The Justice's Wake cut through the afternoon swells with urgent purpose, her engines pushed to maximum efficiency as Rima stood at the bow scanning the horizon. The coordinates where the Golden Promise had sent her final distress call lay just ahead, marked by nothing more than endless blue water and the occasional seabird.
"Debris field spotted, bearing two-seven-zero!" called out Seaman First Class Chen from the crow's nest.
Rima raised her binoculars and felt her heart sink. Scattered across nearly half a nautical mile, fragments of wood, metal, and canvas told the story of a ship that had met a violent end. But this wasn't the chaotic wreckage of an accidental sinking—the debris pattern was too dispersed, too uniform.
"This ship was blown apart," she murmured to Maria, who had joined her at the rail.
"Cannon fire?"
"Multiple explosions, from the look of it. Probably targeted the cargo holds specifically." Rima lowered her binoculars, her expression grim. "Kenji, bring us to a dead stop. I want to examine this debris field properly."
As the patrol vessel's engines wound down to idle, Rima walked to the stern and knelt beside the churning wake. She placed both hands on the ship's rail, closed her eyes, and extended her senses into the water below.
The ocean held memories for those who knew how to read them. Every disturbance, every violent act, every ship that had passed this way left its mark in the complex dance of currents and pressure waves. With her Devil Fruit abilities, Rima could interpret these liquid echoes like a tracker reading footprints in mud.
"Commander?" Kenji's voice seemed to come from very far away as Rima sank deeper into her connection with the sea.
The water spoke to her of violence and terror. She could sense the Golden Promise's final moments—the sudden acceleration as her captain tried to flee, the impact of cannon balls striking her hull, the catastrophic explosion as her cargo holds were breached. But there was something else, something that made Rima's eyes snap open in surprise.
"There were survivors," she announced. "At least some of the crew made it off the ship before she went down."
"How can you tell?" Maria asked, though she'd worked with Rima long enough to trust her commander's unusual insights.
"The water patterns. I can read the disturbance from lifeboats being lowered, people entering the water. The attack happened approximately eighteen hours ago, and the survivors were moving..." She concentrated, following faint traces of human activity through the currents. "Northeast. Toward Palmetto Key."
Kenji was already consulting his charts. "Palmetto Key is uninhabited, ma'am. Just a small island with some freshwater springs. If survivors made it there, they could last a few days."
"Then we need to reach them before anyone else does. If the pirates left witnesses alive, they might come back to clean up loose ends."
As the Justice's Wake changed course toward the small island, Rima continued her examination of the debris field. Using precise applications of her wave powers, she could gather wreckage and examine it more closely, reading the story written in splintered wood and twisted metal.
"This wasn't random piracy," she told her assembled crew. "Look at the blast patterns—these explosions were placed with surgical precision. The attackers knew exactly where the cargo was stored and targeted those areas specifically."
She held up a fragment of bottle glass, its amber color familiar from their earlier discovery. "Same illegal liquor. Same careful packaging. This confirms our theory—someone is coordinating these attacks based on inside knowledge of which ships carry contraband."
"But why destroy the cargo?" asked Petty Officer Rodriguez. "If they went to all this trouble to steal it, why blow it up?"
It was an excellent question, and one that had been nagging at Rima since they'd arrived at the scene. Professional pirates didn't destroy valuable merchandise unless they had a very good reason.
"Maybe they weren't after the cargo," Maria suggested. "Maybe they were trying to eliminate evidence."
"Or eliminate witnesses," Rima added grimly. "Someone who knows about this operation is trying to cover their tracks by destroying the ships and killing everyone involved."
The implications were sobering. If their theory was correct, then whoever was behind these attacks had access to shipping manifests, cargo schedules, and route information. That meant corruption at the highest levels of either the merchant marine association or the Marine bureaucracy itself.
"Commander!" Chen's voice carried down from the crow's nest. "Palmetto Key in sight! And there's smoke—looks like a signal fire!"
Rima felt a surge of relief. Survivors meant witnesses, and witnesses meant answers. But as they approached the small, palm-covered island, her relief transformed into apprehension. Signal fires could also mean traps.
"Battle stations," she ordered. "I want everyone armed and ready for trouble. If the pirates are using survivors as bait, we're going to give them more than they bargained for."
The Justice's Wake rounded the island's northern point at reduced speed, her crew scanning the shoreline for signs of danger. What they found instead was a small group of bedraggled sailors waving desperately from a makeshift camp on the beach.
"Three... no, four survivors," Maria reported through her binoculars. "They look genuine, but I can't see the whole island from here."
"Kenji, take us to that natural harbor. But keep the engines warm—if this is an ambush, I want to be able to move fast."
As they approached the beach, Rima could see the survivors more clearly. One man wore the uniform of a ship's officer, while the others appeared to be ordinary seamen. All showed signs of exposure and exhaustion, but they were alive and coherent enough to wave coherently.
"Thank the stars!" the officer called out as the Marine landing party approached. "Commander Morrison, first mate of the Golden Promise. We've been waiting here since yesterday, hoping someone would find the wreckage."
Rima studied the man's face, looking for signs of deception. Morrison appeared genuinely relieved, but years of experience had taught her that the most dangerous criminals were often the most convincing actors.
"First Mate Morrison, I'm Lieutenant Commander Yamato, Marine Branch G-82. We received your distress signal and came as quickly as possible. I need to ask you some questions about the attack."
"Of course, Commander. Anything that might help catch those bastards."
