Chapter 92

#Day 25 - 17:00

The crystal chandelier in the private salon dimmed automatically as afternoon turned to evening, casting long shadows across the mahogany table where Aida finished presenting her mass treatment plan. The windows remained covered with heavy blackout curtains—standard protocol now to prevent drone surveillance. She stood at the head of the table, her tablet’s blue glow illuminating her face from below, her voice steady even as her hands trembled against the screen.

“Ten women per night,” she said. “Four nights. Zhao, Mei-Lin, and I will each take three or four. We start tonight.”

The council was silent. Vivienne sat at the opposite end, her fingers pressed together, her face unreadable. Maggie and Victoria flanked the door, both tense, both watching. Kim leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, her expression uncharacteristically serious. Sophie sat at the far end of the table, her posture perfect, her eyes fixed on Aida with an intensity that had not softened since the meeting began.

Isabelle was the first to speak. “Can Zhao survive four nights?”

The question landed like a stone. Aida felt the weight of it, the truth beneath it. Zhao had not fully recovered from the submarine. His body was stronger than it had been, but the mass treatment would push him to the edge.

Zhao answered before she could. “I’ll manage.”

His voice was steady, but Aida saw the flicker in his eyes. He was afraid. They all were.

“We don’t have a choice,” Aida said. “The readings are climbing. Forty-three women above fifty. Some are approaching sixty. If we don’t treat them, they will seek Alexis.”

The name hung in the air. Victoria let out a low whistle. “And here I thought we’d have a quiet week.”

“That’s what I need to discuss,” Aida continued. “The spa is becoming a problem. Women are spending hours there. They aren’t working. They aren’t sleeping. They’re just…” She searched for the word. “Consuming.”

Vivienne’s voice was quiet. “The council agreed they could go.”

“The council agreed they could seek treatment,” Aida said. “Not that they would stop functioning. Department heads are reporting misconduct. Fights are breaking out. Security is stretched thin trying to manage the crowds.” She looked at Victoria. “Tell them.”

Victoria straightened. “There were eight women in the spa this morning. Some of them are repeats. They come back. They can’t seem to stay away. My people are trying to enforce the rules, but—” She stopped, her jaw tightening. “The rules don’t matter when your meter is climbing and there’s someone who can fix it with a touch.”

Sophie’s voice was cold. “I warned you about this. When you let her out of her cell, I warned you. But no one wanted to listen.” She looked at Vivienne, and there was something in her face—not quite triumph, but close. “She was never going to be contained. She was engineered to consume, and now she is consuming your crew.”

Vivienne’s hands tightened on the table. “We needed her. The fishermen would have died.”

“And now?” Sophie’s eyebrow arched. “How many of your crew will lose themselves before you admit I was right?”

The silence stretched. Aida watched Vivienne’s face, saw the muscle in her jaw working, saw her force herself to breathe.

“We’re dealing with it now,” Vivienne said. “That’s what matters.”

Sophie said nothing. She did not need to. Her silence was louder than words.

Aida pushed forward. “I’m proposing limiting spa visits to once per week. It will give people time to recover from the aphrodisiac effect, and it will keep them functional.”

Vivienne’s hands pressed flat against the table. “I don’t want to build a ship where we control what people do with their bodies.”

“You’re not,” Aida said. “You’re building a ship where people can work. Where security isn’t fighting their own crew. Where the women who need treatment can get it without being pushed aside by the ones who just want more of her.”

Sophie’s voice was dry. “The captain wanted to give them freedom. Now she is learning that freedom without boundaries is chaos. The old world understood this. That is why we had laws, customs, consequences.”

Victoria snorted. “Yeah, the old world worked great. Look where it got us.”

Sophie’s eyes flicked to her. “We are standing on a ship that was designed to survive exactly this. My ship. My planning. If you have a better idea, I am eager to hear it.”

Victoria opened her mouth, then closed it. Even she could not argue with that.

Vivienne’s voice cut through the tension. “One week. And we increase security around the spa. Anyone who causes trouble is banned.”

Sophie inclined her head. “A compromise. Acceptable.”

The motion passed without a formal vote.

Kim spoke up. “While we’re on the subject of rules—” She pushed off from the wall, her arms still crossed, her expression half-amused, half-serious. “What about sex in public? There are no rules about it. People are starting to… you know. In the corridors. In the observation deck. In the supply closets.”

Maggie’s head snapped toward her. “What?”

“It’s happening,” Kim said. “People are stressed. The virus makes them horny. And now there’s a woman in the spa who’s basically a walking aphrodisiac.” She shrugged. “Some of them aren’t waiting for the spa. They’re just… doing it.”

The room shifted. Aida saw Elena’s cheeks flush, saw Linh look down at her hands, saw the doctors exchange a glance.

