The Dolphin Ambassador E-Book

Michael Peak

• Herausgeber: WS
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 483

Beschreibung

An underwater fantasy that features international politics, special interest groups, the news media, and cetacean citizens with permanent smiles. This seemingly diverse group of characters collide in an underwater adventure seen through the eyes of an industrious spotted dolphin in the Eastern Tropical Pacific. He partakes on an underwater adventure to form an unusual treaty with the ocean’s most dangerous predator in the hopes of finding a solution to the never-ending battle against the world’s most destructive predator — humans.

Michael Peak is an Emmy Award Winning television journalist and successful seminar leader.  He is well known for his nature and wildlife photography.  He lives in Carlsbad, California.

Leseprobe

COVER

THE DOLPHIN AMBASSADOR

MICHAEL PEAK

All rights reserved.Copyright ©2024 by Michael PeakISBN: 979-8-9901360-8-3

Cover art by Michael Peak

No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Michael Peak.

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

For more information, please visit:

www.michaelpeak.com

CHAPTER 1

The cold darkness of water instantly burst into bright sunlight, but only for a moment. Another crash returned the world to royal blue. A white flash, a spin and a dive, and then the sun again. But only for a moment, and the chase resumed.

There were others around, but they only laughed and tried to stay out of the way. Their laughter and presence went completely unnoticed, as the two in pursuit knew nothing else. One was first with the other close behind, and sometimes they switched.

There was little chance of getting caught – yet.

Eventually one would be caught, and things would get interesting, but for now, everything rushed by in a series of blurs. The blurs did their best to avoid collisions.

For Pheyus, it had never been like this before. Courtships were always a splash, but this particular chase had all of his senses blazing from the intensity. And the truly nice part was, Afalla seemed to be experiencing the same delight.

Currently in the lead, Afalla raced deep and smashed through an unsuspecting group of yellowfin, bolting them in all directions. Directly above her, Pheyus scattered a group of his own, but without as much of a surprise factor.

Afalla began to spin and then turned back for the Border of air and water. Pheyus pushed as hard as he could, equaling her length the instant they hit the Border. He saw her in the air.

She somersaulted backward as he did the same flip forward. Their splashes were as perfectly matched as if they had rehearsed the event for several seasons.

The chase resumed. Afalla’s lead had reduced drastically with the aerial acrobatics, but she yanked into a quick spin and cut back beneath Pheyus. He whistled as she passed below, then followed with a similar maneuver.

Two juveniles cut them off and tried to join the pursuit, but the young adult speed of Pheyus and Afalla left the younger pair lost in their fluke wakes. Pheyus barely noticed them, or the nearly eight hundred other Stenella swimming close by. Like everything else, courtships were quite public. There were no secrets within the company.

Pheyus was about to slow up slightly to give her more of a lead, but Afalla suddenly turned sideways into a near halt. Pheyus was beside her instantly, and turned quickly so they faced the same direction.

It didn’t have to, but his momentum carried him into contact with her left side. His right pectoral fin slid below her rostrum, and she pulled forward slightly to position them fin-to-fin. He rolled slightly to his right so he could press his head against hers.

She was incredibly beautiful. Her deep brown eyes were surrounded with circles of smooth white lines of perfect proportions. Her spots, from the dark ones on her belly blending into the light ones on her back were so perfectly distributed, they almost seemed unreal. It was as if Lady Stenella had personally designed her as the ultimate of her line. All this, and the cleverness to wear only two small shark gashes on her flukes.

“I’ve haven’t been part of such a wild chase, before,” said Afalla. “We nearly collided with half the company.”

“Did we?” asked Pheyus. “I guess I was too intent on you to notice anything else.”

She smiled, then broke the Border for air. She stayed at the edge, with her dorsal fin in the sunlight while Pheyus took a breath and dropped below her, turning upside down.

The water around them seemed so warm and alive. Afalla’s aura was strong enough to surround Pheyus as well, so he did his best to absorb it and feel her spirit inside him. It was incredibly bright silver, and Pheyus closed his eyes to block out the intensity, but the sparkle was within him.

His flukes began to tremble slightly. Being so overwhelmed with enchantment and ecstasy was a new and exciting experience. He opened his eyes and whistled, for the energy would only surge from this point on.

“I’ve never been so happy, Pheyus,” she said. He knew her words were honest, for Stenella had no outlet for anything but the truth.

I can’t believe this,” said Pheyus. He flipped over and darted to the Border for air, then once again pressed against her side. “I can’t believe I finally found you. You’re the most beautiful Stenella I’ve ever seen.”

She smiled and pressed slightly harder.

Suddenly, a booming thunder ripped through the water. Its shock slammed Afalla into Pheyus, sending the two of them tumbling wildly at the Border. Pheyus pushed hard with his flukes but was struck again by Afalla, who still had no control over the spins. He managed to force the two of them into an even glide despite how badly his senses were screaming from the concussion.

The company was panicked. Their shrieks came from every direction as they raced away from the devastating sound. Afalla was screaming as well, but Pheyus pushed her forward to join in the escape.

Pheyus was still dazed, but he dared not stop to worry about it. He kicked his flukes as hard as he could, trying to distance himself from the trouble as best he could. Afalla was directly beside him, no more than two fins away.

Now in complete flight, the company was a total chaos. Pheyus snapped his jaws as he raced, trying to clear his head. He desperately needed to find the company perimeter, to help spirit them into a more controlled and narrow group.

Like the others, Pheyus porpoised at the Border for maximum speed. He spent as much time in the air as he did the water, using gravity and buoyancy to his advantage. He began to veer toward the closest periphery of the group, trying to avoid collisions with the reckless advances of frightened Stenella.

Another noise to their right jerked the company to the left. It was loud and continuous on the other side of the Border, and it seemed to be chasing them. Its menacing roar muffled the cries of the terrified company.

