What saved me from sinking further into the abyss of despair, melancholy, and hopelessness brought on by my own stupidity was the return of the messenger hawk carrying orders from Headquarters. After relocating the winged postman to the aviary, I broke the seal on the scroll and began to read.
Alright… date, standard preamble… Mm-hm, report immediately to headquarters… what? The Western Fleet? To provide "clarifications"? What the hell is going on over there, and why in the world is a captain assigned to a completely different command expected to report to what is essentially another branch's leadership? I could understand an "invitation" to Central Command, but not this. They might as well have sent me to Roku's Temple. Hm…
The paranoia that had taken root after the raid and grown stronger upon discovering the saboteurs' base now happily donned a tinfoil hat and whispered of conspiracy and betrayal. Deciding to listen to that quiet little voice, I pulled out the maps and began plotting a route from my current position to the designated destination. And the longer I stared at the map, the more uneasy I became.
No matter how I looked at it, to reach the required point, I'd have to pass through Tiger's Paw—a network of small reefs and islands that, from above, really does resemble the footprint of a predatory cat. The network is shallow enough to be absent from most maps, yet extensive enough that going around it would take a full week. Considering that they wanted me there "yesterday," detouring was a poor option.
The territory of the Paw lies relatively close to the "carousel" and is considered safe, but the idea of a cruiser-sized ship being squeezed between clusters of low, jagged rocks—restricting maneuverability to almost nothing—made me very uneasy. The analogy that came to mind was a duck at a shooting range. A big, fat duck. Slow, clumsy, practically begging for a couple of armor-piercing volleys into its sides and stern. This wasn't just fishy anymore—it smelled like a rotting corpse.
Just in case, I examined the seals on the letter as carefully as I could. They seemed genuine, which somehow made things worse. Damn it, though—the whole thing reeked from a mile away. What kind of idiot would casually follow such a questionable route after receiving such a questionable letter in such a questionable situation?!
The answer was obvious—some pampered, inexperienced rich kid who got lucky clearing out a base and convinced himself that the only one greater than him was Fire Lord Ozai—and even then, only under the comet. The funny thing is, if the old Chan—who had been itching for a fight and a share of glory—or one of his equally "enlightened" friends were in my place, the chances of them trusting that letter would be pretty high. After all, why wouldn't you trust your own command?
But I didn't trust it.
Of course, this could all just be paranoia flaring up after a particularly eventful day—the one that "broke the camel's back." Still, I'd rather be an overly cautious survivor than a dead believer.
So, what's the best way to handle this? More precisely—how do I avoid a setup, if there is one, without getting chewed out if my paranoia turns out to be just me jumping at shadows?
It's about three days' travel to the potential ambush point. From there, another week—maybe even ten days—to reach Western Fleet Headquarters, depending on the weather. The Eastern Fleet's command is also seven to ten days away, though naturally in the opposite direction.
But that's manageable—two days' sailing from the Paw will bring me to the carousel, and navigating within Fire Nation waters is a pleasure. No enemy ships, no pirates—not even a hint of trouble. Damn, though—getting there as quickly as possible still requires going through that cursed reef network. But I'm repeating myself—back to distances and time.
Let's assume the ambush is real, and I'm sailing straight into it. The question is: what could they bring in, and from where, to guarantee they could either destroy or capture a cruiser? And they'd need to get it there within two days, max.
I went back to the charts and, with the help of a ruler, my knowledge of ship types—both ours and whatever the enemy might field—and a healthy dose of improvisation, tried to work out how far the enemy could theoretically cover and, consequently, where they might appear from.
So, what's within two days' reach of the potential trouble spot?
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
To the east—the Wulong Forest, where there's never been anything but thousands of stone spires; to the north—the former territory of the Air Nomads, just the edge of it, still a long way from the Western Air Temple, and who knows what's going on there. Even if the Fire Nation all but wiped out the airbenders—the entire nomadic people, really (and to my mind that was too much; genocide doesn't do anyone any credit, and this was the extermination of the world's first true pacifists)—settlement of the newly vacated plateaus had been painfully slow.
Sky bison didn't answer to firebenders, and without proper air transport, moving through those mountains was a serious challenge. And the Fire Nation didn't have airships yet.
So, with some reluctance, I can accept the possibility of a pirate base hidden in a grotto or an inconspicuous bay—like the one we recently cleared out.
The other directions are even less promising.
To the south—the Fire Navy Blockade, which fires first at anything that isn't an armored vessel flying a red flag, and only then asks questions. To the west—a restricted facility codenamed "Boiling Rock," a high-security prison on a boiling island in the middle of a "dormant" volcano. The guards there are unlikely to tolerate insurgent ships operating under their noses.
As for the idea that our "friends" might have a base somewhere within Tiger's Paw itself—that was hard to believe. Sure, hiding there would be easy, especially for small enemy vessels. You could even lose a frigate in that maze if you really tried. The problem was, from that network of islands, you couldn't really get anywhere—it sat too far off the beaten path. No trade routes, no military convoys nearby. They wouldn't just butcher their own fishermen, would they?
A repair yard or supply base only makes sense where you can bring in provisions from the mainland, not haul everything there under your own power on ships. So no, there's no real point in putting one there. But there are two potentially dangerous directions from which hostile firebenders could arrive.
So the most likely scenario is an approach from the north and northwest, from the former Air Nomad territories. In second place—the east, meaning the Earth Kingdom. And just to be safe, I'll keep the possibility in mind that I've overlooked something—and that there might be a pirate outpost somewhere on the Tiger's Paw itself.