Vivienne’s voice was careful. “What are you proposing?”

“I’m not proposing anything,” Kim said. “I’m asking. Should there be rules? Or should we just let people do what they want?”

Elena spoke, her voice soft but clear. “People are going to the spa for Alexis, yes. But they’re also going because it’s the only place on this ship where they can have sex without it being awkward. The spa is private. It’s designed for relaxation. It feels… permitted.” She looked around the table. “We have almost ninety people on this ship. Most of them are sleeping four or more to a cabin. Some are in the owner’s suite, but there’s no privacy anywhere. If you want to be alone with someone, you have to sneak into a storage closet or wait until your bunkmates are gone. The spa is the only place where you can close a door and not feel like someone is watching.”

Kim nodded. “Exactly. If we give people other spaces—good spaces, not closets—maybe they stop treating Alexis like the only option. Normalize it. Make it less weird. People have sex. It keeps their meters down. That’s less work for the treatment team.”

Iqbal nodded slowly. “From a medical perspective, natural sexual activity suppresses the virus. If people have safe, consensual spaces for intimacy, their viral loads will stabilize without needing treatment or Alexis.”

“We could even convert some spaces,” Kim added, her eyes lighting up. “The old library. The forward observation lounge. Make them semi-private. Curtains, screens, something like that. People could use them when they need to. It would take the pressure off the spa.”

Sophie’s voice was cold. “So your solution to the chaos in the spa is to spread it across the ship? To institutionalize debauchery?”

“It’s not debauchery,” Elena said, her voice firmer now. “It’s survival. We have ninety people with nowhere to be alone. The old world had bedrooms, apartments, houses. We have a ship built for forty guests and a crew that was supposed to rotate on and off. We’re making do with what we have.”

Sophie’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You are advocating for the very chaos that destroyed the old world. Not the virus. Not the pandemic. The breakdown of order. The belief that we could all do whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted, with whoever we wanted. That is what killed us.”

Vivienne’s voice was quiet. “The old world was built on control. On using people. On treating bodies as property. I don’t want to build that world again.”

“So you will build a world with no control at all?” Sophie’s voice rose. “A world where the strong take what they want and the weak have no protection? That is not freedom, Vivienne. That is anarchy.”

“It’s not anarchy,” Vivienne said. “It’s trust. It’s letting people make their own choices and believing they will be responsible. And it’s practicality. We don’t have the space to pretend sex isn’t happening. So we stop pretending.”

Sophie laughed, a short, sharp sound. “You trust the same women who are currently fighting each other to get into a stranger’s bed. You trust the same crew that cannot do their jobs because they are too busy coupling in the corridors. This is your better world?”

The silence was heavy. Aida watched Vivienne’s face, saw the doubt there, the crack in her certainty.

Victoria’s voice broke in, dry as dust. “I hate to agree with the queen of the ice queens, but she’s not wrong about the chaos part.” She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ve got four people guarding the spa just to keep people from killing each other. Half my security team is sneaking off to get their own fix. If we let everyone just go at it in the corridors, I might as well hand out dildos and call it a day.”

She looked at Sophie. “But that doesn’t mean I agree with you. The old world rules got us here. The new world needs new rules. Something between ‘cover your ankles’ and ‘fuck in the hallways.’” She shrugged. “And Kim’s idea about converting spaces? That’s actually smart. Give people somewhere to go that isn’t the spa. Maybe they stop treating Alexis like the only option.”

Kim nodded vigorously. “I can do it. A few days, maybe a week. The library is already mostly empty. The observation lounge has couches, screens. We could put up partitions, make it semi-private. People could sign up for time slots, or just use it when it’s free. Keep it civil.”

Maggie’s voice was gruff. “If we do this, security needs to be able to step in if it gets out of hand. Clear rules. No means no. Anyone who can’t respect that is out.”

Vivienne’s eyes moved around the table, taking in each face. “We need a vote.”

Aida felt her stomach tighten. She looked at Zhao, who met her eyes and shook his head once, barely perceptibly. She understood. They would abstain. They were too close to this, too central to the treatment culture. Their voices would carry too much weight.

“All in favor of allowing public sex in designated spaces,” Vivienne said, “with the understanding that we will convert areas for privacy, and that it must not interfere with ship functions or endanger anyone, raise your hands.”

Elena’s hand went up first. Then Kim’s. Then Iqbal’s, and Saanvi’s, and Linh’s. Vivienne raised her own hand last, her face thoughtful.

“Six,” she said. “Those opposed?”

Sophie’s hand rose. Maggie’s. Isabelle’s.

“Three. Abstentions?”

Zhao raised his hand. Aida raised hers.

“Two.” Vivienne let her hand drop. “The motion carries. Kim, start working on converting the library and observation lounge. Security will set clear rules. Anyone who violates them loses access.”

