The harbor at Port Melissa buzzed with morning activity as the Justice's Wake glided between fishing boats and merchant vessels toward her assigned berth. Rima stood at the bow, her trained eye cataloging every ship, every face, every detail that might prove relevant. After fifteen years in the Marines, she'd learned that the most important clues were often hiding in plain sight.
"There she is, Commander," Kenji called out, pointing toward a medium-sized merchant vessel moored at the commercial dock. "The Sea Dancer."
Rima studied the ship through her binoculars. Clean lines, well-maintained rigging, professional crew going about their business with the easy efficiency of experienced sailors. Nothing overtly suspicious, which somehow made it more suspicious. In her experience, genuinely innocent vessels often looked shabby around the edges—it was the ships trying too hard to appear legitimate that bore watching.
"Any sign of the crew trying to leave port early?" she asked.
"Negative, ma'am. Harbor master confirms they're scheduled to depart tomorrow morning as planned. Captain Hendricks has been coming to Port Melissa for three years running."
As they docked, Rima noticed a small crowd gathered near the harbor master's office. The voices carried across the water—urgent, worried, tinged with the kind of fear that came from bad news traveling fast.
"Maria, take Petty Officers Chen and Rodriguez and secure the Sea Dancer. Standard inspection protocol, but keep your eyes open for anything that doesn't match the manifest. Kenji, with me. I want to know what's got the locals so worked up."
The crowd parted respectfully as Rima approached, her Marine uniform and confident bearing enough to quiet the agitated conversations. At the center of the group, she found Harbor Master Kowalski, a weathered man in his sixties whose worried expression deepened when he saw her.
"Commander Yamato, thank goodness you're here. We've got a problem—a big one."
"The missing ship?"
"Ships, plural. The Windward Queen was supposed to arrive this morning from the Gecko Islands. Her cargo's been pre-sold to three different merchants here in port. But like the Coral Maiden, she's vanished. No distress signals, no debris, nothing."
Rima felt a chill that had nothing to do with the sea breeze. One missing ship could be accident or misfortune. Two suggested a pattern.
"When was her last reported position?"
"Yesterday evening, approximately forty nautical miles southeast of here. Captain Torres radioed in right on schedule, reported fair weather and smooth sailing. Then... silence."
A fisherman in the crowd spoke up, his voice trembling with poorly controlled fear. "Commander, my nephew was crew on that ship. Young Marcus Torres—the captain's son. Good boy, never missed sending a message to his mama when they made port."
Rima placed a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder. "We'll find them. Both ships. You have my word on that."
The confidence in her voice wasn't entirely fabricated. Rima had built her reputation on solving cases that others wrote off as unsolvable, on finding patterns where others saw only chaos. But privately, she was beginning to suspect this case would test even her considerable skills.
"Harbor Master, I need complete records for both missing vessels—crew manifests, cargo lists, communication logs, everything. Also, I want to speak with anyone who had contact with either ship in the past week."
"Of course, Commander. Though I should mention—both captains filed their cargo manifests through the same shipping agent. Morrison Maritime Services."
Kenji looked up from his notes. "That's interesting. Three ships, two definitely missing, all using the same agent?"
"Very interesting." Rima's mind was already racing ahead, connecting dots that were still mostly invisible. "Kenji, add Morrison Maritime to our investigation list. I want to know everything about their operation—client list, financial records, the works."
As the crowd began to disperse, Harbor Master Kowalski pulled Rima aside. "Commander, there's something else. Something I didn't want to say in front of the civilians."
She waited, noting the man's obvious discomfort.
"About an hour ago, we found debris. Just fragments, mind you—pieces of wood with paint that matches the Windward Queen's hull colors. But it was found near Devil's Teeth Rock, about twenty miles due north."
Rima knew Devil's Teeth Rock—a notorious hazard to navigation, surrounded by treacherous currents and underwater reefs. Ships avoided the area unless they were desperate or stupid.
"That's nowhere near the Windward Queen's reported route."
"Exactly. Which means either Captain Torres was lying about his position, or something forced him off course." Kowalski's expression darkened. "Something bad enough to drive an experienced captain into those waters."
Before Rima could respond, Maria's voice called out across the harbor.
"Commander! You need to see this!"
Rima and Kenji hurried back to the Sea Dancer, where they found Maria standing beside an open cargo container, her expression grim. Inside, instead of the construction materials listed on the manifest, they found cases upon cases of bottles filled with amber liquid.
"Liquor?" Kenji guessed.
