Today’s manifest included just three cargo crates, each one sealed and strapped tight in the hold. Labeled with international transport tags and security markings, the contents were marked confidential, but the paperwork hinted at high-value satellite components—lightweight, expensive, and rare.
The flight had begun in perfect harmony—clear skies stretching endlessly, the Indian Ocean glimmering below, and only the steady hum of the engines beneath their easy conversation. For Jamie, it was more than just another trip; this was flight number one hundred. A quiet landmark. The sort of day where the air felt steady, the sea behaved, and nothing hinted at trouble. Routine. Predictable. Safe.
Until the first shadow appeared on the horizon.