EARTH PLAN

by David Sloma

“Can we have a word with you?”

  “Yeah, I guess. What about? We've done nothing wrong. We are carrying no cargo, so I don't see what issue there could be.”

  “You have some passengers, correct?”

  “A handful.” The captain shrugged.

  “It's them I'm concerned about,” the head guard called up. “May I come aboard?”

  “I guess so.” The captain waved him up, wondering if he could really say no.

  The guard moved to get out of the tug and onto the stairway on the side of the freighter with a couple of his men.

  “Just you, thanks!” the captain called down.

  The man looked at the captain, then spoke to the two men behind him. They glared at the captain but took a step back from the edge of the tug. The guard climbed over, slinging the machine gun around his back and made his way up the narrow metal steps set in the side of the ship. The captain watched him climbing up, half-hoping that he'd slip and fall in the water. The captain wondered, What the hell is this all about?

  Finally, the man reached the top of the stairs. He had a hard time climbing up, like he was not used to such things. “Captain Ayers? I'm John Parks of the US Coast Guard.” He extended his hand.

  “Pleased to meet you,” the captain lied and shook the man's hand. “You have some questions about my passengers?”

  “Yes. It seems that some of them may be traveling under false passports. Do you have any knowledge of this?”

  The captain scratched his beard, thinking. “Not that I know of. I've had no reason to doubt anyone. Besides, that's a matter for customs when we land, isn't it? Not me.”

  “Well, as the one transporting them, you could be in danger of being implicated in whatever crimes they may be committing. May I speak to them? I'd like to see their paperwork myself and call it in to have it checked.” He looked at the captain, waiting for a reply.

  The captain had a bad feeling. He looked down at the tug, which had drifted off a few feet from the big ship. The captain could now see the markings on the side of the tug, and they were Coast Guard insignias, but they seemed to have been just painted on. One of them was even smudged, like it hadn't dried yet.

  He looked over the tug and didn't recall ever seeing the Coast Guard use such a ship; usually they had faster moving boats. And the men on board, and this fellow in front of him, didn't really look like any Coast Guard men he'd dealt with before. He thought about asking the man for his ID but figured that might just set him off, and he was carrying a machine gun.

  “Sure, let me go rouse them up and get them up here. Give me a few minutes, alright?” the captain said.

  “That's fine.”

  The captain turned and went below deck, giving his men a sour look. He rushed into his stateroom, rummaged in a drawer for a small box, then ran out of the room to the kitchen.

  “So, what was it?” Lang asked, as the captain blazed into the kitchen, huffing and puffing.

  The captain closed over the door of the kitchen and locked it. “There's some bad business going on up there! There are men dressed like the Coast Guard, but I'm convinced they're imposers!”

  “Why do you say that?” Lang's eyes searched from the door to the captain.

  “Since when does the Coast Guard carry machine guns? And that's not all! They are in a tugboat, of all things! And, the paint on the side is still fresh, still wet! I'd say we have some of our enemies here in disguise.”

  “Just say the word and we’ll come up to help you deal with it,” the leader of the Four said.

  “Not just yet…we don’t want to alarm them. But, if things go south, then by all means,” the captain said.

  “What are we going to do?” the professor asked.

  The captain opened the box. “I picked this up on my travels. It's a blow dart with a poison that puts the person it hits to sleep, instantly! Knocks them right out. I'm going to hit the guy on the deck with it, hopefully without his other men noticing. Then we'll lock him up. We can crank up our engines and leave the tug behind, and call in some help.” He dipped the tip of the dart into a small bottle of clear liquid, then set the dart carefully into the blow tube.

  “I don't believe this. This is like some kind of jungle adventure story,” Charles said.

  “Better believe it if the captain is saying it,” Lang said. He got to his feet, grabbed a knife from the counter, felt it in his hand. “Do we have any weapons?” he said to the captain.

  “Not enough. The knives are good, through. The rest of you should all grab one, too. My men have some guns on the bridge. I'll call up and tell them to get them out, just in case. You all wait down here until you hear from me.” The captain went to the intercom, and after making sure that the “Coast Guard” was not in range of the speaker, told his crew what he was going to do. Then, he went back up to the deck, all smiles.

  “Well, where are they?” the leader of the Coast Guard asked—or at least, he who looked like a Coast Guard asked.

  The captain was convinced they were imposers by now. “Um, they are not available at the moment. Some sort of training they're undergoing. Maybe in a few minutes?” the captain offered.

  “I don't believe this,” the man said, looking around. He could see that the men on the bridge high above him had guns slung around their shoulders, now. If he tried anything, they could shoot down from above, gaining the advantage. He'd never win in such a fire fight.

  “Sorry!” The captain shrugged. “If you were to wait...”

  “No!” the man cut in. “I need to go, now. I will return soon. Thank you.” Then, the man turned and left, making his way back down the stairway. The tug moved back over, against the hull of the larger ship to pick him up again, the men onboard looking at him with disbelief.

  He stepped onboard the tug, and a heated discussion ensured. The captain could only pick up snatches of it over the reversing tug's engine, but it sounded like Russian.

