NOVGO.NET Chapter 36: Across The Sea
Chapter 36: Across The Sea
Emergency siren tones howled through the small laptop speakers, filling the quiet kitchen with the panicked static of an international broadcast.
"That alarm is not a domestic gate warning," he muttered from the stove, watching the red news banner scroll across the screen.
’The broadcast frequency is overriding every commercial channel simultaneously,’ he thought, setting the spoon onto a clean ceramic saucer.
Jolly sat at the table with her spectacles pushed up, staring at the satellite feed with wide, unblinking dark eyes.
"The Pacific disaster gate opened before even the revised six-month estimate," she stated in a low whisper, pointing her pencil toward the ocean map.
On the glowing screen, satellite footage captured a terrifying vortex tearing through the open sea thousands of kilometers away from their coastline.
Black ocean water boiled into rising geysers of pressurized steam, dark leviathans surfacing through the dimensional tear like living mountain ridges.
"Agh... the naval fleet vanished in four seconds," a trembling commentator gasped through the audio stream, his broadcast microphone shaking with panic.
"Code Omega cataclysm confirmed across the eastern hemisphere," an automated voice announced, replacing the news anchor with military emergency alert cards.
’That gate opened without waiting for the standard thirty-day stabilization period,’ he thought, feeling his internal Pulse stat hum behind his ribs.
"Look at the upper district sky," she said softly, turning her small head toward the narrow kitchen window overlooking the city center.
Supersonic transport aircraft roared upward from the glittering high-tier landing pads, their twin engine trails carving white scars through storm clouds.
"All the famous corporate heroes are running away," she observed, tapping her pencil against the ledger margin with grim childish calculation.
"They are not running away for free," he replied in a dry tone, pulling his jacket from the wall hook near the threshold.
"The international syndicates are flying their best vanguards overseas to secure billion-credit disaster relief bounties," he explained with quiet cynicism.
"And they leave the lower districts with zero defense," she concluded, writing a new debit column titled Desertion across her open notebook.
’A city stripped of its sponsored champions becomes a buffet for scavengers,’ he thought, checking his pockets for remaining paper currency chits.
"Watch the front door latch while I visit the market," he instructed, resting his calloused palm against the crown of her head.
"Buy four sacks of grain instead of two," she answered without looking up, her red pen circling local food supply projections.
"We need enough dry calories to withstand a three-month siege if the district bridges lock," she added with clinical composure.
He walked down the dim stairwell into the street, finding the morning boulevard gripped by the frantic murmur of rising public panic.
Shopkeepers were already hammering shutters over storefronts, shouting new inflated prices over crates of cabbages while delivery carts rattled past rapidly.
He visited the wholesale grain depot behind the tram terminal, purchasing eighty kilos of polished rice and ten bundles of salted beef.
[ Item acquired: 80kg polished rice ]
[ Item acquired: 10kg salted provisions ]
[ Storage location: sub-space inventory ]
"Are you hoarding food for a siege, porter?" the fat grain merchant asked suspiciously, counting the paper credits with sweaty, shaking thumbs.
"I have a sister with an appetite," he answered in an even voice, letting his inventory swallow the sacks beneath the counter.
’If the supply lines freeze, grain will cost more than gold within forty-eight hours,’ he calculated, stepping back into the crowded street.
"Look at the sky, little brother," Bram called out from his open doorway, resting his dented shield against an overturned fruit crate.
"The big guild vanguards took every transport to chase oceanic glory," the veteran grunted, spitting dark tobacco onto the cracked pavement.
"Then District Four belongs to the porters who stayed behind," he answered with a faint smirk, walking past the barricade toward home.
’Bram is an old dog, but an old dog knows when to guard the gate,’ he thought, carrying the provisions with steady strides.
Deep beneath the city in a windowless command sanctum, thirty bio-monitors illuminated the shadowy silhouettes of the Genesis Executive Directorate.
The Chair leaned forward, studying the Pacific devastation as though the losses belonged to pieces on a board.
"The celestial distraction deployed with acceptable efficiency," the Chair said softly, tapping a laser stylus against the glass conference table.
"Every high-ranking Association frontline brigade departed for oceanic relief contracts," the Purse confirmed, reviewing financial transfer ledgers with a dry corporate smirk.
"District Four is stripped of official oversight," a third voice noted, bringing up live satellite maps of the impoverished southern sectors.
"Deploy Project Chimera Phase Four," the Chair commanded in a flat tone, watching his terminal screens reflect green data across the glass.
"We need field telemetry on biomass assimilation before the continental gate makes landfall," the Chair added, pressing his authorization key into the console.
Back on Halden Street, the citywide civil defense sirens shifted their tone, dropping into a single, unbroken mechanical drone that rattled windowpanes.
[ Defense readiness state one ]
The automated broadcast declared complete municipal martial law, advising all unranked civilians to seek shelter beneath designated regional blast bunkers immediately.
His personal handheld chimed with an encrypted incoming transmission, displaying Ruby’s emergency tactical callsign across the small green illuminated interface screen.
"The Association pulled every active officer from the precinct," her voice arrived through the speaker, tight with suppressed anger and fatigue.
"They ordered Vega-6 to board an emergency transport to District One," she continued, her breathing sharp over the distant wailing sirens.
"Are you getting on that transport?" he asked in a calm monotone, stepping into the shadowed alley behind the old market.
"I threw my official transport chit into the gutter," she answered fiercely, the sound of her kite shield strapping tight audible over the link.
"I am holding the civilian shelter gate in District Four," she added, her soldier resolve cutting through the citywide panic like steel.
"Stay inside apartment 4B unless the building foundation gives out," she instructed, her voice softening for half a second before the static flared.
"The roof is my shift," he replied simply, closing the channel before she could waste valuable breath arguing against his stubborn nature.
’She chose her ground, and I already chose mine,’ he thought, climbing the steps back toward his fourth-floor walk-up apartment.
He unlocked the door, finding his sister where he left her, watching the television without its sound.
"How many food supply days do we hold if the municipal grid fails?" he asked, checking the water valves beneath the kitchen sink.
"With the new grain bags, we hold seventy-four days of balanced nutrition," she answered, recording the inventory totals into her ledger.
’Seventy-four days is long enough to clear a dozen rifts or dismantle an invading syndicate,’ he calculated with grim satisfaction.
On the screen, satellite cameras freeze-framed a cataclysmic aquatic leviathan the size of an entire metropolitan district crashing through offshore sea walls.
Jolly closed the laptop with both hands, snapping it shut like an invoice she refused to pay.
"The numbers do not balance," she said in a clear, unbroken voice, looking up at him as he set the door bolt into place.
"Then we will balance them ourselves when the bill arrives," he answered, checking the honed edges of the daggers hidden within his belt.