The Marine Branch G-82 intelligence office hummed with quiet activity as Rima spread the case files across the central table. Dawn was breaking over West Blue, painting the windows in soft gold, but she had been awake for hours analyzing every piece of evidence they had gathered. Sarah Mitchell's revelation had changed everything—what she thought was a local smuggling operation was apparently part of something much larger and more dangerous.
"Commander?" Kenji knocked softly on the door frame. "Agent Mitchell is here to see you."
"Send her in."
Sarah entered looking every inch the professional intelligence operative—crisp civilian clothes that suggested success without ostentation, alert eyes that catalogued every detail of the room, and the kind of controlled movement that spoke of extensive combat training. In daylight, away from the smoky atmosphere of the Salty Anchor, she seemed even more formidable.
"Impressive operation you're running here," Sarah said, examining the evidence boards Rima had constructed. "Thorough, methodical, well-organized. Also completely wrong in your fundamental assumptions."
Rima bristled. "My assumptions led me to identify the connection between all the missing ships, discover the illegal cargo network, and rescue survivors who provided crucial intelligence."
"Your assumptions led you to focus on symptoms while missing the disease." Sarah moved to the shipping charts that covered one wall. "Look at your timeline again, but this time think bigger."
"Bigger how?"
"The attacks on those ships weren't about eliminating evidence—they were about eliminating competition." Sarah traced shipping routes with her finger. "There are two smuggling networks operating in West Blue. One is small-scale, opportunistic, using legitimate captains like Morrison and Fletcher who don't know they're carrying contraband. The other is large-scale, professional, and absolutely ruthless about protecting their market share."
Rima studied the charts with new eyes. "You're saying the pirates who destroyed those ships are working for the bigger network?"
"I'm saying the pirates who destroyed those ships are the bigger network. This isn't crime of opportunity—it's corporate warfare with naval battles."
The implications hit Rima like a cold wave. If Sarah was right, then the attacks weren't random violence but calculated moves in an economic war. Someone was using piracy to eliminate business rivals and maintain monopoly control over illegal liquor distribution.
"Show me what you know."
Sarah pulled out her own files—two years of painstaking intelligence gathering that painted a picture far more complex than anything Rima had imagined.
"The operation is centered on Torino Island, but the real power isn't based there. The island is just a convenient loading point with corrupted port officials. The actual leadership operates from a floating base somewhere in the outer reaches of West Blue—a modified warship that moves constantly to avoid detection."
"You've seen this ship?"
"I've been trying to find it for eighteen months. The network is compartmentalized—each level knows only what they need for their specific role. Captain Vasquez loads cargo but doesn't know where it comes from. The port officials process paperwork but don't know where the ships are going. The distributors sell the product but don't know how it's manufactured."
Rima nodded slowly. It was a sophisticated setup, the kind of organization that suggested military or intelligence training among the leadership.
"What about the government official from last night?"
"Commissioner Valdris from the Merchant Marine Regulatory Board. He's being blackmailed—his son was arrested for desertion from the Marines two years ago, and someone arranged for the charges to disappear in exchange for ongoing cooperation." Sarah's expression grew grim. "He provides shipping schedules and manifest information, but he's not a willing participant."
"Blackmail makes him unreliable from their perspective. Why not just kill him and find someone else?"
"Because his position gives them access to information from multiple Marine branches. Valdris processes reports from across West Blue—he knows which ships are carrying what cargo before the captains themselves sometimes."
The scope of the conspiracy was staggering. Rima had been thinking in terms of local corruption when she should have been considering systematic infiltration of maritime bureaucracy.
"Alright, Agent Mitchell. You've convinced me this is bigger than I initially thought. But that doesn't change the fundamental problem—people are dying, and poisonous liquor is being distributed to civilian populations. At some point, we have to move from intelligence gathering to direct action."
"Agreed. Which is why tonight's operation is so critical." Sarah moved to the window, looking out at the harbor where dozens of ships went about their daily business. "If we can gain access to their distribution network, we can trace the supply chain back to its source."
"And if we're discovered?"
"Then we improvise. But Lieutenant Commander, I need you to understand something—once we're inside their operation, we can't rely on Marine backup or standard protocols. These people have killed Marine officers who got too close to their operation. If our cover is blown, we're on our own."
Rima had been in dangerous situations before, but always with the full support of her command structure and the authority of Marine justice behind her. Operating without that safety net would require a different kind of courage.
"What exactly are we walking into tonight?"
"A cargo transfer operation. Small ships bring in raw materials and partially processed chemicals from sources I haven't identified. The processing is completed in a warehouse complex on the industrial side of Port Karabella, then the finished product is distributed through various channels."
"Finished product being the poisonous liquor we found?"
"Among other things. My intelligence suggests they're also producing standard bootleg alcohol for general sale, using the profits to fund the more specialized chemical weapons."
Chemical weapons. The phrase made Rima's blood run cold. "You think this is about more than money?"
"I think someone is using criminal profits to fund something much more dangerous than simple smuggling. The question is whether we're dealing with pirates who've gotten too ambitious, or revolutionaries who are using piracy as a cover for political action."
Before Rima could respond, Kenji burst into the room without knocking—a breach of protocol that meant genuine emergency.
