Location: Flight Two Two Three Nine, Athica airlines, Atlantis International Airport, the Republic of Olympus, The Isle of Atlantis, 04:25 PM, 12th Juli
Annabeth Chase jerked awake as the four-engined plane landed hard on the tarmac, the sudden jolt pulling her from a light, restless sleep. The rumbling of the engines as they reversed thrust rattled through her bones, her mind still foggy from exhaustion. She instinctively reached for the armrest, her knuckles white as the aircraft slowed, the familiar tightening in her chest from the abrupt drop in altitude still lingering. Her eyes darted toward the window, catching the faint outline of Atlantis International Airport through the haze of late afternoon, the sprawling structure almost gleaming against the vibrant blue of the sky, and the aircraft long gleaming silver wing as the airplane began to turn off the runway, and a loud whirring sound filled the cabin as the spoilers and flaps began to retract, briefly nearly drowning out the chatter and laughter of families eager to get to the beach. The sky, she noted, was a radiant blue. She did not look back at the plane.
Almost instinctively, she felt for the briefcase stowed between her lags, and heave it into her lap.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," the cheerful voice of the captain chimed over the intercom. "This is your captain speaking. On behalf of Athica Airlines, I would like to welcome you to the Isle of Atlantis. As you can see, we have clear skies, and the outside temperature is a warm ninety-five degrees—perfect weather to enjoy the beach. Atlantic City is only a pleasant thirty-minute hop away by train. On behalf of the entire crew, I would like to thank you for flying with Athica Airlines, and we hope to host you again soon." To her annoyance, the passengers actually cheered, as if trying to congratulate the bloody pilot for doing the bare minimum of his job, landing safely.
After a few moments in which Annabeth pulled on her sunglasses and kept her eyes closed, they taxied towards the gate and finally pulled into a slot next to a large purple airliner from the Imperial Airways. After the plane finally came to a halt and the seatbelt sign flickered off and the engine's howl died down. Passengers began unbuckling and standing up, eagerly reaching for their belongings in the overhead compartments. Annabeth remained seated for a moment, letting the impatient crowd jostle past her. She adjusted her sunglasses and tightened her grip on the briefcase, and only when the first rush had passed did she finally rise to her feet, stretching her long limbs after the four-hour flight. She was tall for a woman, five foot nine, and as she rose, she tied her long golden blond curled into a high ponytail.
On her way to the front where two flight attendants nodded her fair well. Annabeth smiled back. She had an expressive mouth. Her's was grim in its neutral, and could be downright alarming when the edges turned downward. It had been remarked by more than one person that her cold gray eyes, and sharp, made her seem unapproachable or cold. That did explain her love life, or lack thereof, though she had been told she had quite a beautiful smile.
The hum of the air conditioning greeted her as she stepped into the terminal, offering some respite from the sweltering heat outside. Atlantis International was as sleek and modern as she remembered—white marble floors, tall ceilings lined with lights, and a maze of duty-free shops selling everything from luxury watches to exotic liquors. Tourists, mostly families with bright beachwear and large straw hats, hurried by, chattering about their plans for the tropical island. She cut straight through the crowd, fetched her suitcase from the baggage belt, and then headed towards the security checkpoint. It was with some satisfaction that she skipped the security line, walked straight up to the marble counter, and flashed her BNI ID. There was just no way in hell anyone would be opening her briefcase.
The young woman manning the desk, a local if her tanned complexion and dark hair were anything to go by, looked at the ID with wide eyes, and quickly called her supervisor, who quickly buzzed her though. Finally, she passed through two screen doors into the arrival terminal. It was a vast chamber, held up by white marble columns. The place was littered with info stands, small stores, and thick crowds of tourists. Some, she noted with some disdain, had clearly already looked a bit too deeply into their glasses.
Finally she spotted the young blond man in a pink shirt sleeved short, sun glasses, and flip-flops. "Anni," her half brother greeted her, waving a sign that had her name written on it. It was even misspelled.
Annabeth groaned inwardly at the sight of the sign. She couldn't tell if her half-brother, was doing it on purpose or if he genuinely believed her name was spelled that way after all these years. Still, she pushed past the irritation, straightened her back, and made her way over to him, her briefcase in one hand, her suitcase trailing behind her in the other.
