Down in the harbor, chaos took over. Three large fishing trawlers were caught outside the bay. The captains couldn't see the shore, their radars were blank, and they were deaf to the world. They were drifting blind toward the rocks.
The rain in the Sector didn't just fall; it hammered against the rusted corrugated metal of Elias’s roof like a thousand small, angry fists. He sat at a workbench cluttered with salvaged gears and humming glass capacitors, trying to ignore the dull ache in his knees—a reminder of the years spent in the deep-crust mines. believer