A/N: First, a big thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I hope I don't lose you with this next chapter! Part of it focuses on information about fisheries management. I promise this story really is about Bella and Edward and we will get to the romance/angst with a little dash of humor, very, very soon. Even though I'm afraid some may find this next chapter boring, it's necessary to the story for me to explain this stuff. I tried to present it in a way that is hopefully still entertaining. I swear this will be the only chapter with so much extraneous information. The opinions Bella expresses in this chapter are her own. She formed her point of view as the daughter of a commercial fisherman and a lifetime resident of a community that depends on fishing for its survival. Therefore, she's not supposed to be objective about controversial topics like by-catch, discards, and stock recovery rates. Those issues are very complex and not as black and white as Bella describes them. Bella's opinions are common among those in the commercial fishing communities and her thoughts are arguments I've heard over the years.

Beta- StacyO72 in all her fabulosity, yeah, I made that word up. The Magnum P.I reference is all for her. She loves that Tom Selleck 'stache.

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.

Ch. 2 Off Island

I managed to make it onboard the Carol Jean, park the Suburban on the car deck, and climb up to the open observation deck with five minutes to spare. I leaned against the railing and tilted my head back to enjoy the warmth of a beautiful summer day. The boat was fairly empty; most people would be travelling to the island on a Thursday, not off it. We had already passed the peak Fourth of July week, but the tourists would still to continue to crowd the island until Labor Day, six weeks from now. I waited until after the horn blew, signaling the ferry was pulling out, before I called my dad to let him know I'd be off island most of the day.

"What's up Bells?" He asked, answering after the first ring.

I quickly explained the situation with the longliner and the need for the license, cringing slightly as I waited for his all too predictable response.

"Longliner? That's great, just great. Damn sea gypsies pulling into port just in time to get hammered for the weekend. No way am I giving Riley the weekend off now. Maybe I should ask the state to send a few guys over." He sighed.

"Dad, it's a crew of four, I don't think you'll need to call in the reserves." I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

While he might sound like he was responding to me as Chief Swan of the New Shoreham police department, I knew Charlie the fisherman was more than present in those remarks. Longliner deckhands had reputations that preceded them and they weren't well liked by the inshore guys. It was a well-established hierarchy in commercial fishing. Draggers didn't get along with gillnetters, who didn't get along with lobstermen, and they all hated longliners. You'd think with all the adversity they faced from the government and environmental groups, they'd have learned to put their differences aside and work together, but no. They just acted like a bunch of old fishwives.

"Bells, you never know with people like that. You just watch yourself and keep your distance. Be very careful tonight if they show up at the Wolf. Make sure you have your pepper spray."

I smiled to myself. Here comes the overprotective father. I could picture his mustache twitching in irritation. Yeah, my dad had a mustache, an 80's style Tom Selleck Magnum P.I. 'stache. Suffice it to say guys on the island weren't exactly up to date on the latest fashion trends.

"Yes Daddy..." I enunciated each word slowly and loudly. If my eyes could roll any more, I'd be staring at my brain. He made some hrrmph sound before launching into a sermon about transient crewmembers, drunk and disorderly behavior, and the dangers they caused. I felt bad so I cut him short and apologized because really, it wasn't that I didn't agree with him. In fact, I was in complete agreement. Longliner crews were a different breed from the guys I grew up with. They were nomads with no ties and few morals, who lived off the grid. Their vessels traversed the Atlantic coast year round, following schools of tuna and swordfish as they migrated from Canada down to the Caribbean. They fished for two weeks to a month at a time, landed their catch, partied hard for a few days, then went right back out again. The crews made good money yet despite this, they were always broke and always in trouble. The last thing I needed was to get involved with some druggie deckhand who drifted into port for the weekend.

It was Charlie's day off so I made sure to ask if he was out either hauling or setting traps with Billy. I liked knowing where they were and when they'd be back in. He answered my questions and promised he'd be home in time for dinner before we ended the call.

"Captain Dan and Forrest out fishing?" I turned to see Billy's son Jacob smirking at me.

I couldn't help but smile back as images from the movie floated through my head.

"You know they hate it when you call them that." I replied.