The roar intensified. It was not on, but above the water, above sending the company into an instinctive dive. Pheyus screamed at them to stay up, but the noise buried his orders before they even left his head. Only Afalla stayed at the Border with him, and only because she was too frightened to leave his side.

There were eight hundred of them and they couldn’t hide. The water was very clear and they had to come up for air, so Pheyus knew they should stay at the Border where their speed was at its ultimate. But most of them stayed down near the yellowfin, who were equally terrified and keeping directly below the Stenella.

Now with the benefit of speed over the others, Pheyus rushed to the left outer edge of the company. He cut in front of Afalla, hoping to use their two bodies to contain the group from spreading any further when they came up for air. He was greatly outnumbered, but he hoped the others would recognize him and follow his lead.

It was getting closer. When most of the company broke the Border for air and immediately dove, Pheyus knew his efforts were useless. He took three quick breaths and then dropped down to join them. Safety was no longer with speed, but with numbers.

The horrible noise was directly above him, and Pheyus could see its effect on the Border. It didn’t touch the water, but it somehow created a bizarre pattern of waves, terrifying the company into staying down even longer. Only mothers with infants remained at the Border, since the babies required air more often.

The roaring seemed to lessen slightly, and drift toward the rear of the company. Pheyus kicked to the Border to help protect infants when another roar erupted to their right. It was a small boat with a loud, fast motor, rumbling directly at them.

Pheyus whipped around to his left. Now under attack from two directions, the hysterical company was an out-of-control mob.

Protecting infants or anyone else had become impossible. Everyone was on their own. He couldn’t think. Too much was happening too quickly. He had tried to stay calm, but the terror was overtaking him. To survive, he had to stay with the company, but his trembling flukes were pushing him faster and faster.

Afalla had somehow remained beside him as he caught up with other young adults who were in the lead. They were starting to break away from the rest of the company, so he tried to scream at them to slow down, but noticed he was already screaming incoherently. Afalla was screaming as well, but he could not hear her. He could not even hear himself.

The gap began to widen, and Pheyus tried to stop, but his flukes kicked on. Suddenly, the first roaring monster was in front of him, very loud and close. He again turned to his left to avoid both it and the boat, which was circling along the right.

His heart was pounding and his lungs were about to explode. He had to go back to porpoising, despite the threat from above. He hit the air and noticed the odd gust of downward wind, as well as the vicious noise, which became even worse when he hit the water.

Again in the air, he saw the huge boat in the distance. The entire company was speeding directly for it. He screamed a warning no one heard and no one would have heeded if they had. The roaring pursuers had the company too terrified to do anything but accelerate in the opposite direction, no matter what might be ahead.

Another booming crash directly in front of the company smashed into Pheyus with the force of an Orca. Blazing white pain ripped through his senses, forcing an immediate halt. Along with him, the entire company fluked to a dead stop. The attackers had them surrounded. They were too exhausted and injured to move any farther, anyway.

Pheyus was drifting at the Border. The concussion from the second explosion had blasted his senses into agony. His head was pounding in three separate places, as were his jaw and upper rostrum. Only his eyes were uninjured, but they were tightly jammed shut in response to all of the other painful damage.

The hovering monster disappeared, but Pheyus didn’t notice. He was fading into a strange smear of thick haze, where clear and solid images were somehow out of perception. He could barely hear anything or feel any echoes from the others in the company. He began to wonder if he was dead, but then he realized Lady Stenella would be there to greet him if he was, and there would be warm ebullience, not excruciating pain. As far as he could tell, at this point only the pain was real. So was the need to breathe, but he didn’t exactly know where he was. He didn’t want to blow if he was deep below the Border, but he had no choice. He let the air out of his pounding lungs, and was relieved to find air to take in.

The darkness remained. There was something he was supposed to be doing, but he couldn’t remember what it was. He was vaguely aware of some sort of movement around him, but it was impossible to tell where it was or what it might be. Hoping he was still at the Border, he blew out all of his air. A strange sense of relief passed through as he took in another breath.

Slowly, it began to clear. His eyes began to open slightly, and he noticed several other Stenella around him. He took another breath, then opened his eyes even more. The haze faded enough for him to realize what was happening. There were two other Stenella directly below, pushing him up to the surface so he could breathe.

His head was still throbbing in agony, but he forced himself to regain his senses enough to function. He took another breath, and then rolled away from the support of the others. He immediately checked his flukes and pectoral fins and found everything slow but operational.

After another breath, he turned back to his supporters. There were three, and he recognized none of them. They had worked a rotation of two supporting and one breathing.

“Thank you,” said Pheyus, but then realized his words were completely buried.

The screams jolted Pheyus back to reality. The boat and other monster had become silent, but the entire company was screeching with terror. The three who had helped him bolted off without a word the moment they realized Pheyus was okay.

It was the nets. Despite the denial, he had known all along. The company had been herded into a trap, just as it had several times in the past. And every time, Pheyus convinced himself it could never happen again.

Where was Afalla? Pheyus quickly whistled her name, then whistled his own. The effort required for whistling crashed even more pain through his head, but he tried again, anyway. He then realized Afalla would never hear him through all the other cries. He wondered if she could hear at all, or whether she might be trapped in the haze where he had been lost. She had been swimming directly beside him when the bomb had gone off.

As far as he could tell, he must have been unconscious for quite some time. The company appeared to be completely aware of the situation and taking the normal steps of keeping everyone as safe as possible. Pheyus silently blew bubbles in disgust. How could anything be considered normal when trapped in these death nets?

The pain was now inconsequential. His help was needed regardless of how bad it hurt. He immediately began to cross the Border as high as he could in order to survey the situation from above.

On his first jump he saw the boat. He fell back into the water and snapped his jaw in anger, instantly regretting it. The shock of pain ripped through his head with cold blue intensity. He took a breath and tried to relax for a moment, then leaped again.