Sophie did not argue. She simply sat back, her face settling into something cold and watchful. She had said what she needed to say. When this experiment failed, she would be there to remind them that she had warned them.

The meeting moved on to other matters—the fish, the treatment schedule, the growing unease about Carmona’s silence. When the council finally adjourned, Aida rose with the others, her movements automatic, her mind already elsewhere.

Victoria fell into step beside her. “Cheer up, Aida. Maybe only half your patients will go to the sex zombie. That’s practically a victory.”

Aida stared at her. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny. I’m trying to be realistic.” Victoria’s voice was dry, but her eyes were sharp. “You’re competing with a woman who was literally engineered to be irresistible. You make people do the work. She just lets them lie back and feel good. Guess which one most people are going to pick?”

She patted Aida’s arm as she passed. “The things I do for this ship. Guarding a sex cult, fighting off Carmona’s psychos, and now I’m supposed to be the voice of reason. I’m having the time of my life.”

She was gone before Aida could answer.

#Day 25 - 20:00

The treatment suite was quiet when they returned. Mei-Lin had rearranged the lounge, pushing the cushions into clusters, setting out towels, warming the bath. The bed was made, the tea was ready, the tablet with the schedule was propped against the low table.

Aida stood at the window, watching the light fade. The sea was gray, the sky heavy, the horizon a line she could barely see.

“It will work,” Mei-Lin said. She was behind her, close enough to touch, her voice soft. “The treatment.”

Aida shook her head. “They’re not coming.”

Mei-Lin’s hand found her shoulder. “The first group will. The ones who need us most.”

“And the others?” Aida’s voice was bitter. “They’ll go to Alexis. They’ll lose themselves. They’ll forget why we’re fighting.”

Zhao moved to her other side, his hand finding hers. “They’re scared. They’re trying to survive. We can’t blame them for that.”

“I’m not blaming them.” She pulled her hand away, but gently, not wanting to hurt him. “I’m blaming myself. I let this happen. I was so focused on Chen, on the family, on—” She stopped. “I wasn’t there for them. And now they’re going to someone who will use them until there’s nothing left.”

Mei-Lin’s arms wrapped around her from behind. “You’re here now. We’re all here.”

Aida leaned into her, let herself be held. The tears were close, but she pushed them down. There was work to do.

The door chimed. Aida pulled away, smoothed her robe, crossed to open it.

Linh stood in the corridor, her face pale, her hands clasped in front of her. Behind her, Elena was waiting, her expression softer. Victoria was last, her arms crossed, her eyes already moving down the corridor toward the spa.

“Only three?” Aida’s voice was flat.

Victoria shrugged. “The rest cancelled. I’m touched. Really. All those years of keeping you people alive, and this is the thanks I get.”

Linh ignored her. “We’re here. That’s what matters.”

Aida looked at her tablet. The names glowed, then faded. Cancelled. All of them. She scrolled through the list, her heart sinking. The women who had been waiting, who had trusted her, who had needed her—they had chosen Alexis.

She wasn’t even a match. Not even close.

She thought of the women in the spa, their glazed eyes, their slack mouths, their bodies moving without will. She thought of the meters, green, safe, bought. And she thought of the women who were supposed to be here tonight, who had chosen that instead of this.

Victoria’s voice cut through the silence. “Maggie has four of my people at the spa right now, just trying to keep order. There are fights. People pushing, shouting, trying to get in.” She shook her head. “I need to get back as soon as this is done. The things I do for this ship. I should have stayed on the Victoria. At least there I knew who wanted to kill me.”

Aida nodded, but she could barely hear her. Her hands were shaking. The tablet trembled in her grip.

How many of the core crew would have gone to Alexis if they weren’t forbidden?

She didn’t want to know the answer. She was afraid she already did.

Mei-Lin’s hand closed over hers. “Aida.”

She looked up. Elena was watching her, her face soft with concern. Linh was waiting, patient, steady. Victoria was still there, her eyes on Aida, her expression unreadable.

“You’re doing what you can,” Elena said. “That’s all anyone can ask.”

Zhao’s voice was quiet. “They chose Alexis because it’s easy. Because she makes the numbers drop without them having to do anything. But that’s not healing. That’s just consumption.”

Victoria snorted. “Consumption. I like that. We’ll put it on the brochure. ‘Blue Oasis: Choose Consumption.’ Catchy.”

Linh shook her head. “As long as the core crew sticks together, we’ll be okay.”

Victoria raised an eyebrow. “I’m touched. Really. Years of trauma, and I get included in ‘core crew.’ My mother would be so proud.”

Aida looked at the three women who had come. Linh, who had navigated them through storms. Elena, who had held the crew together through the worst of it. Victoria, who had walked into the Red Solstice alone and walked out alive, and who was standing here now, making jokes to hide how much she cared.