"They can't hear me; they're over by Settler's Cove." Jake indicated the far side of the tear shaped island with a jut of his chin.

I gave him that "sure they can't" look before I took a step back and gave Jake a good once over.

"I have to say Jake, the uniform suits you."

In addition to working with me at The Black Wolf, Jake had recently been hired as an engineer aboard the ferry. I motioned for him to give me a little twirl, which he obliged showing off his backside encased in form-fitting khaki shorts. The standard issue navy polo shirt hugged his muscled chest and arms just the right way. Jake had the perfect swimmer's body, not an ounce of fat anywhere. I wasn't interested in Jake. My feelings were completely platonic. Jake and his twin sisters, Rachel and Rebecca had lived just down the road from us and we all grew up together. While I would always think of him as a little brother, I couldn't deny that at nineteen, Jake had filled out nicely. He was deeply tanned, with almost jet black hair and deep brown eyes which crinkled at the corners as he gave me a cocky grin.

"The ladies on board seem to like it."

Jake wiggled his fingers in a little wave towards a group of co-eds nearby who all smiled and waved back. I shook my head. Jake had always been a huge flirt.

"I'm sure they do. Will we be seeing them at the Wolf tonight?"

"Only the good-looking ones."

I laughed as I playfully shoved his shoulder. He was such a dog.

"So, Bella, aren't you supposed to be at work? What's with going off island?"

I explained about needing the license for a new boat. His ears perked up immediately.

"Hey, do you think they'll need a diver? Make sure you give them my name." Sometimes ropes got tangled up in the propellers and boats needed scuba divers to go below and cut them loose. Jake was certified and had been freelancing since we were in high school. It was a quick way for him to make an extra hundred bucks.

I promised I would just as I heard a nasally voice exclaim "Oh Bella, Jake! I haven't seen you since I got back from my vacation in Europe!"

I turned to see Lauren Mallory walking over, her hand firmly clasped in that of a very blond Ivy Leaguer who looked like he walked off the pages of a J. Crew catalog from 1985. He was dressed in madras shorts, a peach polo shirt with the collar actually turned up, and topsiders. Lauren herself looked exactly as she did in high school- her blonde hair cut in a perfect bob, her nails French manicured, her clothes preppy and expensive.

In typical Lauren fashion, she wasted no time and launched into a recollection of her trip to the "Continent", yes she used that word. Lauren's parents owned the Mallory Arms, the most pretentious hotel on the island. It catered to an exclusive clientele of wealthy families. In addition, they owned several smaller bed and breakfasts, as well as a tacky gift shop, which was where they had originally made their money. Her family was one of the few on the island that didn't rely on fishing in any part for their source of income and Lauren never lost an opportunity to remind the rest of us of that. Other than her, I didn't know a single person our age who could afford a trip to "the Continent". After talking about herself for a good five minutes, she finally took a breath "Oh, I forgot introduce you to Freddie, my boyfriend. Freddie, this is Bella Swan and Jacob Black."

Freddie shook our hands politely. We stood there in awkward silence until Jake spoke up. "So Freddie, do you go to Brown with Lauren?"

"Yes." Freddie nodded and smiled slightly but didn't try to further the conversation at all.

O.k….. Besides his classic preppy good looks, I could see the attraction for Lauren. She could talk to her heart's content.

Jake took the initiative "I'm planning on attending the Coast Guard Academy next year. I am hoping to become a rescue diver."

Freddie nodded again, "That's very admirable of you."

Jake smiled "Yeah, I hope to make a difference for someone someday. Although Bella here is the one who will change lives. She is going solve all the world's fisheries problems."

Freddie glanced at me, apparently unimpressed. ""Oh, and how's that?"

Jake spoke before I had a chance. "Bella is double majoring in marine biology and fisheries economics at the University Of Rhode Island School Of Oceanography. She's going to change NMFS from the inside by making sure they use good science and working with fishermen for their input, instead of treating them like the enemy."

I felt myself blushing at Jake's praise. I knew my dad and Billy were proud of my chosen career path but I had never heard Jake say so much about it.

Freddie scrunched his eyebrows. "Nymphs?"

