Chapter 80

#Day 22 - 11:33

As Aida walked down the corridor toward the stairs leading to the lower deck holding cells, her mind refused to quiet.

The fishermen, drifting out there on their dying boat, thirty souls waiting for an answer she didn't know how to give. Alexis, the monster in the cell, the woman whose body produced miracles and whose presence made Aida's skin crawl. Chen, upstairs in her cabin, missing her afternoon feeding because Aida had been pulled away by the council, by the crisis, by everything except what mattered most.

How many more feedings will she miss?

Zhao would need to step in. Soon. She felt the storm coming—not the kind that shook the hull, but the kind that broke people. Something was going to go wrong. She could feel it in her bones, that old instinct that had warned her a thousand times about bad contracts, dangerous men, sets that would turn ugly.

And beneath all of it, a deeper worry. One she hadn't named until now.

Chen. Is she becoming family?

The question surfaced like a body in water. Aida had been avoiding it for days, maybe weeks. Chen was brilliant, broken, healing. Chen needed her. But need wasn't the same as family. Was it?

Will the others accept her?

Mei-Lin would. Mei-Lin accepted everyone. Zhao would try, because that's who he was. But Vivienne? Vivienne had enough to carry. And what about the family itself—how big could it grow before it stopped being a family and became something else? A committee. A collective. A crowd.

Will she still have time for the others?

The thought was selfish. Aida knew it. But it was there anyway, coiled in her chest. Mei-Lin. Zhao. Vivienne. They were her anchors. If the family kept growing, would she drift?

Will she form a second family if the others reject?

She pushed that thought down hard. It was too dark, too ugly, too much like the old world where everyone was replaceable. This wasn't the old world. This was different. It had to be.

So many things to talk about. So little time.

She filed it all away—shoved it into the mental drawer where she kept things she couldn't afford to feel right now. There was a monster to face. A monster she needed to beg.

Vivienne walked beside her, silent, focused. She'd changed out of her captain's uniform into something simpler—dark pants, a soft blue sweater, hair pulled back. She looked young. Too young for what she was about to do.

The holding cells loomed ahead. Two security guards nodded as they passed, their faces carefully neutral. The last door, the one with the reinforced lock and the extra surveillance, stood slightly ajar.

Alexis's cell.

They entered together.

Alexis was lying on her cot, one arm draped over her forehead, the other resting on her stomach. She wore the same loose clothing they'd given her weeks ago—a thin tank top, soft pants, bare feet. Her dark hair fanned across the pillow.

But her eyes were on Vivienne the moment they stepped through the door.

Aida saw it immediately. The way Alexis's gaze sharpened, traveled, lingered. The slight shift in her posture, the way her lips curved—not quite a smile, but something close.

Aida knew that look.

She'd seen it a thousand times. On casting couches, on sets, in green rooms. The look of someone assessing, calculating, wanting.

This was going to get messy.

Or—

Could this be an opportunity?

The thought came unbidden, and Aida hated herself for thinking it.

Alexis sat up slowly, deliberately, letting the movement draw attention. Her eyes flicked to Aida, then back to Vivienne.

"You're back." Her voice was warm, amused. "I was wondering how long it would take." She tilted her head. "But you brought a friend. How thoughtful."

Vivienne stepped forward. "I'm Captain Vivienne Laurent."

"Captain." Alexis rolled the word around. "What happened to the other one? Verne?"

A brief pause. "She died. Protecting this ship."

Something shifted in Alexis's expression. The amusement faded, replaced by something quieter, more genuine.

"Verne." She said the name like it meant something. "She was the only thing I looked forward to on this boat, you know. When they were auctioning me off. When Blanc was a potential buyer." She looked away, toward the wall. "I thought—if I ended up here, at least she'd be here. Someone who wouldn't... use me the way the others would."

Vivienne said nothing.

"She hated me." Alexis's voice was soft. "Didn't even know me, and she hated me. But I didn't care. I just wanted to be near someone who..." She trailed off, then laughed bitterly. "Broken women like me, we spend our whole lives looking for a good father figure. Someone safe. Someone who protects instead of takes. And we're so desperate for it that we let the bad ones in, over and over, because at least they're there."

