O C E A N S _ P A I N T E D _ R E D
A soul of hell came from the skies
It took away my house and home
The hatred burnt into my mind
It is what makes me onward go
May your ships be torn by fate
You will not hide on sea nor land
I come to you, ancient evil
Soon we'll make our final stand
A soul of hell came from the skies
It took away my house and home
The hatred burnt into my mind
It is what makes me onward go
May your ships be torn by fate
You will not hide on sea nor land
I come to you, ancient evil
Soon we'll make our final stand
March 6, 2019
10:33 PM Local Time
Samanohuwa Outlying Islands
The sleek, modern business jet pressed on through the stormy night, unheeding of the wind and the rain beneath its windows. Violent storms were not unheard of in Samanohuwa even as buried into the equatorial doldrums as it was, though the pilot could at least take relief that it was not expected to become a tropical storm. The worst this was expected to generate was thumb-sized hail, and that would melt long before it hit the ground. Or he would have felt relief, if he was paying any attention at all. The particular model was known for three things - smooth, quiet flight, a large cabin, and state-of-the-art safety features, such as an autopilot. The advertisements bragged that it could fly itself, and for the past few hours it had, the pilot and co-pilot in the cabin partaking in the drinks and revelry typical of the young politicians, celebrities, and nouveau riche who typically flew business jets into and out of Samanohuwa.
Some came for the cuisine - Samanohuwa was well known for seafood in particular, though it had more than enough land for cattle and more traditional crops like rice, maize, or wheat, and had a lively barbecue culture known for primarily using sweeter sauces and rubs than typical continental fare. Some came for the alcohol - rice wine, coconut and palm liquors, rum, and beer. Not the best in the world, but certainly unique, and it had a very active night life in the big cities for such a laid-back nation. Some came for the history, the culture - Samanohuwa was not an ancient nation, but it wasn't new either, and there were centuries of art, architecture, and museums to pore through.
Some came because, barring accessories, in many parts of the country you were as likely to see an adult Samanohuwan wear anything above the ankles and below the hairline as you were to be shot by them in casual everyday settings. But those people were always seen as a bit odd, unless they themselves were used to the sight.
The jet was traveling from one such place back to the capital on the largest island of Lanuinui to the east which, while also such a place, was to be its passengers' last stop in Samanohuwa before returning home to their countries. For now though, they engaged in the drunken, noisy revelry the young elite often did when on private jets they didn't have to clean themselves, unaware and uncaring of the storm below them or the anvil ahead that the plane began to yaw to avoid.
Nor were they aware of the unmarked cargo ship on the ocean below, or the short-range radar guided missile it fired. But the business jet was, and they all became acutely aware of the missile when the autopilot's programming caused the craft to buck like an enraged bull, scattering passengers, drinks, and glass everywhere with enough force to knock out the pilot. But that was all it could do - the plane was built for stability, not mobility, and the missile was built to shoot down fighters that could perform mid-air stunts that would tear the civilian jet in half. It attempted to dump chaff, only to get an error - the wiring to the chaff tubes had been damaged. Later investigations would reveal evidence of sabotage, but not of who committed it.
Out of options, the autopilot activated the second of the plane's famed safety features and ejected the cabin in a giant tube-shaped escape pod. The missile dumbly followed the larger signature of the fuselage and exploded, knocking out what few remaining passengers were still conscious enough to hear the thump of the cabin's parachutes being deployed. As the cabin floated sedately towards the ocean, zodiacs circled the projected landing zone like sharks, while the cargo ship slowly approached.
Over the coming weeks, news of the crash would inevitably spread globally, and the Samanohuwan Navy would spend weeks combing the flight path for any sign of the missing aircraft. But there were thousands of islands to search, and only a single chunk of steel from the cockpit was ever found. By the end of April, the search efforts were unofficially on the Navy's back burner, and by the end of June it was official.
Until...
April 02, 2020
10:33 AM Local Time
Samanohuwa Outlying Islands
It was 10:33 AM in early April and a cargo ship was being held up by an ex-patrol boat flying a metaphorical jolly roger. As often happens in certain parts of the Outlying Islands, far but not too far from any major city.
The little patrol boat sat directly behind the cargo ship, with both having dropped anchor in a tiny strait between two islands so as to better hide. The cargo ship wasn't very large, at 32,000 tons just a mere Handysize regional cargo ship, but it still dwarfed the 50-ton pirate ship. For this reason, the pirate ship sat idle, not off, the 20mm cannon on the bow (and the torpedo launchers to either side) pointed straight at the cargo vessel's stern. A Kevlar rope ladder extended from a grey Zodiac up to the gunwale, where it was attached with a set of magnetic clamps.
