Twilight draped the horizon of the Indian Ocean coast as small vessels threaded between submerged reefs and bleached coral. A light drizzle added humidity to the air, the scent of salt mingling with the warm earth rising from the tropical rain. Captain Elena Morales stood on the deck of the rented patrol boat—a wooden craft reinforced with a fragile metal frame—observing her recruitment team's movements. Faint plastic spotlights illuminated the decrepit wooden jetty, where several prospective crew members had gathered: engine technicians, lightly armed mercenaries, and local guides armed with machetes and fishing nets. They carried backpacks, toolboxes, and the weight of uncertain hopes for a future afloat on mutant-infested seas.
Elena exhaled slowly, feeling the burden of her decision: the northern route through the Indian and Pacific Oceans was perilous—Sunken Plache Reef swarmed with derelict wrecks overrun by sea-zombie pirates; the Frostbite Reaches in the far north brought near-freezing temperatures in an otherwise tropical sea due to bizarre climate anomalies. Yet it was the only fast connection between the Asian team and the combined fleet—without a larger ship, their mission would be dead before it began.
She called her lieutenant, Lieutenant Rafi. "Rafi, recount our supplies: auxiliary engine fuel, every last round of ammo, medical kits. How are we holding up?" Her tone was firm but tired—weeks at the helm of a small boat on remote routes had eroded her stamina.
Rafi, a gaunt man whose hair had turned steel-gray from stress, unfurled his portable tablet displaying the manifest. "We have enough fuel for the auxiliary engines for two extra days at sea—but that assumes stable weather. Light arms ammunition is nearly gone: about fifty incendiary shotgun shells and two hundred small-caliber pistol rounds. Emergency meds: painkillers, sparse antiseptics, but the anti-mutant serums for sea infections are extremely limited. We need more before we depart." He tilted the tablet to show spare parts: small diesel engine components for the rented Chen Wei boat; a handful of fragile shortwave radio sets; portable respirators in anticipation of spore clouds around the Archipelago of Rot. But most gear would still have to be sourced on land or bartered from local factions.
Elena narrowed her eyes at the figures on the screen. "This is too thin. Without sufficient ammo and parts, even one sea-zombie ambush could sink us. We must bring a truly expert mechanic—someone who can improvise at sea. And a scientist with variant data: Dr. Chen Wei's research from Asia—we need decompression capabilities to adapt his anti-acid or anti-mucus protocols." She turned back to Rafi. "Ensure Dr. Wei is on board, but tread carefully—his motives are questionable. I've heard he's carrying ancient manuscripts, experimental data… is it safe?"
Her voice lowered, betraying her concern: they had no idea how risky raw, untested research would be in such a critical mission.
Rafi nodded slowly. "Dr. Chen Wei arrived this morning with a small team—two local guides, Ayu and Rizal, plus one injured guide from the temple mission. They're waiting in the warehouse by the dock. I'll arrange the meeting. There are rumors some of the mercs refuse to work if Ruby comes. Even talk of 'sentient zombies' has driven some away."
Elena forced a bitter smile. Ruby—a sentient zombie who once saved Alucard and his group—was too hard for many to accept. "We won't bring Ruby along just yet. Focus on the sea mission first. If necessary, Ruby can join at a later stage, after we've proven our team's capability."
She tucked away the moral quandary; pragmatism held sway under such dire circumstances.
---
In the dim wooden warehouse near the dock, a half-lit oil lamp cast flickering shadows over Dr. Chen Wei and his two weary guides. An emergency table had been set up in a corner, strewn with rolls of manuscripts wrapped in translucent plastic and several broken portable devices. Elena approached with Rafi close behind, followed by two engine technicians: Satria, a muscular man with razor-sharp eyes that inspected every detail, and Dita, a young female mechanic experienced in land vehicles now learning sea improvisations.
Elena began in a commanding tone:
"Elena Morales, sea expedition captain. Dr. Chen Wei? I understand you've brought critical data on the swamp-zombie variant and anti-acid protocols. We need a swift evaluation—if your research proves viable, we'll set up a basic floating lab; if it's too risky, we'll abort."
Chen Wei bowed respectfully, his eyes heavy with fatigue and nerves. "Captain Morales. Thank you for your time. These manuscripts… they contain preliminary data for formulating an anti-acid sea gel and an anti-spore defense for the Archipelago. But I must warn you: it's still experimental. Initial land tests resulted in one severe casualty—it may be even more challenging at sea. Without these protocols, our sailors remain vulnerable."
