The silence lengthened and Joze realized that he was the help that they needed, and that they had turned the responsibility over to him. What should he do first? The astronaut might have his own oxygen tanks, Joze had no real idea what provisions were made for water landings, but if there was oxygen the man might still be alive.
Joze paced the floor while he thought, a short, square figure in khaki shorts and sandals. He was not handsome, his nose was too big and his teeth were too obvious for that, but he generated a certainty of power. He stopped and pointed to Pribislav.
"We're going to have to get him out. You can find the spot again?"
"A buoy."
"Good. And we may need a doctor. You have none here, but is there one in Osor?"
"Dr. Bratos, but he is very old…"
"As long as he is still alive, we'll have to get him. Can anyone in this town drive an automobile?"
The fishermen looked toward the roof and concentrated, while Joze controlled his impatience.
"Yes, I think so," Dragomir finally said. "Petar was a partisan."
"That's right." The other fisherman finished the thought. "He has told many times how they stole German trucks and how he drove. "
"Well, then one of you get this Petar and give him the keys to my car, it's a German car so he should be able to manage. Tell him to bring the doctor back at once."
Dragomir took the keys, but handed them to Pribislav, who ran out.
"Now let's see if we can get the man up," Joze said, grabbing his scuba gear and leading the way toward the boat.
They rowed, side by side though Dragomir's powerful stroke did most of the work.
"How deep is the water out here?" Joze asked. He was already dripping with sweat as the sun burned on him.
"The Kvarneric is deeper up by Rab, but we were fishing off Trstenilc and the bottom is only about four fathoms there. We're coming to the buoy."
"Seven meters, it shouldn't be too hard to find him." Joze kneeled in the bottom of the boat and slipped into the straps of the scuba. He buckled it tight, checked the valves, then turned to the fisherman before he bit into the mouthpiece. "Keep the boat near this buoy and I'll use it for a guide while I search. If I need a line or any help, I'll surface over the astronaut, then you can bring the boat to me."
He turned on the oxygen and dipped over the side, the cool water rising up his body as he sank below the surface. With a powerful kick he started toward the bottom, following the dropping line of the buoy rope. Almost at once he saw the man, spread-eagled on white sand below.
Joze swam down, making himself stroke smoothly in spite of his growing excitement. Details were clearer as he dropped lower. There were no identifying marks on the pressure suit; it might be either American or Russian. It was a hard suit, metal or reinforced plastic, and painted green, with a single, flat faceplate in the helmet.
Because distance and size are so deceptive underwater, Joze was on the sand next to the figure before he realized that it was less than four feet long. He gasped and almost lost his mouthpiece.
Then he looked at the faceplate and saw that the creature inside was not human.
Joze coughed a bit and blew out a stream of bubbles: he had been holding his breath without realizing it. He just floated there, paddling slowly with his hands to stay in a position, looking at the face within the helmet.
It was still as a waxen cast, green wax with roughened surface, slit nostrils, slit mouth, and large eyeballs unseen but prominent as they pushed up against the closed lids. The arrangement of features was roughly human, but no human being had skin this color or had a pulpy crest, partially visible through the faceplate, growing up from above the closed eyes. Joze stared down at the suit made up of some unknown material, and at the compact atmosphere-regeneration apparatus on the alien's back. What kind of atmosphere? He looked back at the creature and saw that the eyes were open and the thing was watching him.
Fear was his first reaction; he shot back in the water like a startled fish, then, angry at himself, came forward again. The alien slowly raised one arm, then dropped it limply. Joze looked through the faceplate and saw that the eyes were closed again. The alien was alive, but unable to move; perhaps it was injured and in pain. The wreck of the creature's ship showed that something had been wrong with the landing. Reaching under as gently as he could, he cradled the tiny body in his arms, trying to ignore a feeling of revulsion when the cold fabric of the thing's suit touched his bare arms. It was only metal or plastic, he had to be a scientist about this. When he lifted it up, the eyes still did not open, and he bore the limp and almost weightless form to the surface.
"You great stupid clumsy clod of peasant, help me," he shouted, spitting out his mouthpiece and treading water on the surface, but Dragomir only shook his head in horror and retreated to the point of the bow when he saw what the physicist had borne up from below.
