“Is that water?” The alien asked, eyeing the silver canteen. “May I have some?”I tossed the canteen to it, it caught it and unscrewed the cap....From beneath the tattered fabric snaked a ropey tube, like a tongue or a proboscis. It slipped inside the rim of the canteen, and I assumed it drank. After a few moments it handed the canteen back to me, I wiped some viscous saliva from the top and screwed the lid back on.“So what’s your name?” I inquired. “Mine’s O’Brian.” It looked me up and down, at. .. !! Then perhaps I'll forget you owe me for all those prints you made yesterday..." I fired the broadside without breaking step, the last salvo shredding her sails as I disappeared into the studio, heaving to alongside the computer whilst Dee headed for galley slave duties, preparing Earl Grey tea with a puzzled smile whilst I read through the details of the next commission, a nautical theme for a private collector.Happily engrossed in my work the time slipped by unnoticed, only Dee's. More

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