He didn't regret it. It was the right choice made for all of the right reasons. But still, deep down in his guts where he lived, he knew that he wasn't the same man afterward. He found himself praying that this lady wouldn't have to make the same kind of discovery.
"I'll stand," she said finally.
Amanda didn't notice the exultant thumbs-up Arkady gave the universe.
"You're right," she continued. "This is what I am and, despite all of what's happened, this is still what I want to be. I won't give the Duke up, Arkady. It's just that for all of my adult life, I've studied and theorized about the abstracts of war. Now, probably like a hell of a lot of other people before me, I find that there are certain realities beyond all of that theorizing that I'm going to have to confront."
She looked across at the shadowy outline of her father's painting on the bulkhead and murmured:
"The strength of twice three thousand horse, That seeks the single goal; The line that holds the rending course, The hate that swings the whole…
"I am the chooser of the slain, Arkady, and that's a rather heavy thing to learn to live with."
"I won't give you an argument."
Amanda curled up again on the recliner. "What do you think? Was this snowball fight really worth all of the fuss?"
She'd made her decision and was already sounding a little more like herself again.
"I'm not sure," Arkady replied. "I think we're all still too close to this thing to be able to call it."
"What do you mean?"
"We might need a little more time between it and us before all of the causes and effects shake down and we can see just exactly what we've accomplished."
"The judgment of history?" she inquired drowsily.
"Exactly. I think it's going to be something like the Vietnam War. We backed out of it in 1972 with our tails between our legs. It wasn't until about twenty years later, when we could put it in perspective with the rest of the Cold War, that we began to realize that we'd actually won the damn thing and just hadn't noticed. We might have to ask our grandchildren about this one."
"Our grandchildren, Lieutenant?"
"Speaking figuratively, Captain."
Things went quiet after that. Arkady sat in the dark and listened as Amanda's breathing slowed and evened. He was almost sure that she was no longer awake when she spoke again.
"Arkady, when we get clear of this, do you think we can find ourselves another beach somewhere?"
"Why not?"
And then she slept.
Arkady resisted the temptation to reach out and touch her. There would be other, better, times and places. Instead, he edged his chair around a little so that he could look at her more easily, and then, content, he watched over the still form on the recliner until sleep claimed him as well.
51
"I suppose we won," Dr. Towers said, glancing at the glowing television screen across the embassy dining room from the table she shared with Harrison Van Lynden.
"Apparently," the Secretary of State replied, buttering his last piece of toast. "There's been no official word from the Ministry of State yet beyond Sparza's press release, but I think it's only a matter of time."
Dr. Towers shook her head. "We've still lost, though. Antarctica was special in that the only lives that had ever been lost there had been lost in the quest for knowledge. It was the one place on Earth where man had never slain man. Now it's just another piece of ground to fight over. It will never be the same."
"All the more reason to ensure that the fighting never starts again. That brings up the topic I've been meaning to speak to you about, Doctor. Would you be interested in taking a sabbatical from the National Science Foundation?"
"A sabbatical? To do what?"
"As a result of this incident, the President has instructed the State Department to form a special task force to resolve the remaining questions concerning Antarctic territoriality and to oversee United States participation in the international park project. We'd like for you to head that task force."
"Me?"
"Most definitely. Some might say that this is locking the barn door after the horse has been stolen, but I think you'll agree that there's still a lot of work to be done."
"I do agree, Mr. Secretary, but I'm a scientist, not a diplomat."
"You've done good work with us here and you know the area and its problems inside and out. That's more than a number of our ambassadorial cadre can claim. Believe me, Doctor, I think you're the right person for this job. I wouldn't have asked you otherwise."
"First Ambassador to Antarctica?" she mused with a frown. "Well, there are definitely some things I'd like to see get done. Some of us in the scientific community have had a tendency to sit up in our ivory towers and sneer at the politico-diplomatic process. Maybe that's been part of the problem."
"So?"
"How much time do I have to decide?"
"We'll be heading back to Washington in the next day or two. I'll need to know by then."
"You will, Mr. Secretary."
Steven Rosario entered the dining room and paused at their table. "We've just received a call from the Argentine Ministry of State, sir. President Sparza is requesting a meeting with you at your convenience."
Van Lynden tossed his napkin across his plate. "Very good, Steve. Return my compliments to President Sparza and inform him that I will be available to meet with him at ten this morning."
Rising from his chair, Van Lynden inquired, "Would you care to join us, Doctor?"
"Yes, I would. Very much so." She glanced again at the television screen. "Do you think he's going to be able to survive this?"
"I don't know. They won't pull him down easily. He's an able politician and a fighter. I think that he's also basically a good man. It's just that his dreams didn't quite match up with the rest of the world's."
Across the room, the CNN newscaster droned on."… In the release issued by his Ministry of State, Argentina President Antonio Sparza is quoted as saying, 'We have brought our justifiable concerns over the fate of the San Martin Peninsula to the attention of the world community. Accordingly, we will now withdraw our forces and seek to resolve these questions via diplomatic means.'
"This statement comes, however, amid growing rumors of a clash or series of clashes between the naval and air forces of the United States and Argentina in the icy, mist-shrouded waters beyond the Antarctic Circle…."
52
Captain Margaret Callendar deftly manipulated the small trackball controller on the balcony railing. Across the operations room, a designator circle danced across the Large Screen Display in response.
"The USS Sea Serpent has entered the eastern approaches to Drake Passage with another attack boat, the Royal Navy's HMS Victorix running about four hours behind her…. The British Ark Royal carrier group is also just arriving on station southeast of the Falkland Islands…. On the Falklands themselves, patrol squadron VP-4 has completed deployment and is currently running Orion sweeps south to the ice line beyond South Georgia Island, and west to the South Shetlands. Air Combat Command also reports that they have four B-lCs operational out of Mount Pleasant. They're configured for antishipping strike duties and are on call to launch as needed."
Elliot Mclntyre took the first sip of his first on-watch mug of coffee. "What about the Roosevelt group?" he inquired, leaning back in the observation chair.