August 2017
Zootopian Intelligence Agency Headquarters
The City of Zootopia

"Agent Angela Harris, the Director will see you now."

It was so odd to not hear her own codename spoken from the muzzle of the clerk at the desk in front of the ZIA Director's door. The male had not even looked up above the rim of his glasses as he typed away on the keyboard at the computer in front of him.

She had delved far too deeply into wondering why she was being called in by the Director himself and how her morning routine had gone. The Arctic fox had made sure to be meticulously groomed in both her fur and the suit that she usually wore. Any perception of outward emotion probably would have been described as "annoyed" and it was far too late to change that.

It was too late to change anything as she stood up on her heels and walked over to the door. An interesting note was that the male gazelle had not made any effort to stand and address the door's opening on the agent's behalf. So, the short, snowy fox clasped the door handle on her own, pulling it open and then closed behind her after she had entered the room. Once that task was complete, Angela walked across the larger room to stand before the tall desk that was currently possessed by Director Paul White. This was going to be the first time she had seen the large tiger in the fur. His pictures were hung throughout the building as all of the current senior leadership's photos were at any given time.

"Thank you for coming in today, Agent Skye." The tiger said from behind his desk.

The Director was far larger than she had originally assumed that he would be, and he was just as intently focused on some of the paperwork in his paw as his clerk had been on the computer. Paul White was an older tiger, and his portraits were certainly not up-to-date, according to the streaks of gray that ran across the features of his muzzle and past his brows.

"We'll be here for a bit of time so, please, take a seat." He continued, finally looking up to point at the chair across from his desk.

That was ominous. It certainly was not something that any mammal wanted to hear right out of the gate. Instead of making any comment, she waited for the Director to complete his work, sign the documents in front of him, and then set them down so that he could begin to inspect her. That was the most proper word to describe it, after all.

A moment pasted before Director White spoke again, eyes darting down to read-off from what she assumed to be her file. "Angela K. Harris. Codename: Skye. Born June of Eighty-Nine in Tallahassee, Florida, UMSA. No records on your parents. No records of how you ended up in Zootopia with full documents. And, legal documents, I might add. You don't remember how you ended up here, do you?" He rattled off before punctuating with a question.

"I do not, Director." The vixen replied.

"Your aptitude testing was off-the-charts; if nobody took the time to inform you. And, you have an outstanding depth in our field experience, as well as, your reporting capabilities. This file outlines an exemplary service record while holding no prior military or law-enforcement experience." The tiger began to lay pages face-down on the table as he went through them. "Top of your training class at the Farm. Top marks on the range every quarter since then. You kick every other mammal's ass in the paw-to-paw courses, just as equally. You have eliminated two High-Value Targets during critical missions abroad. You have negotiated the release and rescue of over sixty civilians across nine other missions abroad. In as many countries, no less."

The staring contest began again. He was looking directly into her eyes and she made no attempt to divert her attention away from the Director. Angela Harris was a serious mammal, after all. She took the job and her title very seriously. When the vixen had been growing up, she viewed the ZIA has the epitome of the ability to defend and assist innocent mammals across the globe. Granted, they were overshadowed by the vastness and lineage of the CIA at the end of the day, but still.

"You're here so that I can inform you that you're being promoted to Special Agent and that you will be assigned to one of the senior leadership positions within the Special Activities Group. In six-years, you may be promoted again to a Paramilitary and Operations Officer within the SAG or the GRS: lack of military service notwithstanding. You're a good field agent, Miss Harris, but I want to make it truly clear that you are being groomed for a set of boots that you have heard extraordinarily little about."

"Whose, Sir?" She spoke again.

"You'll be taking over a position that has been vacant for several years now within SAG-Twelve. The tip of the spear, for the SAG, now that the preceding eleven units have retired. There are six other units just like it and following the lineage. The majority of the SAG units are filled with the most experienced pipehitters that have ever come out of the Self-Defense Forces." The Director explained. "You're in the lead to take over Jack Savage's position; despite the lack of military experience."

There almost wasn't a force on the planet that could contain the stifled chuckle that Skye ended up releasing through her teeth. It was an entirely involuntary response.

"Go ahead, Special Agent. If you need to."

