THE INDEPENDENT SMUGGLER'S GUIDE TO PUGET SOUND
Or: How to Get a Box into Seattle Without Becoming Fish Food
By Skipjack Sullivan — independent freelance courier, occasional maritime idiot, and proud owner of a boat that has only sunk once.
Personal circulation only. If you found this file on a public host, congratulations: somebody's decker is having a very bad evening.
Welcome to Seattle, omae, the Emerald City, Sea-town, the glittering corporate paradise where you can buy a cyberarm, a hot meal, elf-on-troll-on-dragon bondage porn and three kinds of illegal ammunition without leaving the same block.
There's just one tiny problem.
Seattle is a UCAS city surrounded by the Salish-Shidhe Council, part of the Native American Nations. That makes the city a major trading port and a natural destination for goods that people would rather not discuss with customs officials. The borders are real, the politics are complicated, and the people responsible for keeping you on the correct side of them have weapons, authority, and considerably less appreciation for your sense of adventure than you do.
The Pacific Ocean is right there. Puget Sound is right there. Islands, inlets, working ports, fishing communities, industrial waterfronts, and enough fog to conceal a small moon are all right there. It should be easy, right? Anyone with a boat, a box and a buyer should be able to smuggle into Seattle.
And yet getting a crate of perfectly ordinary illegal electronics into Seattle can become an international incident. Who knew?
The water doesn't magically erase political boundaries. It merely gives you more opportunities to misunderstand them.
I am an independent smuggler. I don't work for the Mafia, the Yakuza, the Rings, the Triads, or any of the other people who insist that the privilege of earning money should include paying them a percentage of it. I own my own boat, make my own mistakes, and pay my own bills.
Well, most of them.
This is my guide to the waters around Seattle : the jurisdictions, the opportunities, the things that can kill you, and the reasons I recommend a career in vending-machine maintenance instead.
1. First, understand the map before it eats you
Here's the cast of characters you should learn before you start spending your retirement fund on marine engines.
Seattle Metroplex
The market you're trying to reach. Corporate enclaves, private and commercial docks, too many warehouses, independent buyers, and a thriving shadow economy all create demand for discreet transport. Seattle's status as a world class port and transit hub is central to its smuggling economy. You have Lone Star running harbor patrols, every corp from Ares to Zeta-Imp telling everyone that the dinghy they're on is corporate turf and therefore immune to normal, everyday peasant laws, and a number of high end party barges with enough personal security to take over a small country. It's a chaotic scene on the best of days and with the weather, it's never the best of days.
UCAS maritime authorities — the paperwork with engines
Seattle's UCAS connection brings federal military and maritime interests into the regional picture, too. The naval facilities at Everett are a reminder that these waters have strategic value beyond container traffic. The UCAS Navy and Coast Guard don't necessarily play nice with the Seattle locals but don't assume every uniformed officer is interested in hearing your side of the story. Jurisdictional pissing contests can be your best friend if you play it right. If you play it wrong, you'll just get shot at by both of them.
Always try and be nice to the Coasties. Even in these cynical times, they will save you if you're drowning. It's their job and they do it really, really well. They may well be the reason you're drowning but that's just life, eh?
Salish-Shidhe Council — the neighbors
The Council controls much of the surrounding region. Its communities are not interchangeable, and its authorities are not simply obstacles waiting to be bribed. Local law, tribal sovereignty, and attitudes toward outsiders vary. Treat the territory as somebody else's home, not as an empty space between you and your customer. They stick to their side of the border but will politely jump all over you if you happen to stray. They have really terrible maps because that border keeps moving depending on what day it is. By law and treaty, shipping into and out of the Port of Seattle can't be harassed by the NAN but that doesn't mean much these days.
And then there's the fourth jurisdiction: the ocean itself.
The ocean recognizes no flag, respects no contract, and has never once accepted a bribe from me. It's a terrible business partner.
2. The routes: four ways to make a living, five ways to lose your boat
There are a lot of ways to bring cargo to Seattle. Some are respectable, some are technically respectable, and some require you to redefine the words 'contraband' and 'cargo' in front of a judge.
I'm going to talk about the major approaches from a smuggler's point of view, but remember that this is a guide. Things are always changing like the ocean itself and utterly unlike my sandals, which are very comfortable.
Route A: The commercial waterfront
Risk: Moderate to catastrophic
Seattle's legitimate shipping economy is the obvious place to start. Commercial traffic means cargo handlers, manifests, deadlines, tracking tags and a great many people who would rather just finish their shift than ask philosophical questions about a container of industrial components that just happens to glow in the dark. They're working class people with terrible eyesight as long as it doesn't complicate their day too much.
