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Tempest Island	By : HeyBats Category: DC Verse Cartoons > Justice League Views: 9796 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Justice League, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Author's Note: As a fan of the cartoon and not the comic book versions of the characters, my stories reflect, as much as possible, the characterizations of the cartoon, plus some improvisations of my own. They may not be completely accurate, but then again we’re talking about fictional characters here, so I will take some liberties with them, but not so many liberties as Bruce will take with Diana.

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Linking the Indian and Pacific Oceans, the Strait of Malacca is the shortest sea route between three of the world’s most populous countries – India, China and Indonesia. Bordered on the north by Malaysia and on the south by Indonesia, the Strait also passes between two of the most populous Islamic nations in the world. Western leaders consider the Strait to be a key choke point in Asia for terrorism strikes against shipping and other “western” commercial interests, as valuable as the Panama and Suez canals. At a length of 600 miles and an average width of 30 miles, the Strait is typified by narrow channels, shallow reefs, thousands of tiny get-away islands and slow shipping traffic.

The Strait is a pirate’s dream. Some 900 commercial vessels pass through each day and some 700 ports worldwide rely on the Malacca Strait to get to the Port of Singapore, the largest port in the world and a key distribution point for goods worldwide. 80% of Japan’s (the world’s second largest economy) oil comes from the Middle East via the Malacca Straits. To skip the Strait would force a ship to travel on extra 994 miles from the Saudi Gulf, thereby absorbing all of the excess capacity of the world’s shipping fleets. A long term closing of the Strait would have disastrous economic consequences on many of the emerging and recovering economies in Asia, including India, China, Japan and Indonesia. Economic experts have estimated that a closing of the Strait would likely double the price of oil in Western economies overnight, leading to gas lines, shortages and leading to a recession or even depression in the U.S. economy within six weeks.

Chapter 1

In retrospect, Magnus Gustafson, the Captain of the MV African Horn, should have trusted his instin The The MV African Horn was a fully-loaded, 250,000 ton oil supertanker crewed by an officer complement of five officers and 13 crewman. The ship was the newest supertanker in the Ocean Star fleet and her systems were fully automated, reducing her crew from a normal complement of 100 to the total of 18 on board today.

Due to its huge size and dangerous cargo, piloting a supertanker thru the Straits of Malacca was never easy during the best of circumstances and his ship was now contending with a sharp line of thunderstorms blocking his southbound passage towards Singapore. Insurance companies mandated that whenever possible, the MV African Horn was to transit the Strait during the daylight in order to make use of the best piece of navigational equipment the world had ever seen: human eyes. Magnus thought the insurance companies precaution was wise however as his ship reached the eastern end of the Indian Ocean, the Strait Authorities notified southbound ships a container ship halfway down the Strait had broken a propeller shaft, reducing its speed by more than half. The resulting clog in the southbound shipping lane had caused ships to pile up at the entry point until a tug could be dispatched to tow the disabled ship to a dry-dock. The waiting captains began bartering wait-list positions over the radio for a price as those with time sensitive cargos could not afford the delay.

Magnus listened to the radio chatter and briefly considered calling the Ocean Star shipping company’s owners to see if they were interested in paying the going rate, $100,000, for the next priority pass down the Strait. He picked up the phone, reconsidered the request, then hung up the phone with a sigh. His instincts told him that his cargo wasn’t worth the fee, which seemed to be increasing by the minute from the tones of the radio chatter. Magnus knew the best bet was that the bottleneck would clear itself in due time so he focused instead on piloting the supertanker into its proper entry position into the queue of ships, which at this point stretched as far as the horizon, disappearing into the Indian Ocean twelve months beyond.

Magnus made small talk with Sven Bjornson, his first-mate and second in command of the ship while they waited. A few hours passed before the pilot from the Strait Authority arrived on board. The governments of Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia had created the Strait Authority to regulate the commercial traffic so that only experienced pilots would navigate supertankers through the dangerous waters. A small tug ferried the pilot over to the side boarding ladder of the MV African Horn and he appeared on the bridge a few minutes later after making the climb from sea-level pp to the bridge over 150 feet above the waterline. The pilot introduced himself as Achmed Sabiliyah and provided credentials which matched the fax-copy the Strait Authorities had sent two hours before. Magnus checked his watch as he handed the credentials back to the pilot, shook his head in exasperation at the setting sun, then led Achmed to the ship’s navigational plot.

“Have you ever piloted a supertanker thru the Straits at night?” Magnus asked.