I tried to give a light laugh but it sounded a little hollow. "Jake meant the National Marine Fisheries Service- N.M.F.S. It's pronounced 'nymphs'. I still have two more years left before I complete my studies. After that, I plan to work as either an observer or a statistician for NMFS while I work towards a doctorate."

"I see." Freddie replied, looking a bit more attentive. However, there was a gleam in his eye that immediately put me on edge. "So you're saying that our Federal tax dollars are being used to promote bad science right now? How exactly is science bad?"

Here we go. I cringed inwardly, really not wanting to get into a debate about overfishing and sustainability on the 10 am ferry. However, one glance at Jake, who was eagerly awaiting my reply, and I knew I couldn't back down and disappoint him.

"Well, everything- all the quotas and regulations that NMFS sets are based on their estimates of stock assessments, how many fish there are." I began to explain. "It is literally impossible to count every fish in the sea so they take surveys in order to come up with a best guess. A lot of fishermen are critical of how these surveys are done. They call it bad science, because many of the scientists employed by NMFS have no practical fishing experience and don't know how to find fish to properly document the size of stocks."

"How hard can it be?" Lauren interrupted; her tone bored and haughty. "Don't they just have to cast their nets at whatever fishing ground everyone uses?"

I tried to smile again but I could feel it was more of a grimace. It amazed me that someone who lived on the island her entire life could be so ignorant.

"It's not quite that simple." Jake's voice smoothly cut in and I gave him a grateful glance. He had much better people skills than I did. I just wanted to bop her on the head and tell her she was an idiot.

He continued using a calm, persuasive tone, "I'll give you an example right from our own state fisheries department. Once a year, they take a survey of the local species by trawling in the exact same spot. This survey is used to establish state quotas for all the groundfish species, you know, cod, haddock, flounder, as well as scup, sea bass, basically anything a trawler would catch. Well, local fishermen have argued for years that the survey is flawed because the place where they trawl isn't a feeding ground. Fish aren't attracted to that spot in the first place, so the stocks are being underestimated, right Bells?"

I swear I was so proud of Jake at that moment I could almost kiss him, in a completely mama bear kind of way, of course. I cleared my throat. "Yes exactly. Then there's also the issue of how they're fishing. One of the local fishermen happened to observe a NMFS survey a few years ago and saw that they were setting the nets at the wrong depth. Certain species swim at certain depths. For example, pelagics like mackerel swim at the top of the ocean, groundfish, obviously, at the bottom and then other species sort of drift in between. If you're fishing for scup, which live at levels between six and one hundred and twenty feet, than you can't trawl the net at a depth of two hundred feet and expect to catch any." I
turned my attention back to Freddie. "That's what we mean by bad science."

He nodded, but I could practically see the gears shifting in his brain as he contemplated what we had said. "Well, then why don't they just have the fishermen do the work in the surveys with the scientists observing?

Good question, I thought as I responded. "Politics. The relationship between NMFS and commercial fishermen is contentious. They set each other up as the enemy rather than working towards their common goal of creating sustainable fisheries. Some fishermen even believe that NMFS is purposely underestimating stock sizes and then placing unfair limits on fishing to appease the environmental groups. The more extreme groups want stocks to grow to levels not seen since the nineteenth century, which is completely unrealistic, even under the best conditions."

"So, this is all the government's fault then. If fishermen were allowed to just catch whatever they wanted, there'd still be plenty of fish in the sea?"

I sighed, "No, they are both to blame to a certain degree. Back in the seventies and eighties, the government actually encouraged fisherman to build bigger boats, giving them cheap loans, and helping to create more efficient ways of catching fish. Then, the fishermen got greedy, just catching more and more until stocks started to collapse. I'm not saying every fisherman out there is a saint. There are 'pirates' out there, guys that purposely break the rules. However, most want healthy stocks just at a reasonable rate of recovery based on good data. These guys did nothing but work hard at the most dangerous occupation in the country. They didn't swindle people, or cause the stock market to collapse. When the government put on the brakes, they went too hard the other way, which wasn't right. They put a stranglehold on commercial fishing but there's no Wall Street style bail out for fishermen and that's just wrong."

Freddie shuffled uncomfortably when I mentioned the bail out. Yeah, I bet daddy is a hedge fund manager, isn't he?

