Together, they made up the entire crew of the Odin’s Mercy—a calculated risk for a two-man operation. They didn’t trust others, and they didn’t need them. The ship was small, lean, and reliable. Everything was by hand, every movement rehearsed over years of working together.
They had chased a late-season cod migration north of the usual lanes, guided by sonar and instinct. The reward was promising: cold, clean fish in quantity. Enough to make the fuel and frostbite worth it. But then the reports started coming in—low-pressure buildup, storm systems shifting course, pressure dropping fast.