NationStates Jolt Archive

The waves were unwilling to consider the chilling night air, which cast upon the rolling waters a shimmering veil of white frost which had only a second to enjoy existence, before being broken apart as shattering glass by the impetuous ocean. These towering and twisting columns of frothing water had gaze only for one another as they thundered together and spilled from their curling form, returning to the blackness beneath until forces beyond understanding once more agitated them to take form and lock together in bloodlust.

From above and drenching further the white foam depositing on the ocean surface, driving rain completed its journey from brooding cloud to equally bleak sea. Swells would occasionally rise forth as though the rain itself added vast volumes of water almost instantaneously, though the former was virtually impossible to see at times as the night, bereft of Sol and the thick grey clouds above acted as contributing factors to the absence of meaningful light.

Only Luna, whose name was often forsaken in favour of a mere generic term, stood above to watch and exert her subtle influence over the much larger Earth. Her fractured surface of pitted soil and churned mountain devoid utterly of the life-giving liquid that frothed and fidgeted underneath her very manipulation, creating not even its own white light but stealing what little light it generated from Sol behind.

Yet the swirling vortex was essentially false in its appearance as an impassable wall of freezing water, as a sharpened point of blue-tinged metal sliced through the waves and forced apart the tides in two directions either side of its armoured prow. Ploughing onwards the full size of the considerable vessel became apparent as her few running lights, positioned mostly upon the outreach of masts and navigational aids, allowed a rough estimate of her mass to bear.

From the furthermost point upwards, flying only slightly higher than the rotating reach of the radar dome, an imprinted flower flew from a wildly whipping flag; a light blue design upon the purest white that allowed it a remarkable contrast to the brooding darkness surrounding. Though the waves surrounding the hull of the ship were considerable, her power was apparent in the stability she exuded whilst cutting a path from one rolling tempest to another.

The bridge was a well lit, if silent affair upon the penultimate deck of the naval ship. The primary sound within being the whine of the systems motivating the wipers upon the exterior of the observation windows to clear the incessant rain water from the glass, and overwhelmed only by the occasional crash of a particularly impressive wave over the guard barriers of the bow. Briefly a third thud joined the uncoordinated orchestral motion, with a door opening to admit a subordinate clutching report and closing again to maintain isolation.

Captain Avari Lionese regarded the stretching ocean before him with scarcely suppressed fascination, as again the toughened beak of his ship broke through a threatening rise to push ahead and onwards. The undiluted inspiration and ability of his Elven kind never ceased to amaze, as nature was tamed to allow progress and achievement unfenced lands to roam within. Here the furious oceans of Earth, boasting a stranglehold on seventy percent of the planet were forced to accede to technological triumph and become simply another means to an end, rather than a barrier unsurpassed and triumphant in blockade.

“An engineering report for your attention, Captain,” began the interruption in non-sentient noise.

Taking the clipboard, Lionese dutifully studied the information, though nothing appeared abnormal and thusly demanding of action. “Everything seems in order,” he began as his gaze shifted to the wall mounted clock. “Advise Naval Command Authority of our continued readiness, and check in on my evening meal, there’s little worth in delaying it longer unless Chief feels adventurous this evening.”

The junior officer nodded, “Aye Captain.”

Returning to a lonesome state Avari, Captain of the H.M.S. Elendil, resumed silent vigil over his vessel’s course through the tumulus and violent seas ahead; patrolling territorial waters neither the most thrilling nor demanding of tasks, but one gladly undertaken to ensure the continued safety of the Noldorin Kingdom from the myriad threats assailing Earth and her people on a tragically near-constant occurrence.

The first sight the Elves of the Elendil pick up is not likely one to bring comfort to Elven hearts. A small ship, flying no flag, broadcasting no signal, and bearing no permission to be here, moving straight towards Calavene waters. The outline of the ship can barely be made out in the storm but what can be made out is not a comforting sight. Any number of figures move chaotically about the deck, whooping and leaping about as if in some primitive war dance. Some of the figures, though but distant shadows, are far too large to be man or Elf while others are tiny like the things which skulk in shadows, unseen. The vessel continues to move forward, giving no sign of having spotted the Elven vessel.