It took a clearing of her throat to bury the laugh that wanted to bubble out. "Jack Savage, Sir? The Zootopian film industry's version of the American's Ethan Hunt?" She inquired firmly instead.

"I want to make it clear right now. Anything spoken of, in the following conversation, with result in your immediate removal from all of Zootopia. Do you understand me?" The tiger had ended up standing from his seat while splaying his paws out on the desk. The black suit that he wore remained immaculate. "It is conditional that you know and understand the background of the position that's being offered to you."

It was then and there that Angela Harris understood that this was no elaborate joke concocted by her teammates.

"I understand, Director." She replied carefully.

"It was an unfortunate thing that my predecessor was out drinking and gambling in public, one night, several years ago. He was approached by a mammal – within the film industry – who knew exactly who he was within the Agency." Director White began.

"After an extended period of drinking and gambling, the director for the subsequent franchise ended up making inquiries about several operations that he assumed were buttoned up by the ZIA. Of course, he had some kind of source for the information. Especially when there was mention of a gray rabbit with black tigerstripe patterning across the majority of his body. A very uncharacteristic set of definitive markings for such a mammal.

"The long story short is that none of the Jack Savage film franchise is based on studio concocted storylines. They were all very real operations that had very real consequences for the mammals that had been there. Of course, it was as fluffed as a Savanna Central jock in a pornography piece. The background of all of those movies was based upon the explanations given by my predecessor. All in all, I'm willing to be so bold as to say that the CIA wishes they had such operations to be tempted to reveal to their own public."

Skye decided to cut him off there. "So, you're telling me that the last Director gave out top secret information to a civilian and that his retirement was a cover." She said heavily.

"It still is the cover for the past Director." White said seriously.

"Past?"

"He was killed shortly after the departure from the Agency." The tiger said, staring at the vixen intently again.

"What?!"

"And, while I have no proof, I'm entirely sure that Savage was the one that put three rounds through the bastard's knot-holster within his own home." White explained in an off-pawed manner. "The result of the security breach was the end of Jack's official involvement with the Agency. Unofficially, he still works for us. Of course, you have to realize that the official status of such an agent is only explained Up-The-Hill and not down it. The general public doesn't know that there was ever a real Jack Savage. They think it's all just a fictitious crock-of-shit and that is the way we like it.

"The fact of the matter is that Paramilitary and Operations Officer Jack Savage, formerly under the disguised rank of Special Agent, is officially disavowed, but is still working for the Agency in such a capacity that lends him the necessary tools to strike – as his discretion – against entities that would otherwise seek to harm the Zootopian area. Whether that be the immediate cityscape or somewhere within the whole of the Greater Tri-Burrows surrounding Zootopia. Quite frankly, there are plenty of targets, no matter the exact method of criminal or paramilitary activity. Smuggling, terrorism, foreign espionage and infiltration. You name it."

"So, you want me to take over SAG-Twelve… And, do what, exactly?" Skye inquired finally.

"Your first mission – for Twelve – will be to link up with Savage at a currently undisclosed location in the southeastern portion of the Pacific. If you accept the promotion, you'll be flown out in forty-eight hours and the premise of your departure will be that of a training venture for one of the local militaries in the area. Once there, you will assist Savage in collecting actionable intelligence on a local smuggling ring that we have heard is attempting to bring mammals into both the USMA and Zootopia." The Director stopped long enough to allow for more questions to be asked.

"Where is he, by your best guess?" Skye said.

"Indonesia or the Philippines."

"What do I need? She asked, wanting to hit all of the points.

"Civilian clothes and a light go-bag with minimal essentials. Anything else can be picked up at the local air base and you will be outfitted at Savage's safehouse."

"What do I need to know about Agent Savage?" She finally asked.

"He will be disguised. More likely than not in a simple gray. Fur-dye to cover over his stripes and keep from drawing attention. Here's one of our most recent photos of him. He still isn't hard to miss." The Director explained, stepping out from behind his desk to pass her the small photo.

The rabbit had not been looking at the camera when the shot was taken. He had a scar along his left cheek and there were cuts at the edges of both of his ears from either knife wounds or shrapnel damage. The look on his muzzle was best described as firm or fierce on whatever it was that he had been photographed doing. It was taken before he had painted himself down, too. The black stripes were stark against the gray of his original fur color.