This time he got a good perspective of the nets, and where their closest boundaries were. They formed a huge circle around the entire company. He began swimming for them directly, turning and ducking to avoid the other Stenella, who mostly were swimming in small, terror-ridden circles. Their screams had lessened somewhat into a loud chorus of nervous cries and frightened name whistles. Pheyus began to whistle his own name to let everyone know where he was. As a Stenella of ambassador rank, he would be sought out in such a time of disaster. He might also be heard by Afalla.

His heart sank the moment he was close enough to see the nets. Tangled hopelessly by the flukes deep below the surface was a young adult female, whose newborn infant was crying hysterically and poking at her with his rostrum. The mother had been without air for far too long, and stared through unseeing eyes at the baby she would never again nurse.

Pheyus screamed and turned away. There were others close by who would try to assist the infant, but Pheyus knew from experience it would never leave the nets alive. He moved several fins away from the net, and raced along its perimeter, searching desperately for Afalla.

Screams continued to echo from every direction. Most were simply distress, but others were obvious cries of pain. Pheyus whistled his name again, and then mimicked Afalla’s name. Both were lost amidst the terrified clatter of the company.

They had all been here before. The deadly nets had been set on them so many times in the past, they all knew what they were supposed to do. The problem was, the stress and devastating noise was so disastrous, all of their experiences and plans became useless.

Most of the company had formed back into their smaller groups. Everyone was keeping close together, which was no surprise under the circumstances. Pheyus saw the group of seven young adult males who he normally swam with, and all seemed to be okay. They were cruising the edge of the nets, trying to keep everyone else away. Pheyus whistled his name in their direction.

“Pheyus!” whistled Shalan, the first to notice him. “Where’ve you been?”

The others turned in one motion and headed toward him in such a tight formation, their pectoral fins touched. They were genuinely relieved to see Pheyus.

“Have you seen Afalla?” Pheyus asked them. They all rubbed against him when they approached.

“No, Pheyus,” said Shalan. “But stay with us. We’re going to patrol the nets until everyone’s out.”

The eight of them crammed tightly together and began cruising the interior of the nets. They repeatedly sent echo shocks in the direction of the nets, but nothing returned. If it wasn’t for the floats on the surface marking its boundary, they would have no way of detecting them at all.

They spotted another drowned Stenella. He was an older adult, and heavily tangled. The eight of them all released squeals of sorrow, for the trapped Stenella was only two fins below the Border. Pheyus closed his eyes sadly and moved on. There was nothing he could do.

Almost the entire company was now packed together in the center of the netted off area. Numerous jittery squeaks had replaced most, but not all of their screams. Wails of sorrow for missing or perished loved ones continued to race through the water. There were no other living Stenella near the nets, so Pheyus and his group swam toward the others.

Although still nervous and upset, Pheyus was slightly relieved. He had recognized none of the dead Stenella. Afalla and all of his other friends were either crammed together in the huge mass, or swimming freely outside the nets. He suddenly felt guilty at his relief. All lives within the company were sacred.

In addition to the company, the yellowfin had also packed together in the center of the nets. They remained several fins below the company, and hardly moved. Pheyus felt very sorry for them, because while most of the company would probably survive, none of the yellowfin had a chance. As always, they were the targets of the entire mess.

The company was suddenly tense again. A group of large tiger sharks had arrived outside the nets, and were slowly circling its boundary. They had become common visitors to the nets, because although they were usually too slow for the speedy Stenella, the tremendous stress of the nets made the prisoners far easier targets after their release.

“Great,” said Pheyus. “One more hassle to deal with.”

“We’ll break out first and get them to chase us,” said Shalan.

“We will, but Pheyus will stay behind,” said Wollan, who was swimming closest to Pheyus in the group. Part of his dorsal fin was missing from a similar chase.

Pheyus began to object but stopped before uttering a sound. He was still badly weakened from the shock of the explosion, and the others knew it. His aura told them just how poorly he would fare in a chase. This time when they tried to draw off the enemy, Pheyus would be one of the Stenella they were trying to protect.

“It’s okay, Pheyus,” said Shalan gently. “We know you’d run with us if you could. And anyway, you’ll be needed in the back to make sure everyone gets out.”

Pheyus reluctantly agreed. He was always first in line to initiate a chase with sharks and other predators. How he had managed to survive fifteen passing of the seasons without a shark scar amazed everyone. This time, however, he would be running interference for mothers with infants.

The small boat started up again, blaring over the voices of the company. It circled around the exterior of the nets, then stopped close to the main boat. Its engine stopped, and men began working on the portion of the nets closest to the Border.

Several members of the company immediately began swimming in that direction. It was a well-known area of escape, once the men moved the floating portion of the nets. Pheyus saw his group of friends speed toward the small boat, demanding to be the first ones out. He also noticed the pack of tiger sharks heading the same direction from the other side of the nets. Pheyus silently asked Lady Stenella to bless and add speed to the flukes of his friends, and wished he was going along with them.

Pheyus heard a mimic of his name whistle, and recognized Afalla as the sender. Immediately relieved, he turned and saw her approaching from his right. She swam directly above him then reached down to rub his head with her rostrum. Her touch was very smooth and gentle, as she obviously sensed the pain from his injuries radiating from his aura.

“Afalla, you’re okay!” said Pheyus.

“Yes, dear Pheyus,” said Afalla. “But your head hurts so much. And we’ve lost so many others!”

“I know, I know,” Pheyus said sadly. “But we’ll be out soon. My group is already preparing to lead the sharks away from the mothers with infants.”

“And I’ll be right beside you to make sure you’re safe,” said Afalla.

“Thank you,” said Pheyus, slightly embarrassed. He had never before needed anyone’s help outrunning sharks before. “Why weren’t you hurt like I was? You were right next to me when the explosion went off.”

