Novel & Cerita Ship Bases

"Currently docked at Berth 54." "That’s why the Queens apartment was empty," I realize. "Orlov was the distraction on the ground. The real command center is floating. They’re mobile. They hit, they move, they vanish into international waters." It’s brilliant. I hate them for it, but I respect the strategy. It’s clean. It keeps the assets off American soil where I have eyes everywhere. "Pull the manifest," I say. "I want to know who’s on that ship." "It’s a bulk carrier," Wong says, accessing the port authority database. "Crew of twenty-two. Mostly Russian nationals. Captain is a guy named Dymov."

The warships surrounding this building were of a different level entirely, as he was sure that one shot from their main cannon could directly vaporize their current ship. Though only 10 warships were patrolling, their quality alone was enough as a deterrence. These were war machines. The armor of the ships gleamed ominously as the sun rays shone down on them, making them look even more intimidating. Their fleet finally stopped outside the perimeter created by these fleet of warships, as the Neo-Rome Captain came down while ordering them to follow. The Captain ignored the other platforms that were boisterous and blooming with people, he led them directly to this central platform.

I tapped Ted beside me, signaling him to help. "The ship is like a mobile base of operations, a safe haven of sorts. It's under the radar, where remaining families can stay. It's mobile, so we can go anywhere we want. Most of the lower city folk prefer to stay there to avoid turf wars." The ship stood proud near the harbor. We had to take a speedboat back and forth three times to transport both us and the boxes. By the second trip, I lost my patience and yelled at the captain, "Take us to the damn harbor so we can load the boxes quickly! We're being followed, you idiots!"

Here is the place where ships used for sailing are repaired. It was one of Larica Shipment’s properties and it is not far from the shipping port where the center of business is. I didn’t pay attention to the looks of some of Papa’s employees who kept on pulling something while looking in my direction from time to time. They knew me because I always walk past the area whenever I go to the dock, and it was their first time seeing me with a man. Tch. Good thing that they kept their mouths shut or else…

even began. The Shipyard was a "Non-Euclidean-Scaffold" the size of a solar system, built from "Ghost-Steel" and "Compressed-Gravity." It was a graveyard of "Prototype-Universes," half-finished "Gears-of-Existence," and "Blueprints-Carved-in-Vacuum." Unlike the "Wild-Multiverse," which was a product of "Accidental-Chaos," the Shipyard was a place of "Abandoned-Design." It was the "Studio" of the "Origin," left behind when the "Smith" retired to see what his "Creation" would do on its own.

He tilted his head, “And how do you see this playing out? You know all they need is a single reason to pin us down.” I gestured at the screen. “Pier 37 stays our main focus, but we set up dummy shipments at Dock 32 and Dock 28. We move the decoys at staggered times—same day, different hours. That way, if they’re watching one spot, they don’t have the manpower to cover the others. Plus, the noise from those docks will mask the movement at 37.” Alessandro tapped his fingers on the desk, considering. “And the timing?”

"The‍y co‍n​trol the Mediter​ranean‌ access, C⁠eleste. We can't move our automat⁠ed logis​tics l⁠ine or our tech‍ comp‍one‌nt⁠s into th‌e eastern markets without pa​ssing thro‌ugh those specif‌ic⁠ port⁠s. Ther‌e is no altern‌ative route availabl‌e on th⁠e open marke​t.⁠" "The​re is i⁠f we route through the North Sea," she r‍epl‌ie‍d, a small, t​riumphant smile tou‌ching her lips as she leaned cl‍oser to him. "Thre‌e y‍ears ago, Alistair used a Ha‍rringt​o‌n shell c‌ompany reg‍is⁠tere‌d in P​a​nama to‌ purchase a defunct, heav‌ily fortifie‌d na⁠val shipya​rd just outside of Rott​erdam.‌ I⁠t’s com‌pletely private, e‍ quipped with military-grade⁠ dry docks, an‍d‍ has direct deep-wate​r access‌

Binny was getting on that ship today, chains and all, and he was going home. I was not. I’d made my peace with that somewhere on the walk over. Or close enough to it. The closer I got the more I could see. Three large ships sat at the water bank, the biggest one in the middle and the other two flanking it on either side. Councilors I recognized were standing near the clearing in loose groups, watching the loading process. I moved through the edge of the crowd and started scanning faces. Guards stood in tight rows between me and the dock. I looked through them, past them, searching for blonde hair and a familiar set of shoulders.

The warship stretched across the display. Four kilometers long. Daniel shook his head slowly. “That’s not a ship.” Sophia spoke quietly. “That is a command fortress.” Elizabeth looked at Lewis. “And Adrian Vale is inside it.” Lewis nodded. “Yes.” Emma zoomed the radar further. The escort submarines were now moving into a tight formation around the giant vessel. “They’re protecting it.” Victor nodded. “Standard defense pattern.” Daniel crossed his arms. “So the boss has arrived.” Sophia looked at the system clock. “Arrival in eighteen minutes.”

If anything against our hold occurred within the city limits, he would know. "All right. That's what I thought. When is the shipment due?" I asked, moving toward the floor-to-ceiling window and staring out at the ocean. "Tonight. Just before midnight," Cordero answered. "Then make certain the shipyard is covered and our buddies in the Coast Guard are on high alert. If there is another boat in close proximity, I want to know about it." "Will do, boss."