"He's both a hard-ass and a jokester. It was a surprise when he came along all those years back to apply for a position. As it turned out, we were surprised to find that it was as if he was tailored specifically for the Agency. I urge you not to get on his bad side. You're trained and you're extremely good. But – and let me make this real clear – he will go through you like an S.F. breacher going through a fucking door. Do you understand that?" Director White was staring right at her now. His tone and muzzle formed into a vision of determination.

"Yes, Sir." She replied.

"Go clean out your desk. All of your in-progress reports will be transferred to one of your former teammates and one of them will be promoted. After that, you go home and rest up. Pack up. Get ready. You will hitch with two military transports. The first out of Dulles and the second out of Edwards. You'll know the final destination by the time you reach the Air Force Base in California. Understood?" White asked clearly.

"Will do, Sir."

...

It took nearly twenty-hours of flight time to make it to Biak, Indonesia, and the local Manuhua Air Base. If she had been a civilian, Skye would likely have lamented the fact that there had not been a decent amount of layover time while waiting on the Galaxy cargo-lifter to refuel while they were in Honolulu. An afternoon on the beach would have been nice after all of the work that she had been doing.

As soon as the cargo compartment ramp was lowered to the concrete, Skye was one of the first to disembark from the cargo-lifter: in a rush, no less. She did not want to be held up by the loadmasters as they began to roll the 463L master pallets out of the larger internal cargo bay. The walk across the tarmac, between all of the other parked aircraft, was long and hot considering how hard the sun was beating down on everything. Fortunately for Skye, she did not have her winter coat at that precise moment. It did not make things any less hot with the lack of wind in the area.

It was simply damn hot out.

The walk through one of the large hangars was a little cooler, but it was also a little awkward to walk around amongst another nation's military personnel and having them completely ignore the newcomers entirely. She had actually been expecting a little more fanfare at the sight of fresh foreigners on the installation. Skye had entirely missed the mammal fell in stride alongside her. Had she not been as trained as she was, the suddenness of the unknown mammal's approach probably would have frightened her entirely out of her fur.

"Ditch the shades. You're just advertising that you are a 'government agent' to those who are actually paying attention." The voice said quietly.

A swift paw removed the sunglasses and stowed them in the front of her shirt pocket while her head turned towards where the words had been spoken from. Her tail had poofed out a little from being snuck up on so quietly. It was an unintentional response, but not one that was not unexpected. And, surely enough, there was a nondescript gray-furred rabbit padding along beside her. Slightly ahead after a couple of more steps, so that he could lead the way to wherever it was that they needed to be going. Jack Savage never even looked at her even though she was inspecting him rather intently. His scars could not be covered by anything more than what was unseen due to his clothing.

The paramilitary officer was dressed exactly like she had seen some of the Hawaiian tourists. A tan pair of shorts was somewhat covered by a dark green foliage imprint that was overlaying a sea blue background of the button-down shirt. He wore no sunglasses, but he did wear a partially folded Australian akubra on top of his head. It kept his ears pinned along the back of his head and Skye could see the "chipping" of the wounds that he had suffered along their edges.

"I wasn't expecting to meet you so soon." Skye commented discreetly.

"We'll talk more later." Savage whispered as they walked up to a green Land Rover. "Get in."

The roads were cracked and broken from all of the local traffic and from the weather of the area. Not a single compliant could be made about how "poor" or "rural" the city of Biak seemed. Despite how worn-down the buildings were, all of the local mammals were seemingly happy. The majority of the population was made up of marsupials and rodents. Because of how small the mammals of the island were: it meant that the population was quite high and they all seemed to congregate together. Skye understood that each of the islands had an extremely specific group of species that resided on them with a near exclusivity. The "odd" species were those around the military bases. Those mammals were usually of the larger frames and built more for combating hostiles. Bonuses were paid for the largest of the citizens' species after the atrocities suffered during the Pacific War. The invaders of the era had nearly taken every inch of the country during the conflict.

