Nathaniel marveled, even through fear. He had studied protective instincts in whales—mothers shielding calves, pods forming barriers around injured members. But this was different. He was no calf nor kin. Yet here he remained, cradled in a cavernous mouth, defended as though his fragile life was worth preserving.
On deck, tension split into arguments. One voice demanded action—“Fire sonar, force it to spit him out!” Another warned it could rupture the whale’s inner organs, killing both man and beast. The captain hesitated, weathered face grim. Any choice could make him either a savior or an executioner in tomorrow’s headlines.