“I was beside you and behind you,” she said. “Your body blocked most of the dangerous waves. I was stunned, yes, but not so bad.”

The company began to move as a small portion of the nets began to open. Pheyus saw his friends race through first. The sharks were after them immediately, with no intelligence to realize they were being duped. They needed only to hang out near the exit for a short time longer before the much slower population would be swimming through. Instead, they would wear themselves out on a long, drawn-out chase, with only empty bellies as a reward.

As the main numbers of the company passed through the escape area, Pheyus and Afalla turned the other direction to make one more sweep through the trap in search of wayward survivors. They dropped down low near the yellowfin, then sped back to the Border for air. Through echo shocks, they found the floating boundary of the nets, then began to follow their direction from a safe distance away.

Death was everywhere. The corpses hung eerily in mid-water, suspended from movement by the invisible nets. The victims had never seen the enemy who destroyed them. The nets were often imperceptible to both vision and echolocation until it was too late.

They counted eighteen Stenella tangled to death. The infant Pheyus had seen earlier who was swimming around her dead mother had also become hopelessly entwined. The two of them were now off swimming together with Lady Stenella in permanently peaceful seas.

Pheyus rubbed his side against Afalla, who rested her head against his. Nothing was more devastating than the loss of an infant. Pheyus gladly would have traded places with the mother and newborn, but instead decided to use their deaths as a motivation to find a solution. He secretly took a vow to make the death nets his unending obsession.

For now, nothing else could be done. There were no other Stenella swimming around near the nets, so Pheyus and Afalla joined the last of the company preparing to escape into open ocean. The two of them would be the last ones out.

Pheyus could see the others through the nets. All of them were porpoising away from the boat as quickly as they could. Some were moving slowly and awkwardly. Pheyus knew he was lucky to have recovered from the blast as quickly as he did, or he might well be swimming as badly as they were.

They were close to the escape. Pheyus took one last look down at the yellowfin, who had no idea of what ultimately was going on. Pheyus would never see any of them again, adding even more grief to his already overwhelming sense of loss. Although not very bright, the yellowfin were very friendly and added a warm aura to the waters around the company. Pheyus silently wished them a speedy flight to their Master, then swam for the escape.

Nearly all of them were out. Only a small group of older females remained in front of Pheyus and Afalla. They began squawking nervously, as the aura of shark began to return. Pheyus and Afalla nudged their flukes to push them ahead. There was no choice but to proceed.

An incredible grinding roar pierced through the water, violently jerking the nets near the boat. Pheyus slammed forward, forcing the older females through the escape, as the nets began to rise all around them. His momentum carried him through to freedom, and he quickly began to swim with the others to the open ocean.

“Pheyus!” screamed Afalla from behind him.

Pheyus immediately whipped around. He thought Afalla was right beside him, but she was back at the nets. He swam back toward her as quickly as he could, leaving the last of the company to swim on. She was caught. Just as Pheyus had pushed free, the nets yanked up and somehow snagged Afalla by the flukes. She was trapped about two fins below the Border.

“Pheyus, I’m stuck!” she screeched, close to panic. “I can’t breathe!” Pheyus could barely hear her over the loud grinding, but he knew exactly what to do. Just as the three young males had done with him while he was unconscious, Pheyus dropped below Afalla and pushed hard for the Border. She broke the surface and took two quick breaths.

“Pheyus, help me,” said Afalla. “I can’t move.”

Pheyus did not answer. He was poking his rostrum around her flukes, trying to figure out the problem. He searched desperately up and down, using echo shocked repeatedly, but could barely see the lines.

The grinding noise suddenly increased, jerking Afalla’s flukes higher in the water. She screamed hard and snapped her jaws.

“I need air,” she squealed.

Pheyus dropped beneath her and repeated the motion of lifting her up. She was actually closer to the Border now, so it was slightly easier. She took three breaths, and Pheyus could feel her body relax.

“Pheyus, you have to go,” said Afalla in a much calmer voice.

“Relax, love,” he said. “We’ll get you out.”

He took a breath then dropped back to her flukes, trying to keep from getting tangled himself. The lines had cut through her skin, creating a small smear of blood. Pheyus began to get more desperate and hoped all the sharks had left the area.

The blood actually helped outline the net for him. He began to snap at it, hoping to rip it away. Afalla screamed immediately, and Pheyus stopped.

“Be strong, my love,” he said. “I know it hurts, but it’s the only chance we’ve got. Be strong for me.”

“No Pheyus,” she said. “You have to leave while you can.”

He ignored her and began snapping at the net. He could feel it twisting in between his teeth, which cut deep into his gums. It was clear he wouldn’t be able to tear it off of her, so he pulled back to re-examine the situation.

The net hadn’t torn, but it had moved. Not much, but he hadn’t been trying. He decided to try a new tactic.

“I need air,” she said.

Pheyus propped her up, then took a breath for himself. He began to move toward her flukes again. A hard jolting grind crashed through the water, moving the nets toward the boat. Afalla’s scream pierced above the noise, as her flukes lifted completely out of the water.

“Pheyus, Pheyus, it hurts!” she screeched. “Oh, Lady Stenella, it hurts!”

“Afalla!”

Pheyus didn’t know what to do. He leaped out of the water for a better view, but knew it was useless. He no longer had any chance of getting her out.

“Pheyus, you have to leave, now,” said Afalla. Her voice was now calm, despite the agony radiating from her aura.

“Afalla, I can’t leave you,” said Pheyus. He pressed his face against hers for support. It was the only thing left he could do. “Try, love. Shake yourself free. You can’t give up.”

“Make a difference, Pheyus,” she said. “If anyone can, it’s you. Make it stop. I know you can.”

