[Vasex]

Endrik wished the night would be dark and stormy… For those who wanted to cover up their actions and themselves, it could be a perfect time and maybe the only chance to succeed.
The bad-shaven captain was standing on the stern of his freezer trawler, looking at the sky. This fishing vessel wasn’t so simple as it was looking. Under his legs there were powerful refrigerators, freezing cameras for king-size species. Moreover, there also was a hidden harpoon gun mounted at ship’s bow and some other exterminatory equipment. The boat wasn't officially registered as a whaler. Nevertheless, somehow the wrong people recognized it.
They were followed by some kind of Greenpeace swarm all their way across the Norwegian Sea. Every day the captain could see this ugly little piece of handicraft on the uninhabited landscape, mostly on the horizon. Every day the whole crew was bothered by attempts of chaser’s company to make radio-contact. Every day these scums even sent a drone with video camera to capture some evil-activity of poachers or just to make them really angry. The mamma’s boys didn’t understand that it was the best way for poor people to earn big money quickly, to pay deadly debts, to pay a goddamned mortgage, to raise kids in normal schools and colleges. They deserved it in their lives, didn't they? And now it seemed that Endrik’s guys could return with nothing because of this grayman-tail.
The best solution in this situation was too shake ‘em during the storm. Or maybe under the cover of hurricane with no eyewitnesses in sight it would be a good opportunity at last to catch a beast. They weren't too far. Endrik's ship was also a follower of a pod. These mammals couldn't hold breath for too long, so it wasn't a big deal to track this family, pretending fishing for small ones with some torn nets.
“Any night, please.” The captain was talking with the night sky like a madman, but as a joke he preferred calling himself a seidman. “Maybe this one. Of course, this one. Definitely it is.” Endrik cared about the large dark bulk above northern horizon, which had turned off plenty of stars and now it was consuming Ursa Major. A good sign, a big one, like one of these creatures they were preyed on.
“The storm is coming!” One of mates spoked in a bass from the shack. They relied more on modern navigational aids, than on their own eyes. “Twenty three per second. Waves are more than twenty. Force nine or ten, according to Beaufort!”