  “Uh-huh,” the captain said to himself. He waved at the tug at it moved off, then looked up to his men, smiling. They had adverted trouble. He hurried back downstairs to give them the good news.

  The captain knocked on the door of the kitchen, careful not to enter until all those inside knew it was him and there was no danger any longer. “Lang, it's me! Everything is fine now. You can put down the knives; I'm coming in!” He took a deep breath, then inched the door open until he saw the way was safe.

  “What happened?” Lang asked.

  “I think he got cold feet about attacking us. Might have been something to do with all of my men on the bridge strapping on their guns, dunno,” the captain said.

  “Good going!” Lang pressed his shoulder. “Any idea who they were?”

  The captain shook his head slowly. “No. Maybe Russians, but who they were working for, I can only guess. A faction of the Dark One's forces, naturally. But, let's not concern ourselves with that any longer when we've got lots of work to do. First though, a toast!” He took a cold bottle of vodka out of the freezer and smiled big at them all.

  CHAPTER 45

  After they had put away the knives, and had a shot to steady their nerves, Lang took Charles and the professor back to the computer room. The captain went back to the bridge to talk to his men, then sped up the freighter to its maximum speed in order that they might make it to their destination without encountering any more trouble. But that was days away.

  Lang picked up the satellite phone and called Ben Veers in Prague, while Charles and the professor poured over new technical data on the computer. “Ben? How are you?” Lang asked over the dicey connection, as static and echo disturbed the line.

  “Lang, is that you? I can barely hear you,” Veers shouted over the phone.

  Lang paced to the window with the satellite phone, “Is that any better?” The line sputtered but seemed to clear slightly.

  “Yes, a little. Where are you? What's going on?”

  “Not much, Ben. We just thwarted an attempt to board us by men posing as the US
Coast Guard!”

  “But you're in international waters aren't you? Out of the Coast Guard's jurisdiction, I'd think.”

  “Yes, but that's just the start of the stupidity of this bunch—I'll have to tell you all about it one day, when this is all over. What's the word?” Lang pursed his lips and listened, fearing bad news. He watched Charles and the professor as they looked over the computer screen, expressions of extreme concentration on their faces.

  “As you know, the window for our first strike is coming soon. We'll go with as many methods as we have available to us. As the other components of the plan come available, we'll deploy those, too.”

  Lang nodded. “Sounds good. All this military talk, though. Have we become an army, now?”

  Ben paused, thinking. “I suppose we have, in a way. You know how we have all been called to this task, by a Higher Power...”

  “Yes, of course.” Lang rubbed his eyes with one hand. “It's just that it's all sounding so official now.”

  Back in Prague, Ben smiled, looking out upon the courtyard below that he so loved. It was bathed in late afternoon sunlight that made long shadows in gold upon the ancient cobblestones, of a moment of a mother and her child on a bicycle. “You miss the old days. So do I. When we had time to sit in the cafes across Europe, and go visiting ancient libraries and reading the old, arcane books that we scoured for knowledge. Knowledge that we've put to good use, now. Oh, and the parties we used to throw at the castle here!”

  Lang had to smile. “Of course I miss them. And, I hope we can get some of those times back when this is all done. This hectic pace and the stress...I never signed up to be a spy.”

  “And so you are not. You are a servant of Truth the same as I.”

  “Do you really think this will really be over soon? That it can come to an end?” Lang looked out the porthole at the sea rising and falling.

  “We don't know. Maybe it can never be over, the battle between light and darkness on this Earth. But we have to try and restore the balance if we can. That much I am certain we can do. If more is to happen, that will be the plan of the Creator at work, not ours.”

  “Very wise, as always.”

  “Thank you. Now, your men there should have the latest data and as soon as they can answer some final questions, we should be ready to go into production with the serum.”

  “They're looking it over now.”

  “Good. I've also sent you the latest timetable and plans. I have to run, but I trust we'll be in touch, soon.”

  “Before you go...”

  “Yes?”

  “Can you send us some backup, or at least have them meet us at the port of Spain when we arrive?”

  “Of course. I'll see what I can do, on both accounts.”

  “Thanks, Ben.”

  “What are Guild members for? I'll talk to you soon. Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye.” Lang hung up, then put the phone down and stretched. “Oh, it's going to be a long night, I think.”

  “Why's that?” the professor asked, looking up from the computer.

  “Oh, Ben's sent us the latest timetable, and I expect it's going to say we've got to finish up this part of our work so they can move on with theirs,” Lang said.

  “Ah,” the professor said.

  “So, it's about time to launch the first strike?” Charles asked.

  “You could say that. Look, let's dispense with the military terms, please? I don't like the sound of it, plus if anyone ever overheard us talking they'd think we were planning some terrorist attack or something.”

  “But isn't that what we're doing, except it's against the bad guys?” Charles said.

  Lang shot him a look. “We, here, know that, but others don't. Besides, it's best to keep these sorts of things close to our chests. Many battles have been lost before they've begun by way of loose lips.”

  “I've never said a word about what we're doing to anyone,” Charles said and stared at Lang.

  Lang sighed. “I'm not implying that. Just...I think it's the stress; it's getting to me, I can feel it.” He stretched again, putting his arms over his head and pulling them this way and that.

