Sharkbait

The lack of sleep had me nodding off in math class, earning me a warning on Tuesday. We only had pool access Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, so Amy drove us to her house. Her Mom put a gym in the basement, including a Universal gym and fighting mat. I did upper-body weight training for thirty minutes, and then I swapped places with Amy on the treadmill for a run. When we finished, we worked on grapples from our Krav Maga classes. We’d finished showering in her room when Beta Susan called us down to dinner.

The chili had been cooking in the crockpot since Monday, and she’d put the breadmaker on time delay before heading to work. Fresh, hot bread with the thick chicken chili was my favorite winter food. I’d melt butter into the bread, then spoon the chili on top and eat it that way. “Great dinner, thank you,” I said to Susan between bites.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Tomorrow night, dinner will be at the Alpha’s home.”

“Really,” Amy asked. “Is it some Beta business I need to be there for?”

“No, you two are the only ones invited since I’m not going to the Summit this year.” Each Alpha pair got to bring their Pack heir (if of age), any unmated Beta-level and above, and one Beta pair if there were none in the two previous categories. Amy was going as an unmated female, and I was still the designated Mantled Heir. Even if I wasn’t, I was Alpha blood and would have to go. The lower-level Pack members were luckier; there were regional and national social events where they could find mates without all the Council rules. If you didn’t want a mate, you didn’t go. It could work for years if your mate didn’t visit your Pack.

“Why does he want to talk to us?”

“I’m sure it’s just logistics and such.” Alpha Leo had figured out that a few Packs could split the cost of a charter business jet and end up a lot closer to the host site, with none of the TSA hassles.

“What if I find my mate?” Amy was particularly vulnerable since any mating would require her to go to her males’ Pack. At least with my Alpha Mantle, I had a CHANCE of staying here, provided my mate was Beta blood or not a mantled Alpha heir.

“You would return to his Pack with him, then come back here to say goodbye. I’ll pack your things and have them shipped to your new home,” Susan said. “You know the drill, baby.”

“I have school! I can’t just transfer out with a few months left in my high school! I NEED the classes for college!”

“That’s a conversation to have with your mate and your new Alpha if you find your mate,” she told her daughter as she held her hand. “Your head will be so far in the clouds you won’t care about these things.” I just mentally cringed at this; it was what I was afraid would happen to me. The Mate Bond was powerful, and our wolves didn’t care about worldly things like school and friends. “Chances are, you’ll be back home on Sunday night, complaining about having to get up in the morning.”

“I hope so,” Amy said.

My phone dinged, and my eyes got wide as I read the message. Today at school, we were working on our conservation project. I sent a message with the basics of my idea to Ocean and asked her advice. The text from Ocean said she would help! She was going to call after she got off work, which meant eleven PM my time. “We’ve got to get to our homework,” I told Amy. When we were back in her room, I showed her the text.

“Call your Mom and stay over tonight,” she said. “We’ll be able to sleep for another half hour in the morning since I don’t have to drive over and pick you up.” Mom agreed to the sleepover as we did it all the time. I had some extra clothes in Amy’s closet for just this kind of thing, just like she had stuff at my house. We spent the night catching up on homework and preparing for our talk when my phone rang just after eleven.

“Hi, Ocean! Thank you so much for calling me back. I’m here with my best friend Amy,” I said over the videophone. I was almost shaking with excitement.

“Aloho Vicki and Amy! I got your idea, and it’s interesting. I’ve got a few people in the room who I thought might want to hear it.” She introduced her husband Juan, shark expert Doctor Felipe Martinez, and World Wildlife Federation Director Pamela Kettering. “This is the high school student I told you about; I’ve been friends with her since she was six. Vicki, the floor is yours.”

I cleared my throat. “For my senior project, I wanted to do something to help with shark awareness and protection. Despite years of surveys and tagging, the world still doesn’t know enough about the movements of sharks on a year to year basis. My project is to implement a donor-funded tagging and tracking program to increase the number of tagged sharks of all species by order of magnitude.”

“That’s a fine goal,” Director Pamela said, “but shark tagging and tracking is an expensive process. We typically tag between two and five hundred sharks in US waters each year. How are you going to expand tagging by that much with limited research resources?”