"Malcolm," she greeted, her voice clipped but affectionate. "Nice to see you haven't improved your spelling."
Malcolm grinned widely, ignoring her pointed tone. "Anni, you know I do it just to annoy you." He reached over to hug her, his laid-back islander energy contrasting sharply with Annabeth's business-like demeanor. "So you officially lost control of your life?" Annaberg asked, nodding at his attire.
"You know Company doctrine. Blend with local culture and all that stuff," he explained in a display of mock professionalism. "Besides, got everything set up for you. Desk at the office and a mattress for you at my place."
Annabeth sighed, nodding in appreciation despite herself. "Thanks. I'm sure it wasn't easy to pull that off on such short notice."
"Eh, it's all part of the fun. At least you don't need to hunker down in some hotel— it's nothing fancy, but it's close to the base. And," he added with a smirk, "the beach."
"I am here to work, Malcolm. Not all of us can fuck off to the duty station in a tropical paradise," she reminded him and finally allowed her half brother to take her suitcase and lead her out of the terminal to the bustling parking loop and towards a small green four by four with removable canvas roof, parked in the no parking zone between two police cruisers.
"No parking area," she said pointedly.
"Government business," he countered and chuck her suitcase into the trunk and Annabeth dropped her briefcase into the foot space of the back seats and then climbed into the shotgun seat.
As Malcolm slid into the driver's seat, the engine of the small four-by-four roared to life with a low growl. Annabeth rolled her eyes, barely suppressing a smirk. Of course, her brother had chosen the most obnoxious vehicle in the lot.
"You could've at least picked something a little less... conspicuous," she commented, eyeing the faded green paint and the makeshift canvas roof that flapped slightly in the wind.
"Blending in, Anni, remember?" Malcolm teased, shifting the vehicle into gear. "Besides, nothing says local like an old-school jeep. You'll thank me when we're off the main roads."
Annabeth glanced out of the window, her thoughts already drifting back to the mission ahead. Her superiors didn't want to raise the alarm yet, but they had sent her to sniff around—discreetly. Not that anything about her brother's vehicle screamed discretion.
"How long to your place?" Annabeth asked, pulling her sunglasses down slightly to scan the road ahead.
"About fifty minutes, give or take. Rush hour's a little crazy, so add a little to that," Malcolm replied, navigating out of the jammed airport loop and merging onto a sun-drenched highway.
The scenery outside was striking—white sandy beaches stretching toward a azure blue ocean, framed by swaying palm trees and colorful beach huts on one side, and mountainous jungle on the other.
As they drove, Malcolm first put on the radio, and cast a sideways glance at her. "So, what brings you down here from the Capital?" he asked lightly.
"We have indicators that Orthys is making a move," Annabeth explained lightly. "They've been pulling assets off the frontier for months and human intelligence assets are reporting that the Titains have been stockpiling significant amouts of hardware," she explained. "And if they want to shift the balance of power, Battle-fleet Atlantis will be making first contact. Also, don't trust the Romans as far as I can bloody throw them, so if we're committed to a war with Orthys, they might try to make their move as well."
Malcolm's relaxed demeanor shifted as Annabeth spoke. He let out a low whistle, glancing at her briefly before focusing back on the road. "Orthys, huh? So it's getting serious. I figured something was up, but if you're here, things must be hitting the fan sooner than expected."
"Not officially," Annabeth replied, her tone sharp. "I'm here to assess the situation quietly. The higher-ups don't want to start making noise until we have concrete evidence of what's happening. But yeah, Orthys aren't just rattling their sabers anymore. We have Satellite Pictures of them stockpiling hardware, some serious volume of hardware. And if the Romans see us being stretched thin, they'll take advantage of it. You know how opportunistic they are—they've been eyeing some of our territories for years."
Malcolm nodded, his carefree grin fading somewhat.
"Any direct threats to Atlantis directly?" Malcolm asked, which was an understandable concern given the bloody island was his duty station.
"Apart from the possible impacts of a larger scale conflict, nothing direct as of now," Annabeth said darkly.
