100 miles West of Minsk
"Red 5, Baseplate, we're compromised. Namenian fighters moving to intercept, over."
The pilot's voice seemed to indicate slight disappointment. They'd hoped the Namenians were more willing to let them help, what with the civil war and all, but it seemed they wanted to take the long way around.
"Copy Red 5. Mission is scrubbed, follow their orders and RTB. We'll try again later, out."
The pilot of Red 5 watched the Namenian fighter form up on his right side, moving to escort the fighters out of Namenian airspace. They had descended to 10,000 feet as they were ordered and waited for the Namenians to come up to claim their prize. As a show of cooperation, the pilot wiggled the wings to show that he was, in fact, armed (albeit lightly) but was not in the mood to fight.
"Namenian fighter, this is Red 5. We're right behind you. We'll head right home, over."
Ebi Maru, 200 miles south of Minsk
Ebi Maru is not a big ship. She is licensed and documented as a civilian ship, in this case as a simple trade vessel on a regular trade route. Her primary cargo is usually foodstuffs, Equatorian fruits and such other exotic delicacies. Occasionally, she also carries passengers on her routes as a convenient taxi for those in no particular hurry to do their business. With a crew numbering no more than 30, there is plenty of space for these transients. The diplomatic mission between the FAP and DEN is not new, but it is smaller than usual. There has, historically, been a fairly considerable political disdain for Communist and near-Communist states in the FAP, chiefly because of human rights abuses. So while the embassies from the FAP in other countries are fairly considerable, the FAP ends up working through other embassies in DEN for any diplomatic relations. However infrequent those are.
The man taking a smoke break at the bow of the ship was not part of the crew. Indeed, he was the rare passenger on the Ebi Maru on its journey to Minsk. He was middle aged and wore glasses. His beard was mere stubble, the result of some time without shaving. Porteans were never good at growing beards. That wasn't particularly important to him, though. He was a man of business, and his business here was more or less important. And he'd do it, no matter how dirty it got. Though it'd been some time since he'd actually done any wetwork. Those creeps from II Corps were doing that now. While his thoughts drifted over the idea of danger, worry sparked over his cover. Would the Namenians see through this merchant trader scheme? It'd be a tough sell, and he didn't think the crew would act well enough...
He had to stop himself for a moment. A reminder: there was no cover but his own. Ebi Maru really was a merchant ship. She'd made the contract for this voyage before they left port, had it checked with the Namenian government before leaving, then double checked again not a few hours ago. She'd done this trip for at least a year now. The hold wasn't filled with weapons purchased in a covert arms deal, it was filled with Bananas and whatever the hell else Equatorians grew. Soon they'd make contact with the Namenian Coast Guard, who would presumably make a quick check to make sure that no illicit substances are being smuggled in. They'd probably also verify literally everything there was to verify about the ship and crew and passengers. And would likely find nothing out of the ordinary, as it was an unremarkable merchant ship. The real weakness here was himself.
He'd been told to go on this mission by the Agency, who had discreetly contracted this voyage to bring him to DEN for secret discussions about Portean participation in the invasion of Novaya. His opposite number in DEN had been informed of his imminent arrival as a diplomatic (and secretly military) envoy. Everything should be in order. But the Namenians would probably check anyway. Overkill? Probably. The Ports had received an endless amount of such complaints for their own border protection. Why should they be surprised if the Namenians were equally paranoid? If one thought of it that way, Porteans and Namenians might be more similar than they thought. The idea made him chuckle at the absurdity.
"<Is something funny, mister Mushito?>" said a voice behind him. Turning to face the newcomer, the man took his cigarette out of his mouth. The real Portean diplomatic representative walked up to the railing to join him. The young man must be in his early thirties, if not his twenties. Diplomats were getting young these days. And he was wearing a suit. A suit! On a ship, in the middle of the ocean! This was another source of comedy for the man. "<Only that outfit you're wearing. Planning to interview for a position at their company?>" he said. "<Ha ha. And I suppose you've prepared for the visit a bit more than take a smoke break?>" reposited the young diplomat. "<You'd do well not to make fun of me, mister Fukudo. I have many more years under my belt. I can tell you now, a fancy suit won't help you.>" warned the man. Fukudo grunted, clearly not satisfied with that answer.
Already bored with the conversation, the man flicked his cigarette into the sea and started walking back towards the hatch to the inside of the ship. "<Going to prepare, I hope? If they're as serious as we are, then we really do need to be ready to present everything at our disposal. Did you read the dossier you were given?>" asked Fukudo to the man's back. Stopping where he was, the man responded without facing the young diplomat. "<Yes, I read it. No, I will not read it again. I have already committed it to memory. Yes, I really have. Good day, mister Fukudo>" he said before going inside. Honestly, he had only skimmed it, much less memorized it. He was highly skeptical that data points about cargo ship manufacturing was going to help him organize the insertion of significant military forces or the direction of an air war. That was a different dossier, one Fukudo has never and likely will never see. That one he'd really committed to memory, an ability he'd picked up after years with the Agency. It was a kilometer underwater some distance behind Ebi Maru by now, shredded and burned beyond ability to reconstruct. Another ability he'd picked up in the Agency. Cleaning up a mess.
*<Translated from Japanese>
C
