A/N: Sorry Frank fans…his story is coming. Joe's part in the case is what matters right now, though.

Cook inspected the pantry with his beady eyes, occasionally tapping an item to the side and switching the places of one or two. Nearby, Joe held his breath. He had unpacked and reorganized it three times. Each time Cook had pronounced it unsatisfactory and given more explicit orders. He had wanted to shout, If you're so picky, do it yourself, but refrained. Cook was angry enough at him as it was.

"That'll do." He said as last, seeming disappointed. "Next time, do it right the first time. Not many are as nice as myself and allow you second and third chances."

Relieved, Joe quickly responded with, "Yes, sir!" He stood bright and ready for his next task. Much as it goaded him, he must make a good first impression.

Cook only laughed. "Eager, are you? Well, that'll change. Take this tray up to the Cap'n's Quarters and leave it on the table. Don't worry, he won't be there to scare a little boy like you." He laughed again as if it was the funniest thing in the world.

Joe did as he was bidden and hurried up the stairs, only to run into another young man, about his age but much smaller in stature hurrying down the passage. They almost collided and Joe worked hard to keep his try level.

"Beg pardon," the other said.

Joe smiled at him, grateful for someone who didn't show and immediate dislike towards him. "No harm done. I'm Joe."

"Oh, Sof-, I mean it's nice to meet you. I'm Ned."

Grimacing, Joe said, "It has spread that fast, has it?"

Ned at least had the grace to blush. "Faster. That name was yours before you came aboard. New hands usually receive odd names like that. It's a test of sorts."

Nice. Joe tossed his head and replied, "Well, I'll bear it. I'll best be going or this food will get cold."

In the days that followed, it appeared that Ned would be his only companion aboard. They shared the same cramped room, and were of the same status to the other hands. After they cast off and Joe felt the effects of the sea, only Ned sympathized with him. The other members, even the low deckhands scoffed and insulted all the more. Joe found the investigation sinking farther and farther down the list of possibilities as each day passed.

Ned earned his low status by no fault of his own or lack of experience. He was the first mate's bastard son and, with his mother dead when he turned nine, was allowed to serve as an errand boy on the ship. Unfortunately, the mate gave no regard for the boy and crew followed suit. Consequently, he remained, even as he grew older and much more experienced than the other crew, the errand boy.

"It's different with you," he said to Joe one rare night that they were in the room together. "You have an opportunity to gain a name for yourself. Me, I'm errand boy until my father is no longer mate of the Wraith.

Joe's duties were no walk in the park, and every night, or whenever he had the chance to take a few minutes to himself, he fell asleep instantaneously. His body ached from the previously unused muscles being strained beyond their maximum and lack of good sleep and hearty meals.

The Wraith's final destination was South Korea, but it made several stops along the coast of South America for other trade transactions. Joe, although never allowed onshore, watched carefully to see if any of these stops at port were related to the weapons, but received no clues.

"Hey Softy, did I tell you to scrub the deck or daydream? Get to work!" Joe looked down at the remainder of deck to be scrubbed and sighed. They were two days out into the open Pacific Ocean and he had, at least by his count, another twelve days left of the voyage. He shuddered. He would almost welcome a kidnapping if it got him out of it.

He put the brush back into the pail of dirty soap and saltwater combination and began to scrub again.

"Ship, off starboard stern!" The lookout called from his perch in the bow. The second mate suddenly appeared, looking as if he had just woken up from a short nap.

"Colors?" he shouted up.

"Not flying any in my field of vision, sir!"

The second frowned, biting his lip and exposing a complete set of rotting teeth. Joe wondered again why the government would entrust such top priority weapons to such a low class group of men. "Keep an eye on her and let me know if you see anything. Otherwise, will just pass her by."

There were many such incidents as those, and every time Joe got his hopes up, thinking maybe it was a ship belonging to the mysterious terrorist, or a US Government ship seeking the weapons. He might as well of hoped that the sky would turn green tomorrow or he wouldn't be called Softy anymore.

That night the engine of the ship stopped. Joe managed to find respite at a bit past midnight, and it seemed as if he hand just closed his eyes, when he was jolted awake by the sudden lack of sound. Ned, across from him, was also sitting up.

"Joe, what's going on?" he hissed through the darkness.

"D'know. Suppose we should check?"

Ned snorted, "And saddle ourselves with more duties? No, the Cap'n will sort it out."

Joe wasn't so easily put off. He left the little room and entered the crew dormitory to find many a restless sailor sitting up and muttering among themselves. They didn't notice Joe as he slipped through their little alcoves and clamored up the ladder unto the starlit deck.

It was unusually quiet for the deck, engine noises not included. A lone man strode the deck, watching the ocean, but Joe could see the alertness running up and down him. Something is not right here.

Staying in the shadows of one of the boilers, Joe moved towards the Captain's Quarters. Here and there, men, like the first one, stood or sat in casual positions, waiting. One of the stood in the moonlight, and when Joe approached, he saw something that sent chills down his spine. He didn't recognize the man.

Out of the gloom, Joe could suddenly see the faint outline of another ship, sailing smoothly alongside the Wraith. Grappling hooks connected the two, and ropes indicated that several men had crossed decks. Ever the impulsive one, Joe looked around, saw none of the strange men lurking nearby and approached the rail.

The ship was much smaller than the Wraith, and but it was very orderly, much more so than the one Joe stood on. He hesitated, then grasped a nearby rope and swung across the stretch of open water unto the strange ship's deck. He landed with a soft thud and quickly hurried into the shadows. Not trusting his luck enough to explore, he simply waited.

His patience was rewarded. About half an hour later men emerged from the Wraith's stern. As the got close to where Joe hid abroad the other ship, he could overhear their conversation.

"-which is all we really needed. We'll be happy to let you continue on your journey. May the weather be merciful." The voice was of one of two strangers. The other man was the Captain of the Wraith.

"The same to you gentlemen."

One of the strangers whistled and about ten men came from various parts of both ships. "Our work is done, friends," the first man said. With that, they all swung to their proper ships, leaving the Captain alone, stroking his beard. Joe hunched tighter into the shadow to avoid being seen as both engines re-engaged. He was a bit fearful, but certain, at last, that he was on the right ship for the investigation.