As her crew secured the landing site, Rima conducted her interview on the beach, with Maria taking notes and Kenji keeping watch for potential threats.
"Tell me exactly what happened, from the beginning."
Morrison's story was both illuminating and disturbing. The Golden Promise had been proceeding along her normal route when three ships appeared on the horizon—two smaller vessels that looked like converted fishing boats, and one larger ship that Morrison identified as a modified galleon with additional cannon ports.
"They came at us fast, but they didn't demand surrender," Morrison explained. "The lead ship started firing immediately, targeting our cargo holds specifically. It was like they knew exactly where to aim."
"Did you recognize any of the attacking vessels? Any flags or identifying marks?"
"The big ship flew a black flag with a white skull, but there was something else—a symbol below the skull that looked like crossed bottles. Never seen anything like it before."
Rima exchanged glances with Maria. A pirate flag featuring bottles suggested these weren't ordinary raiders—they were specifically targeting alcohol shipments.
"What about your cargo manifest? Did the attackers say anything about what you were carrying?"
Morrison's expression grew uncomfortable. "That's the thing, Commander. Officially, we were carrying textiles and farming equipment. But..." He glanced at his surviving crew members, as if seeking permission to continue.
"But there were additional items not listed on the official manifest," Rima finished. "Items that someone might not want discovered."
"How did you know?"
"Because you're the third ship we know of carrying illegal liquor through West Blue waters. The question is whether you knew what you were transporting, or whether you were unknowing accomplices."
Morrison's relief at being rescued warred with obvious fear of legal consequences. "Commander, I swear we didn't know those bottles contained anything dangerous. Captain Fletcher told us it was premium spirits for private collectors on the outer islands. The extra pay for keeping it quiet seemed reasonable for luxury goods."
"Where did you take on this cargo?"
"Same as always—Torino Island. The containers were loaded at night by the client's own workers. We weren't supposed to inspect them, just transport them safely."
Rima felt pieces clicking into place. Torino Island was emerging as the common factor in all these incidents—the loading point where legitimate cargo was supplemented with dangerous contraband.
"Describe Captain Fletcher. Is he still alive?"
Morrison's expression crumbled. "The captain... he was on the bridge when the first cannon ball hit. The explosion threw him overboard, and with his leg injuries from the last voyage, he couldn't swim well enough to reach the lifeboats."
One of the other survivors, a young seaman who couldn't have been older than twenty, spoke up with barely contained emotion. "Captain Fletcher was a good man, Commander. He never would have transported anything that could hurt people if he'd known what was in those bottles."
"What makes you think the contents were dangerous?"
"When the cargo holds exploded, the fumes made everyone sick. Two of our crew started vomiting blood before we even got the lifeboats in the water. Whatever was in those containers, it wasn't anything you'd want to drink."
Rima absorbed this information with growing concern. They weren't just dealing with bootleg alcohol—someone was distributing genuinely poisonous substances through the normal shipping channels, using legitimate captains and crews as unwitting carriers.
"One more question, First Mate Morrison. In the days before the attack, did anyone unusual contact your ship? Any unexpected inspections, visits from port officials, anything out of the ordinary?"
Morrison thought for a moment. "Actually, yes. Two days before we left Torino Island, a man claiming to be from the Merchant Marine Safety Board came aboard for what he called a 'routine cargo security assessment.' He seemed particularly interested in our storage procedures and departure schedule."
"Can you describe this man?"
"Middle-aged, well-dressed, official-looking papers. But there was something about him that didn't seem quite right. He asked too many specific questions about our route and timing."
Rima nodded grimly. Someone had been gathering intelligence on targeted ships, learning their schedules and cargo arrangements before passing that information to the pirates. The level of organization suggested this wasn't just criminal enterprise—it was systematic corruption involving multiple levels of the maritime bureaucracy.
"Commander," Kenji interrupted, "we need to get moving. The weather report shows a storm system moving in from the southwest, and these survivors need medical attention."
"Agreed. Morrison, you and your crew are coming back to Branch G-82 for debriefing and medical evaluation. But I want you to understand—you're witnesses in a major criminal investigation. That means you're under Marine protection, but it also means you're potential targets."
As they loaded the survivors aboard the Justice's Wake, Rima took one last look at the debris field stretching across the water. Three ships destroyed, dozens of people killed or missing, and a network of corruption that reached into the highest levels of maritime administration.
But now she had witnesses, evidence, and most importantly, a clear pattern to follow. The criminals behind this operation had made one crucial mistake—they'd left survivors who could identify their methods and organization.
"Maria, as soon as we're back at base, I want a full forensic analysis of those bottle fragments. Also, contact Admiral Mitsuki's office and request permission to conduct undercover operations on Torino Island."
"Undercover, ma'am?"
"If there's a corrupt official there helping coordinate these attacks, we're going to find him. And if there's a larger network involved, we're going to roll up every conspirator from the bottom to the top."
The afternoon sun was beginning its descent toward the western horizon as they left Palmetto Key behind. Somewhere in those same waters, pirates and corrupt officials thought they had successfully eliminated witnesses and evidence of their crimes.
They were about to discover that Lieutenant Commander Rima Yamato had built her reputation by solving cases that others considered closed. And when it came to protecting the innocent people who depended on safe passage through her waters, she had never backed down from a fight, no matter how powerful or well-connected her opponents might be.
The waves around the Justice's Wake seemed to respond to her determination, carrying them back toward base with unusual speed and efficiency. The ocean itself was taking sides in this conflict, and it had chosen justice over corruption, law over chaos.
The real investigation was just beginning.