She looked back at Vivienne.

"Verne was the only safe thing on this ship. And she hated me. But she was still... safe." A pause. "I respected that. I respect her."

The silence stretched. Aida felt something shift in her chest—a crack in the wall she'd built around Alexis, around the idea of her as just a monster.

Vivienne spoke quietly. "She earned that respect."

Alexis nodded. Then, as if shaking off a memory, she straightened. The mask slid back into place.

"So. You're the captain now. What about Blanc? What about Sophie?"

"Blanc is dead. My mother is..." Vivienne chose her words carefully. "Not fit to lead."

Alexis laughed—a genuine sound, surprised and delighted. "Game of Thrones stuff right there. Very on-brand for the Laurents." She grinned. "I knew your mother, back in the day. She never struck me as the type to step aside gracefully."

"She didn't step aside. She was pushed."

"By you?" Alexis's eyebrows rose. "Impressive."

Vivienne didn't take the bait. "We need your help."

The amusement in Alexis's eyes sharpened into something more calculating. She looked at Aida, then back at Vivienne.

"Help with what?"

"There are people—thirty of them. On a fishing boat. They're dying. They have no vector, no suppressants, nothing. They won't survive another few days."

Alexis listened. When Vivienne finished, she turned to Aida.

"Why isn't she treating them?" Alexis nodded at Aida. "You're the treatment coordinator, right? The famous Aida. Why aren't you doing your job?"

Aida kept her voice steady. "My team's schedule is full. We can't accommodate extra treatments right now."

Alexis stopped her with a raised hand.

"Let me guess." Her voice was soft, dangerous. "You think they're too dirty. Too unsafe. Too poor to touch."

Aida didn't answer. Because Alexis wasn't entirely wrong. Iqbal had been adamant—no treatment without screening, without Dawn Meter readings, without knowing what other diseases they carried. The refugee boat incident haunted them all.

Alexis smiled, but there was no warmth in it.

"I'm not made to save fishermen, Aida." She said the name like it tasted familiar. "I'm the plaything of the rich. The people who can change the world. You've seen what they can do—what they've done." She gestured vaguely at the ship, at everything. "What you're asking me to do now is become the plaything for the poor. For people who have nothing. Who are nothing, in the grand scheme of things."

She leaned forward.

"That's an insult. Do you understand? I have no obligation to save them. None."

The silence stretched. Aida felt the weight of it pressing down.

Vivienne spoke quietly. "What if we could make the deal sweeter?"

Alexis's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"

"Name your price. For saving them."

Alexis considered. For a long moment, she simply looked at Vivienne, her expression unreadable. Then she smiled.

"Freedom. And the spa on B-deck. My room."

Vivienne didn't hesitate. "Done."

Aida's chest tightened. That was too fast. Too easy. Alexis was just getting started.

"How many can you save?" Vivienne asked.

"Thirty, you said?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then thirty." Alexis cut her off. "I can save them all."

Vivienne stared at her. Aida felt her own surprise mirrored on the captain's face.

"That's... that's not possible. Not in the time we have."

"It's possible." Alexis's voice was calm. "But it's going to cost more."

Vivienne's jaw tightened. "Name it."

Alexis looked at her. Really looked. Her gaze traveled slowly, deliberately, and when she spoke, her voice was soft.

"A date. With you."

The words hung in the air like smoke.

Aida felt her stomach drop.

Vivienne didn't move. Didn't flinch. But Aida saw the flicker in her eyes, the quick breath she tried to hide.

Their gazes met. Just for a second.

Aida's eyes said no.

Vivienne's eyes said yes.

Because lives were at stake. Because thirty people were dying. Because that's who Vivienne was—young, idealistic, willing to sacrifice herself for strangers.

But Aida knew. She knew what that kind of sacrifice cost. She'd spent decades in an industry that traded bodies like currency. She'd seen what happened to the ones who thought they could control it, who believed they could give a little and walk away untouched.

The damage was permanent. Vivienne didn't know that yet. She was too young, too hopeful, too convinced that her will could protect her.