“Afalla, I can’t do anything without you,” said Pheyus.

“Oh, Pheyus, it hurts,” she said. “Don’t let it happen to anyone else. You can do it. Lady Stenella knows, Pheyus. Do it for both of us.”

“Afalla!”

“She’s here, now. Oh, Pheyus, she’s beautiful! Dear Lady, help him find an answer.”

“Oh, Afalla,” said Pheyus, as he saw her eyes start to flutter.

With a loud blast of noise, the nets suddenly began to jerk violently, and lift out of the water.

“Phey-us!” she screamed, and was gone.

CHAPTER 2

Haste was of the essence. Breshli heard the nets begin to move and knew there was very little time left. He whistled to the others to hurry, but no encouragement was needed. Everyone in the pod was swimming as fast as they could.

There were forty Crassidens in the group. Breshli was now in his third year as their leader. A lot had changed in those seasons: Style, technique, direction. But the most important change involved their diet. They now ate Stenella.

Breshli could already hear their voices. They sounded like terrified infants screaming for their mothers. It was their own stupid fault for getting stuck in the nets. Breshli felt it was the Creator’s way of punishing them for their arrogance.

It was the Stenella who first began calling the Crassidens ‘False Orcas,’ a name Breshli despised. Crassidens neither looked nor acted anything like Orcas, yet somehow, the name stuck. Some in the oceans even called them False Killer Whales, which irked Breshli even more. Crassidens were solid black predacious whales with few enemies. Nothing more, nothing less, and nothing false.

A vocal fervor began to ripple through the pod. They were closing quickly, but some of the Stenella were already out of the nets. It didn’t matter, because several of them ultimately would be drowned, anyway. Still, it was more fun to catch them in flight and thrash them into smelt food.

The pod began sending echo shocks in every direction. Breshli immediately picked up a small group of Stenella racing directly for the pod. Sharks. The Stenella were being chased. The entire pod of Crassidens turned instantly to the left as if one body.

Breshli knew this tactic well. The swiftest of the Stenella always escaped the nets first, then led sharks away from the others. This left him the perfect opportunity to flank the leaders and intercept others who might still be trapped.

Passing the Border for air one final time, Breshli took his deepest breath and then flipped his flukes upward for a dive. The others in the pod followed suit, dropping the entire group fifty fins down to the edge of the thermocline.

It was only moments before Breshli heard the squeals above him. An enormous group of Stenella splashed about at the Border, racing away from the nets. They were so distracted and hysterical, they took no notice to the stalking pod of Crassidens directly below them.

Breshli whistled the command, and the pod moved as if one giant, black wave toward the Border. Like the others, Breshli picked an individual Stenella and aimed directly for her. He kicked his flukes as hard as he could, accelerating him to maximum speed.

The Stenella never saw him. With jaws open, Breshli hit his mark in the center of the belly directly behind the pectoral fins. And as he had numerous times before, Breshli let his momentum carry him across the Border and completely out of the water. The Stenella wiggled only briefly before he crushed it in midair, then crashed back into the water with his warm-blooded meal.

With the Stenella still within his grasp, Breshli turned back to see how well the others had fared. The Stenella had scattered, but nearly everyone from the pod had scored. They now had more than enough to eat, since one Stenella was sufficient for two Crassidens.

Another hurry. The pod needed to eat quickly before the messy water summoned the return of the tiger sharks, who would certainly frenzy from all of the blood. The sharks were normally not much of a threat to Crassidens, but anything could happen when there was so much blood in the water.

Breshli glanced across the nets, which were now almost completely lifted out of the water. There were several Stenella dangling helplessly in the snares. He laughed, then took a large bite out of his catch. It was turning out to be a very good day.

But not for the Stenella.

CHAPTER 3

Whales were many things to many people, and to Heather Souza, this week they were a paycheck. It was turning out to be a frustrating and irritating paycheck, but Newsweek paid well for special projects, and Heather had nothing better going, anyway.

Within a span of ten short days, both the International Whaling Commission and the Marine Mammal Conference were holding high profile meetings in San Diego. Wanting to jump on the oceanic bandwagon, the magazine had asked Heather to check out, “the dolphin and tuna net situation, as well as anything else whale-related interesting. There might even be something about global warming as well.” The editor had told her they were willing to do several stories if there were enough issues to support them.

Heather shook her head and scribbled more notes. The problem was, there were too many issues. There were so many sides, so many players, and so many squabbles, she could barely keep track, and the Commission was only in its second day. The MMC didn’t even begin until the end of the week. Too many complicated issues was Heather’s specialty. She was a master at sorting through both fact and fiction, then presenting the most reasonable resemblance of the truth. The magazine had called her for this very reason. She was well known among free-lancers as the least likely to get emotionally involved in a story. This one would be easy. She didn’t know the first thing about whales.

Heather sat in the shade of several tropical trees, just outside a meeting room of a large hotel in Mission Bay, impatiently waiting for the delegate from Iceland to respond to a note she had sent in. His name was Vashon, which didn’t particularly sound Icelandic to Heather, although she silently admitted she wasn’t familiar with anything from Iceland. It had been over an hour, and no one had entered or left the closed-door meeting. She looked at her watch, then decided to stretch her legs and pick up a coffee.

The large door opened just as Heather stood up, and the Icelandic delegate stepped out. He was short with long gray hair on the sides of a head, which supported none on top. His mustache was dark gray, and he looked at Heather through round wire glasses. His suit was nearly the color of his hair, and Heather almost wanted to call him Mr. Gray.

“Thank you for coming out, Mr. Vashon,” she said.

“You are lucky to be here,” said Vashon with an accent Heather had never before heard. “You’ll be first to hear the announcement of Iceland.”

“Which is?” asked Heather. She began writing in her notebook.

