one of them gripped a sniper rifle that was unidentifiable to the Captain. He watched as their shapes rose into the helicopter, and within seconds of their arrival the helicopter took off, flying with intense speed towards the faint, dull ship on the horizon.
A man in the bridge tossed a mic to the captain, he quickly attached the ear piece and mic and waited for the thumbs up from one of his men. When he finally received it he made his brisk commands, <<"This is the SNS Velan, operating under the South Judean Solmian Naval Command and we herein order you to stop immediately, prepare to be boarded, and identify yourselves, over.>>"
He waited for a reply from the ship, he was actually quite enjoying himself at the moment. His year-long cruise had gone on without any disruptions to the status quo, and now he finally would be able to take action. He knew it was probably nothing, but the Solmian Navy was always prepared for the absolute worse case that could arise.
The five marines aboard the helicopter stood silently together, kneeling or sitting down on the hard ledge that was provided for them in the helicopter, the sniper sat closest to the drop the ocean, his rifle laying on his arms, ready to be brought up to his chest and fired, ready to pour hot lead down upon the unidentified, possibly, hostile ship. He was ready to assist his comrades below in case the need arose. He was not going to be touching the ship, he would stay in the hovering helicopter ready to kill if his comrades needed it.
The other four men were readying their assault rifles as well, checking them one last time in silence before they swung down into the ship. They were relaxed in their posture, they were the marines that they trained decades for. For most of the five in the helicopter this was their first real operation, first time that they would be able to use their weaponry on possible real people. To be in charge of life and death at the tip of their index finger. It was an exhilarating feeling. But, the marines took it as they were taught, they took it as a job, one that should be completed successfully at all costs.
The wind rushed into their faces as the helicopter made its way across the expanse towards the enemy ship. They had orders to board immediately, regardless of the interaction that the Commander would surely have with the unidentified ship. But, the marines already classified it as an enemy. Anything that isn't identified is classified as an enemy until proven otherwise, a doctrine that has saved thousands of lives.
They were to search the ship, identify it, classify its objectives, and seize it. Even if it was merely a trading ship, it will be escorted to the nearest port and then the procedures will be followed to ensure maximum security for Judea and Solm. The marines had already mentally mapped out the unidentified ship, and if it would prove itself hostile they would be able to deal with it accordingly. If it somehow destroyed the helicopter and ended their lives before they could have a say, they know that the Solmian Navy would take a swift vengeance and end the hostilities with a roar of their mighty power and sink this boat and all its inhabitants to the floor of this retched ocean.
The five men were now all silent, their hands not moving anymore as the pilot said, "Closing in on unidentified ship, prepare to board." They were prepared, their fingers waiting to clutch the rope and swing down unto the enemy ship and identify it for who it would truly be. They know the weapons they held well, they know how they would fire if the need arose, how they would be able to take life at the slightest of wrong glances.
But, the marine squad had strict orders to no fire unless fired upon or a major hostile threat is successfully identified. The Solmian Command did not want unneeded casualties on either side, the Commander probably just wanted to exercise his power upon a poor trading vessel that lacked the ability to ask permission to enter the Judean EEZ.
That was the conclusion of the marines, that is was a trading vessel, but they were still prepared for the event that it was a hostile ship, just in case the crew of the ship would burst onto the dock with guns firing, they were prepared for anything that could happen, as they were trained to prepare for. They were marines in their souls and they would act as such for the remainder of their lives. The tradition of the marines would never die out.
The marines made their last arrangements as they felt the helicopter slow down, the wind ceased to blow against their helmets, and flirt with their nostrils. They gripped their guns and readied the rope, the sniper took his position staring down into the ship. The team was ready.
The SNS Velan sat comfortably on its expansive throne, trudging through the water at a slow, even pace. Its metallic cling against the water roared out across the waves. The ship was a mere fraction of the Solmian naval presence in the quadrant, but it belonged to a myriad of links, if this link was broken, the entire web of protection would cease to exist.
The bridge of this mighty vessel stood looking out over the waters, watching the dull horizon flow across the endless ocean. Concealed within the steel of the bridge was the crew, moving with their brisk steps across the entire ship, all following the orders stemming from the bridge and their commander.
The Commander himself was sitting awkwardly on his reserved chair, viewing the proceedings of the ship with careful examination. He was a pedantic ruler of his ship, ensuring that every little detail was cared for with precision and accuracy. The Commander walked away from his chair, standing tall, and marched towards a man staring into a brightly-lit computer screen.
The Commander's head stood hovering above the shoulder of the man, who did not move to accommodate or recognize the Captain's presence, he was intently observing the screen. The Commander breathed into his ear, "Report, Jenson."
"Yes, Sir," he quickly said without moving any other appendage beside his jaw, "No activity today, sir, a trading flotilla is suppose to come in from the North today, but they are cleared to arrive without stop."