They were here. They had chosen her.

She took a breath. Let it steady her. “We start with you. We’ll do it properly. Slowly. The way we’ve always done it.”

She turned to the suite, to the bed, to the bath waiting, to Mei-Lin and Zhao beside her. They were not Alexis. They did not offer easy answers. But they were here, and they would not stop fighting.

The first group would be small. The work would be hard. But it was work that mattered.

She reached for Zhao’s hand, and he took it. Mei-Lin’s hand found her shoulder. Together, they turned to the women who had come.

Victoria saluted lazily. “Lead on, fearless leader. Let’s get this over with so I can go back to pretending I don’t care.”

The work began

#Day 25 - 21:00

Night had claimed the ship, the porthole revealing nothing but darkness and distant stars when Chen heard the knock at her door.

Three quick raps. The rhythm was familiar. She set her teacup aside and listened as Nadia crossed the room, peered through the peephole, and opened the door.

Kim stood in the corridor, her coveralls smudged with grease, a tablet in her hand. Her eyes moved past Nadia to Chen, and she stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.

“I heard you wanted a door.”

Chen nodded. “Yes.”

Kim crossed to the wall behind Nadia’s desk—the one that separated Chen’s room from the treatment suite. She pressed her palm against it, tapped, listened. She pulled out a small device from her pocket, ran it along the surface, studied the readings.

“It’s possible,” she said. “The wall’s not structural there. I can cut through, frame it, put in a hatch. But it’s going to be small. Just enough for one person.”

Chen nodded. “That’s enough.”

Kim marked the spot with a piece of chalk, made a note on her tablet. “I’ll start tomorrow. Might take a few days.”

“Thank you.”

Kim turned to leave, but Chen’s voice stopped her.

“Wait.”

Kim looked back. Chen was sitting very still, her blind eyes fixed on something only she could see.

“I need you to modify one of the drones.”

Kim’s eyebrows rose. “What kind of modification?”

“Altitude. Speed. Payload.” Chen’s voice was quiet, precise. “I need it to reach maximum altitude, maintain position for extended periods, and carry a payload of roughly—” She paused, calculating. “Fifty kilograms.”

Kim stared at her. “That’s not a drone. That’s a—what are you planning to put on it?”

Chen did not answer. Her hands were folded in her lap, her face calm.

Kim was quiet for a long moment. Then her eyes lit up. “Oh. Oh. That’s—” She stopped, a grin spreading across her face. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Can you do it?”

Kim was already calculating, her fingers moving on her tablet. “The carbon fiber frames we salvaged from Stavros’s ship. The motors from the old survey drones. If I strip everything non-essential—” She looked up, her eyes bright. “Yes. Yes, I can do it. But it’s going to take time. And I need to be discreet.”

Chen nodded. “No one can know. Not yet.”

Kim’s grin faded. She looked at Chen, really looked, and something passed between them—an understanding, a weight.

“You know I can’t keep secrets from the captain forever.”

“I’m not asking you to keep it forever. Just until it’s ready.”

Kim was quiet for a moment. Then she nodded slowly. “After what you did to Stavros’s ship, I’ll believe you when you say it’s important.” She tucked the tablet under her arm. “But this means you owe me one.”

Chen smiled. “Whenever you ask.”

Kim laughed, short and sharp. “I’ll hold you to that.”

She was gone before Chen could answer, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

Nadia was staring. “What was that about?”

Chen reached for her tea. The cup was still warm. “A favor.”

Nadia waited. When Chen did not elaborate, she shook her head and returned to her desk, her fingers finding the keyboard again.

The minutes passed. Chen drank her tea, listened to the hum of the drives, let her mind drift through the patterns she had been building for weeks. The door would be built. The drone would be modified. The work was moving forward.

Then Nadia’s breath caught.

Chen’s attention sharpened. “What is it?”

Nadia’s hands were frozen over the keyboard. Her voice was barely a whisper.

“There’s incoming data. Through the secret channel.” She looked at Chen, her eyes wide. “The hack worked.”

Chen set her cup down. Her heart was beating faster now, but her voice was calm.

“Good.”

She did not ask what the data contained. That was for later. For now, the fact of it was enough.

She smiled—not the thin, knowing smile she wore when she was calculating. Something else. Something that had not been on her face since before the world ended.

She turned her face toward Nadia, unseeing eyes fixed somewhere past her assistant’s shoulder. “Begin,” she said, her voice low and certain. Nadia’s fingers flew across the keyboard, transcribing as Chen dictated commands from memory, the soft clicking of keys the only sound between them. The data flowed, and somewhere in the dark water, something was waiting.

The work remained, and in its quiet purpose, she found a temporary peace.