One of the pirates stood guard at the ladder with an old FAL, complete with Norikwuhm shorts and boots. With his light skin tone, soldierly build, and blonde, shaggy hair, he even looked the part. The light scarring on his arms and face no doubt helped, with the biggest one running across his nose, down his cheekbone, and all the way to the jawbone. To anyone who asked, he'd swear up and down it was from when a reef shark bit him in the face. (He smacked himself in the face with a machete.) He took a sip from a green beer bottle, then produced a walkie-talkie from a pocket.
"How fuckin' long do you plan on takin' down there? This thing isn't even 200 meters long and floatin' way too high to be more than half full." He paused for a moment to check the ammunition on his rifle.
"You're not still cleanin' up down there, are ya? We can't stay in one place forever, Keanu."
Belowdecks
On the other end of the walkie-talkie was a man of mixed Samanohuwan and Lakelan descent, who looked rather like a darker-skinned Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson with hair. He wore the same pants as the man on top, plus a load-bearing vest and a peaked cap he had 'obtained' from the captain of the cargo ship. Said captain, along with most of his crew, were currently tied up with nearly a pack's worth of zip-ties back near the stairs.
"Nothin' to be done about it, Kimo. About half the cargo that is on this thing is break-bulk. Booze barrels, oil barrels, hell one section had wheat and cocaine in sacks - who does that shit anymore? And whoever laid it out clearly knows what they're doin'. Lotta places to hide, and I'm not havin' a repeat of the Hamarsa Golden Pheasant."
Keanu walked along a narrow corridor, barrels to the left and a red steel crate to the right. His walkie-talkie was velcroed to the LBV so both his hands could focus on holding the Taurus 24/7 OSS he had at a semi-ready position. Next to him was Vaitiare, a woman of Longzhou descent who had gotten a tourist-y tribal tattoo for the irony. She chomped on a cigarette, which Keanu had long since stopped bothering to ask her to put out. At least she only smoked when she was stressed out, or after sex. She cradled an MP5A3 in her arms, with which she took point, while a pair of customized Springfield XDs sat in shoulder holsters. She raised the MP5 as she turned a corner, this time to a corridor lined with wooden crates.
<<Yeah, but->>
"Clear! Aw, fuck-" Vaitiare winced as she touched a freshly-bandaged wound at her side, which one of her Springfields had yet again brushed into.
"I told ya to wear pants, Vai. You look ridiculous with those cargo bands."
"Fuck you. It's 43 degrees, 80% humidity, no wind, and that's outside the ship. And I'm not wearing any of Kimo's fanny packs, either." Her cigarette spent, she squashed it against a ratchet strap's ratchet and withdrew another from the tin in her left armband, then lit it with a zippo from the armband on her right. "It was either this or a backpack, and I can't move around as well in a backpack." Keanu simply rolled his eyes.
<<Anyway, as I was sayin', we've been here a while already. Can't take that long to clear a ship, wonky layout or no, can it?>>
"We're almost done, Kimo. Just the last few crates. Get ready to start the boat when we're done."
<<Rog. What else is left?>>
"According to the log," Keanu said as he unhooked a small tablet from his LBV, "...lessee, some livestock, paper, and what's listed as sugarcane powder, but considering the rest of the cargo... probably more cocaine."
"Clear," called out Vai as they turned the last corner. This was a dead-end, with crates of paper either side of a roughly square clearing in the cargo hold, with the blue livestock container at the far end, narrow end against the bulkhead and two lanes of crates labeled 'sugarcane' either side of it. Vai pinched her nose.
"Sure smells like livestock," she said as she kicked the latch with a steel-toed boot.
"You have literally smoked three cigarettes in the past hour," Keanu said as Vai lifted up the container's door. "You have no right to..." His voice trailed off as he got a good look at just what kind of livestock was in the container.
Vai looked first at him, then the 'livestock', then at him again, and grinned. "Jackpot."
Keanu winced. "Not sure that's an appropriate thing to say when you find out a cargo ship's been trafficking in humans," he said as he stepped into the container. There were at least thirty people inside, with no benches and no seating arrangement besides a trio of buckets at the back - that explained the smell. All, ironically, wore clothing, though what clothing there was was old and yellowed due to being on unwashed human bodies for so long.
"The Navy goes apeshit if you so much as think of bein' a slaver, boss," Vai said as she stepped in, "and bringing in a cargo ship with slaves on board to a naval port is a free pardon for most of what we are on the books for, plus a letter of marque.* Free rein to 'liberate' illegal goods from cargo ships without havin' to worry about the Navy breathing down our backs is worth paying the government's price for everything else on this ship."
