Chapter 49

# Day 16 - 16:03

The comms alarm still rang in Zhao’s ears as Verne motioned Kim to patch the incoming line onto the big display. This time it was video. Everyone but Victoria and Maggie stayed rooted to their seats, eyes fixed on the wide, glareless monitor mounted above the nav table.

The feed crackled, dropped frames, then resolved into a close-up of Rosa Carmona, owner and commander of the Red Solstice.

Rosa sat at her bridge’s helm like a sovereign, her black hair shaved close except for a razor-straight part above the temple, cheekbones sharpened to blade edge, a blood-red silk robe visible at the shoulder before vanishing out of frame. The room behind her was all matte white and gunmetal, with two women in matching security blacks flanking the command chair. Neither blinked as the video snapped to full resolution.

“Blue Oasis,” Rosa said, stretching the words in perfect, Paris-inflected English. “How does it feel to be obsolete?”

Vivienne muttered something under her breath, but nobody replied.

Rosa cocked her head, studying the camera. “Not even the owner on deck. How very... predictable.” Her smile was dry. “But Anaïs, I suppose you will do.”

Verne braced both palms on the nav table. “You called. State your demand.”

Rosa’s nostrils flared, and she turned, catching Vivienne’s reflection in her own screen. “Vivienne, darling. I thought for certain you’d gone down with the last Laurent heir.” She smiled, this time wider. “Or perhaps you did, and this is your ghost. How darling.”

Vivienne bared her teeth, but didn’t rise.

Rosa let her gaze drift back to Verne. “You know what I want. I am not interested in games. Surrender your key, and the cock, and I will spare the rest. They are of no use in this new world.” She held up two fingers, red lacquered nails glinting. “Two things. Key. Cock.”

Kim nearly snorted, but caught herself.

Maggie, standing just inside the hatch, growled, “Say that again, Carmona?”

Rosa leaned forward, so close the camera showed the subtle scar running under her left eye. “The key, Captain. Your owner boasted he had the last. Don’t make me repeat myself about the boy.”

Kim scoffed. “He’s not a boy. He’s a man. And he doesn’t belong to you.”

Rosa ignored her, focused entirely on Verne. “Anaïs, I’m being reasonable. In this new world, survival is the only morality. You have one vector, we have three. I will have yours, and you will either accept the future or die with the rest.” She enunciated every word. “The era of vanity projects and toy harems is over.”

Verne held her gaze. “What if we refuse?”

Rosa didn’t blink. “You won’t. You’re outgunned, outmanned, and your hull leaks more data than a sieve. You have two security personnel, and only one is combat-trained.” She glanced to her right, offscreen, then back. “If you try to run, we will catch you. If you try to fight, we will board and take by force. If you cooperate, you will be free to go. There is dignity in that.”

Zhao felt the gaze shift, as if Rosa could see him through the monitor. “As for the cock: he will be well-kept. I don’t waste resources.”

Kim cut in. “What about the men you already have? Not enough spunk in the vault?”

Rosa’s lips curled. “They are immune, yes. But like all things, redundancy is essential.” She made a chopping motion with one hand. “I breed for outcomes, not sentiment. I will have every option, until the war is won.”

Kim glanced sideways at Zhao, but he didn’t move. His spine felt hollow, and the air in the room went thin.

Rosa’s voice was honey-smooth. “You are out of moves, Captain. I suggest you use the next twenty-four hours to make peace with your choices.” She straightened, robe settling around her like a flag of victory. “At oh-seven-hundred, you will receive coordinates for docking. My crew will be ready to receive you.” Her eyes narrowed. “Resist, and there will be no survivors.”

The screen blanked out. A logo appeared—a red sun, half-sunk behind stylized waves—then disappeared.

Nobody spoke.

Victoria broke the silence, voice low and venomous. “She’s worse than the fucking crawlers. At least the monsters eat you. She’ll keep you in a box.”

Verne reached up, pinched the bridge of her nose. “She means what she says.”

Vivienne shut her tablet. “She’ll kill everyone but Zhao and anyone she thinks can be retrained. Maybe the mechanics, the engineers. The rest…” She didn’t finish the thought.

Kim looked at Zhao. “We can’t let them take you. You know that, right?”

He nodded, but it felt distant, like someone else’s head moving.

Maggie cracked her knuckles. “We’ve got one night. That’s enough for a last stand, or a break for it.”

Verne shot her a warning look. “Nobody’s breaking. We fight, but we don’t waste lives. If we can run, we run. If not…” She looked at Zhao, and the entire room did, too.

He tried to say something, but the words choked. “If they want me, maybe I go,” he said, voice smaller than he wanted.

Victoria snapped, “That’s not your call. Don’t even start.”

Zhao felt the shame burn up his chest, but the fear was worse.

Vivienne touched his hand, fingers light. “She won’t keep you alive. Not for long. You’d be a resource, not a person.”

Kim’s voice was quieter than usual. “She’s not lying about having three men already. It’s in her logs. She probably cycles them. Milk them like animals, a fate worse than death.”

Maggie's jaw worked, then she said, "We need a plan."

Verne's eyes darted to the ceiling camera, then to the console's blinking status light. "We will. Not here." She tapped her wrist twice, the signal they'd established weeks ago. "Isabelle, clear out the private dinning salon. Strip it. Nothing with a chip or circuit. Full blackout protocol."

Victoria's hand slid to her sidearm, understanding immediately. "How long?"

"One hour," Verne said, voice dropping to barely above a whisper. She looked directly at Zhao, her expression grave. "No devices. No exceptions."

The group dispersed. Victoria and Maggie made a beeline for the armory, Kim returned to her consoles, and Vivienne lingered, watching Zhao with an intensity that made him want to vanish.

He tried to leave, but she caught his wrist. “Don’t do anything stupid,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

He swallowed. “What’s the smart thing?”

She smiled, but it was all teeth. “Outlive her.”

He nodded, but inside he knew: twenty-four hours wasn’t enough. Not for a miracle, not for an escape.

Not even for goodbye.

He wondered what it would feel like to become a resource. To become a livestock. He wondered if, when the time came, he would fight, or just let them take him.

Outside, the ship’s engines growled louder, and the hull shivered against the rising wind.

He watched the horizon, waiting for the red sun to rise.