Trident's Forge Read Online Free PDF

owner of the only custom construction company in the city. Since landing, his wealth and sense of entitlement had both grown at roughly similar rates.
    Everyone was entitled to a home. But if you had the money and wanted something more than the standard, cookie-cutter layout, Alexander Custom Builders was where you went. And although his power and influence were substantial, he wasn’t a council member per se, even if it was rumored that several of them were deeply indebted to him in the form of exceedingly generous upgrades to their home designs, provided free of charge with a wink and a nod. Theresa found his inclusion at a “secret” meeting troubling, but pressed on.
    â€œWe were obviously mistaken, Mr Alexander,” Valmassoi said. “And I’d remind you that you’ve been included in this meeting as a courtesy, so please try to contain yourself.”
    Alexander glowered, but returned to silence for the moment.
    Theresa leaned back in her chair and smirked. The Unbound, or what remained of them after the trials of David Kimura’s coconspirators had thinned their ranks, had struck out for themselves and established a small fishing village twenty kilometers north of Shambhala. Close enough to trade with the rest of humanity when necessary, but far enough away to maintain privacy and independence, which had been the hallmarks of their hermit society even while they had eked out a living hiding in the sublevels of the Ark.
    A sudden and powerful hurricane had leveled their village a year earlier and swept the bodies out to sea. Or so everyone had been led to believe.
    â€œWell,” Benson put his arms behind his head. “That explains why we never found their bodies. There weren’t any bodies to find.”
    â€œThen how the hell did they get across the ocean?” Alexander barked.
    â€œIsn’t it obvious?” Theresa said. “They’ve been living as fishermen for two years.”
    â€œAre you saying they crossed several thousand kilometers of open ocean in fishing canoes at the height of hurricane season? That’s preposterous!”
    â€œIt’s either that or the breaststroke,” Theresa replied.
    â€œActually, it’s neither.” Benson circled something on his tablet. “Can you give my pad access to the big screen, please?”
    The tech in the corner glanced over at Valmassoi, who nodded his acceptance. Two keystrokes later and a satellite image appeared of the Unbound’s village from a day before the hurricane hit with a big red circle around one of the buildings by the shore.
    â€œEverybody see that ‘barn’ right on the shore? Does it look suspiciously like an upside down boat to anyone else?” He zoomed in on a pair of large triangular tents. “And those are sails, if I’m any judge.”
    â€œWhat are you suggesting, detecti… Mr Benson?” Mahama’s image asked.
    â€œSimple. The Unbound planned out this whole thing. They built a boat that could handle the ocean right under our noses, then used the hurricane to cover their escape.”
    â€œNo way,” Valmassoi shook his head in protest. “We’d have spotted them. The satellites we have in orbit have centimeter resolution, for god’s sake.”
    â€œNot necessarily,” Theresa added. “We don’t have anything near complete real-time coverage of the surface. We only had the eighteen platforms Pathfinder dropped into orbit when it arrived, minus the four we’ve already lost to breakdowns. There are gaps. We have to prioritize surveillance targets, and the open ocean isn’t high on the list. One of our birds can see if you’re holding a tablet. But we have to know where to point it.”
    Alexander scoffed. “Are you telling me that a bunch of low-tech fishermen evaded the Ark and her illustrious crew?”
    Theresa’s husband couldn’t help but laugh at that.
    â€œSomething humorous,