The sea had turned colder since Evan's first trip, frost creeping back onto the decks of the Snow Queen like a stubborn visitor. But the crew's spirits stayed warm, fuelled by steady hauls and the promise of pay checks that hadn't looked this good in years.
Evan was standing near the bow, watching as Holt and the others prepared the pots for the day's catch. Holt's beard had icicles hanging from it, shimmering like a frozen trophy.
"Looks like you've got yourself a beard made of popsicles," Evan teased.
Holt grinned, rubbing his cheeks. "It's the latest fashion in Kluane keeping' the wind chill right where it should be."
"Does it help with fishing?" Evan asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Sure does. The crabs respect a man who can freeze his face off and still haul their pots," Holt said with a wink.
Laughter broke out as the crew gathered around, exchanging good-natured ribbing and swapping stories from seasons past. One rookie, named Jesse, accidentally knocked over a bucket of bait, splashing slimy fish guts onto his boots.
"Guess the fish won't be the only ones getting a taste today," Jesse muttered, trying to scrape the mess off with a fishing knife.
"Don't worry, Jesse," Evan said with a smirk. "If you want to fit in, you gotta smell like the sea."
The boats pushed off the dock, cutting through the still waters like knives. Evan stood in the wheelhouse again, eyes glued to the system's glowing overlays.
Crab Density Map: Increasing activity detected near Trench 4B.Recommended drop zone extended.
"Looks like the crabs are waking up," Evan said, signaling Holt. "We're moving north. Let's double down on the pots."
Hours passed as the crew worked like a well-oiled machine, pots dropping and hauling in thick clusters of crabs. Holt's team even started competing to see who could bring up the biggest catch from each pot.
"Bet mine's heavier than yours, Mac!" yelled one fisherman.
"Dream on, Old Man Holt!" came the retort.
The good-natured feud sparked laughter and helped the time fly through cold, salty air.
By the third day, the Snow Queen's hold was packed tighter than ever. The crew was beginning to believe this might be their best season yet—until Evan spotted something on the sonar that made his jaw drop.
"Captain, you're gonna want to see this," he said, calling Holt over.
On the screen, a massive cluster of crab signals pulsed brighter than anything they'd encountered before. "That can't be right," Holt muttered.
"It's not," Evan replied, grinning. "Looks like we've hit the jackpot."
They quickly rigged more pots and dropped them in the water. The catch started coming up even heavier crabs the size of dinner plates, some almost twice that.
"This is insane," Holt said, shaking his head. "Never seen crabs like these before."
Within hours, the Snow Queen was overflowing. The deck was stacked with crates that refused to fit in the hold, forcing the crew to work frantically just to keep the catch from spilling into the sea.
Evan grabbed the radio. "Blue Runner, this is Snow Queen. We're gonna need backup. Got more crab than we can handle."
"On our way," Mason's voice crackled back. "Hold tight."
When the Blue Runner arrived, the two crews worked side-by-side, hauling in the largest crab haul the port had seen in decades.
At the end of the day, Evan checked the system's profit estimate.
Total Crab Catch: 22.4 tonsEstimated Market Value: $215,000Fuel Cost: $9,500Crew Pay: $48,000Net Profit: $157,500
The news spread fast.
At the seafood distributor, the warehouse manager shook his head in disbelief. "I thought the Carvers were done for. Guess not."
Evan just smiled. "We're just getting started."
That night, back on the Snow Queen, the crew celebrated with hot coffee and canned stew. Jesse, now the proud owner of a crab-scented jacket, toasted with a chipped mug.
"To frozen beards, monster crabs, and making this old port proud," he said.
Everyone laughed and raised their mugs.
Evan leaned back, thinking about the road ahead how the system would help him expand, how he'd beat the odds, and build something his parents would be proud of.
The cold night wind rattled the ship, but inside, the warmth of possibility crackled like a fire.