The view of the aquamarine shoals, off of the south shore and shortly past the city, were amazing to look at during the drive to Mampioper. The younger buck did not do much sight-seeing as he turned the SUV north through the township. The ocean was forgotten when they immediately fell into the winding roadway that went through the Biak Papua jungles. Skye could not help but notice that half of Jack's shirt matched the harshness of the greens that surrounded everything except for the paved roadway. It meant that he would blend rather well, considering the undertones of his fully-dyed gray fur, in the lower-lit areas. The vixen might have had trouble spotting him herself if it was not for the fact that she would be looking for that same tone of blue as the surrounding oceans were.

Despite the fact that it seemed like the rabbit was in a rush, it took another hour to make it to the Kanaan area. The suddenness of the Sungai Wardo river-mouth was there and gone for a moment. The vixen loved the way that the blues and greens meshed with one another. As tired as she felt, there was no stopping the insatiable appetite to witness the previously unknown nation. Skye only began to tire once they had made it to the northern shore of Saoeias. That was when the hues of blue ocean began to drop her into a state of relaxation that was not helped by the fact that her head had been laid gently against the interior frame of the vehicle. This, alongside the fact that neither of the two occupants had said a word to one another. Skye had been waiting for the higher-ranked buck to speak up at some point, but he had not done so during the entire trip. The vixen did not expect that he would, by that time.

At some point, during the final hour of their trip, Skye had fallen asleep. It was not until the harshness of the parking brake being set did she wake. The sound made her eyes flutter open and the stiffness in her shoulders and back elicited a heavy, groaning stretch from the Arctic fox.

"We have to take a boat from here. It's a long trip to Makassar. If you don't get sick, you can sleep more then." The buck commented dully. His voice was still quiet despite the two mammals being out in the middle of nowhere. The slam of the driver's door punctuated the conversation.

Skye unbuckled her seatbelt and popped her passenger door open while listening to the trunk being opened up. She took that opportunity to continue where he had left off.

"Where are we?"

"Waryei." He said, grunting a bit as he dragged their bags out of the back of the Land Rover.

"Is there anything that I should know now?" The vixen trailed on, stepping around to the rear of the vehicle so that she could help with her own bags.

"Yeah. Shut your muzzle until I say otherwise." Jack growled lowly.

As much as the vixen wanted to legitimately growl in displeasure, due to the treatment that she was receiving, she remembered what the Director had told her about the agent – who was dutifully slinging bags towards the beach. The buck had been on his own for years already. There was no telling how long he had been operating in semi-seclusion prior to that, as well. He probably had not dealt with another member of the Agency since being disavowed. And, with a purposeful lack of involvement with any locals, Jack Savage was, more likely than not, well and truly disassociated from mammalian contact. The thing that wasn't going to help Skye was the fact that he was also the superior for the mission. She did not want to suddenly find herself unconscious due to any insubordination. The buck did have some rather large hindpaws. Not to mention, he was also likely to be armed.

It was a good thing that Skye had decided to merely pack clothes in her bags. The boat was down a dock and Jack was hauling four of the duffels at a double-timed pace. She scooped up a hard-case that he had not managed to carry before taking off after the buck. Beyond his high-held, gray ears, Skye could see that there were two or three other mammals already on the boat. And, as soon as they had both made their way down the dock, Jack tossed all of the bags into onto the rear deck with no regard for the contents inside. His or hers. One of the mammals, a civet hopped over the gunwale to greet his colleague. Jack tossed the keys to the Land Rover at the mammal.

"Take care of the rig, will you?" Jack requested, leaving a greeting for a firm pawshake.

"Like I always do." The civet said gruffly. "Who's this?"

"A tourist who wanted to go on a fishing expedition." Jack explained simply.

"Any clue on when you'll be back then?" His friend inquired.

"No. Take care, Xian." Jack said, looking over at Skye before taking the case and tossing it into the back of the boat with the rest of the luggage.

The civet, likely from China or Taiwan considering his name, tipped his muzzle with a nod to the pair before walking back down the dock: tossing the headfast line into the bow of the boat as it went. When she turned back, Jack was already in the boat and climbing up to speak to the helmsmammal, more likely than not. They caught each other's sightlines and Jack waved her up.

"Move your ass, Snowball. I've got places to be." He spoke firmly, without regard for being polite.

