Somebody said between breaths…“We’re Navy, son…We don’t die…We just get one last…permanent change of duty station.” A few guys chuckled, palid attempts at buying into the humor in the midst of fear. I smiled a little.

“J-j-just sounds l-like a fancy way of saying d-d-d…” came a quiet mutter in reply, the thought never getting finished but hanging in the air above all our heads. I tried to look up. People always say to look up in times of trouble. I found no hope in the perfect blackness above me.

Memory, or maybe desperation, started filling in the stars. They twinkled and danced into their familiar positions, friends from years and years of camping with whatever relative took enough pity on me to take me. Eridanus caught my mind’s eye, gave me a special wink.

The harsh voice pulled me from my revery, “You think moping is going…to do you a lick of good?” There was a pause then a bellowed, “Hold fast!”

A few more voices echoed back, “Hold fast!”

Then silence.

Water.

Darkness.

Still.