"That's what I thought," Maria replied, "but look at this." She held up one of the bottles, pointing to the label. "No distillery markings, no tax stamps, no regulatory information at all. This isn't legal alcohol—it's bootleg, and probably dangerous."
Rima examined the bottle more closely. The liquid inside had an oily consistency that legitimate spirits wouldn't possess, and there was a faint chemical odor that made her nose wrinkle in disgust.
"Have you found Captain Hendricks?"
"That's the other problem. The crew claims he went ashore last night and never came back. They seem genuinely worried about him, but..." Maria shrugged. "Could be an act."
"Or he realized we were coming and decided to disappear before we could ask uncomfortable questions." Rima set the bottle down carefully. "Either way, we need to test this liquid. If it's as dangerous as it looks, we're dealing with more than simple smuggling."
She turned to address the merchant crew, who had been watching the inspection with growing alarm. "Where did you take on this cargo?"
The first mate, a nervous man with darting eyes, spoke up reluctantly. "Torino Island, ma'am. Captain Hendricks handled all the paperwork personally. We were told it was specialty construction adhesives for the outer islands."
"And you believed that?"
"We're paid to load cargo, not ask questions," the man replied defensively. "The captain's always been straight with us before."
Rima studied the crew's faces, looking for signs of deception. Most seemed genuinely confused and worried, but years of experience had taught her that even honest people could be unknowingly complicit in criminal enterprises.
"Kenji, I want this ship impounded pending full investigation. The crew is confined to quarters until we can interview them individually." She paused, considering their next move. "Also, contact the other patrol vessels. I want every ship that's passed through our area in the past month stopped and searched."
"That's a lot of ships, Commander. Are you sure—"
"I'm sure." The weight of command settled on her shoulders like an old, familiar cloak. "Two ships are missing, possibly destroyed. We've found evidence of large-scale smuggling of dangerous substances. This isn't a coincidence, and it's not going to stop with what we've found here."
As if summoned by her words, a Marine communications officer came running down the pier, his face pale with urgency.
"Commander Yamato! Priority message from Branch G-82!"
Rima accepted the Den Den Mushi handset with a growing sense of dread.
"Commander, this is Communications Officer Torres. We've just received a distress signal from the merchant vessel Golden Promise. They report being attacked by unidentified pirates approximately thirty miles southwest of Port Melissa. The signal cut off mid-transmission."
The handset felt suddenly heavy in Rima's grip. Three ships now—all carrying suspicious cargo, all meeting violent ends in waters that should have been safe.
"Torres, dispatch all available patrol vessels to the last known coordinates of the Golden Promise. Full combat readiness. And get me Admiral Mitsuki on priority communication—we need additional resources immediately."
"Understood, Commander. But there's more. Before the signal cut out, the Golden Promise's radio operator managed to transmit a partial message. It was... unusual."
"Unusual how?"
"He said, and I quote: 'They knew about the special cargo. They knew exactly which containers to target.' Then the transmission ended."
Rima closed her eyes, feeling the pieces of a much larger puzzle beginning to take shape. This wasn't random piracy or opportunistic smuggling. Someone was orchestrating these attacks with inside information, targeting specific ships carrying specific illegal cargo.
Which meant someone knew about the entire operation from the beginning.
"Commander?" Kenji's voice seemed to come from very far away. "Your orders?"
She opened her eyes to find her entire team watching her expectantly. Around them, the peaceful harbor continued its daily routine, unaware that they were standing at the center of what might be the largest criminal conspiracy West Blue had seen in years.
"Change of plans. Maria, I want our fastest vessel prepared for immediate departure. We're going to the Golden Promise's last known position."
"Ma'am, if there are pirates operating in that area—"
"Then we're going to remind them why they should fear the Marines more than we fear them." Rima's voice carried the quiet confidence that had earned her the loyalty of every sailor under her command. "And if anyone is still alive on that ship, they need help now, not after we've finished our paperwork."
As her crew hurried to prepare for departure, Rima remained on the pier for one last moment, staring out at the deceptively peaceful waters of West Blue. Somewhere out there, criminals were using her sea as their personal highway, terrorizing honest merchants and poisoning communities with dangerous contraband.
They had chosen the wrong waters to pollute.
The investigation had become a rescue mission, and if that rescue mission turned into a battle, so be it. She had spent ten years keeping the peace in West Blue through diplomacy and careful police work.
But sometimes, peace had to be enforced at the point of a sword.
And sometimes, the tide of justice needed a little help from someone who could make the very ocean itself into a weapon.