Dita interjected coolly, "Do you have field evidence? We need concrete results, not mere theory."
Chen Wei inhaled, eyes downcast. "All I have are field notes from tropical swamps and a minimal lab in a bunker. Never tested at sea. However, certain herbal extracts can reduce penetration by young sea-zombie mucus. If combined with layered antibacterial cloth, it can at least slow infection long enough for evacuation."
Elena exchanged glances with Satria, recalling how Satria had lost a diving team when fungal spores attacked their vessel. She fixed her gaze on Chen Wei. "We'll need an at-sea simulation—time and resources permitting. Our parts and ammo are limited. Are you prepared for the protocol to fail and cause further casualties? This crew will not tolerate needless deaths."
Chen Wei swallowed hard. "I understand the risk. But if we don't try, the fleet will have no protection. I'm ready to oversee personally, though if someone dies, I accept full responsibility."
Elena's eyes narrowed. "Very well. We'll schedule a trial tomorrow morning on the secondary boat—no primary crew involved, only trained volunteers. If it fails, we stop. Do you agree?"
Chen Wei nodded, resolute despite his pallor. "I agree."
---
After the meeting, Elena summoned the early arrivals of technicians and mercenaries at the dock. Sitting on a rickety plastic chair, she faced a line of five candidates. Some carried letters of recommendation from the Sea Wastelanders; others just their tales of bravery in infection zones. Elena opened with a firm address:
"Elena Morales. We need people who can improvise. Tell me about your experience at sea. Have you faced mutant sea-zombies? How did you manage without proper equipment?"
They answered one by one:
1. Arman, a tribal-tattooed former fisherman in infected waters:
"My boat was struck by a Subzero Runner in the northern Indian Ocean. I piloted a skiff through thin ice. I still have a fracture in my left leg—bone break and near-fatal infection. I know frozen zones, but not the deep sea."
Elena noted his wound—his survival was invaluable. Yet Dita whispered to Satria: "That infection scar's a liability." Elena replied, "Bravery is noted, but we need comprehensive mechanical skill. Cold-zone survival is fascinating, but engine improvisation is our priority."
2. Bima, ex-technician for a small fleet:
"I fixed a portable generator at an isolated dock. With limited petrol, I improvised biofuel—old oil mixed with palm extract. It ran half a day, powered the pumps. Never tried it offshore."
Elena considered that skill useful. "Biofuel improvisation may be crucial. Noted."
Bima added, "I'll volunteer for Dr. Wei's protocol trial—provided I get medical compensation if injured."
Elena nodded. "We'll draft minimal medical coverage, but remember—this is a disaster zone. No perfect guarantees."
3. Riani, former mercenary:
"I fought Temple Howlers in the Asian Infected Territory. I know defensive traps. Zombies don't scare me, but open water does—waves and attacks from below."
Elena praised her. "Trap expertise helps, though at sea we improvise differently. You willing to adapt?"
Riani's eyes were steely. "I learn fast. Need this job; it's vital."
Satria challenged: "But can you face infected crewmates without shaking?"
Riani met him. "I've lost comrades. If this mission saves lives, I accept the blood toll."
4. Faris, local guide:
"I know these coastal currents and sunken reefs. I navigate moonless nights by faint stars. Never ventured far."
Elena assessed: "Critical for dodging reefs. You're accepted as navigator—just be ready to learn our boat systems."
Faris beamed.
5. Dewi, independent field doctor:
"I've treated swamp-zombie infections ashore but no sea variants. I can adapt and need lab access for extended research."
Elena weighed her in. "Dr. Wei handles protocols, but you're needed for onboard medical support. You join, but infection risk is high."
Dewi's gaze was steady. "I'm ready. I see this as penance—to rid the world of lingering infections."
Elena concluded: "You're all accepted under strict conditions: total discipline and cooperation. I will personally oversee safety protocols. Any breach or fatal negligence is on you. No tolerance for carelessness." She stood, saluted briefly, and ordered Rafi to organize immediate crash training before departure.
---
After recruitment, Elena returned to the warehouse to find Chen Wei packing his ancient manuscripts into a waterproof crate. She interrupted:
"El, sorry—Captain Elena. I need to know your true motives. You claim this research protects the crew, but I've heard rumors you're seeking rare variant data for personal gain or to sell to other factions. Is it true?"