The catch is that commercial ports also attract customs officials, corporate security, automated inventory systems, and people who can tell a genuine shipping seal from one purchased in a bar. A legitimate shipment can be delayed for days; a suspicious one can attract attention from people whose salaries include hazard pay.
My verdict: Best for cargo that has a plausible commercial identity. Worst for anyone who thinks a clipboard is an invisibility spell.
Route B: The independent maritime trade
Risk: High, with scenic views
Fishing vessels, smaller commercial craft, and independent operators are part of the Sound's everyday life. That's the appeal: not every boat is a corporate asset, and not every person on the water works for a syndicate. Some of them are even doing legitimate business with licenses and DocWagon contracts and accountants! They have their regular routes/fishing grounds/whatever and they work out of little docks all around the Sound.
It can also be a problem. They have crews who tend to notice when a supposedly ordinary delivery starts attracting armed attention.
The shoreline is not an unclaimed back door. Local authorities, whether corporate, NAN or Metroplex, have jurisdiction. Communities have their own rules, and a skipper who treats every island as an unattended loading dock will rapidly discover the difference between privacy and permission. Remember that Seattle has been around since the 1800s. It's OLD. Every square inch of Puget Sound has been mapped, scanned, and recorded with every piece of tech that has ever been invented. You have to get creative, make friends, understand the locals and be ready to disappear at a moment's notice.
My verdict: A respectable business model if you actually respect the maritime community. A short career if you mistake being small for being invisible
Route C: The gofast boat
Risk: Stupidly high to spectacularly terminal
Speed is seductive. It makes a courier feel clever, important, and completely certain that the laws of physics are a form of corporate propaganda.
Fast craft are useful in some legitimate commercial roles, but speed doesn't erase a vessel's wake, make its engine silent, or convince a patrol crew that the boat it is trying to identify has simply ceased to exist.
Nor does speed help when the weather turns ugly, the engine overheats, or something much larger than your boat decides that you look edible.
My verdict: Excellent for getting somewhere quickly in style. Less excellent for arriving there in one piece. This isn't the Caribbean, the north coast of Australia or even the Med. You have no room to maneuver and everyone can see you. Leave the speed to the ferries and jet skis.
Route D: The wilderness connection
Risk: Depends on whom you offend
The waters and shores beyond the metropolitan center connect to communities with their own economies, laws, and traditions. A small-scale courier who builds legitimate relationships may find opportunities that a corporate shipping schedule cannot offer.
But the Salish-Shidhe Council is not a blank space on the map, and its communities are not one giant smuggling service. The fact that some routes have historically been used by smugglers does not mean every local will help you—or that local authorities will ignore your activities.
My verdict: Learn the people and the politics before you learn the geography. If you can't tell the difference between a business negotiation and an insult, stay in Seattle.
3. The people who can ruin your afternoon
Let's discuss the professionals. These are the people who can make a routine delivery become a very expensive memorial service.
Corporate security
Corporations like predictable cargo flows, exclusive contracts, and the reassuring belief that everything belongs to them. Corporate maritime security might be concerned about stolen or restricted equipment, things that go boom, or cargo that has mysteriously acquired a different owner halfway through the shipping process. They may also be concerned about drugs, beetles, human trafficking, and talismongering but typically less so. If it might cut into the corps bottom line, they'll be extra pissy. If it doesn't, they're not paid enough to care.
The bad news is that the guard who stops you may be working for the corporation whose logo is on your delivery. The worse news is that the corporation whose logo is on your delivery may be a different corporation from the one that owns the dock. That means you're on their turf and your cargo can be seized, legally, as contraband.
Most of the time, they can be fairly reasonable, though. They won't make you do the vampire dance in the middle of the Sound and as far as I know, no one has ever dropped a torpedo off of Loper Island. You may get zapped by a drone or knocked out by some mojo sapien but you're not going to be blown to bits. Smoke on the water is bad for business and makes all the other wageslaves nervous.
Ways to die: A misunderstanding involving armed guards, a surveillance system that has already identified you, or a security mage who's giving you that thousand yard stare.
My advice: Never confuse corporate professionalism with mercy. Make sure your bribe money is appropriate, portable and on hand.
Salish-Shidhe patrols
The Council cares very, very deeply about the border between Seattle and the rest of the civilized border. They'll have at least 3 hulls and a dozen drones ( including those damn LTA AWACS blimps up 24/7/365 ) and will pounce on you the minute you cross the border. This can work to your advantage since they like to swarm. If you can get a decoy going, you'll have a window of opportunity.
