The port was an hour's drive south of the farm, winding through icy roads and silent pine forest. Evan took the old Chevy parked in the barn—a beast of a truck with studded winter tires and a full tank of diesel. According to the system, it had been well-maintained by the previous owner. It rumbled to life like an old warhorse waking from slumber.
As he crested a hill, the coastline came into view.
Port Kluane was a modest fishing harbor nestled in a bay flanked by rocky cliffs and frost-bitten docks. A few small trawlers and crab boats bobbed gently in the water, surrounded by seagulls wheeling through the sharp winter air. It wasn't much but it was alive.
Objective: Inspect Vessels— Snow Queen: Dock 3— Blue Runner: Currently at sea, ETA: 2 hours (Captain: Mason Blake)
"Good," Evan muttered. Mason had been listed in the system's memory logs as a close friend of the Carver family. A veteran fisherman, reliable. He'd been given command of the Blue Runner just days before the accident that killed Evan's parents.
Evan parked near the main dock and headed straight for Dock 3.
The Snow Queen looked every bit the northern queen she was named for solid steel hull, reinforced superstructure, twin cranes, and a well-maintained crab pot stack lashed tightly on deck. A heavy coat of frost clung to her like armor.
A man stepped out from the wheelhouse as Evan approached. Mid-forties, weathered face, black beanie pulled low.
"You the Carver boy?" he called out, voice gruff.
"I am," Evan replied. "Evan Carver. I'm taking over operations."
The man gave him a long, silent look. "We weren't sure if we were gonna have jobs next week."
"You do," Evan said without hesitation. "In fact, we're heading out as soon as you're ready. The crab season's still open, isn't it?"
The man blinked, then grinned. "Damn right it is. Name's Holt. I've been running this boat under your dad for nine seasons. You say go, we go."
Loyalty Triggered: Crew morale increased.[Holt] Crew Leader bonded.
Holt motioned for him to come aboard, and Evan climbed the icy gangplank. The deck was clean, the gear well-stored. Someone had taken care of her in the family's absence.
"We've got bait, fuel, and clean pots. Can be out within the hour. Weather's cold but stable," Holt said.
"Good," Evan replied. "Let's bring in a full hold."
An hour later, the Snow Queen eased out of the harbor. The sea was steel-grey and calm, with only a light chop as they headed for the crabbing grounds north of the bay. The rest of the four-man crew moved quickly and efficiently, clearly seasoned.
Evan stood in the wheelhouse, scanning the digital charts. The system chimed again.
[Fishing Module Active]Crab Density Map: OnlineOptimal Drop Zones highlighted.
Glowing overlays appeared on the chart display, guiding him toward a trench where snow crabs were thickest. He pointed to it for Holt. "There. Start our drops along that ridge line."
"You got sonar better than ours?" Holt asked, impressed.
"Something like that," Evan said, smiling.
The first few pots dropped fast. Baited, stacked, lowered. Within six hours, they were hauling in hundreds of pounds per pot solid, mature crabs, perfect market size.
By the end of day two, the hold was full.
Evan stood at the stern, watching as the last pots were cleaned and stowed. His boots were wet, his jacket reeked of bait and salt, and his fingers were stiff from the cold but he couldn't stop grinning.
Crab Catch: 8.2 tonsMarket Estimate: $84,000Fuel Cost: $3,500Net Crew Pay Estimate: $22,000Remaining Profit: $58,500Reputation: +10 (Port Kluane)
He pulled out the ship radio and switched to a private channel.
"Blue Runner, this is Snow Queen. You reading me?"
A second passed. Then: "Reading you, Snow Queen. Mason here."
"We've got a full haul. Ready to bring her in?"
"Roger that. I'm half a bay out. Be there in thirty."
Back at the dock, Evan supervised the offloading as crates of live crab were weighed, sorted, and packed for the seafood distributor that still had a standing contract with the Carver family. The warehouse manager didn't ask questions—just smiled and cut the check.
$81,920 received.Funds deposited to Carver Enterprises Account.Crew Payment: Processing…
Evan handed Holt a paper envelope with the crew's cut. "Split it. Weekly share. You did good work."
Holt opened it, whistled low. "Well, damn. You're paying fair. Most new owners squeeze every cent."
"I'm not most owners," Evan replied. "Tell the crew we sail again next week. Weather permitting."
"You got it, boss."
As the Snow Queen was cleaned and prepped, the Blue Runner eased into port. A sleeker vessel with longer range and net trawling capabilities, she was already half-loaded with deep-sea fish. Mason stepped down from the bridge and clapped Evan on the back.
"Heard you're taking things over."
"That's right," Evan said. "And I've got big plans."
Mason grinned. "Well then. Let's make you rich."