Chapter 78

#Day 21- 21:42

The corridor to H-Deck had never been welcoming, but tonight it felt actively hostile.

Vivienne walked alone through the dimly lit passage, her heels clicking against the metal grating in a rhythm that seemed too loud, too sharp, too alive for this place. The hum of machinery surrounded her—the steady pulse of coolant pumps, the whisper of servers breathing in the dark, the distant thrum of the thorium reactor far below. It was the sound of the ship's skeleton, its hidden organs, the parts never meant for guests.

She'd avoided this section since the night they brought the pods aboard. Since she learned about Valentine.

Sophie had been distancing herself ever since the submarine incident. After Vivienne confronted her about the lies, about the twins, about everything—her mother had retreated behind walls Vivienne couldn't breach. But truthfully, Vivienne had been distancing herself too. The betrayal was too fresh, too deep. Every time she looked at Sophie, she saw the woman who'd kept her own daughter's existence secret for twenty years. Who'd played a game she didn't understand, for stakes she was only beginning to grasp.

Only European and American aristocracy were invited. Chen's words echoed in her mind. The Commission had chosen who would survive, and the Laurents were on the list. Vivienne didn't know if that made her grateful or furious.

She needed clarity. Or courage. Or maybe she just wanted to see Valentine—really see her—because for the first time in her life, Vivienne had tasted what family meant. Zhao. Aida. Mei-Lin. Their strange, beautiful, impossible family. And somewhere in the cold dark of H-Deck, her sister was sleeping through it all.

Maybe she wanted to share that with her. Even if Valentine couldn't hear.

The dock opening at the bow loomed ahead, and Vivienne stopped.

The hatch to the submarine was open.

Her hand went instinctively to the comms on her wrist, then stopped. Someone had either forgotten to secure it—unlikely, given Kim's paranoia about the Sanctuary—or they were inside.

She moved forward cautiously, her heels working against her with every step. The sound echoed obscenely in the metal space, announcing her presence long before she reached the hatch. She paused at the entrance, listening.

A voice. Low, rhythmic, almost musical.

Vivienne climbed through the opening and into the submarine. The interior was dim, lit only by the soft blue glow of monitoring systems. The stasis pods lined the curved wall in their cradles, three silent figures suspended in gel. OASIS. VICTORIA. SOLSTICE.

And there, sitting cross-legged on the deck facing the middle pod, was Victoria Elise.

She was talking.

"—and then Aida looked at me with that face, you know the one, like she was calculating exactly how much trouble I'd be. And I just smiled and said, 'What? It's not like I bit her.' Which, for the record, I didn't. Not hard, anyway."

Victoria laughed softly, the sound echoing in the small space.

"Zhao nearly choked on his tea. You'd like Zhao, I think. He's gentle. Not like the men we grew up around. And Aida—she reminds me of someone. I can't think who. But she's got this way of seeing through people. You'd respect that."

Vivienne stood frozen at the entrance, watching. She'd never seen Victoria like this. The woman was always in motion, always performing—flirting with everyone, cracking jokes, filling any silence with noise. But here, now, she was still. Quiet. Vulnerable.

Victoria turned her head, and their eyes met.

For a moment, neither spoke. Then Victoria smiled—not the usual sharp grin, but something softer.

"Captain. Come to check on the merchandise?"

Vivienne stepped forward, her heels somehow less offensive now. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You didn't." Victoria gestured to the space beside her. "I was just catching my sister up on the gossip. She's been out of circulation for a while."

Vivienne sat, slowly, feeling like an intruder in something private. The pod loomed before them, and for the first time, she really looked at Victoria's twin.

The woman inside was beautiful. Her hair was the same pale blonde as Victoria's, floating in the suspension gel like a slow-motion cloud. Her face was serene, aristocratic, the kind of features Vivienne had seen a thousand times in her mother's drawing rooms. High cheekbones. Full lips. But where Victoria was all sharp edges and coiled muscle, this woman was soft—her body unscarred, unmarked by the violence that had shaped her sister.

She looked like she'd been groomed for marriage into wealth. Like Vivienne herself, before the world ended.

"What's her name?" Vivienne asked quietly.

Victoria was silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was different—softer, heavier.

"Veronica." She reached out and pressed her palm against the glass. "Her name is Veronica."

Vivienne waited.

"We called her Roni, when we were kids. She hated it. Said it sounded like a boy's name." Victoria's lips twitched. "I called it anyway, just to watch her get mad. She'd chase me around the house, and I'd run laughing, and Mother would yell at us both."

The memory hung in the air between them.

"How did you end up so different?" Vivienne asked. "You and her, I mean."

Victoria pulled her hand back. For a long moment, she didn't answer. Then she reached up and pulled at the bandage on her arm. The stitches underneath were dark against her skin, but she didn't seem to notice the sting.

"It'll heal," she said, answering a question Vivienne hadn't asked. "It always does." A pause. "Fate won't let me die that easily. Got something bigger planned, apparently."

She looked at Veronica's pod.

"I was supposed to be in there."

Vivienne turned to her. "What?"

"The pod says VICTORIA. The ship was called Victoria. Everything named after me." Victoria's voice was flat at first, like she was reading from a report. Then it cracked. "I was the chosen key. The one Rowan Keur wanted. I volunteered—I was young, I didn't understand what it meant. And then..."

She stopped. Swallowed.

Vivienne didn't speak. She waited.

"My father lost everything." The words came slower now, halting, like pulling teeth. "He sold what was left to Keur. The ship was already being built. Designed around me. Around the key I'd said yes to when I was too stupid to know better."

She laughed, but there was no humor in it.

"A few months later, he killed himself. Left my mother with twins and nothing else. Keur took us in. Said he was being generous." Victoria's jaw tightened. "My mother died not long after. Refused his advances one too many times, I think. No proof. Just... suspicion."