They also don't necessarily care about things heading into Seattle. More than one patrol has let a smuggler go with a bit less cargo if they think it'll give the sprawl a hard time.
The Council also never signed on to the 'courtesy at sea' thing and will gladly watch you drown while placing bets on how long you last if you're on the Seattle side of the border.
Ways to die: A drone you never heard opening fire with API, a spirit just flipping your boat for kicks or finding out the hard way that you're the underdog in the 'people vs shark' contest of the day.
My advice: Know whose waters you're in. Be honest about what you're carrying when honesty is appropriate, and don't mistake local hospitality for blanket permission.
UCAS/Metroplex Guard maritime forces
As I mentioned, the UCAS has strategic interests in the region, including naval facilities and military infrastructure around Puget Sound. Don't assume every military vessel is hunting smugglers. Don't assume a vessel engaged in a security operation will have much patience for an unidentified craft near a sensitive installation, either.
They maintain a tight cordon of 500 meters from any Navy vessel at all times and you'll only get the one warning before shots across your nose ( or up it if they don't like the look of you ) start appearing. At the same time, they pride themselves on being professional and will always assist any distress calls or to intervene in any perceived unsafe accessories. They pack plenty of drones and typically have an attached helo.
Ways to die: Wandering into restricted areas, even for a second, is a great way to see the bottom of the Sound. Also, just like a lot of corp turf, you have no rights if you're caught with contraband near an active military installation. That means "shoot first, don't bother with the questions since everything sank".
My advice: If you find yourself trying to explain why you are somewhere you shouldn't be, the mistake probably happened before the explanation began
4. Awakened wildlife: the ocean has decided you're lunch
Here is the part of the job description that never appears in the recruitment advert .In case you missed it, capital M Magic has returned to the world, and the local ecosystem did not receive a memo about keeping its evolutionary surprises small, polite, or edible.
(Note : You should really check out Paterson's Guide for more a more scientific look at the denizens of Puget Sound. It's the sort of reference book that makes you wonder whether the author had a government pension and a very sturdy laboratory. Or maybe a death wish. )
Here's my entirely unofficial waterfront field guide.
The kraken problem
Everyone knows the kraken stories. Giant tentacles, impossible strength, an unfortunate fishing boat, and an eyewitness who swears the creature was at least three times larger than the boat that survived.
Reports of giant cephalopod-like monsters are exactly the sort of thing that sends independent sailors to the tavern, where the stories become progressively less credible with each round. Everyone says that they're deep water, pelagic creatures. They would never come into the Sound, so it's not a problem. Still, you'll see the EPIRBs go off, the helo will be on station in 15 and there's no sign of the vessel, the crew, not even an oil slick.
I've seen things on sonar that I can't explain, and have had that overwhelming feeling of pee-your-pants fear as something glided off my stern. I could just make out far too many arms and that ammonia stink was everywhere.
How you die: Your hull is crushed, your vessel is capsized, or you discover that your emergency flotation device was designed for a human and not a person being shaken like a cocktail.
Skipjack's rule: If the water develops more limbs than you have, the delivery is cancelled.
Leviathans
The Guide mentions Leviathans among the Awakened world's more spectacular aquatic hazards. I've never seen one in person but I know a few captains who have. They even run charters out into international waters off the Tir to see the big bastards. I would never do anything that nuts. Something that's 22 meters long, can hold it's breath for hours and doesn't really care about personal space is not something I want to be near for any reason.
How you die: The creature damages the vessel, throws you into the cold water, and you die.
Skipjack's rule: The sea doesn't have to eat you. It merely has to make you wet, cold, and far from help. That kills you just as much as getting swallowed by a whale on steroids.
Megalodons
I think if I ever saw a megalodon in real life, I'd just hang it up. A 16 meter shark that has a history of eating small boats, regenerates, can do 20 knots at a sprint and can smell you at 12 klicks above or below the water? No thanks. I'm good. Thankfully, they stay deep trying to ambush whales. Or cruise liners.
How you die: Little shakin', little tenderizin', an' down you go! Or it swallows you whole and you get to think about that for a little bit before you hit it's stomach.
One final word about wildlife: do not assume that every Awakened creature is a monster waiting to attack. Some species are territorial, some avoid people, and some may be endangered or culturally significant. A smuggler who shoots at everything strange will eventually encounter something stranger, angrier, and bullet proof. Live and let live on the water.
And if you actually see a kraken, please have the courtesy to leave a witness statement. The insurance company will want to know why the boat has eight new ventilation holes.
