by David Sloma
The prof looked at him, and said, “You forget you're here with a couple of scientists.” He turned to the captain. “How much fuel do you have aboard this ship?”
“Thousands of gallons, but it's diesel. You can't use that in the 'copter, Mr. Scientist,” the captain said.
“No,” the prof explained, “but if we can do a conversion on it, distill it out to what the 'copter needs—kerosene, right?”
The leader nodded.
“Of course!” Charles said.
“We should be able to do it, won't even take that long. Heck, all we have is time right now, anyway, right?” the prof said.
“Yes, until they send a death squad here for us,” Lang said.
“That might happen if we don't get out of this place. Tell me more of your plan. What do you need? Let's get this done,” the captain said to the prof.
“Wait,” the leader said. “I'll see if it even starts. Just hold on a few minutes.” He strode out to the chopper and got aboard.
“Please, God, please!” Wendy prayed.
They all watched as the leader pressed some buttons inside the cockpit. The engine sputtered and then died, making some of them gasp. He tried it again, and the engine started for a few moments, then quit.
He got out and went to the side of the chopper, opening up a panel with one of his men. They looked inside for a few moments, then came back to the rest of the group.
“It looks like one of the fuel pumps is out of commission, but there should be enough tools on this ship to fix it. You've got a machine shop?” the leader asked the captain.
“Sure. Come with me,” the captain said. “The rest of you stand guard,” he said to his sailors. “Look alive!” The men with guns milled around the deck.
The captain, the prof, the leader, and Charles walked off together, going below the deck.
It didn't take long for them to fabricate a part for the fuel pump, and get in reinstalled. This time the chopper started up.
The leader didn't let it run long, just enough to see that it was working. He shut it down and came back onto the deck.
“Thank God for that!” Wendy said, hugging him.
The leader smiled. “Yes, thank God for small miracles.”
“Well, now that's settled, we can get to work on the kerosene,” the captain said. He pointed to Charles and the prof, who nodded.
“Those of us that are free, mind if we go explore the island?” Lang asked.
“You want to go ashore?” the captain said.
“If that's alright with everyone?” Lang said.
“I don't see why not. We've got hours of work to do below deck. It would be good to know what's on there, just in case. But be careful. And, don't go far. Take some guns with you. You can take one of the lifeboats.”
“We will. Alright, who wants to go?” Lang asked.
“I do!” Wendy put up her hand.
The captain turned and led Charles and the prof away. The prof lingered for a moment to hug his wife goodbye, before running after the other two, below deck.
“Come with us?” Lang asked the leader of The Four.
“Why not? We've got nothing to do right now. I'll bring one of my men, but two of them should stay here,” the leader said.
“Sounds good,” Lang said.
“How will we get over there? Lifeboat?” Wendy asked.
“No need. There's a small boat you can use, over there,” a passing sailor said. He pointed to the back of the ship. “Under the tarp.”
“Great, thanks!” Lang said.
The “landing party” went to the back of the ship and lifted up the rain soaked tarp to reveal a small boat that could sit about ten people. It had a motor attached and fuel.
“Can you drive this thing?” Lang asked.
“Sure! Looks like fun,” the leader said. He looked at Lang and Wendy. “Where's your guns?”
“We need guns?” Wendy asked.
“I'd advise it.”
“I'll borrow a couple from the crew,” Lang said. He went up to the control room and rounded up two handguns in holsters. Once he and Wendy got a little instruction on them from the leader, they were ready to go ashore.
With some help from the crew, they got into the boat, and it was lowered down on its tether to the water below. It was then unhooked, and the engine started up. They drove away from the main ship and made for the beach of the island ahead of them a few hundred feet.
Beaching the boat, they stepped out into the shallow, warm water and waded ashore, bottles of water in hand.
“Oh, that water feels so good!” Wendy said, taking off her shoes and enjoying the feel of the sand.
“Yeah,” Lang said, shielding his eyes from the sun and looking around at the white sand, blue water, and blue sky. Beautiful, he thought.
“We'll just take a quick look around. I think we should be able to circle this place in a couple of hours. That should give us a good idea of what's here, should we need to stay for any length of time,” the leader said.
“But, if we're stuck here, wouldn't it be better to stay on the boat until we're rescued?” Wendy said.
“It might,” the leader said, staring to walk ahead, sticking to the sandy beach that seemed to run around the island. “That is, if the ship doesn't sink. We don't know how bad the damage is underneath it. The hull could be cut to ribbons. There might be a high tide that does it in. We'll have to see. But, it's good to have options, so we should be aware of what's on this island, just in case.” The others fell in behind him.
The island had dense foliage. There were some animals, but they scurried away and were small. The party didn't venture into the undergrowth, as it would be tough going, and there was no need at the time.
A couple of hours later, they arrived back where they started from, carrying bananas. The small boat sat waiting for them, and their big, stranded ship was still on the shoal in the distance.
“That was a lovely walk,” Wendy said.