“This will be my tenth time.” Achmed replied coolly. “Don’t worry Captain, you’re not the first supertanker to transit the Straits at night. It’s not common, but it’s not uncommon either.”

The supertanker entered the northern mouth of the Strait a few hours later. The sun set behind it to the west when the ship slipped past the buoy signifying the entrance to the Strait. The twilight shone a brilliant orange off the gathering thunderstorms ahead of the ship. Magnus felt a trickle of sweat run down his back, reflecting his trepidation as to their gathering strength.

“Looks as if we’re in for a blow.” He stated ominously. “Should we wait it out?”

Achmed smiled and shook his head at the Captain’s caution. “Not to worry Captain. Those storms will blow themselves out before we see their teeth.”

“I hope you’re right.” Magnus replied, the concern still evident on his face.
”I’ll be in my cabin if you need me.”

“Get some rest, Captain.” Achmed said cheerily. “When you wake up I’ll have us in Singapore.”

Magnus briefly conferred with Sven, who was scheduled to take over from Magnus as the ship’s watch-commander. Magnus wanted to ensure that his instructions were crystal clear as Sven was relatively new to the job and did not yet enjoy the full confidence of his Captain. Sven swiped his access card into the command console then keyed in his personal identification number, an action which placed the responsibility for the safety of the ship onto his shoulders.

“Call me if anything, I repeat, anything is out of the ordinary.” Magnus ordered firmly.

Sven nodded in understanding then Magnus retreated to his cabin two stories below the bridge and settled back for a brief rest. He was comfortable taking a nap at the earliest part of the journey as the Strait was widest in the Indian Ocean mouth, narrowing to only one mile wide by the time it opened to the Pacific by Singapore.

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Sven stared into the inky blackness of night, seeing nothing but rain. He finally roused himself from a daydream about the prostitutes in Bangkok to focus on the task at hand. The storms which Achmed had promised would blow themselves out had instead increased in intensity during the last twenty minutes and Sven noticed the lightning strikes from the storm were getting closer. He glanced the computerized navigational chart to his right and realized that the ship had veered off course towards the Malaysian coastline to their north. Achmed noted his concerned expression and quickly moved to soothe his curiosity.

“These storms are worse than I expected. I’ve reduced speed to twelve knots and changed course. I’m going to put us in the lee of the Panang Hills,” Achmed explained quickly. “They’ll shelter us from the worst of the storm.”

“Makes sense.” Sven agreed, then resumed his vigil at the lookout station. The rain pounded at the windows with even greater intensity and Sven knew manning the lookout station was hopeless. He was about to draw away from the window entirely when a bolt of lightning briefly lit up the night a kilometer to the starboard. His eyes caught a momentary silhouette of a human form on the deck however he convinced himself that it was an optical illusion. ‘None of the crewmembers would be on deck in a storm of this ferocity’ he thought, then returned to the chart plot.

The roll of the ship indicated Achmed was piloting an even more northerly course. Sven raised his head from the plot to inquire as to the steering change when a sudden stab of pain shot up from his neck. He looked at the pilot in surprise and his blurring vision revealed a dart gun in the pilot’s hand. Sven crumpled to the floor and Achmed quickly dragged his inert body behind the chart desk. Achmed produced a small comm. link from his pocket and said “Bridge secure” then went back to the pilot’s station. He reloaded the tranquilizer gun while he worked, then paged the Captain on the ship’s intercom system.

Magnus appeared a few moments later on the bridge, groggy from his roused slumber, then surveyed the bridge for his first-mate.

“Where’s Sven?” he asked.

Achmed pointed to the body in front of the chart desk. “He wasn’t feeling well, then he pitched over so I called you.”

Magnus knelt down next to the body of his crewmate, searching for a pulse, when a sting on his back sent a burning pain thru his nervous system. He whirled around, thinking he’d been bitten by a stowaway spider when his eyes widened in surprise as the pilot reloaded the dart gun ten feet away.

“Pleasant dreams, Captain.” Achmed whispered, pulling the trigger a second time, then Magnus’ vision clouded as the mix of tranquilizers coursing thru his system rendered him senseless.

The door to the bridge swung open a minute later and a crew of six commandos, dressed in black from head to toe as Sven had seen on the deck, walked into the bridge. They were all dripping wet but the muzzles of their sub-machine gun silencers hissed from the drops of water running off their black gortex jackets.

One of them tossed a set of keys onto the chart plot and said “Crew secured. The sheik will be pleased.”

Achmed nodded in understanding then renewed the task at hand of piloting the ship to its new destination. The MV African Horn and its crew were never seen again.
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Tempest Island