He stayed silent for a long moment, his gaze locked on the traffic. "Is the Ministry Of Defence advised yet?" he asked.
Annabeth shook her head slightly. "Not yet. At least not officially, but the Foreign Office is in the loop. I think the Director is not ringing the bell yet at the Ministry of Defence yet officially but we both know he is Golf buddies with the head of the Strategic Defence Command. Besides, you can bet your ass military intelligence noticed that kind of buildup, too. They are the ones sending us satellite pictures. I think the higher ups worried of turning this war into a self-fulfilling prophecy. But that is why I am here. Advise the fleet and make sure we're prepared for any sudden moves Orthys might make. I'm here to assess the threat levels and make recommendations."
Malcolm nodded, his expression turning serious as he processed the gravity of her words. "Well, whatever you need, you know I've got your back. What's the plan for now?"
Annabeth shrugged. "Not entirely sure, yet. Take a good hard look at our posture here, and hopefully get informal sitdowns with the folks from the Fleet side to see where they are standing provided you can facilitate such a meeting," Annabeth half asked.
Malcolm glanced over at Annabeth, giving her a quick nod. "I can arrange that. Some of the Fleet guys owe me a favor or two, and I'll get us some face time, off the record."
The sun-drenched coastline gradually gave way to dense, verdant jungle, the transition almost seamless under the warm glow of the late afternoon. Ahead, the sleek, gleaming towers of Atlantis City loomed in the distance as the highway split. Malcolm took the right fork, steering the jeep further inland, away from the city and deeper into the heart of the island, winding through the mountains.
"That's one of the local volcanoes, Mt. Thera," Malcolm said as they navigated the snaking mountain road. He pointed toward the towering, dormant peak looming over the lush jungle below. "It hasn't erupted in centuries, but the ground rumbles now and then keeps the locals on their toes." The verdant landscape rushed past, a mix of thick jungle canopy and jagged cliffs that seemed to slice right into the horizon. Annabeth barely glanced at the natural beauty. She was here to do a job, not go sightseeing.
The hour marker came and passed, and finally they rounded the circumference of a mountain with a shimmering white radar dome on the top and she found herself looking down at the glittering ocean. They were heading straight towards an ocean side town. To her left, though, in the west of the bay, she finally got her first view of the Naval Base. The Naval Base dominated the western edge of the bay, a sprawling complex of docks, dry-docks, and towering cranes bordering the seaside, with a forest of warehouses, office buildings, and forests of large white fuel silos. There was even an airstrip with two runways, and even from here she could see aircraft, everything from small fighters, to large transport and Naval recon aircraft cluttering the ramp.
Even from here, she could see everything from guided missile cruisers and destroyers moored at the docks. There was even an aircraft carrier, a one hundred thousand ton giant, with its angled flight-deck resting under the blazing sun. Dozens of other larger and smaller vessels floating in the harbor, including another large flat top, probably an amphibious assault ship of some sort. The complex was vast, occupying easily twice the footprint of the local town.
"Bigger than it looks on Satellite Photos," Annabeth remarked drily.
Malcolm chuckled, glancing at Annabeth. "Impressive, huh? They've been expanding it quietly for years. More funding from the Ministry of Defense than they'll admit. They want this place to be a fortress. See those mountain top radars?"
Malcolm gestured towards the peak she had noticed earlier, where a radar dome stood sentinel over the landscape. "They've got a few more like that, hidden deeper inland, and probably more stuff we're not even allowed to know about. The ground pounders apparently also set up shop sometime last year with air defences, and apparently there are digging silos for a Sky Shield battery to subliment the fleet based air defence. The whole area's basically one big military zone, though they try to keep it low-key so tourists and locals don't freak out. Okay, mainly tourists. Sometimes I get the impression that half the Atlantean population either serves in the Fleet or in the merchant marine."
Annabeth nodded, her gaze lingering on the naval base as they descended toward the town. "Low-key," she muttered. "With that much hardware on display, it's anything but. But they do know their boat stuff."
Finally, they reached the town and pulled off the motorway just as its road turned toward base. Their offramp culminated into a runabout with an elaborate flour bed.