5. The independent operator's survival kit
People often ask me what equipment I recommend for working the Sound. I recommend owning fewer things that can sink, fewer things that can explode, and a better understanding of what your insurance excludes.
For ordinary maritime safety and lawful cargo work, here's the boring list that keeps you alive long enough to become interesting.
A seaworthy vessel
A reliable engine, maintained hull, appropriate navigation equipment, and a crew that understands how to handle bad weather. Your boat is a transportation business, your home away from home, and your first priority. Treat her poorly and she will kill you.
Really navigation and communications
Functional navigation systems, charts, weather information, working communications, and a backup plan for equipment failure. The Matrix is useful, but it is not a substitute for knowing where you are. Do not rely on those fancy chips in your head to be able to predict the weather accurately. Understand what the weather reports say. Ever since the world went crazy AND volcanoes popped their tops AND everyone stopped caring about Seattle AND people can personally control the weather whenever they want, weather reports are sort of a guideline and not hard and fast science. Know the seas, the clouds and the sky. It'll tell you more about what's going on than some pencil-neck in FDC.
Cold-water survival equipment
Appropriate flotation gear, exposure protection, first aid, and a legit, rehearsed emergency plan. Puget Sound is not a warm swimming pool with better scenery. It's damn cold. Sure, on a clear day you can see land all around you but you are still far from safe. In the summer, the Sound is about 14C. At those temps, you've got maybe 15 minutes before you start to lose function unless you're in survival gear. In the winter, it's more like 3 minutes.
A competent crew
Someone who understands engines, someone who understands the radio, and someone willing to tell you that your latest idea is terrible. Ideally, these are three different people.
Let me repeat that : You need a crew.
Trying to go it alone to 'maximize profits' or whatever other bullshit you've told yourself is a great way to end up fish food. You need people who you can trust, people that know their jobs and people that can work together. Anything else is suicide. That's even before you take into consideration you're dealing with society's less scrupulous element and the more hands holding guns can make all the difference.
A sensible relationship with local communities
Know the jurisdiction, understand the rules, respect local authorities, and don't mistake a lack of immediate confrontation for consent. If you intend to do business in another community, build a legitimate relationship rather than assuming nobody will notice. Leave your Seattle club attitude at the door. None of that 'clean your cyberspurs to scare your Johnson' shit. These are good people just trying to get by. If you think you can intimidate them, you're wrong and you won't live to regret it.
For Awakened hazards, consult an experienced local guide or magical specialist when appropriate. Other than that, good luck. Don't try to turn an unverified rumor into a scientific conclusion while standing on a boat with a hole in it.
6. The economics of not being dead
Let's talk about money, because money is why anyone considers this profession in the first place. No one does it to feel the spray on their face, the wind in their hair and the rocking deck. They go on vacation for that. This is Seattle. That wind and spray will give you frostbite.
The independent smuggler's advantage is not that they can beat every corporation, government, or criminal organization. They can't. The advantage is flexibility: smaller commitments, fewer institutional obligations, and the ability to decline a job if it feels 'wrong'. That advantage disappears quickly if you accept cargo without understanding the liability attached to it.
Before taking a job, ask yourself:
Does the client actually own the cargo, or are they paying me to inherit somebody else's problem?
Why is the client sending this cargo with you? To avoid taxes and tariffs or to avoid attention?
What's the status of the cargo on delivery? Legal? Restricted? Hilariously illegal? Possibly a war crime?
Who is responsible if the cargo is damaged, seized, or lost? Stuff happens and if you're on the hook for the monetary value of the cargo, well, that can get pricey.
Is the payment worth the vessel, equipment, and human lives ( namely yours! ) being put at risk?
Can I afford to refuse this job?
That last question matters most. If one bad contract can bankrupt you, you aren't independent. You're just an employee that hasn't finished onboarding yet.
And please, don't confuse the amount of money on offer with the amount of money you'll actually keep. Repair bills, medical expenses, lost cargo, "legal" fees, deckers, food, fuel, ammo, subcontractors, and soycaf all cost money. That major score becomes pocket change real fast.
Sometimes the most profitable job is the one you never accept.
7. A few final words from Skipjack
The waters around Seattle offer a living to people who understand the region, respect the people who live there, and recognize that a border is more than a line somebody drew on a map.
And here's the only rule I can guarantee will save your life:
Never take a job where the client says, "Don't worry, the water's perfectly safe."
Especially if they say it twice.
Because the first time, they're probably lying.
The second time, they're probably trying to convince themselves.
And if they offer to pay extra for you not to ask questions?
Well, omae, I hope you enjoy the view from the bottom of the Sound.
— Skipjack Sullivan, independent courier, Puget Sound
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