Ships Colliding in the Night

The air was cold and crisp, as stars above sparkled on the glass-like ocean below. The tips of icebergs bobbed on the surface of the ocean, covertly hiding their true expanse and bulk below the water.

A strange foreign object protruded from the ice, like a car’s shinny fender buried in a snow bank. And like the iceberg, its true size was hidden beneath the dark expanse, stretching for hundreds of feet below.

Buried deep in the ice, the craft was like a great mammoth beast, sleeping quietly until Mother Nature decided to melt its prison of ice. It was as old as everything else out here in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, untouched and undisturbed.

It was quiet and still inside the craft, seemingly void of any life. Red, orange, and green lights blinked randomly on and off on a control panel as if the ship was in deep thought or dreaming of its journey through space. The laboratory housed rows and rows of incubators, each with foggy glass covers, through which the outlines of strange beings could be seen. Their chests moved up and down as small pumps circulated air to each of the incubators. Clear tubes entered the chambers, providing nutrients and other chemicals for sustaining life. Alien life.

Suddenly, a large crunching sound shattered the silence like a gunshot in the early morning, reverberating through the alien craft, causing it to shudder in the water. The noise screeched like that of metal grinding against metal.

Moments later, a warning noise sounded throughout the craft. All the incubators popped open with a hissing noise, releasing a puff of vapor into the air. Green alien-like creatures stirred from a deep sleep, awoken prematurely from their unearthly hibernation. They rubbed the sleep from their large, black, glazed eyes.

Water began pouring in from above, filling the craft. Sleepy creatures panicked, unsure of what to do. One of the creatures swung his skinny legs out of the incubator, splashing his large green feet into the water.

He stood up, balancing himself on the edge of incubator.

“ALERT 412!! ALERT 412!” he yelled, pointing his long, thin finger at another creature close by.

“Sergeant, activate the evacuation alarm!”

The Sergeant sprang into action and waded through the water to a nearby wall, opening a clear cover and slamming a large red button. Sirens began to ring out, the entire craft lit up with a red hue, signaling the ensuing danger. Water was filling the craft fast, rapidly rising to an unbearable level. The craft rocked due to displaced water, threatening to roll over in the water. The green aliens swarmed towards a nearby airlock, flapping and jostling for the exit. Each alien was handed a flotation device as they entered the airlock.

Suddenly, the craft began to roll. Anything not bolted down migrated from one side of the ship to the other. Bodies and equipment as they slid across the floor and into the air.

On the surface above, a large ocean-liner began to take on water through a tear in its hull. The crew of the ship scrambled to get passengers onto the lifeboats.

“Everyone, just go slow, there are plenty of lifeboats,” a sailor lied. Those fortunate enough to be in a boat huddled together in the cold night as frost nipped at their noses. Women and children shivered with both fear and the ice-cold air, which now entered their warm lungs.

The lifeboats paddled away from the gigantic sinking ship. Fires dotted the ocean as debris burned like Chinese floating lanterns. The ship creaked as if about to break in half. Those who couldn’t fit in the lifeboats clung to floating furniture and wooden boxes from the ship. It wouldn’t take long until they succumbed to the freezing water, dying a cold and dark death.

The alien creatures appeared on the ocean surface a few hundred yards from the sinking ship. The cold didn’t bother them, but the sight of earthlings did, with their strange pale skin and hairy heads.

In a lifeboat, a mother desperately hugged her small child, wrapped in one of the few woolen blankets available.

The little girl's teeth chattered. “Mommy didn’t the newspaperman say the Titanic was unsinkable?” said the little girl, wiping her tears away.

The mother stroked her daughter’s hair.
“Yes dear, but I guess they were proved wrong tonight.”

Just then a green hand wrapped itself over the edge of the lifeboat.