A collective sigh crossed the bridge. Alec grinned tightly. Stratman put down the microphone and glared at him.
“You sure you ain’t Irish, Rostov?”
“No, Captain. Why do you ask?”
“Because you’ve got the luck of one, that’s why.”
Playing the throttles, Alec said, “Abby’s got the Irish blood. It’s her luck that’s helped us.”
Taking off his cap, Stratman wiped his sweaty forehead. “Whew, this is gettin’ too rough out here.”
Alec said nothing, watching as the entire Japanese fleet slowly made a turn and headed south. “Radio Abby and tell her the good news,” he ordered Stratman, “and then, you can have the helm. I’m going down to help them back on board.”
*
“THE JAPANESE FLEET IS heading back to Japan,” Alec told Abby after she’d changed into dry clothes. She wore a bulky knit emerald-green sweater and an almost threadbare pair of jeans and tennis shoes. He stood with her in the passageway between their cabins, braced against the constant motion of the Argonaut.
“That’s great!” she exclaimed.
In the low light provided by a few bulbs set into the wood ceiling, Alec saw that despite Abby’s enthusiasm, she was exhausted. He reached out, gently grazing her smooth, flushed cheek. “You’re tired. Why don’t you rest for a while, Abby?”
A soft sigh escaped her lips as Alec’s thumb brushed her skin. Abby waited for such times as this, their private moments, the unguarded moments away from the press’s prying cameras. His quiet strength had given her so much during the past week. Lifting her eyelashes, she gazed up into his rugged, shadowed face, hotly aware of the burning light in his dark eyes.
“In a little while, Alec. Let me go up and talk to John, first. He seemed awfully upset over what I did. I owe him an explanation for my decision, plus an apology for what I did.”
With a partial smile, Alec forced himself to stop caressing her cheek. She enjoyed his touch as much as he needed to touch her. “You’d better contact Tim, too. If the Japanese fleet is returning home, that means our mission is over and we can return to Anchorage sooner than expected. I think your news people got the story they were hoping to get.”
Abby agreed, exhausted. “That means we’ll find out how many talk shows want us to go on and speak about the whale and dolphin issues.”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I’ll do that, and then I’ll rest. If I go to sleep, will you wake me up in time for dinner?” Abby glanced at her watch. “That’s two hours away.”
“I will,” Alec promised. He watched her turn and moved quietly down the passageway toward the bridge ladder. There was such grace to Abby, her shoulders proudly thrown back, her spine straight and made of nothing but raw courage. Wanting to get a few hours of privacy, Alec returned to his own cabin.
*
A KNOCK ON HER CABIN DOOR awakened Abby with a start. Groggy, she muttered, “Come in….” How long had she slept? Looking at her watch, she realized it was nearly 8:00 p.m. Just as she threw off the blanket and sat up on the bunk attached to the bulkhead, she saw Alec enter with a tray of food.
“I thought I’d better wake you so you could eat,” he said, shutting the cabin door.
Rubbing her face tiredly, Abby nodded. She patted the bunk. “Bring it over here. It feels like the sea has settled down quite a bit.”
Alec sat and then transferred the tray to Abby’s lap. Eating on a rolling, pitching boat was an art. “The waves are running one to two feet, almost smooth.” He handed her the napkin and flatware.
“Thanks,” she murmured huskily. “Oh, good, you got me coffee. I feel so groggy.”
Abby’s hair was deliciously mussed from sleeping. Alec took several strands and moved them gently away from her face and across her shoulders. “Adrenaline letdown,” he explained. “After a high-stress time, the body uses up its energy source and you’ve got to sleep afterward to recoup.”
Alec’s touch was evocative. “You’re obviously no stranger to adrenaline highs,” she said, digging in hungrily to the food. Brad, who doubled as the cook on board, knew she loved pasta and had made vegetarian spaghetti for her tonight along with some crusty garlic toast.
Resting his elbows on his knees, his hands draped casually between his legs, Alec nodded. “Life on board a Soviet warship is never dull. We’re constantly training.”