Vivienne felt her stomach turn.

"We tried to run. Roni and me. We planned it for weeks. Stole supplies. Waited for the right night." Victoria's voice dropped to a whisper. "She pushed me out the door first. Said she'd be right behind me. Said it every time—I'll be right behind you, Vic, just go."

Her hand pressed against the glass again.

"She wasn't right behind me. She never came."

The silence stretched. Vivienne didn't know what to say. What could anyone say to that?

"I changed my identity." Victoria's voice steadied, but only just. "Became someone else. Joined the military because I needed to learn how to fight. How to kill. How to get close to Keur without him knowing who I really was." She paused. "Took me more than a decade to get on that ship. By then, the world was already burning."

Vivienne stared at her. "You've been planning this for over ten years."

"Every day." Victoria's voice cracked again, raw this time. "Every single day, I thought about her. About getting her back. About switching places, if I could. She didn't choose this. I did. I volunteered, and she—" She stopped, pressing her fingers to her eyes. "She took my place. She's in there because of me."

The words hung in the air, heavy with guilt Vivienne hadn't expected.

"Victoria..."

"She's been asleep for years because of me. Because I was the one who said yes. Because I was the one who ran." Victoria's voice broke. "And I still haven't saved her. I still haven't—"

She stopped. Took a breath. Another.

Vivienne reached out and took her hand. Victoria squeezed back, hard enough to hurt, and this time Vivienne didn't pull away. She let Victoria hold on, let her shake, let her breathe through whatever was surfacing.

After a long moment, Victoria laughed—wet, shaky, but real.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to do that."

"Don't apologize."

They sat like that for a while, hands still clasped. Then, slowly, Victoria started talking again. Not the flat report from before, but smaller things. Memories. Veronica's laugh. The way she'd steal the covers at night. The time they blamed the family dog for stealing cookies and got away with it.

Vivienne listened. She didn't interrupt.

When Victoria finally wound down, Vivienne started talking about herself. About Sophie's lies. About learning she had a sister only weeks ago. About the hollow feeling of knowing someone shared her face, her blood, her genes—and being too afraid to even look at her.

As she spoke, her eyes drifted to the OASIS pod. Valentine floated there, suspended in the same gel, her features identical to Vivienne's in every way. The same blonde hair. The same cheekbones. The same mouth.

Vivienne stared at her as she finished her story. She didn't approach. She wasn't ready for that. But she looked. For the first time, she really looked.

Victoria watched her, saying nothing.

After a moment, Vivienne asked, "Do you know how to wake her?"

Victoria shook her head. "I've spent a decade researching. Infiltrating. Spying. And I still don't know everything." She leaned forward. "There's a chemical solution. Called Purity. Only the winner of the race gets it."

"Winner of what race?"

"The Commission's game." Victoria gestured at the pods. "Twenty-four keys. Twenty-four ships. The first to collect enough—probably all of them—wins. Gets the Purity. Gets to wake their twins." She paused. "Gets whatever comes next."

"Whatever comes next?"

"My father mentioned something, years ago. About fertility. About building something." Victoria frowned. "I can't remember exactly. I was young. But it's big. Whatever the Commission is planning, it's bigger than just surviving."

Vivienne thought of Chen's words. The Commission choosing who would survive. The Chinese not invited. The Africans, the South Americans, the billions of others—all deemed unnecessary. A world curated and culled like a garden.

"Purity," she said, and the word tasted like ash. "They talk about purity while the world burns. What a joke."

Victoria almost smiled. "Yeah. Real comedians, those bastards."

They sat in silence for a while longer, two women sharing grief they hadn't expected to share. Then Victoria spoke again, softer now.

"I never expected the Blue Oasis to be like this. When I first came aboard, I thought it would be like the Victoria. Power games. Scheming. People using each other." She looked at Vivienne. "But it's not. Your family—Zhao, Aida, Mei-Lin—they're something else. They give me hope."

She turned back to Veronica.

"I'm glad I knew her. Before all this. We had a good childhood, you know? Before everything fell apart. I carry those memories with me. When I'm in a fight, when things get bad, I think about her." Victoria's voice was steady now. "That's what keeps me going. That's what keeps me calm."

Vivienne squeezed her hand one last time, then let go.

When they finally stood, Vivienne's eyes caught the third pod. SOLSTICE. Carmona's twin floated inside, serene and unknowing. The same sharp features, the same dark hair. A sister waiting for a woman who was out there somewhere, hunting, planning, biding her time.

Vivienne stared at her, unease settling in her chest like a stone.

What's your story? she wondered. What would you tell us, if you could speak?

She didn't know. But she had a terrible feeling she'd find out sooner rather than later. Carmona wouldn't forget about her twin. Wouldn't abandon her. When the Blue Oasis showed weakness—when they were vulnerable—she would come.

Victoria followed her gaze. "Yeah. I think about that too."

They walked out together, leaving the pods to their quiet vigil. At the hatch, Victoria paused and looked back.

"Not much longer, Roni," she whispered. "I promise."

Vivienne didn't know if Veronica could hear. She hoped so.

As they climbed the ladder and stepped into the corridor, something shifted. Victoria's shoulders relaxed. Her posture loosened. The mask slid back into place, but more gently now, like a familiar coat rather than armor.

"So, Captain," she said, her voice sliding into its usual teasing register, "when this is all over, can we make out? Just once? For morale?"

Vivienne stared at her. Then, despite everything, she laughed.

"Be more professional."

"I'm always professional. This is me being professional."

"Get back to work, Elise."

"Yes, Captain."

They walked through the dimly lit corridor, side by side, and for the first time, Vivienne noticed—it didn't feel so lonely anymore.