Malcolm took the turn off the roundabout smoothly, heading into a quieter part of the town. "Welcome to Marisol," Malcolm announced brightly. The shift in atmosphere was immediate. Gone were the towering buildings of Atlantis City or the sprawling naval complex; here, narrow streets lined with colorful, low-rise houses and small shops gave the area a distinctly local charm. Palm trees swayed gently in the late afternoon breeze, and the distant sound of the ocean crashing against the shore provided a soothing backdrop to the otherwise bustling town.
The streets were busy, though not in the frantic way of the tourist hotspots. Here, locals went about their daily routines—shopkeepers sweeping the front steps of their stores, children playing soccer in the streets, and elderly residents sitting on their porches, watching the world pass by. The air was thick with the scent of saltwater and grilled seafood, and Annabeth felt a twinge of hunger, though she quickly shoved it aside. "Lot of activity from off duty guys around here, so causes a few problems with local young men when they feel all the girls are being snatched up," Malcolm continued brightly."
Annabeth gave a small chuckle at Malcolm's comment, though her mind was still preoccupied with the mission. The town had a quaint charm, certainly, but she wasn't here for sightseeing.
"Any trouble recently?" she asked, glancing out the window as they passed by a small marketplace bustling with vendors.
"Nothing major, just the usual stuff when you have a bunch of young, off-duty sailors with too much time on their hands," Malcolm replied with a smirk. "A few bar fights here and there, but nothing that gets out of hand. The locals are pretty used to it by now. It's the price you pay when you live next to a naval base. Plus, the Provosts are good at keeping things under control."
They pulled up to a small two-story house on the edge of town but still close to the water, the building blending in with its surroundings—a simple structure with whitewashed walls and a red-tiled roof. Palm trees swayed lazily in the front yard, and a hammock was strung between the two of them.
Malcolm parked the jeep and hopped out, tossing Annabeth her suitcase as she slid out of the passenger seat. "Welcome to Casa Malcolm," he said with a grin, spreading his arms wide as if showing off some grand palace.
Annabeth smirked despite herself. "Charming."
"It's not much, but it'll do," Malcolm shrugged, leading her inside, and dragging her suitcase behind him. The interior was cozy, if a bit cluttered—surfboards propped up against one wall, a mix of worn furniture scattered across the living room, and the faint scent of sunscreen lingering in the air. Despite the casual disarray, the place had a comfortable warmth to it. She was all the more surprised when a heart-shaped face, framed by curly dark brown hair, poked around a corner.
Annabeth blinked in surprise as a woman appeared, stepping fully into view. She was petite, with sun-kissed skin, dressed casually in shorts and a tank top, her deep brown eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Anni, meet Elena," Malcolm said, his tone overly casual as he draped an arm around the woman's shoulders. "My... partner."
Elena flashed Annabeth a friendly smile, offering a shy wave. "Nice to finally meet you. Malcolm's told me a lot about you."
Annabeth's eyebrows shot up slightly. Malcolm had never mentioned a girlfriend before. Partner. The word felt loaded, as though Malcolm were testing the waters to see how she'd react.
"Nice to meet you too," Annabeth said, her tone even though her mind was already filing away the information. "Malcolm conveniently left out that he wasn't living here alone."
Elena chuckled, as she came over and elbowed Malcolm lightly. "Yeah, he tends to leave out little details like that."
"So, went fully native. Huh?" Annabeth demanded, only half serious.
Annabeth couldn't help but smirk as she looked at her half-brother, who was now giving a sheepish grin in response to her question.
"Well, what can I say? The island life grows on you," Malcolm replied with a shrug. He glanced at Elena, the affection clear in his eyes as he continued, "Besides, Elena's worth staying around for."
Elena blushed lightly, clearly used to Malcolm's brand of cliche charm.
"Babe, just dropping by to drop of Annabeth's luggage. Heading straight to base," Malcolm announced and kissed the young woman on the side of the head.
Penelope waved them off with a smile. "Don't worry about me. I've got plenty to keep me busy. See you when you get back."
