LITMIR.BIZ

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the earlier radio transmissions. The Japanese captain on the factory ship is furious. He’s behind on his quota and low on fuel. They’re hungry for a kill and won’t stand for any foolishness from these whale activists. I think they’ll ram the trawler if it’s foolish enough to get in the way.”

      Alec couldn’t tear his gaze from the woman who now stood in the bow of the trawler. Thick white spume from the sea shot upward, spraying her each time the trawler dipped into a trough. From this distance, he couldn’t make out her features, except that she was tall and had red hair that now waved across her shoulders like a crimson flag proclaiming war. “More like a red cape being waved at an angry bull,” he said to no one in particular.

      “Eh, Comrade Captain?”

      “Nothing, Lieutenant.” Alec noticed Mizin had brought the Helix into a slow, large circle above the two foreign ships. Apparently the lieutenant took the Japanese threat as real. Alec’s mind raced with potentials. The Soviets never interfered in such circumstances. But then, these fights had never bloodied anyone’s nose before, either. Did the red-haired Valkyrie on the bow realize how dangerous a situation she was in?

      “Lieutenant, I want you to remain on station and use the helo’s nose camera to photograph the confrontation.” Alec didn’t want to be dressed down by Captain Denisov if these two ships collided. Bad press was something General Secretary Gorbachev wanted to avoid at all costs. In the past, Alec knew the Soviets were sometimes blamed simply because they were in the vicinity where trouble erupted. They had been innocent, but the world press leapt at Mother Russia’s throat to make them look evil. It was his responsibility to stop incidents such as this from blackening their already tarnished image.

      “Yes, sir.”

      “And call the Udaloy. Apprise Captain Denisov of the situation. Ask what his orders are. If that Japanese catcher is stupid enough to make good its threat, that trawler may sink before anyone can get to it. If the captain wants us to become involved, ask him to alert the sickbay staff to prepare to receive injured crewmen.” That way, Alec knew his head was off the chopping block. The Soviet navy rarely helped anyone else in distress, but the laws of the open sea permitted offering aid when appropriate. Glasnost and perestroika were underway, and he saw them as an opportunity, a positive one, if Denisov would allow him to orchestrate it properly. For once, the Soviets might be the hero, not the villain.

      “Yes, sir.”

      Mizin continued to circle the Helix downward, and Alec was able to focus on the woman at the bow. Unconsciously, he held his breath. Her hair was long and thick, like a horse’s silky mane. But it was her face that made his pulse quicken in an uncharacteristic beat. She reminded him of a fox, her features clean and sharp. Her forehead was broad, with slightly arched eyebrows framing narrowed eyes. He wished momentarily that he were close enough to see their color. Was she the daughter of the sea or the air? Would her eyes be green or blue? He laughed at his romantic side, which he normally kept carefully closeted from the military world, though his curiosity ate away at his frivolous wondering.

      Perhaps it was her mouth, set with challenge, or that slender, oval face with that small chin jutting outward that intrigued him most. There was no apology in any line of her body, her fist raised over her head at the approaching catcher that dwarfed her.

      Little Fox, you are in great danger. That bear of a Japanese ship will crush you. A fox never takes on a bear. A bear always wins. Lowering the binoculars, Alec frowned. His straight black eyebrows drew together momentarily. Puzzled that a woman he didn’t even know could create such a powerful, unbidden response in him, Alec sat there digesting the discovery.

      “That Japanese whaler isn’t going to back off!” Mizin cried out, swinging the Helix around so that they could fully view the coming collision.

      “Any word from Captain Denisov, yet?” Alec snapped, getting out of the nylon-webbed seat and moving forward, hunkering between the pilot and copilot’s seats.

      “Nyet. They’d best hurry with an answer.”

      As he gripped the back of the two seats, Alec’s scowl deepened. “Lower, Comrade. I want that Japanese catcher to be fully aware of our presence. Perhaps he’ll back down if he realizes there is a witness to his premeditated murder.”

      Mizin deftly swung the Helix to the starboard and dropped it to three hundred feet. “I can fly up to his bridge windows.”

      Alec tendered a tense smile. Mizin would do exactly that—the pilot known for taking chances. “Nyet, Comrade. This will do.” Why hadn’t the captain of the Udaloy answered them? Didn’t Denisov realize time was limited? In another few minutes, the collision would occur. Placing one knee on the cold metal deck, Alec lodged his shoulders between the pilots’ seats to steady himself as he watched the unfolding drama.

      “Look at the activity aboard the Japanese ship,” Mizin said.

      But Alec had the binoculars trained exclusively on the red-haired woman.

      His heart picking up in a painful beat, Alec watched mesmerized as the powerful bow of the whaler sliced forward, within a quarter mile of the trawler. “Call the Udaloy again! Tell Captain Denisov that a collision is inevitable. I must have an answer now!”

      “Yes, sir!”

      Get out of there, Little Fox! You’ll be the first to be killed. Run! Alec’s intake of breath was unexpected when the red-haired woman suddenly turned and lifted her face in their direction. Her eyes were a vivid blue, the color of lapis lazuli from Afghanistan. They were filled with the fire of challenge and anger. Alec’s mouth stretched into a disbelieving smile. “She’s not even afraid….”

      He hadn’t even realized he’d spoken aloud until it was too late. He was instantly sorry. His comment was completely unmilitary. The woman returned her attention to the catcher. Alec watched in shock as she climbed onto the farthest point on the bow, her arm around the short spike of wood to steady herself in the angry sea. What was she doing? Didn’t she realize what was going to happen? Anguish serrated his chest. The sensation was white-hot, galvanizing. Alec froze, the binoculars pressed hard against his eyes, every shortened breath he took, a slicing agony. The red-haired woman would be killed—instantly.

      * * *

      “ABBY! ABBY! THAT JAPANESE ship ain’t gonna turn!”

      Abby heard the hysteria in the voice of Captain John Stratman across the bullhorn. She turned, watching as the old salmon-fishing captain violently gestured for her to come back to the wheelhouse that was situated amidships the Argonaut. The wind was freezing and the spume slapping against the trawler’s bow flung upward and drenched her survival suit with the seawater, which instantly froze into a thin coating of ice on her clothing.

      Cupping her hand to her mouth she shouted, “No!” The trawler’s forward progress increased the windchill factor until her eyes watered with tears.

      “He won’t turn!” Stratman bellowed. “Get down from there! Get down and prepare for collision!”

      Whirling around, Abby clung to the spindly pole on the bow of the Argonaut. She shook her gloved fist at the catcher. “I won’t let you kill my whales! Turn back!” Her voice cracked with a sob as she watched the black bow raise up and then, in slow motion, come down. Each forward thrust brought them closer and closer. Abby saw the crew of the catcher in the forward turret where the huge, ugly harpoon sat ready for firing at the endangered humpback whales. Her whales. The humpback population had been estimated at one hundred fifty thousand at the beginning of the century. Now, less than fifteen thousand were still alive. This pod wasn’t going to join those who had already died, not if Abby could help it.

      She screamed at the approaching vessel. “You won’t kill them! You won’t!” Twisting around, Abby stared at the fleeing pod of whales. The catcher was almost within firing range. The Japanese had never rammed a SOWF vessel or inflatable Zodiac. Never! Captain Stratman was a cautious man, and to this she attributed his terror. The Japanese would never risk an international

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