“Beginning immediately, Iceland had decided to quit the International Whaling Commission,” said Vashon. “Iceland rejects the Commission’s moratorium on commercial whaling outright. We will resume commercial whaling at once.”

Taken completely off guard, Heather took a short breath and looked up from her pad. She had prepared her line of questions to grill the man on why Iceland had finally bowed to public pressure to abandon its whaling fleet. Yet another strange angle to such a complex story.

“Okay,” said Heather. “That’s quite an announcement.”

“Yes,” said Vashon. “Reluctantly, we had gone along with world pressure. It was a mistake. The oceans are far too important for us to ignore as a food source.”

“You obviously agree with this,” said Heather.

“We were responding to the boycott of Icelandic fish by uninformed Americans,” said Vashon. “My country can’t survive unless we export fish, and the American market is too important. But the first concern is feeding our people, as well as the growing markets in Japan. We will also take some for scientific purposes.”

“So, it comes down to money,” said Heather.

“Of course,” said Vashon. “Doesn’t everything in today’s new world order come down to money? But it also comes down to food. Whale meat is an important food source.”

Years of interviews on every imaginable subject had conditioned Heather for situations like this. Her expression remained rock solid, despite her immediate desire to gag at the concept of eating whale meat.

The image of a dead whale washed up on Mission Beach flashed through her mind. She suddenly remembered covering the story about four years earlier. An old gray whale had somehow died and wound up floating in the surf. A lifeguard boat ultimately ended up towing the carcass out to sea.

What struck Heather most about the incident was how badly the whale had reeked. To this day, she had never smelled anything even close, and she had experienced many a nostril burner during her years working in news. It had taken weeks to get the stench out of her nose. How anyone could eat something so foul was beyond her.

“Is whale meat popular in Iceland?” Heather asked.

“To some extent, yes,” said Vashon. “But most of our product goes to Japan.”

“Money, again,” said Heather.

Vashon nodded and shrugged his shoulders. Heather couldn’t fault the man. At least he was being honest.

“You mentioned scientific purposes?” Heather asked.

“Yes,” said Vashon. “Probably about thirty a year. We wish to learn more about whales so we can help them replenish their stocks. It’s true that we may have hunted them too much in the past, but our current research says many species have made remarkable strides in replenishing their stocks. We want to find a way to increase their numbers, we can continue to hunt them in the future.”

“So, you don’t think the moratorium will be permanent,” said Heather.

“No,” said Vashon. “The world’s human population continues to grow at a frightening pace. We need to start looking in other directions for food, or we will shortly run out. I, for one, have no intention of starving while the oceans hold vast abundances of food.”

***

The golden light of the Creator sparkled through the early morning blue, hinting of another calm day. The trend had lifted the water to a slightly warmer level, and for this, Pheyus was glad. Spirits tended to lighten with warmth, and Pheyus hoped his heart would finally begin to thaw.

Nearly six months had passed since the dreadful attack on the company. Six months since Afalla had vanished, and until the previous night, Pheyus had still been unable to push his last images of her from his mind. Finally, he was able to remember her face as it had been in the happy times. Finally, Pheyus was thawing out.

Forty-seven others had perished that day, too. Very few had actually died in the nets. The true disaster didn’t occur until the brutal attack by the Crassidens, who for some reason only favored the taste of Delphine when they were trapped in nets. What was it about this ocean? How could such a friendly species as Stenella have so many enemies?

Thirty of the company who managed to escape were too injured to survive even a month. Pheyus had watched helplessly as another of his friends fell to the jaws of a brainless bull shark, who would easily would have been evaded under normal circumstances. Pheyus had tried to distract the shark, but it honed in on the injured Hatho, who’d lost his ability to echolocate after an explosion.

Pheyus shuddered, despite the warmth, and tried to think about something else. He slowly broke the surface to breathe, then lazily drifted along the calm Border.

He absently listened to the chatter of the company. There were close to eight hundred of them, and they all sounded cheerful this morning. He decided to whistle his name to see if anyone needed him. Not hearing it whistled in response, he took another breath and then rolled over on his back to do some thinking.

Pheyus was the Secretary of Tursiops affairs. He acted as ambassador, more or less, when the company encountered their bottlenose cousins. It was a prestigious position, and one he had worked hard not only to achieve, but to maintain as well. Tursiops, in addition to being nearly twice the size of the Stenella, were famous for their volatile and territorial nature. Shunning the security and food scouting services, Pheyus had always worked ambitiously toward diplomacy. He had fallen into favor early on with the ruling Stellars, and achieved the secretary of Stenella affairs while most of his friends were still counting their spots. Now, after fifteen cycles of the seasons, he was on the high-water edge of the political wave.

Dealing with the other lines of Stenella was a pleasure. They were smaller than the Spotteds, and were usually more interested in playing and having jumping contests than anything else. In the afternoons, the Spinning Stenella would usually huddle close together and rest, using their Spotted Stenella cousins for security, only to take off at night in search of food, and not return the favor.

Pheyus heard his name whistled, followed by the whistles of two Tursiops. He immediately turned back upright and raced off in their direction, toward the rear of the company. There were seventeen of them, and they had come to play. They were diving and circling wildly with several of the company, who had joined in the romp. Three of the younger Stenella left the water simultaneously, then splashed hard beside a young Tursiops who squealed with delight.

Pheyus loved encounters like this. No diplomacy required. He knew he would have to remain close by, because Tursiops were notorious for changing moods without warning, but he didn’t anticipate any problems this time. In fact, the entire ordeal was turning into a big party, and Pheyus was tempted to join in.

He suddenly felt an echo shock and heard his name whistled with the accent of Tursiops. He whistled back, then saw one of the larger visitors break away and speed toward him. It was Thoddy, one of his oldest friends in Tursiops. Without speaking, Pheyus turned so the two were side-by-side, and used his right pectoral fin to rub Thoddy’s left one. They each smiled warmly with the greeting, commonly referred to as a peck-rub, and looked each other over carefully before speaking. The peck-rub helped assess frame of mind by the spiritual energy passed between the two. It also felt good.

