To The Stars

It happened quickly. The hammering exhausts grew louder and the first ship appeared. A dark form over a froth of white sea. Growing monstrously — aiming right at them. Aileen screamed as it loomed above them, went by them. The wake caught the boat and washed over the coaming, sending them rocking wildly.

“By God that was close,” Jan gasped, holding to the cockpit edge with one hand, clasping Aileen with the other.

They had turned, looking after the first ship, so they never even saw the second one until it was too late. Jan had only a glimpse of the bow tearing down on them, crashing into their bowsprit, crushing it, capsizing them. He had only time to grab hard onto Aileen when the boat capsized.

As the water closed over his head something struck him on the leg, numbing it. The sea pulled at Aileen but he held fast, both arms about her until they surfaced again. She was sobbing and coughing as her head came above the surface and he held her up as best he could.

They were in the midst of floating debris. The yacht was gone. So were the two ships, the sound of their engines dying and vanishing.

In the middle of the dark night, in the black ocean, they were alone.

Three

At first Jan did not appreciate the complete danger of their position. Aileen was crying and coughing and it was hard enough to keep his own head above the surface as well as hers. The floating debris was black in the water around them and he pushed away from a mass of ropes, then struck a cushion with his flailing hand. It was floating high in the water and had obviously been designed for flotation use. He guided Aileen to it, pulled it under her arms. Only when he saw that she was holding fast and her head was well out of the water did he let go and look for another cushion.

“Come back!” she called out in panic.

“It’s all right. I want another float for myself.”

He found it easily enough and kicked his way back toward her anxious voice.

“I’m here now. It’s all right.”

“What’s all right? We’re going to die out here, drown, I know it!”

He had no easy answer because he had the terrible sensation that she was right. “They’ll find us,” he finally said. “The ships will come back or radio in for aid. You’ll see. Meanwhile, let’s kick toward shore. It’s not too far.”

“Which way do we go?”

That was a very good question and he was far from sure of the answer. The moon was overhead now and veiled by high clouds. And from their position, low in the water, the hotel lights were no longer visible. “This way,” he said, trying to sound reassuring pushing her ahead of him.

The ships did not come back, the shore was miles away — even if they were swimming in the right direction, which he doubted very much — and he was growing cold. And tired. Aileen was only half conscious, he had the feeling that she might have struck her head when they were run down, and soon he had to stop swimming in order to hold her onto the cushion.

Could they last until morning? That was the fact he had to face. He was not going to swim ashore. What time was it? Probably not even midnight yet. And the winter nights were long. The water was not that warm. He kicked out again to get the blood flowing, to warm himself a bit. But Aileen’s skin was growing colder and colder in his grasp, her breathing weaker. If she died it would be his fault; he had brought her to this place, put her life at risk.

But if she died he would certainly pay for his mistake. He would not last until dawn either. And even if he did — would the searchers find them?

Dark thoughts spiraled around and around in his head and his depression was absolute. Maybe it would be easier to let go now, to drown now, put an end to every­thing. Yet even as the thought entered his mind he kicked out in anger, pushing them through the wet darkness. Die he might — but not by suicide. However his legs tired quickly and he stopped the futile effort and let them float downward. Holding Aileen’s cold shoulders he pressed his face to hers. Was it going to end like this?

Something pushed up against his feet, and he bent his knees in sudden terror. The thought of a creature unseen below him in the dark water was as terrifying as a night­mare. Shark? Were there sharks in this ocean? He didn’t know.

It touched him again, hard from below, rising up inexorably. There was no escape. There it was, in all directions, no matter how hard he thrashed to escape.

While behind him something even blacker than the night rose up like a wall, gushing with water.

Jan struck out with his fist in pure fear, bruising his knuckles on hard metal.

Then they were out of the water, on a platform of some kind, the wind blowing coldly on his soaked skin. There was the sudden shock of recognition — then he shouted out loud.

“A submarine!”

The accident had been seen, must have been. Subma­rines do not rise up beneath one’s feet, in the night, by accident. An infrared telescope, or perhaps the new micropulse radar. Gently, he laid Aileen on the wet planking, her head on the pillow.