Chapter 118

#Day 35 — 14:00

Zhao had been looking forward to the gym. Not because he enjoyed exercise—he didn't, not really—but because he had promised himself he would start training. Even without a plan. He needed to be stronger. Faster. More capable.

His resolve lasted exactly as long as it took for Kim to find him.

She appeared in the doorway of the treatment suite, her coveralls smeared with grease, her hair pulled back in a messy knot. "You're not working out today. Come with me."

He didn't argue. He followed.

The lifeboat hangar was on the lower deck, past the crew quarters and the storage lockers, through a heavy steel door that had been propped open with a toolbox. The air inside was cold—colder than the corridors—and smelled of metal, salt, and the faint chemical tang of fresh paint.

Two engineers were already at work, their tools scattered across the deck, their voices low as they consulted a tablet. Between them, suspended on hydraulic jacks, was the salvaged crawler boat.

Zhao stopped.

It was larger than the Blue Oasis's own lifeboats—wider, heavier, built for punishment. The hull was reinforced with welded steel plates, scarred from the attack but still intact. Extra armor, layered and brutal. Four grappling hooks were mounted on the deck—two at the bow, two at the stern—their mechanisms still stained with salt and blood.

The interior had been stripped. Where crawlers had once been packed in darkness, foldable seats now lined the walls, their frames bolted to the deck. The space was open now, adaptable. Cargo. People. Hunting supplies. Whatever they needed.

And the motor—Zhao knelt beside it, running his hand over the casing—was state of the art. High-performance electric, designed for short-distance sprints. The kind of engine that could get a boarding party to a target fast and bring them back faster.

"Nice," he said.

Kim grinned. "We salvaged it from Carmona's fleet. Figured we'd put it to better use."

Victoria was leaning against the far wall, her arms crossed, her eyes tracking the engineers' movements. She looked up when Zhao entered, nodded once, and went back to watching.

Kim gestured at the boat. "We need to modify it for the hunt. The engineers have already stripped the crawler compartments and installed the seating. Now we need wiring, weapon mounts, and—" She pointed at a corner of the hangar, where a heavy-duty machine gun rested on a pallet. "That."

Zhao recognized it. They had salvaged it from the pirate speedboat after the attack—the one Victoria had shredded with her sniper rifle. The weapon was large, ugly, and very, very effective.

He circled it, his hands moving over the barrel, the receiver, the ammunition feed. "Where do you want it?"

Kim shrugged. "That's why you're here."

Zhao looked at the boat. At the grappling hooks. At the reinforced hull. At the foldable seats and the open deck space.

He got to work.

The weapon mount was the first priority. Zhao measured, calculated, considered. The bow was the obvious choice—clear line of sight, maximum field of fire. But the grappling hooks were there, and the mechanisms couldn't be blocked. The stern was another option, but that would leave the bow vulnerable during approach.

He discussed it with Victoria, who had pushed off from the wall and was now standing beside him, her eyes on the boat.

"Bow," she said. "We're not boarding anything with this. We're hunting. We need to see what we're shooting at."

"Agreed." Zhao marked the spot with chalk. "But the grappling hooks—"

"Can be relocated. Or we can work around them." She looked at him. "You're overthinking."

He was. He knew he was. But he wanted to get it right.

Then an idea struck him.

"What if the mount wasn't fixed?"

Victoria raised an eyebrow.

"Modular," he said. "We build a mounting system that can accept different weapons. The machine gun for the hunt. Smaller weapons for other missions. Maybe even non-lethal options, if we need them."

Victoria considered. "That's not a bad idea."

Zhao's mind was already racing. "And if we make it modular, we could also make it portable. The same mount could be used on the deck of the Blue Oasis. Or on land, if we ever need to set up a defensive position."

Kim had wandered over, listening. Her eyes were bright. "Keep going."

Zhao looked at the boat. At the mount. At the weapon.

"Why stop at a mount?" he said. "Why not make it a turret?"

Victoria's other eyebrow rose.

"Full rotation," Zhao said. "The weapon can track targets independently. We could link it to NUWA—use old mobile phones as controllers, maybe, or direct AI integration. She could coordinate defense automatically. The turret could be mounted here, on the boat. Or on the ship. Or deployed on the ground."

He was pacing now, his hands moving, sketching shapes in the air.

"We're always short on weapons. Always short on trained fighters. A turret system doesn't get tired. Doesn't miss. Doesn't panic."

Kim stared at him. "Zhao."

He stopped.

"You're a genius."

He blinked. "I'm just—"

"No." She shook her head. "I've known you for weeks. I've seen you fix things, jury-rig systems, keep the fishing gear running. But this—" She gestured at the mount, at the weapon, at the boat. "I didn't know you had this in you."

Then her expression shifted. The excitement cooled into something harder. Practical.

"This needs to be done in days, Zhao. Not weeks. The hunt is coming. We don't have time for a full engineering cycle."

Zhao absorbed that. Days, not weeks. It was a tight window.

"The turret might not be ready," he admitted. "Not the full system. Not with the integration and the tracking and everything."

Kim's jaw tightened.

"But it doesn't have to be," he continued. "We don't need the finished product for the hunt. We need a functional weapon mount that can be upgraded later."

Victoria crossed her arms. "What are you thinking?"

Zhao turned to the salvaged parts scattered across the hangar—the remains of the heavy-duty drones they had used for reconnaissance, for the attack on Carmona's ship, for a dozen other missions. The gimbals were still intact. Stabilized mounts designed to keep cameras steady in high winds, rough seas, sudden maneuvers.

He pointed. "The drone gimbals. Heavy-duty, stabilized, designed for rapid movement. We can adapt them."