No sooner had her paws hit the deck of the ship did Jack shout up at the bridge and the boat was immediately engaged with acceleration. It was so fast that the vixen nearly fell onto the pile of duffels that they had brought with them. She could not hear any of what Jack was shouting up at the helmsmammal over the roar of the Mercury motors. There were two cushioned bench seats at the back of the boat, along with two individual stools that were usually used for fishing, so the vixen walked over to sit down and rest a bit while the large vessel cut its way through the waves with resounding slaps off of the hull. The infrequent spray of seawater was pleasant to feel considering how hot it had been during the drive out.

She almost closed her eyes, but the sight of a multicolored blur was seen in the corner of her eye. Jack had jumped down from the crow's nest and positioned himself so that he could sling their bags down to the lower deck through the companionway opening. There would be more cabins below, she guessed. The hard-case was actually carried down this time and Jack gave her a wave to follow him. The vixen could feel the boat slowing down to a comfortable cruising speed as she got up to follow the buck below deck. She had to duck her head a bit and found that jack was slinging each of their sets of bags into the respective cabins that they would be using for the journey. The closed the door to the companionway, at the top of the stairway (ladder, technically), and took a seat in the nearby dining area. Skye could smell the scent of lubricants, cordite, and motor oil mingling with the saltiness of the surrounding sea air. It was now obvious that the boat was frequently used for combat actions: probably a dedicated ZIA asset.

Jack eventually came over with his case and set it down in the seat next to him, across Skye, and leaned back to rest a little while looking his new charge over.

"So, White tells me that you're someone who can be trusted with operations that I conduct out here." He finally spoke. The engines were merely a droning sound, within the enclosed cabin, now. She could hear him clearly.

"Yes." Skye said easily.

"And, you understand how much latitude I have to work with out here?" Jack asked.

Skye shrugged a little. "The Director did not say it outright, but he told me enough to make it clear that your officially disavowed status offered you a lot of it. I assume that you receive no orders, make no official requests, frequently or infrequently receive supplies, and that you work with your own doctrines." The vixen explained.

The buck hummed a confirmation. "For instance, a surveillance mission could turn into a combat operation in the blink of an eye. And, all at my discretion. I've read your file, Snowball. You've done hostage rescue and you've eliminated High-Value Targets before. I need you to understand that there is some killing to be done down here. I also need you to understand that you're replacing a colleague of mine; who died trying to wrap this group's activities up. The parameters of your promotion are that you will spend much of your time out here in the field with me. Entirely on our own. Without support. You've previously run with larger teams, but this is something quite different. There are no rules for us here and it is unofficially sanctioned by the local government. The point is not to be caught by anybody, but we have ass-coverage if the authorities do catch us. Not everybody is read-in on the operation, obviously." The buck's words were clarifying, if not a little long-winded.

"Quite different?" Skye sought out clarification.

"Did White not inform you of what SAG-Twelve is?" Jack asked incredulously.

"He did not. He merely explained that I would lead the team." Skye replied, feeling her brow furrow.

Jack slid himself out from behind the bolted-down table to walk over to the fridge and pull out a beer and a water. He tossed the latter to the vixen with ease and continued their conversation as he did so.

"Special Activities Group-Twelve was a quick-reaction unit before the untimely leak of information. Myself, and three others, had our careers burned to ashes. Once everything was nearly cleaned up, the four of us got together with the rest of the team to form a new plan. The other eight members would pass on an outlined plan for a group of off-the-books agents and operators to act as an unknown set of eyes and ears for the Agency. At first, the four of us paired-off to counter two of the more pressing issues that were not being handled, at the time. Later on, the plan ended up evolving. White decided to mold Twelve down to the individual level and disperse them around the globe as an investigative strike force. There's no de-facto leader of Twelve, technically. You're simply the one mammal that can and will return home, occasionally, to work the politicking angle… However… If I am killed here, or wherever, your mission will change and you will take over my position and whatever active operation that I was working on that that time."

The vixen blinked slowly. "None of this was explained to me before I left." Skye repeated.

"In any case. That's the mission. You get one tour, however long this stint takes, before you give your final decision to White upon your return to Zootopia. This one will give you enough incite to make the decision. And, I expect to be apprised of your decision before you leave, so that my time isn't wasted on waiting for an agent to come back who actually isn't."