"Yeah, but..." He did a double-take at one of the slaves, who cowered away from him. He seemed... familiar.
"Hold the fuck up."
"Is that...?"
April 2, 2020
1:42 PM Local Time
Outskirts of Kaneloa, Samanohuwa
Mizuki Pa'aluhi floated lazily on an inflatable pool mattress as the water pumps pushed it in a slow lap around the Olympic-sized pool. Some nations' special operatives had normal, boring civilian lives, but Samanohuwa made sure that its unsung heroes were at least paid well. Corruption had its benefits, at times.
Her work phone vibrated noisily, emitting a tone that went rather well with the dubstep ringtone. She first rolled onto her back, then reached for her civilian phone, then nearly swatted the work phone into the water before picking it up.
"Aloha?"
<<We have new information regarding the missing plane. Just came in.>>
She sat up abruptly, turning her hips and kicking the mattress over towards the shallow end. This had the unfortunate side effect of launching her civilian phone into the water, but it was both waterproof and able to float, so it was a minor concern at most.
"That's good- I mean, it's good, but isn't this more a concern for RI5? Or SI6?**"
<<This information changes it from search and rescue to hostage rescue and anti-slaver ops, so no.>>
She stood up in the water, heading directly to the glass door of the back of her house, then down the 'secret stairs' to her '3S' (Secret Squirrel Shit) sub-basement, not pausing at any point along the way. The outer door and the door to the secret stairs both closed automatically behind her, and additional security cameras came online the moment she opened the door to her 3S basement.
It paid to be paranoid.
"I'm secure, talk to me."
<<Couple of hours ago, a pirate vessel captured a Handysize cargo ship registered to an Anatjuluan shipping company. On board they found a livestock container with thirty-two trafficked humans on board, including one of the passengers of the missing plane. They're all currently being treated on board a hospital ship, and the passenger in question is unconscious, but we have the ship's GPS logs. The container was listed as 'livestock' and was picked up at an entrepôt in international waters.>>
"Of course it was," Mizuki said as she introduced her face to its old friend, her hand. "Did the ship's crew say they knew what they had on board?"
<<They were told they were transporting horses. Only one of the crew members knew what was actually inside. He's been brought in for further questioning, but he doesn't seem to really know much.>>
"Of course he doesn't. Who're we working with on this?"
<<Still up in the air. Definitely going to be a multi-nation task force. Like I said, only a few Samanohuwans were on board, and everyone's gonna want a piece of this once we get it out.>>
Encryption: NONE
To: Public Announcement
Subject: Mar 6 2019 Missing Aircraft
D/T: 2 April 2020 18:00 East Samanohuwan Time
Greetings, nations of the world!
It is the Royal Navy's pleasure to announce we have reached a breakthrough in our search for the missing aircraft lost on March 6 of this year, and the passengers on board! At approximately 10:30 this morning, Samanohuwan citizens captured a cargo vessel carrying numerous illegal goods, among them 32 humans as chattel, of whom so far 9 have been identified. One of them was one of the passengers of the missing aircraft, who is expected to be returned home pending a clean bill of health from the hospital ship Paracelsus and a brief investigation. They are, thankfully, in good shape considering the conditions they were kept in, so they are expected to be able to return home by the end of the week at the latest.
HIM Maletola IV has authorized the creation of an international task force to pursue the slavers no doubt responsible (or at least involved) for this to justice.
In order to better find the whereabouts of the remaining missing persons, further information on the course of the investigation is classified.
I have the honor to remain,
Nuihau Kuakini, Admiral-Ali'i of the Royal Samanohuwan Navy
This thread is for members of Tiandi only. OP reserves the right to kick anyone and retcon their actions should they do some dumb things or write too n00bishly for my tastes. For those joining, assume at least one person from your nation was on board the plane. 'Business jet's can be pretty big, you know.
This thread will likely end up dealing with pretty mature themes - special operatives, human trafficking, and piracy, all in the first post? What else would you expect? Even so, please keep it PG-13 as best you can.
Technology is MT, because that is the tech level of Tiandi.
* = Not the same as the traditional term. In theory, a Samanohuwan letter of marque does allow civilians to seize merchant vessels from hostile nations without reprisal; in practice it allows them to serve as a militia version of something between the Navy and the Coast Guard, sharing roles of both but having substantially more freedom from regulations. Namely, any illegal cargo they seize they are paid for directly.
** = Roughly equivalent to the RL United Kingdom's MI5 and MI6, respectively.