Aida wanted to scream. To grab Vivienne and drag her out of this cell and lock the door behind them. To let the fishermen die if that was the price of keeping her family whole.

But she didn't. She couldn't.

Because that wasn't who Vivienne was. And if Aida stopped her, Vivienne would never forgive her—and Aida would never forgive herself.

Alexis watched them both, reading the silence like a book.

"Are you two a couple?" she asked. "You have that look. The way you look at each other."

Vivienne met her gaze. "Yes. We love each other. We're family."

Alexis opened her mouth—to mock, to probe, to something—but Vivienne spoke first.

"Yes."

One word. Simple. Final.

Alexis blinked. For just a moment, her composure cracked—surprise, genuine and raw, flickering across her face.

She hadn't expected that.

Aida looked away. She couldn't watch. Her hand found her own arm, gripping tight enough to hurt.

Vivienne continued, her voice steady. "It will only be a date. Nothing else."

Alexis recovered slowly. When she spoke, her voice was different—quieter, almost curious.

"You'll want more," she said. "They always do. Every date, every time—they always want more."

"Then you'll be disappointed." Vivienne's voice didn't waver. "Do we have a deal?"

Alexis studied her for a long moment. Something passed through her eyes—surprise, maybe, or something close to respect.

Then she nodded.

"We have a deal."

Aida let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Vivienne straightened. "The patients will be decontaminated and washed before they're sent to the spa. Full security will be provided." She paused. "There's a risk—we haven't been able to test them. Other diseases. We don't know what they're carrying."

Alexis waved a hand. "I appreciate the wash. It'll make things easier." She smiled. "But don't worry about STDs. I'm immune."

The words landed like stones in still water.

Aida stared at her. Vivienne went very still.

"Immune?" Aida's voice came out sharper than she intended.

Alexis shrugged. "Engineered that way. Can't have the merchandise getting damaged, right?" She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "No diseases. No infections. No consequences. Just pleasure, pure and simple."

Aida felt relief—cold and immediate—wash through her. The fishermen wouldn't infect Alexis. The treatment was safe.

But beneath the relief, something darker stirred.

Immune to STDs. What else have they engineered into her? What else is she carrying that we don't know about?

She looked at Alexis—at this woman who was part prisoner, part weapon, part person—and for the first time, she let herself really wonder.

What else have the elites created?

The question hung in the air, unanswered.

Alexis watched them both, her expression unreadable. Then she lay back on her cot, arms behind her head, perfectly at ease.

"I'll be ready when you are, Captain." She smiled at Vivienne. "Looking forward to that date."

Vivienne said nothing. She turned and walked out.

Aida followed, her heels clicking against the metal floor. At the door, she paused and looked back.

Alexis was still watching. Still smiling. But there was something in her eyes—loneliness, maybe. Or longing. Or just the echo of a woman who'd been made, not born, and was still figuring out what that meant.

Aida walked out.

The corridor was cold. Vivienne stood a few meters ahead, her back straight, her shoulders tight.

Aida caught up to her. Walked beside her. Didn't speak.

They climbed the stairs together, past the security guards, past the hum of machinery, past the cold metal walls that held all their secrets.

At the top, Vivienne stopped.

"I know what you're thinking," she said quietly.

Aida didn't pretend. "Do you?"

"That I'm making a mistake. That I'm selling myself. That I'll regret it." Vivienne turned to face her. "Maybe I will. But thirty people are going to live, Aida. Thirty people who would have died. Isn't that worth something?"

Aida looked at her—this young woman, this captain, this girl who'd somehow become family.

"It's worth everything," Aida said. "But that doesn't mean it won't cost you."

Vivienne held her gaze. "I know."

For a moment, they just looked at each other. Then Vivienne reached out and took Aida's hand.

"Walk with me?"

Aida squeezed back.

They walked through the corridor together, side by side, toward the rest of their family. Toward Zhao and Mei-Lin and Chen and all the complicated, beautiful people who made this ship home.

Behind them, in the cold dark of H-Deck, Alexis lay on her cot, staring at the ceiling, wondering what she'd just agreed to.

And somewhere out on the dark water, thirty fishermen waited to find out if they would live or die.