"So, what's the deal with the boat?" Skye asked, looking around the lower cabin to indicate her interest.

"The best 'safe houses' are mobile and the best way to be mobile is to be on the water around here. This boat will have everything that you might need and we will get you outfitted, with the necessary gear, in the morning."

A deeper look around the internal cabin alerted her to the fact that it was obviously filled with Agency hidey-holes for weaponry and defensive measures. Most of the cupboards and pantry space were set up for quick-access, while also not being all too obvious to any untrained eyes that could break into the area. Skye knew well enough which doors held weapons and which ones held traps.

"So, what about the operation? The expanded explanation was also left to you by Director White." The vixen said quietly.

"There is a prominent entity that is running smuggling operations across Africa, South Asia, and in the South Pacific. Even going so far as sneaking around Australia and pushing their 'products' around the western hemisphere. The primary trade is mammal smuggling. Unfortunately, for them, there was no way that they were going to smuggle mammal, out of central Asia and Africa, into the American continents unnoticed."

"For slave labor?" Skye inquired.

"They probably would have been better off selling the mammals in such a capacity, to the highest bidder and all, but they have not and they are not. They are building an infrastructure with those mammals by holding them hostage to the debts that they 'incur' by seeking out the travel structure to other nations; so that they can get away from conflicts or hardships locally. Once they are here, they are slaves to the company and to the company alone. I've only seen a pawful of mammals end up being sold off to bidders. Exceptionally rich assholes, mind you."

"So, they process whatever inanimate goods that the cartel runs through the region." Skye said bluntly.

"Absolutely. They never get near the weaponry. They process the drugs. They also sort through the non-consumables such as silk or jewelry items. And, because they are unknown workers, they are able to be worked to death before being tossed away. After all… There's an endless stream of 'willing participants', who want to escape the Hells of some of the poorest nations in the whole world, and they will jump right into a Conex container to do it. It's quite the operation to attempt to deal with."

"But, that's why we're here. That's why you're here. You think that it's a vast enough issue to deal with it directly." The vixen commented dutifully.

"And, that's why we're here." Jack finalized with a hardened tone.

The sun was clearly starting to set outside of the portholes of the lower deck. Warm oranges were covering the internal area of the rather comfy living quarters. Every now and again, she would see the spray rise up enough to pass the porthole. They were being driven across the tide so that was going to be a given on one side of the boat.

"So, what does this operation entail?" Skye said, looking back to the buck to listen intently.

"We're going to recon all of the major ports in the western portion of the nation and see where the assholes are smuggling their products through. Then, we take them down. The State Intelligence Agency is working loosely with the Maritime Security Agency. The BIN is not entirely sure how much of the MSA are potentially involved with the syndicate, though: considering that they have been involved with some of the more organized criminal entities within the nation before. If we can capture some of them, that would be ideal for our intelligence groups, but White doesn't want us risking our lives out of haste." The buck explained, opening up the case so that he could pass her a folder of documents. "Considering how much piracy is in the Strait of Malacca, there's likely a lot of protection for them around those nearby ports. We're going to start around the Java Sea. We can watch over a lot of the area from Singapore to Jakarta to Makassar. The entire area covers many of the major ports. Makassar will be first."

Skye swiped a paw through the pages while reading all of the available information that was provided. There were also several maps covering the shipping routes from eastern Africa all the way over to Solomon Islands. Red lined routes were confirmed for usage. There were far more in green, which were suspected routes that had a limited amount of evidence to support it, and in blue, which were reasonable guesses. There was a giant red question mark covering the South China Sea. At the back of the folder, there were several high-resolution photos that had been taken of suspected freighters and smaller go-between ships, as well as armed mammals in different locations around the island nations. Her paw re-laid all of the paperwork into its original flat form before noticing that there was nothing really on who the group was.

"You don't have an official name for them?" The vixen questioned sharply.

"We simply refer to them as Uniform Company. NATO phonetic stand-in for 'Unknown'." Jack smiled darkly. "Some would admire these mammals simply because they can use standard means of communications and all of their members are so well disciplined that we don't know the group's actual name or who any of their major players are."

"They're using the internet and cellphones regularly?" She asked in surprise.