Although both of them were full grown, Thoddy was nearly twice the size of Pheyus. He was smooth, silver-gray, and if not for the whites around the sides of his eyeballs, he looked almost identical to a young Stenella.

“Well, Pheyus, you remember how to smile,” said Thoddy.

“Yes,” said Pheyus. “I know it’s been a long time, but I think things are finally getting better.”

“It’s good to hear,” said Thoddy.

Turning away from the rest of the company, the two of them went to the Border for air. They each took three breaths, and then dropped about ten fins. Tursiops preferred to stay under without breathing for about five minutes, which was nearly double the time favored by Stenella, although the latter would usually stay down longer when in mixed company, simply to appease their fickle guests.

“I see your mooching friends are back,” said Thoddy, referring to the swarms of yellowfin tuna swimming beneath the company.

“Yes,” said Pheyus. “Almost all of them disappeared on that day of the evil boats.”

“I know,” said Thoddy. “You know, of course, the boats were after the tuna, and not the Stenella.”

“We all know,” said Pheyus.

“Then why do you permit them to swim with you?” asked Thoddy, his voice almost accusing.

Pheyus looked at his large friend and smiled gently. “It’s not for us to determine how others live and eat,” said Pheyus.

“Pheyus, Pheyus. Always the philosopher,” chided Thoddy. “So much like your kind. You’re the perfect ambassador.”

“Yes, Thoddy, I know,” said Pheyus. “But I am also a realist. Have you considered my request from when we last met?” Thoddy’s expression turned slightly more serious. With a quick motion of his flukes, he was instantly at the Border for some air. Pheyus followed, and they remained at the edge, with their dorsals protruding out of the water. Thoddy turned his head and looked at Pheyus from the side, a Tursiops trick completely impossible to Stenella.

“Pheyus, you know we can’t help,” said Thoddy. Pheyus began to send an argument, but stopped. He hadn’t really expected much from the Tursiops.

“No, it’s not like that,” said Thoddy, apparently reading his aura. “Believe me, I’ve thought about it long and hard. There aren’t enough of us, and it’s simply too dangerous.”

Pheyus nodded, then took a breath. When he had asked Thoddy to think of ways to safely escape nets, he never expected the Tursiops to come to the rescue. He had only wanted ideas, and apparently, Thoddy misunderstood.

“Get rid of the tuna,” said Thoddy. “It’s the safest way. Take my word for it. We don’t let tuna get anywhere near us, and we’ve never had problems with the killer boats.”

“The safest way?” asked Pheyus. “Does that mean there are others?”

“You could always ask the men to stop,” Thoddy said facetiously.

“Come on,” said Pheyus. “I’m serious. Is that what you were thinking about?”

“No,” Thoddy said simply. “Dealing with humans is out of the question.”

“Then what?” asked Pheyus. “You have ideas.”

“None worth sharing,” said Thoddy. He took a quick breath and bolted back toward the other Tursiops.

Pheyus was beside him immediately. Despite the superior size and strength of Tursiops, they were still no match for the speed of Stenella.

“What?” demanded Pheyus, as they sped toward the company. Thoddy shifted his weight, sending them both in a sharp turn in the opposite direction.

“You see me,” said Thoddy. “You think I’m big because I’m bigger than you. Well, I’m only big enough to be bigger than you, but not enough to get you out of a net.”

“So?” asked Pheyus.

“So, you need much larger help than I can give,” said Thoddy. “But I think it’s out there. It’s dangerous, but it’s out there.”

“The nets are more dangerous,” said Pheyus, becoming irritated with the roundabout ways of the Tursiops.

“Yes, well, maybe so,” said Thoddy. “But you need big help. The only option I could think of big enough to help is one I’ll give you only because I think you’re smart enough to not use it.” Pheyus stopped abruptly, signaling the Tursiops to do the same.

“What is it, Thoddy?” asked Pheyus.

Thoddy mimicked an echo shock which gave Pheyus a shudder. The Tursiops stared at him sideways for several moments, and then floated to the air-line. He slapped the surface twice with his tail, summoning the others of his group. They turned their flukes to the Stenella in unison, and with quick, sudden flips, they were gone.

CHAPTER 4

Their faces were all too familiar, and Heather tried not to grimace as she approached them. They were environmental activists, lined up on the sidewalk outside the hotel where the Whaling Commission was meeting. They held signs, waved banners, and chanted obnoxious slogans under the direction of a man with an obnoxious megaphone.

“Stop the slaughter! Stop the slaughter!”

The group paraded in a loose-knit circle, waving their signs at all the passing cars. Heather had seen them all before. They were the fringes of the protest-everything clan. Another angle for Heather to deal with.

The song was only slightly different. As far as Heather was concerned, it could just as easily have been, “Hell no, we won’t go! No draft, no war, U. S. out of El Salvador. What do we want? Peace. When do we want it? Now. Racist Whomever, you can’t hide, we charge you with genocide. No blood for oil!” Heather was getting a headache.

She scanned the crowd for one of the protest leaders. After fifteen years of covering news in San Diego, she knew them all. And after four years of political mayhem, she knew everyone in this group particularly well. She had been working for one of the local papers at the time and spent every Sunday in Balboa Park covering their protest rallies.

Now they were here, protesting the International Whaling Commission. Their numbers weren’t so great anymore. There were maybe fifty. These were the hardest core, the ones who never got enough of fighting the good fight, whatever that happened to be this week.

When John Drouin’s face appeared from behind a poster, Heather walked over. He recognized her instantly, and broke away from the circling group of marchers.

“John, how are you?” asked Heather.

“Good, good.”