Abby gave him a glance, munching on the toast. “John told me what happened on the bridge when Brad and I were out in the Zodiac.”
Alec twisted a look in her direction. “I did what I felt was needed to keep both of you safe, Abby.”
“John was pretty upset with you.”
“I was upset with him. He put more care into this boat than two human beings.”
She watched the changing shadows across his serious features and heard the emotionally charged commitment in his tone. “One of the reporters ran the entire video sequence for me in her cabin.” Abby’s voice grew husky. “You’re really something else, Alec Rostov. If they show any part of that clip back in the States, you’re going to come off like the old-fashioned hero.”
He had the good grace to blush. “It wasn’t a premeditated act of heroism on my part, Abby. I knew you weren’t going to leave the whales open to harpooning by that catcher. I agreed with your decision. If this old scow had been mine, I’d have done a great deal more than I did, believe me.”
“I just wish you knew how special you are, Alec.”
“Is it necessary I know?” he asked philosophically. “The only person I care about and what she thinks of me is you.”
Abby sat very still, digesting his admission. “When I was out there, I was scared to death, Alec. As we were circling the mother and calf, I kept having flashbacks of last time, when we’d gotten rammed and I was tossed overboard.” She avoided his sharpened gaze, and her voice grew hoarse. “I was afraid I was going to die this time, and I didn’t want to. As that catcher bore down on us and didn’t look like it was going to change direction in time, I really got in touch with what was important in life for me.” She put the tray aside.
Gently, Alec took her hand and held it between his own. “What did you discover?”
Tears made her vision blur. “My commitment to the whales and dolphins is stronger than my fear of death, that’s one thing I found out.” She wiped her tears away with her fingers and then gave him a shy look. “I cry a lot. It’s just me.”
“Crying is healthy,” Alec whispered.
Sniffing, Abby nodded. Licking her lower lip, she tasted the salt of her own tears. “I—I found out that you’ve become very important to me, too.”
His heart felt as if it had suspended its beat for a moment. Abby’s face was damp with tears, and Alec ached to kiss them away. His hand tightened around hers. “What we have is special,” he agreed huskily.
Rallying, Abby forced a smile. “We have another week together, and I think that’s wonderful.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Alec knew that if he continued to hold Abby’s hand, he would kiss her. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t dare because he didn’t know if he could be satisfied with just a kiss. “I talked to Tim earlier, while you were sleeping. Oprah Winfrey wants us, and so does Phil Donahue. Apparently, for Donahue they are bringing Dr. Turner on to present an opposing viewpoint.”
Groaning, Abby said, “You’re kidding!”
“No. Tim wasn’t too happy about it, either, but he pointed out that national exposure is more important for the whale issue than declining the invitation to appear on the show.”
“That’s going to be a rough time,” Abby muttered.
“But it will also be an interesting show to do,” Alec speculated. And then, his mouth curved into a thoughtful smile. “With your fiery belief and passion, the audience can’t help but be won over by your love and commitment to the whales and dolphins. Don’t worry, it will come out fine.”
Getting to her feet, Abby cast him a dubious look. “I neve
r thought Soviets were idealists, but you are one, Alec. Turner will try and gut me on national television. No, it’s going to be a really visceral show, believe me.”
“I’ll be there, if that helps.”
Abby turned toward him. “You’ll never know how much,” she whispered.
Chapter Seven
“LET’S SHOW OUR viewers some photos of whales being harpooned and dolphins losing their lives in driftnets,” Phil Donahue said.
Abby sat in the center of the dais of the immensely popular talk show. On her right was Alec in his Soviet officer’s uniform, and on her left, Dr. Monica Turner. The lights were making Abby sweat. She hoped that her conservative gray suit and emerald-green silk blouse would make her look cool and calm, even though she wasn’t. The horrifying pictures were flashed, one after another, and Abby tried to relax. It was impossible.