"Mostly chat apparatuses and text messaging. Who knows how much we are missing on the messaging apps with end-to-end encryption – or by shared email accounts and just using simple drafts. And, locally? They're meeting muzzle-to-muzzle or writing notes for dead-drops. These guys are a smart group of assholes." Jack explained, rolling his shoulders in a sort-of shrug. "So, we have to find out where they are localized here and proceed from there."

"If they are that serious than this will likely be one of the most dangerous groups that any of the allied nations have attempted to deal with. More dangerous and sophisticated than what the Americans have dealt with. Worse than bin Laden's al-Qaeda, Boko Haram, and the Islamic State combined." The vixen muttered, looking off over his shoulder at the galley.

"Those were my thoughts, as well." Jack said with a firm nod. "Anyway. I've already taken care of your operations bag. The weapons locker is right there. I'm going to catch some rack-time and I suggest you do the same. Or you can pour over those notes. But, I advise some sleep. I don't know how long we will be out there and we will be turning-and-burning. Use that room there." He pointed over her shoulder.

The buck slid out of the chair and moved his way out of the dining area so that he could enter his cabin. Skye listened to the door click shut while she pulled out of the maps of the area from the folder. The female fox was a quick enough study to not need to re-read all of the material that had already scanned through earlier. She was a little more careful with the attempt to recognize patterns in the travelled routes, though. After fifteen-minutes, she took out a Sharpie and circled three of the areas that had the highest amount of connecting traffic while also considering those locations' proximities to the nearest ports. Once that was done, Skye neatly set it all together at the center of the table before placing a nearby dive weight on the stack so that it would not slide around.

The vessel probably would not make it to their first destination until around midnight. It was a large enough of a boat that, technically, it should be referred to as a 'ship', and that meant that it had to observe specific routes so as not to be ran aground. It was still only mid-afternoon. The sun was only just beginning to wane into the deep orange hues of the evening. Mixing that with the blues of the sea, Skye found herself simply staring out at the ocean to try to absorb of the beauty that was in the world. The brief laying on the table made it clear enough that this was a serious group and that there would be real consequences which would come with taking them on. That simple folder was also not likely to be the entirety of the U.C.'s file: there would be more on them for Africa and South America, no doubt. And, if everything got deep – which Skye anticipated that it would – then they were going to end of witnessing some really dark parts of mammalian society. Any group that was this massively invested in mammal trafficking was a force to be reckoned with. They would be highly motivated to cling to their profit margins. No matter who they had to eliminate or whoever's radar they ended up showing up on.

The vixen felt herself shiver a little as she stood up to head to her cabin. She could feel the warmth of the light on her back as her mind contemplated the darkness that they were about to step into. The sheets that were laid out on her rack only made the cold seep deeper in once she laid down. Jet-lag drug Skye into the dark depths of sleep so quickly that there was no chance to continue reflecting on the sights outside of the porthole of the cabin.

Outside, the sun accentuated the beauty of the seascape and the far-off greens of different islands that the vessel passed. They would slide away to the rear, completely forgotten and unnoticed and ignored by the crew, in the wake of the boat. Other ships featured their own pleasant color schemes. Sometimes smaller boats with white sails and others were huge, laden container ships or tankers. If anybody had really been paying attention, some of the names could be read off of the sides due to the vastness of the lettering. There were also gray hulls of military vessels. The helmsmammal made sure to steer well clear of those ships so that they were not randomly stopped and boarded under the suspicion of being smugglers or pirates.

What ended up waking the vixen, much later, was the sound of a freighter loosing its horn across the waters nearby. It was pleasant enough that she did not startle from her rack thanks to the mental recognition of the sound. After Skye blinked a few times, she was able to focus on the darkness through the porthole. It was glaringly obvious that it was time to get up – or close enough to it. She had expected the shorter buck to have woken her up, but the reality did not change the immediate roll out of the makeshift bedding. After a bit of a stretch, the vixen wandered out of the cabin.

Outside, Skye found Jack working his way around the room. He was both setting up some food on the table while also cleaning up all of the residual contents of his case. The vixen was surprised to find that he was wearing his uniform all the while. And she was even more surprised to smell the amazing scents of the food that was present within the outer room.

"We're nearly there. Go ahead and eat. We still have a bit of time." Jack explained.