"Well, heh, you are very passionate about your studies. It's been very informative." Freddie looked at Lauren who took the hint.

"Freddie, I'm really thirsty, let's go to the snack bar. It was great seeing you both." They said goodbye and quickly made their way inside the vessel.

After they left, Jake looked at me and smirked. "No Wall Street style bailout?"

"Hey, it hit home didn't it? I took a chance he wouldn't know about the federal buyback programs. Besides, there hasn't been a decent buyback program in years and even when there was, it was nothing like what those investment firms got." Jake just shook and head and laughed as he walked away. He returned below deck and I spent the rest of the ride just enjoying the sun and the ocean breeze. Some mornings, the fog would obscure everything but today was bright and clear and I could already see the mainland just twelve miles ahead.

My thoughts drifted back to Lauren and Freddie and how easy they both had it. Their parents could afford to send them to Brown and they never had to worry about to pay the tuition. Up until this year, I had been fortunate to have a scholarship through the New England Fisherman's Scholarship Program but for the first time ever, the money had run out. Those of us who depended on the program to pay for college were suddenly scrambling to find a way to stay in school. My hope was that we had a good season and I could make enough money between the fish house and the bar to cover my tuition at the University of Rhode Island in the fall.

The whistle blew again, interrupting my thoughts, as the Carol Jean approached the ferry dock on the mainland. The forty-five minutes had flown by and I hoped the rest of the day would go as smoothly. I returned to the Suburban to wait my turn to exit. Once I was finally off the boat, I drove towards the main road. A familiar dark green vehicle waiting to board the ferry caught my eye and I couldn't help but groan as the bright yellow "Environmental Police" lettering came into view. Crab cops, just what we needed. I hit speed dial on my cell.

"Newton's Fish."

"Mike, it's Bella. When is the Vampress due in?"

"She's about two hours out, why?"

"Looks like the crab cops were paying attention to the VMS this morning. There's two headed out on the next ferry. "

Mike groaned just as I had. "Damn it! Could you see the dollar signs in their eyes? Alright, thanks for the heads up. I'll make sure nothing, not even a piece of chum, comes off that boat before you get back with that license."

I ended the call with Mike just as I turned north onto Route One. We both agreed that the cops had been watching the VMS, the Vessel Monitoring System, the onboard satellite tracking system the Federal government required all commercial fishing vessels to install in order to legally fish. The system tracked the location of every vessel in the United States fleet at all times. It was used mostly to make sure no vessels were breaking the rules and fishing in closed areas. It could also be used in the event of an emergency to local a vessel offshore. However, on days like this, the local enforcement agency used it to see which vessels were headed into port. An out of state longline boat would be a prime target for enforcement officers. They would be crawling over that boat like ants at a picnic to see if they could seize what they knew could be a very lucrative catch.

The normal rules of search and seizure that Charlie had to follow as an officer of the law didn't apply to fisheries enforcement. Crab cops could enter a business or board a vessel without needing a warrant. They didn't even need to be in the same state. If a crab cop in Rhode Island suspected a boat was landing fish illegally in Connecticut, they could go there without needing the permission of Connecticut law enforcement and seize the vessel. They also carried guns and could arrest people as well. With such broad powers, it's not surprising they were completely hated by fishermen. Mike could not risk offloading any fish until the captain of that vessel was standing on deck with his landing license in hand. Everyone- the vessel crew and the fish house employees were now depending on me getting back as early as possible or else they might be working well past dinner time tonight. The boat had to be offloaded today so the fish could be sold tomorrow. All the wholesale markets and auctions were closed on Saturday so if the boat was offloaded on Friday, the catch couldn't be shipped until Sunday night for Monday's market.

Luckily, traffic going into the city was light. I pulled into the parking lot at the fisheries building and finally opened the envelope containing the license application, quickly glancing at the captain's name. I froze.

"Holy fucking crow! Carlisle Cullen!"

A/N: So, Carlisle is the captain of the F/V Vampress. Any guesses who the other three crewmembers might be?;-) Now why is Bella so surprised? Hopefully I didn't lose anyone after that long exposition on the history of modern fisheries management. Yikes! But it will help to understand Bella's reaction to certain people, like those hated crab cops.