The crescent moon cast a slight silvery glow which enabled her dark adapted eye to see the life raft and the waves. The sky had cleared and she rolled over on to her back and considered the immensity of space. She heard Ali groan and shift position. She looked over at him. ‘How are you feeling?’ ‘My head aches a little,’ he replied, ‘but it’s not too bad. So you’re still awake then?’ ‘Yes, I was just passing the time by doing some star gazing,’ said Gerry. ‘You fell asleep as you finished your story of how you became a senior translator for the Iraqi foreign ministry.’ She slumped back against the side of the raft, lifted her arm and sniffed. She carried a distinct odour of jet fuel. ‘Oh yes, I remember now,’ Ali murmured thoughtfully. ‘How long until dawn do you think?’ ‘Probably another two hours or so.’ The raft struck a wave and some freakish combination of wind and water sent a sheet of spray that drenched her.