Dr. Monica Turner, a slender woman of fifty, with carefully coiffed blond hair, snorted as the slides were shown. She wore an off-white suit and a ruby-colored blouse. Her long fingernails were painted bright red. Abby thought the long fingernails were appropriate symbolically because Monica Turner was an adroit infighter, someone who didn’t allow any threat to her post or reputation.
The audience’s reaction was immediate. Abby heard the groans and outraged gasps. Next, Donahue ran the Soviet navy film of Abby’s rescue by Alec, and then some short clips of their most recent showdown with the Japanese fleet in the Bering Sea.
Phil Donahue grimaced after the pictures had been shown. “Dr. Turner, what do you think about all this?” he asked, scratching his prematurely white hair.
“I think it’s a bunch of activist hype, deliberately staged just to get the attention of shows like yours.”
Abby forced herself not to move one facial muscle. She knew from Tim Atkin prepping her for this showdown that if she came off immature or overreactive to the audience, it would hurt the whale and dolphin issues.
Donahue cocked his head. “Dr. Fielding, what do think about Dr. Turner’s opinion?”
“I don’t consider saving whales or dolphins any less important than saving any other part of our environment from people who want to destroy it.” Tim had told her not to engage Dr. Turner in an argument, so she stuck to the issue, the real issue, at hand.
“Interesting. Captain Rostov, is this Hollywood at sea, or do you consider the whale activists efforts legitimate?”
“Mr. Donahue, I can’t comment on the politics of the SOWF. However, the Soviet Union has signed agreements promising to not only stop hunting the humpback and minke whales, which are on the border of extinction, but to present a united front to those countries who continued to flout a worldwide ban to save these mammals.”
“Don’t you think SOWF is Hollywoodizing the whale’s plight?” Dr. Turner drawled, leaning over and buttonholing Alec with a disbelieving stare.
Alec smiled slightly. “Dr. Turner, in my country, perestroika has begun to encourage peaceful change rather than violence. I personally see the whale effort as a peaceful way to disagree.”
Monica glared at him. “It’s highly unpeaceful! You call Dr. Fielding putting herself in that Zodiac and in the path of a catcher ship peaceful? I call it a flagrant violation of that Japanese whaler’s rights on open and international seas!”
“It was a member of the same Japanese fleet that rammed the Argonaut, Dr. Turner,” Alec reminded her. “Was what he was doing that time peaceful in your estimation?”
The audience tittered and Donahue gave a boyish smile as he came down the aisle, microphone in hand.
“How would you handle such a situation, Dr. Turner?” Donahue asked, standing in front, one hand placed against his hip.
“If someone was stopping me from my livelihood,” Monica snapped, “I’d feel I had the right to run over them!” And then, belligerently, “The SOWF is nothing but a liberal zealot organization comprised of old hippies from the sixties.”
Abby colored fiercely, clamped down on her retort and scrambled for a more diplomatic answer. Before she could, Alec spoke up.
“Dr. Turner, I’ve done a great deal of reading about America over the years. Isn’t it true that your Native American people have a great respect for the environment? That they never fully harvest or destroy any plant or animal because they recognize they must live in harmony with it? I have always wondered why their philosophy, which to me is a sane middle road to tread, hasn’t been explored or at least looked at by the American government with any degree of serious commitment. The SOWF, from what I read, follows a similar philosophical ideal that it’s fine to harvest but necessary to leave enough behind so that a species may continue to reproduce and flourish. I think they, and people like Dr. Fielding, are trying to get the countries of the world to realize this wisdom in regards to the humpback and minke whales. Why not leave enough behind of these particular whales to proliferate so that they’ll always be a part of our world ecology instead of obliterating them?”
Abby glanced at Monica. She had flushed a dull red, her eyes narrowed with anger. At that moment, Abby wanted to throw her arms around Alec and kiss him.
Sputtering, Monica leaned forward, both hands like claws on her chair. “Captain Rostov, your reading has obviously been one-sided. Our government doesn’t want to see our environment ruined. We’ve poured millions of dollars into the EPA for hazardous materials cleanup in this country. We’re committed.”
