xxviii. SS BATTLESHIP
MANHATTAN, NEW YORK CITY
The news can be relentless.
It had been a week after the incident at the awards dinner, and so far, the 24 hour news cycle was still consumed by what happened. Many theories circulated about who was responsible for the death of at least a dozen diplomats.
In tandem was the breaking news that the famous statue had been stolen from the Louvre. This series of unfortunate events led many to speculate a large government-level conspiracy. No one, except me, knew the truth.
Everyone was still recovering from injuries sustained that night. Ace's left arm was wounded, Chase had a black eye, Skye had twisted her foot, and Xavier had several dark bruises. Only I was relatively unharmed since I pretty much hid behind Ace the entire time.
Even my wrists, which Thirteen had bruised, had disappeared.
The Director stood, downtrodden in the front of the debriefing room. His eyes were worn with crows feet that seemed to escalate over the last couple of weeks. A long sigh escapes from his lips.
"I'm taking this team off of Thirteen's case and turning it to a joint secret services council of the US," the Director states. He then turns to face me. "It's become too... personal."
"But—," I protest.
"Enough, Octavia. I've made my decision."
Thirteen's threat resurfaced in my mind. The safety of the little family I had left was at risk. If I told Ace or the agency, who knew the repercussions. The Director's reasoning was understandable. Though unbeknownst to them, I absolutely had to see the USB.
"I'm the best cryptographer you have—at least let me try to crack it."
"I told you, it's gotten too personal," the Director asserts. "It's time for this team to get a new mission."
"Who's going to take over the case?"
"An international council of secret service members. The USB will be transferred from inventory next week. This team is going to get new missions effective immediately."
My lips pull into a thin, bureaucratic-hating smile. It was official—I'd been forced to betray the agency.
~
The moon watched cast a dim glow on the Hudson River as I looked through my binoculars. Under the guise of night, Ace and I waited silently on a speedboat by the docks. Every once in awhile, a large transport ship would bellow through the mouth of the upper New York bay.
Our mission was to sink a transport container the SS Oscar.
"What's so important on this ship that we have to sink it?" I murmur to Ace.
"Black market arms trade. Over five hundred military grade weapons," he states, "so try not to fuck up."
My eyes furrow. "What makes you think I'll be the one to fuck up?"
"You can't aim to save your life, you're more irritating than a cactus stuck up my ass, you—"
"—Alright well you can just go suck—"
"You're also more stubborn than a fucking bear on steroids."
"I'm going to hit you with a brick."
"Go ahead and try," Ace says drly. "You'd miss."
My blood starts to boil the way it always does whenever he speaks, breathes, and lives. I finally crack once his lips tug up in a smirk. My fist comes in contact with his chest.
Whoops.
Ace's eyes turn hard with anger, and he puts me into a headlock before impact. Screw spies and their blessed reflexes. Some of us here, namely me, have difficulty even walking in a straight line.
"Heads up, two o'clock. I see the SS Oscar," Chase says into the earpiece. He, Xavier, and Skye were on a speedboat on the opposite side of the bay.
"You guys secure the ship while Octavia and I use the machinery to push over the transport carrier. Make as little of a scene as possible," Ace adds.
Engines of the boat softly roar alive when Ace turns on the ignition. Pretty soon, strong winds from the 70mph speed and the natural ocean breeze were hitting my face as we raced to the large transport ship.
The air was invigorating. Peppered into the atmosphere was the fresh sea salt and droplets of water bouncing off the windshield. But as we got closer to the SS Oscar, the intensity of the five hundred foot ship hit me like a truck.
Slowly, like a somber predator, the giant stormed forward while crushing anything in its way. The waves began to get more unstable.
"Ace... That ship is enormous," I say, awestruck.
"Thanks Captain Obvious."
"No, you wet sock. I just mean how are we going to find the right container?"
"I have a ferrous detector with me. We work quickly and efficiently."
Our voices become less and less audible the closer we get to the ship. Ace throws a deviation of a hook that wraps around the ladders on the side of the vesicle.
Shit. Are we going to scale that?
"Don't worry Cupcake," Ace says; he read my mind. "Just hold on to me."
I claw onto his back for dear life like a terrified toddler. Ace puts the harness on and begins to methodically pull us up, inch by inch. I could feel every muscle shifting underneath his thin shirt. Even though it makes no sense in this context, my cheeks begin to turn red.
"Stop digging your nails into my back," Ace winces.
"Absolutely not. I'm terrified."
"Seriously. You're about to draw blood. Loosen up, or else I'll drop you."
Complying, I only slightly loosen my deathlock grip on his back. We finally reach the floor of the ship after what seems like an eternity of climbing.
"We just arrived on the North end of the ship," I say into the earpiece.
"What took you guys so long? We're already done searching a third of our side," Skye's voice taunts.
"Octavia the limp had to be carried," Ace badgers. "Did you guys run into any guards?"
"Not really. We've been following the path that hides us from the cameras. Although, Xavier did beat up a guy because he wanted his sandwich," Skye sighs.
Of course. Xavier had the appetite of a garbage disposal.
I take one of the ferrous scanners and begin going through each of the storage containers. We are careful to avoid the guards and the cameras. In all honesty, the security systems of these ships was seriously low tech.
Ace roughly pulls me behind a shipment container. "Guard," he whispers. We stay like that, our breaths silently intertwining, for a moment. His touch still lingers even after the guard passes us.
"Wait—this is the one," I state.
The container that we were hiding behind had a ferrous composite similar to that of a weapon. I quickly try to memorize the visual components: dark green, about 40 by 8 feet, second from the top, containment number 392348.
Ace leaps into action. Swiftly, he undoes the twistlock that holds the cargo in place.
"We found it," he says in the earpiece. "Northeast side, number 392348. There are a lot of guards in this area; I count at least eleven here and thirty overall."
I follow closely behind Ace as we head over to central operations. If we could only reach the central crane, we could easily dump the entire load overseas.
"How are we going to be able to get to the crane without being attacked?" Ace frowns.
A risky, stupid, and reckless idea came into my head.
"We need to get the guards' attention," I state.
"Wait wait, isn't that the exact opposite of what we're supposed to do?" Chase questions through the earpiece.
"Your plan is idiotic," Ace adds.
"Of it's course idiotic, how else would you understand?" I spit with acidity.
"No, Octavia is right," Skye says. "If we draw all the guards away from the crane, there won't be as much conflict."
"I'm on it," Xavier affirms.
"Wait, wait, Xavier what are you trying to—" I start. All of a sudden, a deafening explosion hits the south end of the ship. And I thought I was the reckless one on this team.
"NO DEATHS!" Ace yells.
Or at least, I think that's what he yelled. My ears are still ringing after the explosion. But Xavier's idea had worked; most the guards all run towards the source of the sound. Another sound then joined in: the distress signal.
Ace and I scramble up to reach the central operator. Only, just as we turn the corner, five guards with pistols surround us.
Ace: "Vote if you love me."