Chapter 166 I Just Want to Survive
Anxiety made Grace's heart thud violently
She watched as collar after collar opened around her, yet hers remained stubbornly locked.
Everyone gathered around her. "Miss, why won't your collar open?"
Someone wondered aloud, "Is hers different from ours somehow?"
Grace replied, "I don't know. It just won't open."
The others tried to calm her down."Don't worry about it. Right now, we need to figure out how to get off this ship. Once we're somewhere safe, we'll find a way to get that collar off!"
"Yeah! Do you have any other ideas for what we should do next?"
Grace set down the decoder and stood up. "Strip their clothes off."
The others immediately began removing the guards' uniforms.
They wore matching outfits that served as identification.
Grace asked, "Who said they could pilot a ship?"
A short man stepped forward. "Me."
"Put this on." Gracegave him one of the uniforms.
He quickly pulled the clothes over his own.
Grace also wore a uniform,, pinning up her hair and pulling on a cap. She zipped up the jacket to hide the collar around her neck, then looked around at the group.
"Anyone here know how to shoot? Or have decent combat skills?"
The crow became unsure
They didn't know what Grace was planning, but they understood this ship was crawling with danger.
Every member of this organization carried weapons.
Naturally, they weren't eager to risk their lives.
The short man turned around with a scoff. "We've got plenty of men here. Are you really going to let a woman take point? This young lady has more guts than all of you combined—can't a single one of you step up?"
Suddenly, hands began to rise from the crowd.
"I... I served in the military."
"My grandfather taught me to hunt. I know how to use a rifle."
Grace nodded. "You four, come here."
There were six uniforms total.
Grace distributed them to the volunteers. After they changed, she led them to a corner and lowered her voice.
"Next, we need to take the bridge. First, we control the helm, then we send out a distress call."
She looked at the man who claimed he could pilot ships. "Can you handle a cargo vessel?"
The man replied, "I've operated fishing boats, but I don't know how different a cargo ship's bridge might be. Name's Bill, by the way."
Grace nodded. "Either way, our priority is getting a distress signal out and waiting for rescue. If you can manage to change course, even better."
Another burly man interjected, "This ship has eyes everywhere. If we just march up to the bridge, we'll be walking into a massacre."
Grace agreed. "That's why we take control of whoever's manning the bridge first. Objective one: send the distress signal. Objective two: change course. Beyond that, we don't engage unless necessary. If we're outnumbered, we retreat."
"Have you served in the military?" the man asked. "You've got real command presence. If we make it out of this alive, I don't know how we'll ever repay you."
Grace smiled faintly. "There's no debt to repay. Like all of you, I just want to survive."
"Name's Peter. Marine Corps veteran."
"Foster," Grace replied, offering only her surname.
She took a deep breath. "Let's move."
"Roger."
The others returned to their cages while the disguised men followed Grace out.
After days confined in the hold, stepping onto the deck and seeing the moon overhead felt almost surreal to Grace.
Several uniformed men approached from the opposite direction.
Grace lowered her head, pulling her cap down further.
Peter, the ex-Marine, positioned himself in front of her.
"Why are you all covered in blood?"
The guard looked suspicious.
Peter replied without missing a beat, "A few of the meat pigs got out of line. Had to teach them a lesson."
Having military experience, he'd seen enough to stay calm under pressure and sell the deception convincingly.
The guard warned, "Those are auctioned merchandise. Don't kill them, or you'll all pay with your lives."
"Understood."
Once the man passed, Bill whispered to Grace, "The bridge is usually toward the stern on cargo ships. Keep heading forward."
"Got it."
Grace nodded.
The group made their way to the bridge.
Grace knocked on the door.
Soon, footsteps approached from inside.
The door opened, and Grace entered. The man inside noticed her bloodstained uniform and the metallic smell, covering his nose. "What happened?"
Peter slipped in behind him and drew a knife, slashing the man's throat in one swift motion.
The man gurgled once before collapsing to the floor.
Grace immediately called Bill. "Get in here."
Bill entered and examined the bridge, excitement lighting up his face. "I'm familiar with this control setup!"
Grace instructed, "Contact the Coast Guard first."
"On it!"
Bill worked the controls and immediately transmitted a distress call to the US Coast Guard. Then he activated the radar, preparing to change course, when he suddenly froze. The radar screen showed over a dozen dense signal points in the surrounding waters.
Bill said tensely, "We've got vessels approaching."
Grace walked over to look at the radar screen. "What's the situation?"
Bill replied, "Looks like a naval convoy. Let me check their vessel identification numbers."
A minute later, Bill stared in confusion. "Can't identify them. These ships appear to be armed vessels, but their identification codes are encrypted."
Armed vessels?!
Peter, with his military background, grew suspicious. "Which country's navy?"
Bill answered, "Unknown... no national identification codes."
Peter was quiet for a long moment. "Unless they're private mercenaries, any nation's ships in international waters would display identification codes prefixed with their country designation."
Grace was stunned. "Mercenaries?"
Peter explained, "There are mercenary organizations worldwide. They don't answer to any government—they're freelancers who serve whoever pays them."
Bill reported, "These armed vessels are heading straight for us. I can't change course now or we'll collide. They've got us surrounded. I have to drop anchor."
Grace decided, "Then drop anchor, and we get out of here immediately."
The group left the bridge, closing the door behind them.
Grace returned to the cargo hold first. As soon as she entered, a man rushed over to her.
"Something's wrong... something's very wrong..."
Grace asked, "What is it?" She assumed something had gone wrong with their plan.
The man said nervously, "This hold is packed with explosives."