“Then why hasn’t President Reagan actively invoked the Pelly and Magnuson Amendments through your department, Dr. Turner?” Abby demanded coolly. “Those two laws say that the U.S. is able to place economic sanctions against countries who insist upon hunting endangered whale species. If the president is such an environmentalist, I should think he’d have enforced these laws to save the whales and dolphins. It’s obvious to me that we’re more interested in our economic relations with those countries that break the law than in protecting the mammals.”
“Dr. Fielding,” Monica said, “I feel that our economic security in the world is far more important than a few animal’s problems. I would rather address the possible extinction of the human species than some lowly animal species.”
Anger flooded Abby. “Dr. Turner, I view every living thing as being equally important. Whale and dolphin killing is a microcosm of a much larger problem. If we can’t respect the gifts of this planet, both plant and animal, we won’t be able to respect the lives of our fellow human beings, either.
“I find a lack of respect for every living thing on our planet right now,” she continued. “Lack of respect for our elderly. Lack of respect for our children growing up without help and badly needed parental direction. The whale and dolphin issue simply mirrors, on a much smaller level, problems that also plague human beings.”
“It’s obvious that you’re unable to address the issue before us,” Monica said tightly. “You cannot compare whales and dolphins to human beings!”
“I think,” Alec said, “if I may interrupt, that Dr. Fielding is trying to say that all living things deserve not only care, but respect. The Native Americans saw themselves as stewards of the Earth instead of owning or dominating all things. I believe if a stewardship approach were taken, that perhaps both people and animals would benefit tremendously.”
Shaky with anger, Abby nodded. Alec’s cool and calm approach was a decided advantage to the confrontation between her and Monica. “Regardless of what Dr. Turner thinks of the SOWF, we feel we are stewards to all living things,” Abby whispered. Just as soon as possible, Abby was going to thank Alec for his wise input and ability to cut to the bone of the issue.
“Hold on!” Donahue called, and stretched out across several people to a women who stood up in the audience to voice her opinion.
“I think the environmental abuse in this country is appalling,” the woman said. “How can we even think we can save other species of animals, if we can’t even save ourselves from our own self-destruction?”
The audience clapped.
> Dr. Turner laughed. “I think the issue is overstated. We’re talking about two, out of many whale species, that are endangered.”
Donahue ran all the way up the aisle to the rear of the audience. A man in a casual short-sleeved plaid shirt and jeans stood up. He gripped the microphone.
“Frankly, I think Dr. Turner has her priorities straight. Anytime some activist group grabs the headlines, all of America overreacts and goes to the extremes to try and correct the situation.”
Donahue turned and went across the aisle to a small, petite woman in her thirties.
“Yeah! I say that human beings count first!”
Abby frowned. “Phil, that’s exactly what’s happened here in our country. Human need and greed has trampled, taken and stolen from every source of our planet. We need to learn to balance out our needs against our wants.”
Donahue walked back down the aisle and rubbed his jaw. He looked over at Alec. “Captain Rostov, what do you think of all this?” He gestured broadly toward the audience.
“I think it’s a good thing that Americans can safely speak their opinions without consequences from their government. But, I feel as Dr. Fielding does about our planet. We’re becoming a global community, no longer cut off from one another. There is scientific evidence of worldwide deterioration in all spheres of our life, including our air, water and soil. It’s fine to disagree, but I feel Americans are too selfish.”
“Selfish?” Donahue’s white eyebrows shot up. “Would you care to elaborate?”
Alec opened his hands in a gesture of peaceful intent. “In the past few weeks, I’ve been privileged to be in America. Never have I seen such richness and plenty. I also see Americans take for granted what they have. In the Soviet Union, our way of life is meager in comparison, our people always having to make concessions. Why use plastic containers when paper is biodegradable? Why use so many cars that foul the air when a train system is a cleaner mode of transportation? There are so many little ways that Americans could make concessions and still have their way of life. I don’t understand why they don’t see this, and I can only assume that they selfishly hoard their way of life because they are afraid of change for fear of losing it all.”
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