Kim followed his gaze. Her eyes widened. "That could work."

"The gimbals already have the motors, the sensors, the stabilization software. We reinforce the frame, mount the weapon, and link it to NUWA." He was pacing again. "NUWA can handle the control interface. She's already integrated with the ship's systems. We're not starting from zero."

Kim was already calculating. "The gimbals are rated for heavy payloads. A machine gun is within spec. We'd need to reinforce the mounting points, add heat shielding for the barrel, maybe—"

"We can prototype on the boat," Zhao said. "If it works, we build more for the ship. If it fails, we learn and try again."

Victoria nodded slowly. "How long?"

Zhao looked at Kim.

Kim did the math. "Three days. Maybe four. If NUWA helps with the programming."

"Three days," Zhao repeated. "That's not weeks."

"That's not weeks," Kim agreed.

Zhao turned to Victoria. "The turret might not be ready for the hunt. But the mount will be. And once the system works, we can add the automation later."

Victoria uncrossed her arms. "I can work with that."

Kim was already reaching for a tablet, pulling up schematics. "I'll pull the gimbals from storage. We'll need to strip them down, reinforce the frames—"

"I'll help," Zhao said.

Kim looked up. "You have treatment duties."

"Not today. Aida's giving me a break." He smiled. "And this is more important."

Victoria's voice was quiet. "He's fast becoming our combat engineer."

The words landed.

Combat engineer.

Zhao stood very still. The phrase echoed in his head, settling into a place he hadn't known was empty.

He was made for this.

He thought of his undergraduate years—three of them, at one of the best universities in China. Engineering basics. He hadn't finished. The world had ended before he could graduate. But he had learned enough. Enough to understand circuits, structures, systems.

He thought of his hobby—the military blogs he had read for years, the magazines, the forums. He had never been a soldier. Never wanted to be. But he had always been fascinated by the tools of war. The mechanics of it. The engineering.

He couldn't fight on the front lines. The ship wouldn't allow it. He was too valuable as a vector.

But he could build the weapons. He could design the defenses. He could make sure the people who did fight had every advantage.

He looked at Victoria.

"Train me."

She frowned. "Train you how?"

"Basic combat. I need to understand how soldiers fight. How they think. If I'm going to design weapons for them, I need to know what they need."

She was quiet for a moment. "Why?"

He told her. About the guilt. About Sabine's knife, and Vivienne almost dying, and the helplessness of being in the treatment suite while his family was in danger. About the promise he had made to himself—and to Vivienne—that he would do more.

"I need to protect my family," he said. "Not just by being the vector. Not just by treating people. I need to be able to fight. And if I can't fight—" He spread his hands. "Then I need to build the weapons for the people who can."

Victoria studied him. Her expression was unreadable.

Then she smiled.

"I like that in a man."

She pushed off the wall, walked to him, and stopped close enough that he could smell the gun oil on her skin.

"Two hours a day," she said. "Training. Combat drills, weapons handling, tactical movement. Everything I know."

He nodded. "What's the price?"

She grinned. "Fifteen minutes. Daily."

He blinked. "Daily?"

"Every day." Her eyes sparkled. "Think you can keep up?"

Zhao thought of Vivienne, who needed fifteen minutes of him every morning. Thought of Aida and Mei-Lin, who needed him too. Thought of the schedule he was already struggling to balance.

Then he thought of the alternative. Of being helpless. Of watching someone he loved get hurt because he hadn't been able to stop it.

"Deal," he said.

Victoria laughed. "I didn't think you'd agree so fast."

He shook his head. "You're not the first Abraham daughter who's hungry."

Her eyebrows shot up.

He realized what he had said. "I mean—Vivienne. Fifteen minutes every morning. It's a coincidence." He paused. "Or maybe it's not. Maybe you're all—" He stopped, shook his head, laughed. "Never mind."

Victoria was grinning. "You might be onto something there."

He took a deep breath. "It's going to be exhausting."

"Yes."

"But it's for the good of the family."

He held out his hand. She took it.

"Deal," she said.

#Day 35 — 21:00

The tablet was new—well, new to him. Salvaged from the electronics locker, wiped clean, authorized for his use. The screen glowed in the dim light of the treatment suite, its surface warm against his fingers.

NUWA's logo pulsed in the corner. The woman with the snake's body. Calm. Serene. Waiting.

Zhao sat on the lounge, his back against the cushions, his feet up on the table. Aida was in the kitchenette, making tea. Mei-Lin was with Chen, checking her meter. Vivienne was on the bridge, finishing the day's reports.

He had time.

He opened the first file.

Sustainable Weapons Design. Reliable. Easy to manufacture. Easy to maintain.

He scrolled through schematics, notes, data from NUWA's archives. The AI had access to the Commission's old files—weapons systems, engineering principles, years of research. Zhao read quickly, absorbing, learning.

Automation systems. Turret control. Sensor integration.

He made notes on the tablet, sketching designs, calculating loads, marking potential issues. The modular mount was the first priority. Then the turret. Then the integration with the boat's existing systems—the grappling hooks, the armor, the motor.

He lost track of time.

Aida brought him tea. He drank it without tasting.

Mei-Lin returned, sat beside him, read over his shoulder. She didn't speak. She didn't need to.

Vivienne came home, kissed his forehead, and went to shower.

He kept working.

When he finally looked up, the tablet's clock read 23:47. The suite was dark, the candles burned low, the others asleep. His neck ached. His eyes burned.

He smiled.

For the first time in weeks, he had a direction. A purpose. Something to build toward.

He set the tablet aside, lay back on the lounge, and stared at the ceiling.

Combat engineer.

He liked the sound of that.

He closed his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he slept without dreaming of the things he couldn't save.