As they stepped outside again, Annabeth turned to Malcolm. "She seems nice. I assume she's not involved in any... professional capacity?" Her voice was casual, but the implication behind the words was clear.
Malcolm gave a little shrug. "Nope, she's clean. Just a local girl who works at a dive shop in town. Told her I work as a government employee in payrole, bless her soul."
Annabeth's eyes narrowed slightly, but she let it go for now. It wasn't the time to pry into Malcolm's personal life, not when they had more pressing matters to attend to. She knew her half-brother well enough to understand he could handle himself, even if his laid-back demeanor often made him seem less serious.
"Alright, let's get to the base," she said, her tone returning to its usual sharpness. "The sooner I can get to work, the better."
Malcolm nodded, hopping back into the driver's seat with a wink. "Aye, aye, Commander," he joked, though Annabeth's serious expression didn't crack.
The drive from the small town of Marisol to the naval base was much shorter than Annabeth had expected, though it was obvious Malcolm was taking the scenic route out, heading first towards the ocean, and then taking the beachfront boulevard in the general direction of the base, lined by bars, clubs, and small shops on one side, and the pearly white sand and azure blue water on the other. Most were locals, but she spotted a fair number of off duty service members skulking around.
As the jeep rolled along the beachfront boulevard, Annabeth watched the scene outside with a detached focus. The lively buzz of the beachfront area contrasted sharply with the seriousness of her mission, but she noted the presence of off-duty servicemen lounging at cafes or hanging out by the beach. While it seemed relaxed on the surface, she knew the atmosphere could turn in an instant if tensions flared up.
"Looks like the locals and the military mix well enough," she commented, eyeing a group of sailors who were laughing over drinks at a seaside bar.
"Yeah, it's mostly all good vibes here. A lot of these guys just come to unwind after long stretches at sea," Malcolm replied, tapping his fingers lightly on the steering wheel. "But you know how it is. Occasionally, fists start flying. Doesn't hurt that half the locals work on base and Base Command makes sure our lot mind their manners and there isn't and us versus them mentality. Besides, lots of folks from the base live of base here in Marisol and in the surrounding towns. They don't want any trouble from knuckleheads."
Finally, the buildings faded, and they made their way a bit further inland and pulled back onto the motor way
Malcolm expertly weaved through the lanes, his fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel. The scenery gradually shifted from the laid-back coastal atmosphere to a more utilitarian, militarized zone as they approached the Atlantis Naval Base. Annabeth could feel the shift in energy—the once-lively roads giving way to more controlled and organized activity.
As they neared the base, the towering cranes, steel structures, and massive docked warships came into view again. The naval base sprawled out along the coastline like a small city, its sheer size and infrastructure impressive even from a distance. A loud drone suddenly filled the afternoon air and Annabeth looked around and saw a quad turbo prop covered in sensors fly pass them as it came in for a landing on the air station which was apparently separated from the main port facilities themselves by only the highway.
"Almost there," Malcolm said, giving her a sideways glance. "You ready?"
Annabeth, still taking in the sight of the base, gave a curt nod. "As ready as I'll ever be."
They approached the checkpoint, where several armed guards stood alert. Malcolm flashed his ID, and the guard waved them through with little fanfare, clearly recognizing him. As they passed through the gate, Annabeth could see the activity intensifying—the rhythmic hum of machinery, the steady flow of personnel, and the imposing warships lining the docks. She was here to get a sense of the scale of the operation, but also to uncover whatever might be lurking beneath the surface.
The impression of the city wasn't wrong. For what felt like forever, they weaved through a maze of office buildings, barracks, and similar infrastructure, and she barely got a glimpse of the ships themselves. Finally, though, they stopped at an inconspicuous office building pulled into the parking lot in-front. This building had no sign, no unit markings, no nothing. Just plane concrete.
Annabeth climbed out of the jeep, taking a moment to glance around. The bland, nondescript building seemed far too ordinary for its surroundings, given the scale of the naval base just beyond it.
Malcolm led the way, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by something more professional. "Welcome to the headquarters for the Bureau of National Intelligence in the Isles of Atlantis," he said, casting a half-smirk over his shoulder. "It's not much to look at, but it gets the job done."
