Slaves of Elysium by W. S. Antony

shatter the changeless limbo in which they were trapped.
    They tore on and on into the grey void that seemed to have swallowed all time and space.
    The engines coughed fitfully, briefly recovered, then spluttered and died. The Galatea lost headway and glided to a gentle halt. Grey silence enveloped them once more.
    â€˜I guess that’s it,’ Ash said quietly.
    â€˜We tried,’ Jeni said. She sank down against his legs, resting her cheek on his knee. ‘Please hold me. Don’t let me go... whatever happens.’
    â€˜I won’t, kid. I promise.’
    They sat together for a timeless period. At least Jeni had been honest with herself for once, she thought. How long would the brief contentment last? She nuzzled closer to Ash, drawing comfort from his strong presence as he patted and stroked her as one might a dog, her hair ruffling in the gentle breeze...
    The breeze?
    Jeni sat up quickly. Ash was already looking around in wonder.
    For the first time in days, though the boat was motionless, there was a breeze!
    Wind was stirring the cloying fog, turning it into restless billows and sending ripples across the hitherto glassy water. It was getting darker. Even as they watched a ragged veil closed over the ghost sun that had held them in its pallid glow for so long. Jeni felt a moment of nausea and doubled over. When she looked up again it had completely vanished.
    Ash grasped Jeni by her hair, possessive yet also comforting. ‘This is it, one way or another.’
    The Galatea rocked as a larger wave struck it. The fog was being torn to shreds about them, revealing an empty ocean. The sky above was heavy with dark, billowing clouds, picked out by the golden rays of the true sun low on the horizon where only moments before the changeless orange globe had hung.
    A cold wind whipped foam off the top of the waves, making the boat rock more violently. The sun winked out from its cover of inky cloud. Lightning played about thunderhead peaks. Jeni shivered, suddenly conscious of her nudity. They were back in the real world once more – and in the path of another storm.
    Suddenly Ash cursed, looking at his watch.
    â€˜What’s wrong?’ Jeni asked.
    â€˜It’s evening. The sun’s setting. West is behind us. All this time we’ve been going east! We’re nowhere near the US coast, we’re in the middle of the Atlantic!’
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Chapter 4
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    The storm tossed the powerless Galatea about like a toy boat in a bath.
    The four of them huddled inside the main cabin. Blue-white lightning blazed in at the windows where the pearly haze had glowed only a short time earlier. Devereaux and Rebecca, looking sick and hollow-eyed, sat together on the couch. Ash manned the helm. Jeni clung to the back of his seat, bracing herself against the pitching of the boat. Close to Ash seemed the proper place to be.
    â€˜The radio’s working again!’ Ash shouted over the rush of waves and boom of thunder. ‘At least, I can get static. I’m sending a mayday. Don’t know if anybody can hear us though.’
    With the lifting of the fog the gyro and magnetic compasses had also started to work. The satellite navigation system was live, but displayed error messages suggested they were somehow out of signal range.
    As the storm had raced towards them Jeni ran from the fly bridge to her own cabin to put on fresh clothes. She had said nothing to Ash, but both knew things would never be the same between them again. They would talk more about what they had shared later. Now they must concentrate on survival.
    Jeni had roused Rebecca and Devereaux, still clinging together in a drunken slumber. As they looked about them in bleary confusion she wondered how much they recalled of their earlier treatment of her. The sea rose and the Galatea pitched and yawed sickeningly. Jeni heard the hull creaking and practically forced the pair into their lifejackets. As the reality of their situation