"Commander, we have a problem! Three Marine patrol vessels have gone missing in the northern sector. The last communication from Lieutenant Morrison's ship was a partial distress signal reporting attack by unknown vessels."
The room went very quiet. Lieutenant Morrison commanded one of G-82's most experienced crews, and his patrol sector was supposed to be secure from pirate activity.
"When?" Rima demanded.
"Four hours ago. We've been trying to raise them on all frequencies, but there's been no response."
Sarah cursed softly. "They're moving faster than I expected. This wasn't supposed to happen for another week."
"What wasn't supposed to happen?"
"The elimination phase. My intelligence suggested they were planning to clear out all potential threats before moving their base of operations." Sarah began pacing, her professional composure cracking slightly. "If they're attacking Marine vessels directly, it means they're preparing for something big."
Rima felt the familiar weight of command decisions settling on her shoulders. Three ships and their crews were missing, possibly destroyed. Her investigation had apparently triggered a violent response from criminals willing to wage war against the Marines themselves.
"Agent Mitchell, I appreciate the complexity of your investigation, but this changes things. I can't worry about preserving your cover operation when my people are under direct attack."
"If you mount a military response now, they'll scatter. The leadership will disappear, and in six months they'll restart the operation somewhere else while we're back to square one."
"And if I don't mount a military response, more Marines die while I play intelligence games."
The tension between them was palpable—two different approaches to law enforcement, each with valid arguments and deadly potential consequences.
"There's a third option," Sarah said finally. "We accelerate the timeline. Instead of tonight's cargo transfer, we use the emergency to justify immediate action. I can arrange for you to meet with the local network leadership under the pretense of offering Marine protection in exchange for information about the attacks."
"That's insane. They'll never believe I'm corrupt."
"They'll believe you're desperate. Your ships are missing, your jurisdiction is under attack, and you're looking for any advantage you can get. Desperate Marines have been known to make questionable deals."
Rima considered the proposal. It was dangerous, possibly suicidal, but it offered a chance to identify the key players while potentially learning the fate of Morrison's ships.
"What kind of protection would I be offering?"
"Information about Marine patrol schedules, advance warning of planned operations, that sort of thing. Nothing that would actually compromise security, but enough to establish credibility."
"And in exchange?"
"They tell us who's attacking Marine vessels and where we might find survivors. If we're lucky, they'll also reveal enough about their organization structure for us to roll up the entire network."
It was a plan that required trusting a Marine Intelligence agent she'd known for less than twelve hours, gambling with the lives of missing sailors, and potentially compromising her own career and reputation. Everything about it violated standard Marine protocols and her personal instincts for caution.
But standard protocols hadn't prevented three ships from vanishing. Caution hadn't protected the innocent sailors who had been killed to cover up a conspiracy that reached into the highest levels of maritime authority.
"Kenji, I want all available patrol vessels recalled to base immediately. Tell them we're implementing emergency security protocols due to hostile action against Marine forces."
"Yes, ma'am. What about search and rescue for Morrison's ships?"
"We'll handle that personally. Agent Mitchell, how quickly can you arrange this meeting?"
"Give me two hours. But Commander, once we're committed to this course of action, there's no backing out. If they suspect we're not genuine, we won't leave that meeting alive."
Rima walked to the window and looked out at the harbor where her remaining ships were beginning to respond to the recall order. Somewhere beyond the horizon, her missing sailors might still be alive, waiting for rescue that could only come if she was willing to risk everything on a desperate gambit.
"Agent Mitchell, in your professional opinion, what are the odds that Morrison and his crews are still alive?"
Sarah's pause told her everything she needed to know. "If they were taken prisoner for interrogation, maybe forty percent. If they tried to fight..."
"I understand." Rima turned back to face the room, her decision crystallizing into the kind of cold determination that had earned her the loyalty of every Marine under her command. "Set up the meeting. And Agent Mitchell? If this goes wrong, if we're walking into a trap, I want you to know that I hold you personally responsible for every Marine life that's lost."
"Understood, Commander. But if this goes right, if we can expose the entire conspiracy and bring down the people responsible for those attacks, will you acknowledge that sometimes the greatest service requires the greatest risk?"
Rima met Sarah's eyes directly, seeing in them the same dedication to justice that drove her own actions, albeit expressed through very different methods.
"Agent Mitchell, I've spent ten years proving that I'm ready for greater challenges than West Blue can provide. Tonight, we find out if I was right."
As Sarah left to make arrangements for their dangerous gambit, Rima remained in the intelligence office, studying the evidence boards that suddenly seemed inadequate to the scope of what they were facing. She had wanted a case that would demonstrate her readiness for Grand Line assignment.
She was about to get more than she'd bargained for.
The afternoon sun climbed toward its zenith as final preparations began for what might be the most dangerous operation of her career. By evening, she would either have the intelligence needed to rescue her missing Marines and dismantle a criminal conspiracy, or she would join Morrison's crews among the casualties of a war she was only beginning to understand.
But as she watched her loyal subordinates preparing for an uncertain battle, Rima felt a familiar surge of confidence. She had never backed down from a fight in defense of innocent people, and she wasn't about to start now.
The tide was turning, and this time, she intended to make sure it carried justice to those who thought themselves beyond the reach of Marine law.