Once in the lobby, and the welcoming brace of air conditioning, passed through yet another checkpoint manned by two naval military provosts that greeted Malcolm by name, and took an elevator to the top floor.
As the elevator doors slid open with a quiet *ding, Annabeth and Malcolm stepped out into a wide corridor lined with thick, dark carpeting. The walls were an unassuming shade of gray, and the soft hum of the air conditioning joint the quite tunes from a radio. At the far end of the hallway, a glass door with frosted panels marked the entrance to the office they were heading to.
"So here we are," Malcolm announced, and pushed open the door at the end of the hallway.
Annabeth followed Malcolm into the office, her sharp gaze taking in the sparse yet functional interior. The Bureau of National Intelligence's local office was exactly what she expected—no frills, no distractions, just the essentials for covert operations. Desks were arranged in a utilitarian manner, with a handful of agents working quietly on various tasks.
One of them rose to their feet and came over. "Hey boss," she greeted them. "Got some stuff on your desk for you to sign off on."
"I'll get to it. Bea, meet my half sister, Annabeth Chase. She is popping by from the Capital," he announced, emphasizing the last word.
"Oh, the Capital!" Bea echoed in mock awe. "Anyway, calling it a day."
Malcolm proceeded to introduce her to the rest of the team before showing her to her desk, one right at the windows facing the ocean from where she found herself looking straight out at a trio of frigates moored together at a dock. From her vantage point, she spotted sailors scrubbing the decks.
Malcolm tapped her lightly on the shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts. "I'm gonna make a few calls, set up a few sitdowns for you.
Annabeth nodded in acknowledgment, her mind already sifting through the priorities. First the sit down with Fleet Officers, preferably from lower rank to upwards. That way word had time to reach the higher ranks that she wasn't fox hunting, and would be more willing to tell her something useful. Malcolm's previous statement only confirmed what she had already known previously, and that was that the Navy was building up Atlantis Naval Base up into a fortress. Now, when the military committed such levels of resources and personal in an effort like that, that meant they were trying to counter a specific threat profile. It was high time they all officially got on the same page.
"Sounds good," she said, her gaze shifting back to the window. "Let's not waste any time. The sooner we know what we're dealing with, the better."
Malcolm nodded, his usual easy-going expression replaced by something more serious. "You got it. Give me a bit."
As he headed off to make his calls, Annabeth settled into her new workspace. The desk was bare, save for a few neatly stacked papers and a computer terminal that looked to be freshly set up for her arrival. With nothing really to do at that moment, she let her gaze swipe across the office space. She noted a large board hanging form the walls next to the wall with what suspiciously like an listing of order of battle of surface combatants and then a second large board with pictures of ships, and satellite pictures, some of Atlantis and other bases, though some looked foreign.
She rose from her chair and made her way over. It wasn't a poster; she realized. The large board was a magnet board with the current order of battle. Battle-fleet Atlantis available ships were separated into three main groups. Those were operational, on exercise, and in maintenance, and ship shaped magnets represented the ships. Each group seemed to be led by a carrier, followed by amphibious assault vessels, and finally dozens of cruisers, destroyers, and frigates, and at the bottom were the submarines, with four fast attack boats in each category, and half a dozen more even smaller, subs, Diesel Electric boats if their classification was anything to go by were listed under those along with a small number of what Annabeth presumed were specialist platforms, with the rear of the fleet's pointy end compromised of six boomers rotating through with each group. The bottom of the list was dominated by a miridae of support ships.
Her gaze swept along the rest of the wall, with catalogued pictures of ships and aircraft, their own, and she assumed those of the loyal opposition, along with more pictures of pieces of infrastructure. "We gotta keep track somehow, they get all iffy when we can't remember their boats names," a woman greeted her from behind and she turned around to find herself face to face with shorter women with a somewhat spiky black hair due and electric blue eyes. "Thalia Grace, counterintelligence," the woman introduced herself and offered her hand, which Annabeth shook. "Annabeth Chase," Annabeth replied the favor.
"From the Capital," Thalia added gravely, with some amusement glinting in her eyes.
Do leave Reviews.
With regards,
HJL over and out