“By allowing people to adopt sharks for a reasonable price. They purchase a satellite tag, and when it is attached to a shark, they get a photo and the transceiver number. They can watch on a website to see where it is now. We could set it up to give them text message updates and allow them to share their shark on social messaging. Heck, if we can sell people a star, a shark is so much cooler a gift!”

There was some laughter in the background. “It’s been done before and failed,” Doctor Martinez said. “The University of Miami had a program like this a decade ago. (Author’s Note: See sharkresearch.rsmas.miami.edu/donate/adopt-a-shark/ ) It never really caught on because it was too expensive, and there were too few sharks available to adopt.”

“Yes, sir. I talked to the University about why, and I have some ideas on that. First of all, the cost of satellite tracking devices has come WAY down since then. In quantity, they are about three hundred dollars each, correct?”

“That sounds about right,” he said.

“That makes it much more affordable and should result in more participation. The cost is achievable by individuals or class fundraisers.” I was nervous, but at least they hadn’t laughed at me.

“The satellite tag is just a small part of the cost of a tracking program, Vicki. On a good day, we might tag a dozen sharks, needing a boat and crew and fuel. There’s only so many of those,” she said.

“That’s the second part of the proposal. I propose that we enlist the help of sport and commercial fishermen in our efforts to tag the sharks.” I heard the intake of breath; the relationship between conservationists and fishermen was not always good. Commercial fishing for sharks was banned less than a decade ago, but ‘accidental’ mortality in nets and on long lines still killed tens of thousands of sharks a year. “The new trackers attach to the dorsal fin without tools in a few seconds, and the boats already bring sharks onboard. A picture and a tag, and we’re on our way. You don’t get the detailed data, blood samples, and such we get on a research vessel, but it costs us almost nothing.”

There was some talking in the background, and the conversation flew around us as they talked back and forth about the idea. “Vicki, how do you propose we get the cooperation of the fishing fleets?”

“Let’s start with the sport-fishing group,” I said. “Most of them are catch-and-release already, so we appeal to them to help us understand and manage the populations. It’s a true statement that hunters and anglers have done more for conservation efforts than anyone else. They still get to fish, but when they let it go, they can track it. I wouldn’t doubt that we get a lot of people buying tags so they can follow the trophies they have caught. Also, they are more likely to release a shark with a tracking device than one without.”

“Interesting,” Pamela said. “What about commercial fishermen?”

“They are already under pressure to reduce the number of shark deaths due to their activities,” I said. “It can help them in a few ways. Tagging sharks they release gives us a better idea of the delayed mortality of the catch. Tracking the sharks can also give them real-time information on current patterns, allowing them to avoid shark concentrations. It also means better information on areas that require protection on a seasonal basis.”

“Seasonal,” Ocean asked.

“Yes. The major opposition to marine reserves and no-fishing zones is that we are ‘taking away’ areas where they can fish. If we can show that shorter duration restrictions, like fishing seasons, would protect identified breeding and nursery grounds? It would be easier to get that passed than a blanket restriction.”

We talked for another thirty minutes, as I answered questions. In the end, it was Ocean who brought things to a close. “You’ve given us a lot to think about, Vicki. We’re impressed with what you’ve done.”

“Thank you!” Having a famous person on board would help get things going.

“You’re the one we should be thanking,” Pamela said. “I think your idea has great potential, but potential means nothing without the will to carry through on the idea. It will take a lot of time, a lot of networking, and a lot of work to get it going. My question is simple: how much do you want this?”

“I’ve been crazy about sharks since I was four,” I told them. “It doesn’t matter that I live more than a thousand miles from an ocean because I’m passionate about this.”

“Good, because you’re going to be front and center for the rollout and the advertising,” Ocean said. “Face it, I’m getting older, and you’ve got the look I did when I first started. It’s time to pass the torch.”

Before the call ended, I had an invitation to go to Hawaii over spring break and dive with Ocean and her research team. The team gave me contacts in their organizations to work with, the goal of having a formal proposal ready by June and the first sales in time for Christmas.

“OH MY GOD,” I screamed as I hung up. Amy and I started jumping around and screaming; this was BIG. I was on a first-name basis with people who could help me make a difference.

Amy’s Mom came into the room, telling us to quiet down and get to sleep.

Sleep did not come quickly. I was on the path towards my dreams, and nothing was going to stop it.