  “We need a good masseuse on this ship. Why didn't Ben think of that?” the professor said and smiled.

  “I'm with you there! I think I'm going to spend a lot of money on one when we get home!” Lang said and laughed.

  “I could use a beer,” Charles said.

  “That I think I can do!” Lang said. “I'll go check what's in the kitchen, you two keep at it.” He left the office.

  “I think we'll all be glad when this phase is launched; Wendy certainly will be,” the professor said.

  “She's holding up well, considering what we've all been through,” Charles said.

  “Yeah, she's quite the wife. I don't know if I could have come this far without her. But, let's get these final calculations done and sent off, then maybe I can get some snuggle time with her tonight!” He winked.

  Charles went back to work, trying not to think of how long it had been since he'd gotten laid last.

  In the kitchen Lang found the captain eating alone at a table. He was wearing coveralls that were dirty in spots with grease. “Didn't think I'd see you in here,” Lang said.

  “It's hungry work chasing off pirates,” the captain said, spooning more soup into his mouth. “And fixing engines.”

  “That it is!” Lang selected three beers from the fridge. “Care for a beer?”

  “Why not?” the captain said. Lang handed him a bottle.

  “Thanks.” They twisted off the caps and drank some.

  “To your health.”

  “Same. How's things going?”

  “Good,” Lang said. “We're nearly ready with the work my group has been preparing.”

  “Excellent.” The captain drained his bowl then mopped up the rest with some bread.

  “Think we'll make it to port alright?” Lang took a swig of his beer, trying not to drink it too fast, though he'd have loved to get a drunk going.

  “If I have anything to do with it, yes. I've ordered my men to wear their guns at all times, and I've got a dedicated lookout on duty now, all the time. If anyone wants to hassle us, they're not going to find us easy prey. And, we’ve got the Four onboard.”

  Lang nodded. “That makes me feel better.”

  “Ben didn't say he'd send in some help? He usually does.”

  “I think he's going to try, but manpower is scarce these days, with everything we've got going on.”

  “Don't I know it! I'm doing the job of three on this ship.” The captain got up and dumped his dishes in the sink. “I'll be glad when we're back to normal with a full crew. Well, back to work.” He moved out of the kitchen.

  “Yeah, me, too.” Lang followed him out and went back to the office.

  A couple of hours later, and more beers, Charles and the professor had finished working out the final equations and sent the data off to Prague on the secure Internet connection.

  “Great work!” Lang cheered them on with another beer. They'd had a long night, but now the work was done, and they could try and fall into a much-deserved sleep.

  The professor went back to his room to crawl into bed with his wife. Charles flopped down in his bed, his mind and body eased by the beers. Lang lay in his bed, feeling and listening to the ocean, hoping with all he had that the work they had done was good enough to push back the evil in the world.

  CHAPTER 46

  The passengers on the freighter weren't asleep for long before being disturbed by the noise of men talking loudly and even laughter.

  “What the hell?” Charles got out of bed and looked through the porthole to get a glimpse, but all he could see was moonlight reflecting off the sea. He threw on some clothes and stood opposite the door, waiting. He was sure they were under attack, being boarded. He listened.

  But instead of gunshots ringing out, he could make out the captain talking in the kitchen, and also the voices of other men th
at seemed familiar.

  He crept out into the hallway, where he was met by Lang.

  “What's going on?” Charles whispered to him.

  “I'm not sure. Sounds like a party.”

  They walked to the kitchen and found the captain around a table with The Four and a few of the sailors. The captain looked up as they entered, “Lang! Charles! Joining the party?” He waved a bottle of vodka. Shot glasses had been filled around the table.

  “I guess,” Lang said and smiled. “You took us by surprise.”

  “Yeah. Scared me out of bed!” Charles said.

  “Sorry. I didn't want to wake you all up, but it happened anyway!”

  The chef entered with his apron and chef's hat on. “Some eggs with your vodka? Who wants breakfast?”

  Those around the table answered affirmatively, with gusto.

  After breakfast, The Four poured over a map with Lang and the captain in the office.

  “We think the best port is going to be Algeciras,” said the leader of The Four. “It's a little farther on, but there is the added benefit of better roads out of there.”

  “Why not just fly them off the ship by helicopter? I mean, you could just take off when we're in range, no?” the captain asked.

  “That's an option we've considered, but it's the least safe and the most susceptible to tracking. Also, there's the need to file a flight plan with the authorities, which will leave a paper trail. The biggest issue is fuel, as we'd never make to a Euro port from here. In a few days, sure. But for now, we're along for the ride. Once we get in range, we'll do it if it's the last resort.”

  “Good work.” Lang said. “I do think we should keep a low profile as much as we can. There's no need to fly out of here at this point; if it comes to it, then fine. But our work is proceeding on schedule, and we have good communications with Prague. So, it's alright for us to stay on the ship for now. Plus, we've got the protection of being in international waters, in case they try to throw some legal stuff at us.”

  “Well, there's that,” the captain said. He studied the map closer. “Looks like a good route. You've thought it out. Well, duty calls, I need to go check the bridge.” The captain left them and went topside.