“Threat warning, vessel approaching, due north-west approximately fifteen nautical miles and closing!”

Lionese banished thoughts of a satisfying meal, and what vintage wine might accompany the daily sustenance to cross the bridge immediately, shadowing the sat radar operator as limbs moved speedily upon its shimmering glass display.

“Confirm tactical,” The Captain uttered whilst scrutinising the readouts for his own benefit and respite. The signal was not particularly strong in terms of reception, which at least eliminated a threatening armada bent on destruction and subjugation and allowed a measure of calm to infiltrate the proceedings, which grew more tense by the moment.

“Definite contact Captain,” confirmed the operator as he struggled for more information. “Limited to one ship, mass indications suggest it has neither the girth or mass to pass as a battleship or significant offensive vessel. It is however continuing to approach and at its current speed will enter the territorial waters of the Kingdom in less than ten minutes.”

Subconsciously straightening a tunic which had garnered much creasing in admittedly lapse hours passed, Lionese crossed to the forefront of the bridge. “Sound a general alert, and prepare all stations for possible narcotics interception -- We can’t be sure this is nothing more complex or worrisome than routine peddling of the illegal.”

Slowly, as if the ship herself were reluctant to bring her considerable bulk to bear, the H.M.S. Elandil turned ponderously and made the rapidly approaching unknown her course to bear. Sleek prow designed and furnished to slice through foaming and frigid waters, unremarkably military-grey colouring doing little to bring a contrast between a carpet of blackened sky, and tumulus waves of a depth hidden.

“Course adjustment confirmed and implemented, new bearing will lead to intercept in four minutes.”

The bridge which had moments before seemed entirely too spacious in even its military engineering became engorged by the influx of crew tending to their stations and raised from their beds by the general alert. One particular individual, marked by prominent gold braiding upon cuff and collar took side by the Captain and procured binoculars from a suitable mounting upon a support column.

“I have no visual contact, the sea isn’t aiding us this night.”

Acknowledging his First Officer, the Captain shifted slightly, placing his weight upon the handrail in front. “With what little information we have, I’m considering this a narcotics smuggling operation of some variety and consequently we’ll maintain radio silence as the approaching vessel has not evidently detected us as we have them.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the shout of tactical; “Contact has entered territorial waters -- Speed and course remain constant and unchanged, Captain.”

“Prepare boarding parties, and standby transmission on suitable radio bands. Make all weapons ready to fire, though I want nothing more than the acquisition of targets without my express and blatant permission.”

With obvious precision, the fore and aft mounted turrets swivelled amongst the frothing white, slung barrels gaining painful height as complex targeting equations verified the arc most at ease to commence firing should such a recourse be required. They dutifully locked into position free of the moral questions asked of those in a position to begin an attack; merely means to an end, a tool of war as well as the maintenance of peace.

The First Officer of the Elandil crossed to the communications bank, aligning the transmitter between glances at his senior commander to ensure compliance. As seconds ticked into scarcely-remembered oblivion, the well-practised drills of the military ship entered end phase though by no means were they left with the imprint of repetition, instead palpitating with nervousness.

Receiving a simple nod, action began as the second-in-command shattered the electrical silence that had preceded.

“Attention approaching vessel and occupants, this is Her Majesty’s Ship Elandil representing the Noldorin Kingdom of Calavénë; I am at this time advising you of your violation of our territorial waters and also of our intention to board your vessel to carry out a routine inspection to safeguard and maintain our border. You are hereby ordered to cut motive power and prepare to receive us -- Any attempt to depart our presence, continue inland or otherwise violate our request shall be met with force escalating and not dismissing firing upon you.”

“Activate the floodlight assemblies, and await their acknowledgement,” Ordered Lionese.

