The Antarctic Ocean

“Idiots!”

Beneath a dozen layers of clothing, Mags clung to the taffrail of the Rainbow Warrior as they cut through the Antarctic Ocean, her silver-blonde hair whipping against her face where it escaped from her hat.

Ahead, the intensive harvesting of krill was about to begin, again.

“Don’t they know that by overfishing to make fish food and omega-three supplements they are putting the entire ecosystem at risk?” she asked Steven angrily.

“Don’t know or don’t care.” Steven struggled to switch on the megaphone as the ocean beneath them surged. He cursed when a plume of freezing sea spray soaked them. “This storm is going to be a bad one.”

She shot a look at the blackening sky as the spray cut icily against her exposed face. Only thin slivers of weak sunlight penetrated the laden clouds, and the wind was a persistent angry roar.

“Mother Nature is showing her fury.” She could almost feel Mother Nature’s wrath running through her veins.

Steven grimaced as spray pelted them again. “In Her fury, I think Mother Nature has forgotten Greenpeace is on Her side.”

Her stomach dropped with the next wave. David against Goliath, they’d be feeling the effects of the storm far more than the much larger ship. On the steadier deck of the fishing vessel, she could see men readying the new suction harvesting equipment she found so appalling.

“Will you suck every last crustacean out of the ocean to earn your dirty money?” Mags yelled across the water.

At the bow, several of her friends echoed her frustration. The crew of the Rainbow Warrior was small but determined. They would bear witness, document what was happening, and use the film to prosecute these men and force change.

The megaphone squealed to life.

“You are fishing illegally!” Steven shouted, his voice projected to the fishing crew across the water. “You are being recorded and we will submit our evidence to the authorities. Stop this brutality now!”

The men working on the deck of the fishing vessel didn’t even pause to look their way.

“We should board and sabotage their equipment!” Becky shouted from the helm.

“That’s not what we’re here for, Becky,” Steven returned above the wind. “Besides, the weather is too dangerous. The dingy would capsize for sure.”

“I’m with Becky,” Mags said. “We have to try something. We have to do something!”

“Your enthusiasm does you credit, Mags, but it’s too risky. We’ll continue to keep the Rainbow Warrior close. Hopefully, given our presence, filming, and the weather, it will be enough to stop them.”

She bristled. “But, if we—”

“No, Mags,” Steven cut her off, his angular features softening as he looked at her. “You can’t help the environment if you’re dead, and you know as well as I do that we have a lifetime of battles to fight, not just this one.”

She glared over the waves at the enemy, but then the angle of the ship began to change.

“They’re turning.” They clearly still planned to fish, but there was something about the action on board that had her stomach rolling. “They’re going to ram us.” Her eyes widened as she looked from the ship to the icy water violently heaving around them. “Oh, my God. They’re going to ram us!”

Steven’s head whipped back to the much larger fishing vessel.

“It’s a bluff,” he said, but as the ship set a course directly at them, his conviction seemed to falter. “It has to be a bluff. The authorities will have to act if they try to kill us.”

Mags grunted, unconvinced. “You would hope.”

They watched as the ship forced its way through the waves to reach them, waiting for it to turn away after the fishermen had made their point. It didn’t.

“They’re not going to stop,” Steven said, horror dripping from every word.

Mags looked around at where the crew scurried and filmed. “They have to stop. They have to.” Everyone would die if they didn’t…

As though realizing what they had, Becky grabbed the wheel and turned it sharply. But it was too little, too late.

“Brace for impact!” Steven shouted. “Becky, send a distress call!”

But Becky was busy fighting with the wheel.

They had to send a distress call before they were hit.

Mags pushed away from the taffrail and headed for the helm. Beneath her booted feet, the deck rocked severely, both waves and the wake of the approaching ship tossing the Rainbow Warrior as though it weighed little more than jetsam.

“Mags, no!” Steven shouted as the fishing vessel bore down on them.

And then the world lurched. The vicious crunch of metal screamed as the ships met, the smaller vessel rocking ominously as it was shoved aside and threatened to tip.

Oh, God, had the hull been breached?

Trying to retain her feet, she struggled to reach the helm and its radio, and then the ship pinged free, tipping violently the other way. Mags lost her battle to stay upright.

With a thud, her skull hit the deck, and there was darkness.