"Thank you, Jenson, resume your duties," the Captain said and then the Captain turned around to converse with a woman, whom was hidden from the man's view.
"Wait, Sir!" yelled the man, who clumsily stood from his chair, grabbed a piece of paper sticking out of the wall and in one swift motion gave it to the Captain.
The Captain excused himself from the lady's presence and read the letter carefully, softly said thank you to the man and then yelled to the entire bridge, "All men on deck! Align Position 40 degrees Starboard! Maximum Speed to intercept unidentified foreign vessel!"
The bridge erupted into a chorus of movement and voices, the Captain's voice awaking the sleeping bridge and the piercing siren that flared to life awakened the entire crew. A dull red light pulsated over each room in the ship, men rushed to their respective areas and were somewhat pleased that there was a change to the daily routine.
The Captain smiled at the swiftness of his crew to prepare, he yelled another order, "Get that bird in the air! Hail the unidentified ship!"
He stared down at the deck, watching the five marines sprint into the helicopter, the marines held their assault rifles, and one of them gripped a sniper rifle that was unidentifiable to the Captain. He watched as their shapes rose into the helicopter, and within seconds of their arrival the helicopter took off, flying with intense speed towards the faint, dull ship on the horizon.
A man in the bridge tossed a mic to the captain, he quickly attached the ear piece and mic and waited for the thumbs up from one of his men. When he finally received it he made his brisk commands, <<"This is the SNS Velan, operating under the South Judean Solmian Naval Command and we herein order you to stop immediately, prepare to be boarded, and identify yourselves, over.>>"
He waited for a reply from the ship, he was actually quite enjoying himself at the moment. His year-long cruise had gone on without any disruptions to the status quo, and now he finally would be able to take action. He knew it was probably nothing, but the Solmian Navy was always prepared for the absolute worse case that could arise.
The five marines aboard the helicopter stood silently together, kneeling or sitting down on the hard ledge that was provided for them in the helicopter, the sniper sat closest to the drop the ocean, his rifle laying on his arms, ready to be brought up to his chest and fired, ready to pour hot lead down upon the unidentified, possibly, hostile ship. He was ready to assist his comrades below in case the need arose. He was not going to be touching the ship, he would stay in the hovering helicopter ready to kill if his comrades needed it.
The other four men were readying their assault rifles as well, checking them one last time in silence before they swung down into the ship. They were relaxed in their posture, they were the marines that they trained decades for. For most of the five in the helicopter this was their first real operation, first time that they would be able to use their weaponry on possible real people. To be in charge of life and death at the tip of their index finger. It was an exhilarating feeling. But, the marines took it as they were taught, they took it as a job, one that should be completed successfully at all costs.
The wind rushed into their faces as the helicopter made its way across the expanse towards the enemy ship. They had orders to board immediately, regardless of the interaction that the Commander would surely have with the unidentified ship. But, the marines already classified it as an enemy. Anything that isn't identified is classified as an enemy until proven otherwise, a doctrine that has saved thousands of lives.
They were to search the ship, identify it, classify its objectives, and seize it. Even if it was merely a trading ship, it will be escorted to the nearest port and then the procedures will be followed to ensure maximum security for Judea and Solm. The marines had already mentally mapped out the unidentified ship, and if it would prove itself hostile they would be able to deal with it accordingly. If it somehow destroyed the helicopter and ended their lives before they could have a say, they know that the Solmian Navy would take a swift vengeance and end the hostilities with a roar of their mighty power and sink this boat and all its inhabitants to the floor of this retched ocean.
The five men were now all silent, their hands not moving anymore as the pilot said, "Closing in on unidentified ship, prepare to board." They were prepared, their fingers waiting to clutch the rope and swing down unto the enemy ship and identify it for who it would truly be. They know the weapons they held well, they know how they would fire if the need arose, how they would be able to take life at the slightest of wrong glances.
But, the marine squad had strict orders to no fire unless fired upon or a major hostile threat is successfully identified. The Solmian Command did not want unneeded casualties on either side, the Commander probably just wanted to exercise his power upon a poor trading vessel that lacked the ability to ask permission to enter the Judean EEZ.
That was the conclusion of the marines, that is was a trading vessel, but they were still prepared for the event that it was a hostile ship, just in case the crew of the ship would burst onto the dock with guns firing, they were prepared for anything that could happen, as they were trained to prepare for. They were marines in their souls and they would act as such for the remainder of their lives. The tradition of the marines would never die out.
The marines made their last arrangements as they felt the helicopter slow down, the wind ceased to blow against their helmets, and flirt with their nostrils. They gripped their guns and readied the rope, the sniper took his position staring down into the ship. The team was ready.