"It's weird that I'm not seeing your in an apron, all things considered." Skye quipped lightly, sitting down to shovel food onto her plate.

"Don't be a smartass, Snowball. Eat and kit-up." He replied tightly, clearly not amused.

Skye made sure to keep an eye on the buck, while he began to sort out his waterproof pack, even as she ate the provided sustenance. It was all homemade from local ingredients, even if it was all vegetarian. There was nothing to complain about when it came to the tastes and textures. It was the first serious meal that she had ingested since leaving Zootopia and, for that, she was grateful to the buck.

On the other paw, Jack was clearly invested in sorting out all of his gear. It did not take long for him to safety-check his CCUBA unit and it led his paws to loading up a waterproof storage bag. A turn of her head brought the vixen's eyes towards the outside environment. The moon and starlight glittered off of the blackened waters that they were bouncing around on, and the view of the glittering stars brought a gentle smile to her closed and gently moving lips. She was chewing food, after all.

Skye made quick work of the food before pushing the empty plate towards the center of the table and shoving herself out of the booth. Her bag was already taken care of, so she took up her own Closed-Circuit Underwater Breathing Apparatus to check if everything was on the up-and-up. It was clear that the buck had already gone over it once, but a second set of eyes was always advisable when it came to survival equipment. Jack was busy unlocking the weapons locker so that he could remove the necessary arms that he would be using during the surveillance operation. The vixen did not even bother to wait for the completion of the task.

"Do you care about commonality of our weaponry?" She asked.

"As an extension, yes. I anticipate that most of the enemy weaponry will be STANAG compatible. So, I would suggest bringing a primary that can use such magazines." Jack muttered as he withdrew a Lithgow F90MBR from the locker. Sure enough, it had a PMAG sticking out of the magazine well instead of the older Austrian AUG waffle-type. It was interesting to note that it was not a small-mammal variant of the rifle, but one that she could readily use if it was needed. "Lots of shit gets 'lost' from the surrounding countries, including from the Indonesians, so simply being able to snap up their mags is a bit of a blessing."

"Have you had to do that often?" She asked, sneaking in to hook an individual body armor unit off a hook as well as a dirty-green H&K 416A5 variant that had a 14.5-inch barrel.

There was a AN/PEQ-15 Advanced Targeting Laser / Illuminator / Aiming Light (ATPIAL) set at the end of the 12-o'clock on the rail while a Trijicon ACOG rode atop of the upper receiver, as well as a Surefire weaponlight attached to the one-o'clock of the rail on a Thorntail mount. At the six-o'clock, there was a simply KAC foregrip set up perfectly. It was almost as if the buck had seen pictures of how she usually set up her older M4A1s and newer MK18 Mod.2s.

Skye's initial surprise did not mean that she missed the fact that the buck made no reply to the question that she had posed.

Well, that's telling…

There was a set of clicks when she released the magazine to check for the ammunition supply before reloading it into the magazine well. Jack did not seem bothered, not even a twitch in the rabbit's ears, when Skype ripped on the charging handle behind him: loading a round into the chamber. The vixen was not shy about anything. Jack was busy. So, she stripped down to her workout underwear before pulling on an undershirt and then the provided M81 Woodland-patterned uniform. Once it was all appropriately oriented on her body, Skye undid the Velcro on the cummerbund so that she could heave it over her head. It was reset on the left and then the right sides. Once that done, Skye began to load magazines into the three pouches on the front of the carrier before putting on an operator belt with a drop-leg holster. She mimicked Jack by placing a similar Glock 9mm in the holster and then put corresponding magazines into the holsters on her left hip. There was a spare pouch full of gear that sat on her lower back, just above her tail.

On the top shelf of the locker was a FAST Bump helmet with dual-tube night-vision and that was placed on top of her head. She liked the cuts which enabled her ears to poke through while also having little speaker modules so that she could hear the communications from the radio that was tethered to the from of her body armor. Once the wiring was hooked in and hidden out of the way, Skye then took up her own CCUBA and put it on. The vixen swam really well, but this would be the first time she had done it in full kit while also being on an active mission. She was ready to go by the time Jack turned around.

"Grab that bag. It's got your pack in it." The buck said firmly. He was ready.