Chen Wei met her gaze, pausing as his heart raced. "Captain, I… I never intended to sell variants to military or criminal groups. I witnessed data leak in my previous lab and lead to deadly experiments. I swear, everything I brought is solely for survival efforts."
Elena leaned forward. "How can I trust you? If your protocol backfires—or produces new variants—my crew will die in vain. I need concrete assurances: do you have land-based success samples? Volunteers who survived without severe complications?"
He drew out a small scroll. "From five initial volunteers in Devies, three survived with mild symptoms. Two had serious lung issues but recovered with intensive care. The data set is admittedly small."
Elena shone her headlamp on the notes: lung diagrams, basic x-rays, day-by-day journals—Ayu's handwriting. "You know sea conditions worsen things: salt spray, wounds in contact with water accelerate tissue corrosion. Are you prepared to be accountable?"
Chen Wei exhaled deeply. "I'm prepared to lead the sea trial on the secondary deck. If complications arise, I bear responsibility. I also brought backup serum—still experimental."
Elena studied him, then slowly nodded. "Alright. We'll run the trial tomorrow morning on the spare boat—trained volunteers only. Prepare emergency medkits: oxygen tanks, sea antiseptics. If it fails, the project ends. I won't grant another chance."
He bowed. "Thank you, Captain."
---
Late at night, Elena returned to the main deck to oversee preparations. Rafi reported urgently: "Some mercs withdrew after hearing Ruby might come, or because of sentient-zombie data. They fear a morale collapse."
Elena gazed into the black sea. "I don't intend to bring Ruby yet. Concentrate on the ocean operation. But if Alucard's team joins, Ruby may appear. We must plan: will the crew accept her as part of the team, or segregate her?"
Rafi shook his head. "Alucard's northern squad hasn't confirmed sea route participation. Rumors are swirling. We need a protocol: if Ruby arrives, hold a closed briefing for core members; general crew mustn't interact with her freely."
Elena exhaled, weighing risks. "Her psychic instincts can detect hidden sea-zombies—valuable. But panic and moral outrage could spark mutiny. We need a psychological prep: explain clearly Ruby's awareness and unique abilities, but limit her interactions."
Rafi took notes. "I'll prepare a briefing module: key points, crew response simulations, isolation plan for Ruby on board."
Elena nodded. "Do it. Fear must not poison our mission."
---
Hours before dawn, as Elena inspected final preparations, Rafi rushed in. "Captain, emergency call from our primary funders—they've withdrawn support. Internal faction disputes deemed this too risky. Heavy equipment is gone. We only have this small boat and dwindling supplies."
Elena's chest tightened. "So? Cancel the mission?"
Rafi's head dropped. "We need new financing, or it's over. There is an offer from the Sea Wastelanders—they have a larger ship and ample fuel, but at a high price: Dr. Wei's rare variant data or Ruby herself. They threaten to block all local routes if we refuse, making other missions impossible."
Elena stared at the dark waves reflecting the dock lights. The Wastelanders were notorious: brutal traders who often abandoned ships once deals ended. Yet without them, the voyage was impossible. But surrendering variant data or Ruby risked unleashing biological weapons.
She summoned Chen Wei. "Dr. Wei, we have a problem. Our backers pulled out. The Wastelanders offer parts and fuel—but demand your variant data and possibly Ruby. Your thoughts?"
He bowed his head. "That data is vital to them—but extremely dangerous. Without their support, we can't go. The anti-acid protocols need parts only they can supply. But if I give them full data, the risk of weaponization skyrockets."
Elena's gaze sharpened. "We must negotiate: share only basic protection formulas—no genetic details. And promise data use only for crew defense on this route. But will they honor a contract? Their reputation is dire."
Chen Wei stroked his chin. "We can obfuscate technical specifics—give them coarse formulation steps without advanced synthesis. They may push harder. As for Ruby, I refuse to surrender her. We must promise she stays behind."
Elena confirmed: "Agreed. Keep Ruby out of this leg. Offer mechanical assistance and emergency medical support instead of data. Rafi, draft the contract and involve a neutral local elder as witness."
Rafi nodded. "I'll do it now. Time is short—must finish before dawn."
---
In the early hours, Elena reviewed the volunteer team on the secondary boat—an old wooden skiff used solely for testing. On the wet deck stood technicians Bima and Riani, donning oil-layered protective suits per Chen Wei's instructions. Elena joined with Dr. Wei, Dita, and Satria. Only headlamps and handheld torches pierced the darkness as they prepared oxygen tanks, sea antiseptics, and small herbal extract vials.