Within the depths of the Elandil, the chef discarded the now long-chilled contents of one of his finest china plates. Extinguishing any candles lit upon the table, he pondered the fact that he alone stood as the only crewman unable to discharge his duties as the very purpose of this vessel - to wage war and defence - was carried out. He sighed; it was unlikely the Captain would accept this excuse, when he finally sat down to a now non-existent meal.

There was no radio acknowledgement but the ship did seem to swerve. It was still heading into territorial waters but at an angle now, the entire affair appearing as a rather clumsy and inept attempt to pull back. No shapes could now be seen on the deck.

As the ship swerved, a large box fell overboard, splashing heavily into the water.

Lionese did not require the services of his officers in recognising the jettisoning of incriminating evidence. Sharply turning from his prior observation, features turning slightly from the routine to obvious irritation, he began the weary sequence of issuing orders.

“Deploy a recovery team immediately,” the Captain barked. “Recover the object they’ve dumped and impound it for analysis. Tactical, course change for the contact?”

Swivelling from the display to meet the gaze of his commanding officer, the junior nodded. “Confirmed Captain, ninety degrees to starboard with a negligible increase in speed to match. No obvious radio emissions or attempts at communication discernable.”

“Smugglers,” the First Officer sighed, abandoning briefly his efforts at eliciting a response from the mysterious vessel.

Lionese nodded, “We’ve little choice in our recourse. Navigation, make your course to intercept at maximum speed Advise Naval Command Authority of our pursuit of suspected smuggling vessel and our attempt to capture possible contraband.”

“Immediately Captain,” he acquiesced.

Elsewhere, specialised activities were undertaken; pulleys manipulated deftly with the skill of rigorous training, and the experience of countless drills to ready rapidly-prepared and reinforced dinghies. Surrounding the activity those trained for such boarding actions made final checks upon their immaculately maintained equipment -- virtually invisible as their carriers were without the high-powered floodlights illuminating said work. Betraying only the alteration of their shadows cast, considerably imposing cannons ascertained their vectors precisely, lowering the half metre required to confirm a targeting lock had been achieved and anything further would be granted on the whim of the bridge and its commanding authority.

Said authority was singled out through the previous silence by the acknowledgement of the tactical officer on duty. “Targeting lock established, fore weapon battery standing by on your order Captain.”

“Fire a warning short, make sure it is well wide of the mark, ahead of their projected course and do your best to ensure you hinder their course.”

An all-to-brief assistance to the floodlighting came in the form of a muzzle flash as the heaving cannons rocked backwards, their projectiles exploded outwards violently, coursing high into the blackened sky to impact some distance though not without considerable detonating force from the illicit traveller in Kingdom waters.

“Boarding parties are standing by to launch,” commented the First Officer, “Two standard dinghies on your orders.”

Lionese nodded -- “Launch them, and let’s bring some order to this chaos.”

With only the merest moment of delay which only light itself was free from enduring, the pulleys were released and two infinitely small objects in the vast bowl of the heaving intercontinental ocean departed their larger mother, to speed towards this alien intruder within a border protected for decades without event. Crouching within these boats, rifles clutched gratefully and eyes unable to move from that which they sought, the suitably camouflaged elite of the Elandil took moments from tension to prepare for what they always, perhaps naively, hoped would be a simple arrest and speedy return for dealing with smugglers, contraband haulers and other minor undesirables.

A mere whisper, for their radio receivers were turned down to ensure maximum stealth, the forceful demands of their ship-left-behind left absolutely no gap or hesitation as to the full extent of the seriousness on display and the consequent conditions laid down, to lift such hostility and render to all parties relative peace.

“Attention illicit vessel, this is your second and final warning to cease motive power and surrender yourself for inspection on our authority to protect Kingdom waters and borders. A warning shot has been dispatched and if you continue to fail to take heed, we shall be left with no alternative but to seek and take stronger action which will lead to repercussions you cannot hope to sustain -- By direct order of Her Majesty’s Ship Elandil, under the Maritime Safety and legitimacy Act and charged by the Naval Command Authority to maintain said act, I order you to submit.”

This time there was absolutely no response at all. No more movement could be seen on the vessel.