The trimaran changed course for Sunset Harbor. After five hours of rain-soaked travel, more reefs began to break the surface. And as the ground rose, the islands grew denser and denser.
Just days ago, those “islands” had been mountaintops.
Along the way they argued about the downpour. Stella insisted that no matter how hard it rained, it couldn’t restore a planet’s oceans in half a month. Something else had to be at work. The others agreed.
Eisen offered a counterpoint: the Starsea Ocean had once been the deepest ocean on Lansen. If the entire planet had been under nonstop torrential rain for two weeks, then the Starsea would be the first place to fill. Add the recent war in the Arctic—surely it had melted a vast amount of ice—and the Starsea was connected to the polar regions. Multiple factors, together, could explain the world they were seeing.
That argument won quick support.
Wyatt didn’t commit either way. He’d learned not to obsess over problems that had no answer yet. If he took every mystery that seriously, his brain might have crashed and burned long ago.
Right now, he cared about one thing: reaching Sunset Harbor, finding pontoons—or something that could replace them—then assembling the seaplane and flying safely to the Arctic to deliver Linneya to Lord Julian.
If he could do that, he wouldn’t have to live every day with his systems twisted tight over her safety.
…
Wyatt climbed onto the deck and stared east through the rain. Faint, blurred mountain ranges haunted the horizon. But comparing the view to their map made one thing clear: they were still far from where the coastline used to be.
The flood had redrawn the land into a jagged, shifting “shore.” And because this region had once been mountainous, the waters near the edge were a dangerous maze.
Dorian, Wyatt, and Big Blue had never sailed a sea in their lives. Fortunately, Eisen had at least some experience with boats, so piloting the trimaran fell to him.
Eisen deliberately kept their speed low to avoid running aground. Ever since the ‘shore’ came into view, the others had been staring at the eastern coastline without blinking, searching for the outline of buildings. They saw nothing—not because they were wrong, but because the ocean hadn’t fully returned. At the moment, Sunset Harbor could barely be called a harbor at all. From the deck, you simply couldn’t see it.
The trimaran crept along the ‘shore’ for another hour. By then they were slightly past Eisen’s estimated position. That meant they’d have to go inland to find it.
Wyatt decided to disembark and search on foot.
He had Eisen steer into a narrow bay surrounded by mountains on three sides and told everyone to wait there. Then he threw on a simple cloak Stella had sewn for him and stepped onto land, pushing east through the rain.
After about two kilometers, he heard a steady roar threaded into the rainfall. Following the sound, he looked up—and saw a massive shadow rising into the sky from the ground. He could even make out flame at its underside. At a certain height the shadow disappeared into the cloud cover. The roar faded. The shape shrank until it was gone.
A large warship.
Wyatt climbed a nearby summit to scout, but the rain and fog limited him to the closest ridgelines. The horizon was a smear of gray.
In a mountain range like this, the only place capable of launching and receiving a warship that size had to be Sunset Harbor Base.
He moved toward where the ship had lifted off. Another five kilometers later, the silhouette of a tall tower appeared on a distant mountain. As he closed in, the outlines of orderly structures emerged as well.
Sunset Harbor—found.
Wyatt slowed down. Rain made cloaking impossible. From here on out, he had to be careful.
He only stepped where the ground was solid—ridgelines and slopes—avoiding muddy valleys and standing water. Before long, he reached the city below.
This human-era port city now looked more like a fortress perched on a mountaintop.
In the mud at the base of the slope lay scattered shipwrecks—remains of vessels from a thousand years ago. Most had rotted down to bare frames.
Wyatt understood what that meant: the ground beneath his feet would be submerged soon as well, until the flood restored the old coastline. It might even swallow the city entirely.
He found a gentler route and began to climb.
Halfway up, the roar returned—much louder than before. A colossal shadow rolled overhead. Clouds churned. Then a huge warship split the cloud layer and descended.
“Leviathan-class,” Wyatt confirmed to himself.
He hid until the interstellar cruiser left his line of sight, then continued.
Minutes later he reached the top—and the view opened up.
In the human era, Sunset Harbor had been a beautiful coastal city and the second-largest port on the western seaboard. Two-thirds of it was flat; the remaining third lay on a gentle slope facing the ocean. The locals rarely saw sunrise, but they enjoyed the most beautiful sunsets on the entire Prilan continent. That was how the city got its name.
Wyatt had never been here, but Eisen had. Before they left, Eisen had shared everything he knew, so Wyatt understood the city’s layout.
But time had done its work. What he saw now was nothing like Eisen’s memories.
Ruins covered the flats where prosperity once stood. Collapsed and half-collapsed human buildings sprawled in every direction. The ground was cratered so badly that even vehicles could have sunk into it. Everywhere, the scars of ancient bombardments were still visible. Farther up the slope, the broken skyline grew even denser—jagged and layered, like a mountain made of concrete rubble.
Because it lay far from the main fronts, Phantom Forge used the area as a logistics base after Judgment Day. Even though the base was large, it occupied only a small portion of the city.
Wyatt spotted it instantly. Nothing was easier to recognize than the towering signal mast.
He slipped into a building that had collapsed on one side, planning to cut through. Inside, scattered objects caught his attention. Their shapes looked remarkably close to the pontoons Dorian had described.
Wyatt searched his database and realized what they were.
Surfboards.
It was a shop that had sold surfboards.
He picked one up. It was light—almost weightless. But with just a little pressure, it crumbled like a cracker into several pieces.
So much for that.
Wyatt moved on and continued his approach. Before long he reached the base perimeter.
Rain and ruins were on his side. Patrols were sparse, and the city offered endless hiding spots, making reconnaissance easier than it should have been.
Sunset Harbor Base was indeed vast, but most of it was made up of tall factories. There were surprisingly few defenses—no walls, no energy fences. Wyatt circled half the perimeter and didn’t spot a single missile silo.
Then, in a massive open yard, he saw the Leviathan cruiser that had just landed. Around it were several escort frigates and dozens of fighters in different models.
The cruiser’s side bay doors were open. Dozens of Exilers stood in armed lines. Loading trucks ran back and forth between the cruiser and the factories, delivering rows of brand-new robots into the ship.
So that was it.
A robot production base.