Elena instructed: "Volunteers may withdraw at any stage. Dr. Wei will guide each step. At any sign of severe reaction, halt immediately—evacuation craft is standing by."
Bima nodded firmly. "Ready."
Riani's expression was serious. "If this saves future crews, I'm in."
Dr. Wei began: "Phase one: apply the protective concoction to the arms and neck—vulnerable zones for splashes. Wait ten minutes, observe irritation." Elena timed and recorded.
A cold sea breeze bit through the deck as ten minutes elapsed. Bima reported, "It's itchy, but no major swelling." They applied sea antiseptic to soothe mild redness.
Phase two: simulate exposure with synthetic sea-zombie mucus—a lab mixture mimicking the corrosive properties. Riani smeared a small amount on her forearm. Minutes later, redness turned to shallow abrasions but didn't deepen. Chen Wei noted, "Expectable response. Tissue repair is adequate under this protocol."
Dita cautioned, "This was controlled. Real oceanic mucus may be stronger."
Elena responded, "We need a larger safety margin at sea—waves can fling mucus and coral fragments."
Phase three (optional): extended exposure—Riani volunteered. She clenched her teeth as a second application was placed on her thigh. After twenty minutes, swelling and heat spiked. Dr. Wei halted the test, administering intensive antiseptic and portable oxygen. Riani gasped, "That was rough… at least we know the limit."
Elena noted in her log: "Tolerance threshold identified. We require a thicker protective layer or polycoat. Dita, design a prototype based on this data."
Finally Elena declared the end: "Tests show the protocol delays reaction sufficiently for an evacuation window but does not prevent infection entirely. We'll upgrade protective suits and refine rapid evacuation procedures. Thank you, volunteers. Rest up—medical team on standby." Riani met Elena's eyes. "If this helps protect shipmates at sea, it's worth it." Elena patted her shoulder. "Remember, at sea, casualties may be irreversible. This is one layer of defense, not a guarantee."
---
Just before dawn, Elena and Rafi stood on the dock awaiting the Wastelanders' envoy—a large, dark wooden ship bearing a skull emblem. Two armed men emerged onto the jetty, faces wrapped in salt-bleached cloth, escorted by local guide Faris.
Elena squared her shoulders. "I'm Captain Elena Morales. We request spares and fuel. In return, we offer technical assistance on your land generators and the basic anti-acid protocol tested last night. We cannot provide full rare-variant data. Are you interested?"
The Wastelander leader, a tall man with maritime-route tattoos along his arm, replied coldly: "Captain Morales, we know you have swamp-variant manuscripts and sea protocols. On the ocean, we'll capture rare sea-zombie samples but need the genetic blueprints and capacity. Without that, our defenses fail."
Elena held her ground. "Genetic data is too dangerous. I'll offer tested protection methods—no advanced synthesis guides. If you demand more, we cannot negotiate."
The Wastelander stepped closer: "You need fuel and parts we possess. But if you refuse, we'll close this passage. Other ships must traverse here. We'll impose steep tolls or outright ban you."
Elena's gaze never wavered. "I understand the stakes. I won't compromise our mission's integrity for short-term gain. If you block us, we'll find another route—though it costs lives. The choice is yours."
The Wastelander tapped his chin. "You're stubborn. We'll consider. You'll receive our terms in writing this week. Prepare your response."
He turned and strode back to his ship, leaving Elena to wrestle with anxiety on the gray sands.
---
As dawn's first light tinted the Indian Ocean shoreline, Elena stood at the end of the dock, gazing at the rented boat that would soon carry her team into the deep for further trials and, ultimately, toward the Pacific. She reminded Rafi, "Draft the isolation protocol in case Ruby arrives; train the crew on emergency procedures. And start contingency plans: if the Wastelanders withhold supplies, we must seek alternative parts from the Rotwood Jungle tribes, even if the overland route is long."
Rafi nodded, weariness in his eyes but resolve in his posture. "Understood, Captain."
Elena inhaled the salty breeze, letting it soothe her fatigue. She knew this mission would exact a heavy toll—unproven science, merciless factions, and unpredictable seas. Yet her resolve remained unshaken: if no one dared sail these waters, humanity's last hope would sink beneath the waves.
Turning to the busy loading crew, she saw in their faces both fear and hope. In that moment, she whispered to herself, "Tomorrow, we sail into a sea of legends. May this voyage be not an end, but the beginning of a reunited hope in a world teetering on extinction."