“Yes, not every day you get to explore a tropical paradise,” Lang said. “But that just goes to show how far we really are off-course. We shouldn't be anywhere near here.”
“No, we shouldn't,” the leader agreed, as they waded out to the lifeboat. “And that means that we'll have to fly back to South America, if we want to fly at all. That's the only place we'd be able to make it to.”
They boarded the boat and shoved off the sand, then made their way back to the big ship, with the helicopter still safely perched on the deck.
CHAPTER 48
Back on the Destiny, the prof and Charles had rigged up what looked like a small laboratory in the engine room of the ship. They had a hose carrying diesel fuel into a big vat, where they applied heat and other processes to break it down into kerosene. The method worked, and they had their first bit of kerosene to present to the leader of The Four when he returned.
“What do you think?” the prof said, handing over the beaker full of their new creation.
The leader took it and looked it over carefully. “Looks like the fuel the chopper uses.” He sniffed at it and nodded. “Smells like it, too. You've tested its makeup?”
“We did,” the prof said. “Its the fuel the 'copter requires. There is a bit of impurity, which we hope to refine further, but it should work just fine.”
“That's amazing,” Lang said.
“Yes, very amazing! Well done!” the captain said, looking over their shoulders.
“How long will it take you to make enough to fill up the chopper?” the leader asked.
The prof looked at Charles and they conferred together. “Oh, say about ten hours?” the prof said.
“We'd better get back to work,” Charles said.
“How was the island?” the prof asked Wendy, who bounded up to him with the fruit. “Bountiful, I can see!”
“Oh, it was lovely! Like a paradise! Too bad we're not on vacation,” she said.
“No kidding.” The prof grabbed one of the bananas, peeled it,
and started eating. “Tasty.
“See anything interesting besides fruit trees? Fresh water sources?” the captain asked, taking a banana as well.
“Not that we could see just skimming around the perimeter,” the leader said. “A more in-depth exploration might reveal more, but that would take a lot more time. I don't think we'd want to do that until we know if we're stuck here or not.”
“Yes, of course. I'm concerned about wild animals, snakes, that sort of thing,” the captain said.
The leader nodded. “So far so good. Didn't see anything like that.”
“Good, good.” The captain munched on the banana. “These are really good.”
“All organic!” Lang said. “What do you think our chances are of getting out of here?”
“On the ship? Probably not going to happen,” the captain said. “Even if we somehow get off this shoal, which I doubt, then the hull is probably damaged. We'd have to have divers first, to repair the damage. I think the ship is stuck here. We might get off by the helicopter, though.”
“Might,” the leader said.
“We'd better get a lot more fuel ready, then,” the prof said. He turned to Charles, “Come on, let's go.” He threw his banana peel overboard, then kissed his wife. “See you later.”
“Bye,” she said.
“Right,” Charles said. He followed the prof back down below the deck.
“Any luck with the communications?” Lang asked the captain.
“No, everything is mostly fried out. They did a good job on us. I wonder why they're letting us just sit here and are not coming out to finish the job. Or, shooting down some ray to kill us?” The captain looked up into the sky.
“They probably want to make it look like an accident. Fried bodies on the deck of the ship would counter that. Shot up bodies, too,” the leader said.
“Yeah, I suppose,” the captain said. “Well, who's hungry? We've got a fridge full of food that needs eating before it goes bad and a great chef with natural gas for his stoves! We might as well eat while we wait for the fuel to be ready for the chopper.”
Leaving some armed guards on the deck to scan the horizon with binoculars, the captain and the others went below deck to have lunch.
An uneventful day passed before there was a significant amount of fuel ready for the chopper. But, it would still take hours yet, until late into the night, before there was enough fuel to fill it up. It was decided that they'd stay on the ship overnight and let the fuel distill, then check on things in the morning.
The prof and his wife went up on the deck to watch the sunset, huddled together against the railing. The sky was stunning and wide open. It showed so many stars.
After a big dinner, everyone retired to their cabins, save for a rotation of guards. Wendy was happy, as she had been a bit seasick, and the lack of motion of the ship suited her fine. “This is better,” she said, snuggling into her husband in their bed. The porthole window was open and a slight, warm breeze was coming in.
“Sure is a nice place to be shipwrecked,” the prof said.
“Shouldn't someone be looking for us, by now? Don't these ships have radios to call for help?”
“It was shorted out in the storm, remember?”
“Oh yeah. Well, what about an emergency beacon? I heard they have those, too, usually. That's how they get tracked down after something like this.”
“It was fried, too. We tired it when you were on the island.”
“Oh, my! Then we really are stuck here, aren't we?”
“Now, don't worry. We're just fine for the time being. We've got food, and water, and a safe place to be...”
“And people after us who want us dead!”
“I'm not going to kid you; there's that. But that was the case back in our own home.”
“That's true.” Finally, tiredness overcame her, and she calmed down. Soon, they fell asleep.
Lang lay in his bed staring at the ceiling, wondering what was going on back in Prague. He knew the time was fast approaching for the deployment of their first wave of DNA repairing, and he didn't want to miss it.
