And all this was grand indeed, now that Eugenia was standing in the midst of it. A palace hidden at the center of the ship. The entirety carved into homes for families bursting with wide-eyed and happy children. Where women chatted, laughed, and breastfed their babies. Where orphans found mothers eager to hold them.
Where those who refused to submit to their duty had been moved somewhere on ship no soul would confess to the captain’s wife.
Chilling, grotesque, and something Joan seemed all the happier for when she mentioned so bleak a topic in passing during the tour.
Yet, Brooke was there, wandering through the vegetation—slowly fighting her way out of shock. Surrounded by sisters who understood, who would be there for her. Who didn’t mind when she wet herself or when she tore at her hair or clothes.
Who knew what to say, and the exact tone to say it in.
Because Eugenia was the outsider on Level 9.
The women watching made that clear. This was their home, and they would trample her into dust if she tried to take it from them.
And that was no light threat. One of those mothers alone was far more intimidating than any of the men Eugenia had encountered on the ship. All of them with families to protect, all of them willing to take up a weapon to keep what they had worked hard to build.
And the men had no idea.
Though as Eugenia was introduced to them one by one, she wondered if Aaron suspected. If that was the real reason he had not put her here after he pulled her from the lake.
Because she would not have needed him to bicker with. Not when there were sharp minds aplenty on Level 9. Because she might have found comfort in the arms of other women and submitted so she too could have a baby at her breast and community to enjoy.
Not that the captain had not been trying in earnest to see that potential outcome take place.
How one woman was supposed to take care of that oversized penis for the rest of her life, Eugenia didn’t know.
Next thing she knew, she’d be doing morning yoga with the rest of the women. Barf.
“Did you hear what I said about drainage?”
Not really. “Yes, yes. Plant matter builds up and has to be routinely removed or the whole drainage system backs up.”
Nodding approval, Joan continued her tour. And Eugenia followed.
Three hours later, they were called to join a woman loudly groaning through the pains of labor. One who had already delivered three babies—hyper fertile, as it were.
And happy.
Gretchen was happy to see a squalling infant placed on her breast, to hold her fourth child as it made its first cries.
Even though no father was there, and even though not one of her children resembled the next.
Looking down at the amniotic fluid, the vernix, the blood on her ungloved hands, having been the first to catch a newborn human, Eugenia felt her eyes burn.
And then she looked to Joan. Joan, who had walked her through each step in the surprisingly quick final moments of labor. And she meant every word. “Thank you.”
The older woman smiled, saying, “You’re not done yet. Gretchen still needs to deliver the placenta.”
Which was a fascinating organ to inspect in real life. Until it was taken away to be steamed and dehydrated. To be eaten by the mother with her daily meals. Full of hormones that would help her body recover from the strain.
Which was sound science, Eugenia supposed.
Chapter Twenty
“Are you hungry? Dinner is waiting.”
Hungry? Always. Exhilarated? Absolutely.
No guard or watchful eye had escorted her from Level 9 to the captain’s rooms. Not anymore.