“Let’s step away from the group so I can hear you better,” said Heather. She glanced over at the man with the megaphone, and Drouin nodded.

As they walked down the sidewalk to get away from the noise, Heather quickly surveyed her subject. It had been a year since she had seen him, and he hadn’t changed at all. Literally. He was still wearing possibly the same tie-dye shirt he supported when she saw him last. The black armband was still there, as was the chain with the peace symbol around his neck. A black Greek fisherman’s cap, probably the same one, covered his spreading baldness.

He was still a walking stereotype, and he was also still in need of a shower.

“So, what brings you folks out today?” asked Heather.

“There are a ton of issues out here,” said Drouin. “Basically, we’re letting the International Whaling Commission know that we’re here, and we’re going to press them on all of the important environmental issues.”

“Such as?” Heather asked.

“Well, first of all, let me say we’re not picketing the Commission, per say,” said Drouin. “We’re going after specific members, such as Japan, Mexico, South Korea, and Iceland.”

“You know, Iceland just announced they’re quitting the International Whaling Commission, and resuming commercial whaling,” said Heather.

“We figured they would,” said Drouin. “It’s strictly monetary. They can get more for whale meat in Japan than they can for herring in America. They had to give in sooner or later. Even the whales they kill for ‘scientific’ purposes still end up on the counters in Japanese supermarkets.”

“Okay, then, let’s talk about Japan,” said Heather, while writing notes in her pad.

“They’re the ones we’re really going after,” said Drouin. “Japan’s the only remaining country still operating commercial whaling boats and thumbing their nose at the worldwide community.”

The protesters suddenly increased their volume, so Heather and Drouin glanced back in their direction. A local television crew had arrived, fueling the impassioned cries of the demonstrators. Drouin smiled slightly, and Heather wanted to gag.

“So why don’t you boycott Japan?” asked Heather.

“I think you know the answer to that,” said Drouin, his expression turning dark and angry. “We try, but their money’s too powerful. That’s the bottom line. We’ll just continue our attacks on their whaling boats until they either give up, or sink.”

Heather nodded and decided against asking about Mexico and South Korea. The afternoon was getting hot and she wanted to get out of the sun and away from John Drouin, whose aroma was beginning to strengthen with the heat. She began to walk back toward the protesters.

“Any other plans this week?” Heather asked as they approached the group.

“This afternoon we’re going to picket a fast-food restaurant that sells Icelandic fish,” said Drouin. “And then tomorrow at ten, we’ll be picketing the tuna fleet down in the harbor.” Heather jotted down the time and location. The tuna fleet. So many issues and angles, and she hadn’t even gotten into the tuna mess, yet.

***

There were fourteen messages on her voice mail, and none of them social. Heather jotted down the names and numbers mostly of people who were somehow involved with whales and dolphins. The word was now out that she was doing a national story, and she’d probably be getting calls for months. There was also a call from Kevin Franks, the editor at Newsweek and an editor from another publication also looking for a dolphin story. Free-lancing had done Heather well, but it was a lonely business. Her office was a converted bedroom in her house, and although she had done it up into quite a charming atmosphere, it lacked the camaraderie of a newsroom. But it also lacked the constant noise and backstabbing as well.

Newsrooms had also done Heather well. She had interviewed people in every imaginable circumstance, from Presidential candidates to street people, and everything in between, building up incredible contacts as she went.

Many hours of working in newsrooms had gone into the purchase of this house, and she had lived there alone with her cat for four years. It was a quaint, older three bedroom with hardwood floors in Point Loma, one of the nicer areas of San Diego.

The office was her favorite room in the house. It was where all of her writing was done. Not only specific projects like magazine articles, but creative short stories as well. She also glanced fondly at the half-finished manuscript of a romance novel she hoped to someday come up with an ending for. Heather smiled when Stubbette waltzed in. Always present, always faithful, the small, playful calico with the cut-off tail never failed to appear when Heather was feeling lonely, which was getting more common. Stubbette jumped up on Heather’s lap. Despite the hours she would spend with people each day, whether on the phone or in person, there was still something missing.

True, it had been three months since she had been dumped – again. The process was almost routine, so it had stopped bothering her, until she recently heard a comedienne performing at The Improv. The comic had said, “A woman who turns thirty-five and has never been married, has less of a chance of getting married than she does getting kidnapped by terrorists in Europe. Even if she never goes to Europe.” The audience responded well, but Heather did not. She had just turned thirty-five.

She stroked Stubbette’s long fur and reflected on reality. Heather was attractive and intelligent, with her own life and own agenda. The slower ones took six weeks, but she could often scare men away in six minutes. And this wasn’t good, because as time went on, she met more and more men who she wouldn’t even consider spending time with.

Heather lifted Stubbette and gently dropped her to the floor. She punched up the computer file with all of her whale information, which was turning out to be a glaring commentary on how ignorant she was about whales and dolphins. And what was worse, it seemed the more she learned, the less she knew. She shook her head and began adding to the computer file from the newest information in her notebook. She put in quotes from Vashon and Drouin, along with personal commentary about their situations.

What was it about whales and dolphins? People went crazy over them. They filled volumes of art, literature, music, television, and even a Star Trek movie. The public just couldn’t get enough.

Whatever their mystic lure, it was lost on Heather. She loved animals. Land animals. Whales were animals, and reputed to be intelligent, but for some reason, they had never caught her eye like the great cats and wolves always did. The phone rang and she jumped slightly.

“This is Heather.”

“Hi, this is Gary Montrose, returning your call.”

“Oh yes, thank you for calling back,” said Heather. She quickly scanned her notes of people she had called, to figure out who he was. She nodded when she found his name.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

“I’m doing a story on all of the activities concerning whales going on in San Diego this week,” said Heather. “I got your name from a friend who says you’re a well-respected expert with a lot to say.”