He was pretty confident that he had transmitted enough data from the professor and Charles to move the work forward to the point that it could be deployed without them—at least, he prayed it was so. He knew that the program would go on without him, if he never made it back.
But he wondered if they were looking for him right now. Probably can't find me, he thought. He surmised that the microchips that were under his skin and the skins of The Four had likely been neutralized by whatever energy weapon had been used on the ship. He recalled he did feel a strange heat on his face at the time of the storm, but he had shrugged it off as just being upset.
Maybe it was more, he thought; maybe I was feeling the microwave attack. Could be. Or maybe they were burned out when we were in that mountain, by a technology we don't know of yet.
He couldn't get to sleep, but finally, before dawn, he was able to get a couple of much-needed hours.
Back in Prague, Lang's theories were proved correct.
Ben Veers had spent some time in the control room with the operators there, none of whom could get a fix on the microchips in Lang and The Four.
“It's like they just dropped off the face of the Earth,” Frank said, clicking through various computer screens.
“I don't think that's the case, though you never know these days...” Ben said, his hand on his chin, looking at the screens. “They must have been taken underground again, or their chips burnt out. It was a sudden drop off.” He pointed to a screen that showed the history of their chips on a map, then them suddenly disappearing.
“Both of those are possibilities, sir.”
“They were at sea, or supposed to be when it happened. Was there any bad weather in the area?”
“Looking, sir.” Frank clicked away on the keys and soon came up with some weather maps of the area for the last day or two.
Ben looked at the maps with great interest. “Yes, see? There was a large storm that closed in on their position. And, it came out of nowhere, and dissipated very quickly after hitting them. Most strange. I'd bet that was the cause of their communications going out.”
“You think they were attacked, sir?”
“I'd bet on it.”
“Well, I can do some looking into it. A storm of that size and energy is going to leave some footprints.”
“Very good,” said Ben. He left the young man to do his computer work and went to the cafeteria to get something to drink. A strong coffee is what I need, he thought. Something to give me strength. He hadn't slept all night, not since the alarms had gone off announcing the disappearance of Lang and his group—for the second time!
Ben sat in the cafeteria having a coffee alone, coming to grips with the very real possibility that Lang might not make it back, at least not in time, and he'd have to carry on and launch the initiatives without him. This has been a long time coming, thousands of years, Ben thought. “We can't wait for you, old friend, I'm sorry.” He knew Lang would want that and would understand. “I hope you're alright and make it back to see our progress.”
With that, he stood and made his way back to his office to continue on the final stage of preparations to launch the first DNA cure out into the world. He had calls to make to their scientists and many logistical problems to solve. And time was getting short. There were only a couple of days now until the launch window, when the stars signaled the perfect time to begin their boldest counter-strike against the Dark One.
CHAPTER 49
The prof was up early the next morning, and he let Wendy sleep while he went to check on the fuel distilling. It was just before dawn as he crept into the engine room, finding Charles already there.
“Good morning!” the prof said.
“Up early, too, huh?”
“Yep, I naturally get up at dawn, if left to my own devices.”
“Me too, a lot of the time. Say, this is looking really good.”
“Oh, yeah?” The prof stepped closer to one of the tanks that a hose was running into, dripping refined kerosene into it. He put on his glasses and peered at the liquid. “Looks good.”
“I ran some tests on it, and it's quite pure. Should do the job.” Charles looked at the big tank they had filled with kerosene. “Now, how are we going to get it up to the 'copter?”
“That'll be easy. They've got some strong pumps around here. We should be able to power them with this kerosene, if they run out of diesel, which is doubtful anyway. We should be fine. Just run a series of long hoses up to the deck and fill 'er up like in a gas station!” The prof slapped Charles on the back.
“I hope you're right.”
“Sure. Nothing to it. I'm sure these sea dogs will be able to handle it.”
Lang entered the doorway of the engine room and knocked. “How's it going fellas?”
“Not bad,” the prof said. “We should be able to fuel up the 'copter this afternoon.”
“Great,” Lang said. “I could use getting back to civilization.” He yawned and stretched, looking disheveled “I can't sleep much in a strange bed. It's going to be good to get back to a home base. I'm going to head up topside and see how things are there.” He turned and left.
“Alright see you later,” the prof said.
“Yeah, later,” Charles said. “I know what he means; I'd like to get back to my own place, too.”
“You know that's probably not possible? They've likely raided your apartment, too.”
“Yeah, I thought of that. I should have a friend check on it, if I could make a call.”
“Soon.”
Up on the deck, Lang emerged into the sunlight of dawn and shielded his eyes, wondering for about the hundredth time where his sunglasses were. Must have lost them along the way, he thought.
Climbing up to the control room, he saw the guards on duty, with large binoculars around their necks.
“Hi, how's things?” Lang asked.
“Same,” one of the sailors said. Lang looked around and saw the captain with a radio apart on a table.