Lat. 13° N. Long. 55° E. “Give me the binoculars,” Robin demanded, her voice suddenly tense. Richard didn’t hear her. Just at the moment she spoke, a sound, something more felt than heard, rumbled in his ears, distracting his attention from her and from his watch. He moved his head, concentrating on the sinister vibration in the air. Was it distant thunder? Was it something nearer, more threatening? He didn’t like it, whatever it was. He glanced up along the spotted skin of the fully extended sail to the blast-damaged wreck at the masthead: perhaps there was something wrong there. Weary hadn’t trusted that masthead even before flying debris had destroyed it all those hours ago during the destruction of that nameless ship, wrecking their communications equipment, necessitating the careful watch Robin and he were now keeping, perhaps doing more dangerous damage besides. Then Robin called again and he concentrated on her instead. “What did you say, darling?” “Give me the binoculars.
