NOVGO.NET Chapter 42: Days Of Rest
Chapter 42: Days Of Rest
Seven days after the storage-vault cull, sunlight reached three empty mugs on the kitchen table.
Fin finally rested after the escort and laboratory raids, leaving local patrols to the relief roster.
He shifted on the narrow sofa, his shoulder muscles locking with sudden phantom frostbite.
His right hand shook as he reached for a glass of water on the side table.
The glass clattered against the wood, water spilling over the edges before his fingers could close.
"Do not try to lift that glass," Ruby commanded from the kitchen counter.
"I just wanted a drink of water," he muttered, flexing his stiff knuckles.
’Those repeated bursts of speed will make any body feel like scrap iron,’ he thought.
"You burned forty stamina points repeatedly before you finally agreed to rest," she noted, setting a bowl on the table.
"My stamina bar returned to one hundred percent at dawn," he replied.
"Your numbers returned, but your biological nervous system needs time to catch up," she countered.
Jolly glanced up from her student laptop, adjusting her spectacles with practiced precision.
"Ruby is correct," Jolly stated, tapping a pencil against her black notebook.
"Your reaction time is down eleven percent based on how long you took to reach for that glass."
’Now they are teaming up to audit my morning reflexes,’ he thought.
"Sit back against the cushions and eat the soup," Ruby ordered, stepping past the small coffee table.
She picked up his hatchet and twin matte-black daggers from the side shelf.
"Hey, those belong in my inventory," he said, watching her carry the weapons toward the cabinet.
"Weapons are banned from your hands until your fingers stop shaking," she replied, locking the cabinet door.
"You sound like a drill sergeant running a field hospital," he grumbled.
"I spent four years running triage tents before I met you," she retorted with a smirk.
"Field hospitals have better bedside manners than this apartment," he muttered, taking the spoon.
Fin tasted the hot broth, savoring the rich blend of shredded chicken, ginger, and scallions.
"Grade this broth for the kitchen ledger," Ruby said, looking at the little sister.
"Seven out of ten," Jolly answered, writing a note in her ruled column.
"A seven is decent for someone who usually eats ration bars out of tactical pouches," he said.
"The flavor balance is adequate, but the sliced carrots lack uniform geometry," Jolly clarified.
"Carrots do not need geometric angles to feed a hungry hunter," Ruby answered, shaking her head.
"Every item in this kitchen requires proper standards," Jolly replied without looking up from her screen.
Ruby laughed softly, sitting cross-legged on the floor mat near the sofa.
She pulled an oily sharpening cloth from her pocket, polishing the silver tip of her kite shield.
"Corporate news is broadcasting the aftermath of our District Two visit," she said, nodding toward the wall screen.
A news anchor on the small holo-screen read a sanitized press release from central headquarters.
"Authorities discovered twenty-four abandoned incubation vats in a decommissioned warehouse," the anchor announced in a serious tone.
"The High Council praised anonymous local hunters for securing the evidence before illegal syndicates could destroy the site."
"Look at that, they called us anonymous local hunters," he noted with a dry chuckle.
’Anonymous is the safest name in this city when you are holding stolen council ledgers,’ he thought.
"They did not mention Dr Thorne by name," Jolly observed, scrolling through municipal news feeds.
"Thorne is probably sitting in an interrogation cell trying to negotiate immunity," Ruby said, wiping her spear shaft.
"The council will bury his name to protect their own reputations," he agreed.
The screen switched to an entertainment broadcast showing sponsored hunters arguing inside an expensive guild penthouse.
A blonde duelist in silk armor threw a silver goblet against the wall over a ruined tournament cape.
"Look at these clowns screaming over stained velvet," he remarked, shaking his head.
"Those corporate celebrities would collapse after one four-hour overtime shift on the packing line," Ruby agreed.
"Their sponsor contracts pay ten million credits for three camera appearances," Jolly noted, auditing the screen ticker.
"That money comes with a leash made of gold wire," he answered, setting down his spoon.
A low golden chime resonated inside his chest, vibrating with soothing warmth.
[ Passive trigger: Predator’s Digestion II weekly cycle complete ]
[ Compounding yield: +1.5% to absorbed physical attributes ]
[ Absorbed physical pools: strength 24; agility 29; endurance 33 ]
[ Fractional growth banked: strength +0.36; agility +0.435; endurance +0.495 ]
[ Displayed attributes unchanged: fractions retained until a whole point accrues ]
[ Health: 180/180 ]
Warm energy surged through his torso, smoothing the frayed tendons in his forearms.
He lifted the glass without spilling, finding that rest finally steadied his grip.
"The fraction stays in the ledger," he said. "The soup and sleep did the work on my hands."
’Almost half an endurance point banked while I sit here eating soup,’ he thought.
"Your breathing just shifted," Ruby noted, looking up from her shield with sharp eyes.
"My digestion skill completed its weekly cycle," he answered, rolling his shoulders with ease.
"Your passive ability grows even when you are asleep on a couch?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Monopolies compound their interest every single week, partner," he replied with a faint grin.
"That is the most terrifying sentence you have spoken all morning," she remarked.
His phone buzzed on the counter with a text message from Bram at the lower market.
Bram wrote that five corporate vanguards abandoned their posts to catch overseas transport flights.
"The Iron Dogs say the upper guilds cleared out their District Four offices," he reported.
"Everyone with expensive armor is chasing billion-credit bounties across the Pacific," Ruby said.
"That leaves the lower streets with zero high-tier defense crews," Jolly noted, entering the data.
A sharp clatter echoed from the front door as the brass mail slot snapped open.
A thick parchment envelope slipped through the opening, landing flat upon the entrance mat.
Jolly pushed her chair back, walking to the door to retrieve the delivery.
"The envelope has a crimson wax seal," Jolly announced, examining the embossed crest.
"That is the Regional Defense Command insignia," Ruby warned, rising to her feet instantly.
Jolly brought the letter to the table, handing the sealed document to her brother.
Fin broke the wax seal, unfolding the crisp military document beneath the kitchen lamp.
"Civil Defense Mobilization Notice," he read aloud, scanning the printed text.
"The Pacific disaster gate breach has triggered emergency conscription across all lower districts."
"District Four is establishing an auxiliary defense depot on the old market lot," Ruby added, reading over his shoulder.
"They listed our strike unit on the active duty roster," he noted.
"Who is listed as the squad commander?" Jolly asked, pencil hovering over her page.
Fin stared at the bold black ink stamped at the bottom of the page with disbelief.
"Unit: Fourth District Auxiliary Reserve," he read slowly.
"Commander: Fin, Grade-D Independent."
’The Association gave a warehouse packer an official command roster for an entire district,’ he thought.
"They made you the commanding officer of the local militia," Ruby said, crossing her arms.
"They probably ran out of licensed officers when the big guilds flew overseas," he answered.
"When does the first muster report to the depot?" Jolly asked, flipping to a fresh page.
"Tomorrow morning at six o’clock sharp," he replied, folding the mobilization order.
Jolly uncapped her red pen, writing the date and time beneath the Halden House header.
"We need to buy extra bandages, tea leaves, and emergency provisions for the depot," she stated.
"Our household budget has enough surplus to cover three weeks of militia supplies," he said.
Ruby retrieved his hatchet and twin daggers from the cabinet, placing them on the table.
"Your hands are steady now," she noted, looking at his calm expression.
"The rest shift is officially over, partner," he answered, strapping the weapons to his belt.
The morning bells of District Four chimed in the distance, calling the working city to life.
A storm was gathering across the ocean, but on Halden Street, the defense line was set.