Lost Yesterday

one right, true way and they did not. Besides, many of them would be dead within a few days and he would not.

It was not murder. Murder was when you harmed an innocent. But he had learned in the Bahamas at an absolutely free course, raising him up to where he could control his own destiny, that people were not innocent just because they seemed to be doing nothing harmful.

You were only innocent when you were helping the positive forces of the world. When evil abounded and you worked within an evil system, you were as guilty as the President of the United States.

The aircraft pilot circled the Persia-Saud Maru looking for a piece of sea that would not be subject to her massive wake with the undertow force of a whirlpool. In some seas he would have to circle for an hour until explorer boats, now being let down from her building-high decks, could find safe landing for a light seaplane.

This day on the calm seas they found it rather readily, and the plane put down easily. The power boats, smaller than destroyers but larger than PT boats, anchored the seaplane, and the harbor pilot and his crew went aboard. Arthur went with Cal Peters.

Before the power boats were allowed near the Persia-Saud, the harbor crew had to be frisked and their baggage searched. This was in accordance with the safety protocols which allowed no uncleared person or vessel within range of the massive ship.

Cal Peters' bag contained four days of clothing changes and a picture of his wife, along with his charts.

Arthur Daniels' bag contained twelve course-level books from Poweressence, four days of clothes, and a red plastic water pistol, filled.

“It's mine,” said Arthur, stopping the ship's inspector from touching it.

“Fine, so long as it doesn't shoot bullets,” said the inspector.

“Well, glad to see you're having some fun in your life at least,” said Cal. But he also noticed Arthur had a package of headache capsules, and he had never seen that before. He was relieved to see it apparently had only one capsule inside. At least Arthur hadn't become addicted to anything chemical.

Addicts, whether alcohol or otherwise, always made sure they had good supplies available. This was a thing Cal Peters had learned to watch out for early on. When you brought in the Persia-Saud you could no more call something this massive back than you could redirect a bullet. What the Persia lacked in speed she made up in size, and Cal could afford no problems.

Elevator cranks lifted the power boats up her sides. But it was a short lift this day. The Persia- Saud's holds were laden with Arabian light. She had come out of the Arabian Gulf a month ago with enough oil that if it were sold on the spot market immediately it would have shot the skids out from under the already shaky prices. But this load had been sold years before in an agreement with a major oil firm that had been emptying its Bayonne, New Jersey, tanks for months.

An entire depot was waiting for her cargo.

Cal Peters liked the Persia-Saud. Most ships had a pitch to their decks; the Persia had a roll little more noticeable than a sidewalk in Missouri.

Cal didn't take over immediately. He first held the meeting of the harbor crew. There were the navigator, engineer, junior mates, and the rest, all preparing the schedule of entrance. To stop the ship they had to start slowing down by morning, and take very careful readings every hour as to speed and distance to shore. If the Persia-Saud sighted land going faster than a crawling two knots an hour, no force on earth could stop her from crashing into the dock. But if she went too slowly and the tides caught her, it could mean a day before they got her back in control. She was as touchy as she was massive.

Arthur Daniels volunteered for the first day, and Cal Peters was glad to see him do it. It showed that despite his eccentricities the boy still cared about the job. And that was the bottom line with Cal Peters and always had been.

Peters felt good about his decision to accept the boy back despite the unauthorized vacation, right up until Arthur Daniels brought the water pistol onto the captain's desk.

“Arthur, if the ship's captain ever saw us playing with those things he'd head right back to the Arabian Gulf,” said Peters.

He saw the little red plastic gun point at him. He saw Arthur pull the trigger. He saw the stream come right at his face. That was it. He was going to fire Arthur, if the nice man wasn't so nice to him, and hadn't given him a shiny silver dollar to play with. He could even put it in his mouth if he wanted. That was very nice. Cal's mommy never let him put things in his mouth like this nice man. All Cal had to do was stay in the room and anytime anyone came in he was to nod.

“Just nod,” said Arthur. “Good boy. You're a very good boy. That's nice.”

In that first moment, seeing Mr. Peters responding like a baby, Arthur Daniels had his first doubts about what he was doing. But such was the wisdom of Poweressence that they had prepared him.

“When you feel guilty, that is an old habit pattern,” he had been told. “You were always made to feel guilty to keep you in line. Guilt is the old way of doing things. We are the new, positive way of doing things.”

But still, no matter how he focused on his positive essence, he could not dispel the guilt. And there were five days ahead of them. On the fourth day the relief pilot asked why they hadn't started to slow. On the third day he demanded to know and accused Arthur of being insane for trying to shoot him with a water pistol. Now Arthur had two grown men in his hands, neither of whom knew enough not to soil their pants. On the final day, even the captain became aware of problems and seized the bridge. By then it was too late.

“Why on earth did you do it? Why did you do such a thing?” said the captain.

Arthur Daniels only smiled. He had taken the pill Mr. Dolomo himself, the finest mind in the world, had personally given him even as the Warriors of Zor stood to salute his sacred mission.

But unlike Arthur Daniels, the captain of the Persia-Saud Maru did not worry about grown men whose pants smelled, didn't even bother to worry that he would soon have Arthur's undies to worry about. He had a ship headed for Bayonne, New Jersey, and no way to stop it, no time to turn it, and only an hour before an entire city went under a flood of oil.

In Washington, D.C., the President called Smith in to listen, adding that the Oriental was not needed at this moment.

“We have that… that Beatrice on the line again,” said the President. His hand covered the speaker.

“What is she saying?”

“Says it's all our fault,” said the President, nodding to another line. Smith picked it up.

“I never like to hurt innocent people. I have nothing against Americans, Mr. President. I am an American. But what will happen in Bayonne, New Jersey, today is all your fault.”

“What will happen, your Majesty?” asked the President.

“Your fault it will happen. Stop the anticult bill in Congress before more harm is done.”

“If I stop it, your Majesty, what will you stop?”

“I can't stop it now and neither can you. That's why I am telling you. When you think of hurting a beautiful, charming, decent woman again, think of Bayonne, New Jersey. I would advise you to evacuate now.”

Then the line went dead.

“Are the advisers ready to invade Harbor Island?” asked Smith.

“Just about,” said the President. “We've got to get them into protective suits first. That's what's slowing them up. What are the science boys up to?”

“Nothing yet. They won't even touch it with rubber suits. Experimenting on animals, but it doesn't seem to affect them the same way. Chiun says — and in his own strange ways he often understands things about the body we don't — it possibly only attacks learned memory, intellectually learned memory.”

“Is there another kind? Instinct isn't memory.”

“There is, but we had better order Bayonne to evacuate right now.”

“Where the hell can they evacuate to, Jersey City?” asked the President.

The Persia-Sand Maru moved slowly into Bayonne, New Jersey, so slow it could make an onlooker, if there were any left, believe that the slightest nudge would stop it. But that was because it was moving at fifteen knots, the speed of a good jogger.

The thing about the Persia-Saud was it just kept going. It crumpled the offshore rocks, and the force of its lake of oil continued to move at the same speed, taking the upper prow with it as the