Oh my GOD! I'm finishing this story after a year of not doing anything! I figured I left too many people hanging. Here it is, the sudden conclusion of Cruise Line!

Chace looked to his sides

Chace looked to his sides. He couldn't tell the positions of the Russian's anymore, they had all moved. He mentally kicked himself for getting caught in the open. Of course the terrorists, or whatever these men were, would have the ship surrounded. Above Chace was a large chandelier. He tilted his head back and looked up at it. It was very contemporary, made up a long mirror like slates. If he could just look at it from the right angle…

There she was. Emily had stood up, her gun was not visible. She had probably dropped it in surrender. Chace's thoughts went to Reid. Hopefully the boy wasn't planning any heroics. Chace knew little about Spencer's service record, but he had a feeling that gunfights weren't a major part of it.

"Agent Verble, stand up." The Russian ordered.

The man pressed his gun harder against Chace's head. He stood slowly, keeping his eyes on the chandelier. Prentiss had been moved. Chace lowered his gaze.

"Now step over here." The Russian said. He slowly led Chace a few steps forward, then lowered his gun. "Ok Agent, sit down." The man roughly pushed Chace onto a chair.

Reid looked Captian Anderson right in the eyes. "Captain, you have a hostage situation on your ship."

"I heard the gunfire."

"Doesn't you ship have security?" Reid asked.

"No armed guards. Just a few strong men." The Captain seemed defensive.

Reid shook his head, disapprovingly, "What about security cameras?"

"We have those." Anderson nodded his head.

"I need to tap into one."

Gideon gazed somberly at his team, or what was left of it. With Verble, Reid, and Prentiss gone, that left Morgan, Hotchner, Jaraeu, and Garcia. The situation was grim, and none of them had any idea about what they were supposed to be doing, what they even could do. All they had left was Hostage Rescue Team. As members of the FBI, they knew just how effective HRT was at their job, but the BAU team also knew that their Agents would have gotten involved.

Gideon's cell began to ring. He looked down at it. Everyone looked at it. Gideon opened it and answered. "Agent. Gideon, BAU." He said.

The voice that replied was thickly filtered and electronic. "Hello Jason. Are you having a pleasant night?"

Gideon looked at Garcia, and motioned to her computer. She got the idea, and opened up a tap program. She entered Gideon's number in, and the voice began to play on speaker phone.

"What have you done with our Agents?" Gideon asked in a strong tone.

"Oh, nothing. Yet."

"Who are you?"

"That isn't important. What is important is that they will each die if you do not do us a little favor."

"What do you want?"

"You currently are holding a very special man in prison. Michael Vroskly. We want him back. It's a trade, all the people on your little cruise ship, Agent's Prentiss and Verble included, for Vroskly. I think the right decision is obvious."

The phone clicked off. Dial tone followed.

Garcia shook her head; "He is running the line through about seven countries. I can't trace him."

HRT Commander Dominic Winters was ready for action, and so was his team. They had spent the entire helicopter flight out planning a strategy, and they had a good one. Not flawless, there was no such thing as a flawless strategy, but it was damn near close. They had divided into three three-man teams. Alpha team would enter from above, near the pool deck. Bravo would go by the sides and Charlie would stand by on the Aft of the ship.

The helicopter was five miles off. It would be mere minutes before the mission would be engaged.

Reid loaded his pistol and waited at the door of the dining room. The door was riddled with bullet holes, but no blood. Reid had seen that Chace and Emily were not at all harmed. And he knew where they were, he could see from where he was standing. Luckily none of the Russian's could see him.

His plan was stupid, more of a distraction than anything else. He felt stupid for coming up with it, and even worse for deciding to put his neck out and go through with it. He had a large cart filled with every alcohol imaginable. He moved it to the door, and then gave it a large shove. The cart went flying into the dining room. Every Russian opened up on it. The hall became an orchestra of Ak-47's and various pistols firing, and then it all died down. Reid had aimed the cart perfectly; it tumbled down the stairs and stopped a few feet before Verble. Reid lit his torch. It was one of the tiki torches that warded off bugs. Not very practical but it would do. He through it down into the dining room, right onto the trail of booze. The trail light, then he came out of cover and fired. His aim had gotten much better since the LDK case. He got direct chest and head shots on three Russians before having to go back into cover.

Prentiss rolled away form her agent and grabbed her gun. She was quick and got behind a large couch-chair. She fired wildly from the cover, just keeping the guns off her. Chace grabbed the arm of his captor and spun. He brought the arm down onto his leg. A satisfying crunch of bone sounded. He pulled his right arm back then let it rip at the Russian's chest. The man grunted and fell to his knees.

Commander Winters had no idea what the hell was going on down on the ship. Even as he repelled down he feared that the terrorists were shooting hostages. His M-16 was ready, and so was Alpha team. They were the closest to the gunfire. Hey burts intot he dining room from a side entrance. Gun's were erupting form every direction, it was ahrd to know who to fire at. Winter's picked out a tall man holding an AK-47 up and pulled the trigger to his M-16. Short, concentrated bursts were the most effective way of dealing with enemies. The terrorist fell.

The rest of Alpha was firing as well. Bits of wood, glass and food were flying up everywhere. Bravo broke in from the other side.

"Alpha team, find cover! Cover!" Winters shouted, then ducked behind a table. Bravo hadn't entered in the correct area. There would be crossfire, and crossfire got people killed. But before Bravo could take a shot, the firing died down. Moans of pain and screams of terror replaced the sound of gunfire.

One man came out from a doorway. He looked to be in his mid twenties to Winters. The man walked slowly to a woman and helped her up. They seemed to know each other, and both held guns. Winters realized that these were the Feebees that were on the ship. Another looked directly at Winters.

"You Swat?" The man asked.

"HRT." Winters turned, showing the badge stitched to the arm of his uniform.

The man nodded, "I'm FBI, Agent Chace Verble, those two," Agent Verble motioned to the two other Feebees Winters had noticed earlier, "Are Agents Emily Prentiss and Dr. Spencer Reid. Thanks for saving our asses."

"It's a part of the job, sir." Winters nodded.

Gideon smiled and hung up the phone, "HRT got there in time, no hostages were killed. And only a few are injured."

"Any of ours?" Derek asked.

"Reid has a cut, and Emily has a grazed arm, and everyone has a few bumps and bruises, but they are going to be ok." Gideon said.

Everyone let out audible sighs of relief. It had been a long night.

Maybe now they could get some sleep. Besides, they all had to be rested for Christmas breakfast.