The email arrives simultaneously on all thirty-seven phones, tablets, and laptops — a synchronized ping that ripples through dorm rooms, apartments, and mobile homes across the country.
Maeve: (reading aloud) "In celebration of Project Constellation's collective twentieth birthday, the Department of the Navy cordially invites all thirty-seven members to an exclusive four-day retreat at Azure Cay Private Resort, Exuma, Bahamas. All expenses paid. Departure Friday, April 17th."
Ji-woo: The Bahamas? Again with the tropical islands?
Priya: I mean, I'm not complaining. It's better than another tax meeting.
Maeve: (frowning at her phone) There's a room assignment list. They've already paired us up.
Ji-woo: Paired us? Like, roommates?
Maeve: No, like... couples. They've assigned us to shared bungalows. Two people each. And they're all co-ed.
Silence. Then—
Priya: That's weird, right? That's definitely weird.
Maeve: Let me check who we're assigned to. Ji-woo, you're with Marcus Chen.
Ji-woo: (surprised) Marcus? The pre-med guy? He's cute, I guess. Quiet. Doesn't broadcast much.
Maeve: I'm with Alex Torres.
Ji-woo: The one who's always analyzing everything? Perfect match for your precog brain.
Maeve: And Priya... you're with Daniel Reyes.
Priya: (carefully neutral) Fine. Whatever. It's just sleeping arrangements. We're adults. We made an agreement with the Navy after the Hawaii trip, which they have obviously forgot. We're not breeding stock. Anyway, we're adults. We can share a room with a guy. Nothing's going to happen we don't want to happen. We can all enjoy this trip and be adults about it. I'm contacting all the other girls. The Navy is stupid if they still think they can manipulate us.
Maeve and Ji-woo exchange a look that Priya pretends not to notice.
Azure Cay is everything the brochure promised and more. A private island in the Exuma chain, accessible only by chartered seaplane, with white sand beaches, crystal-clear turquoise water, and eighteen luxury bungalows scattered along the shoreline like scattered pearls.
The thirty-seven arrive in two groups, seaplanes touching down on the calm lagoon and taxiing to a wooden dock where resort staff wait with cold towels and tropical drinks.
The lack of cell service registers immediately with all thirty-seven. They exchange glances — some amused, some wary. Isolated. No easy way to contact the outside world. Classic Navy move.
Priya finds her bungalow halfway down the beach — a gorgeous thatched-roof structure with a king-size bed, outdoor shower, and private deck overlooking the ocean. Daniel Reyes is already there, unpacking a small duffel bag.
Daniel: (looking up with a warm smile) Hey. Priya, right? I'm Daniel. Looks like we're neighbors for the weekend.
Priya: Roommates, technically. It's obviously the Navy is still trying to breed us. But that isn't going to happen.
Daniel: I can sleep on the couch if this is weird for you. I know the Navy's room assignments were... unexpected.
Priya: It's fine. We're adults. We can share a space without it being weird. The Navy will have to just get over it.
She's not sure if she believes that, but she says it anyway.
The birthday celebration is spectacular. The resort's main pavilion has been transformed into a tropical wonderland — fairy lights strung through palm trees, a massive cake shaped like the number 20, a DJ playing music that makes the dance floor irresistible, and an open bar that the thirty-seven descend upon with the enthusiasm of college students who've been handed unlimited free alcohol.
Priya starts with a wine cooler. Just one, to take the edge off the awkwardness of sharing a bungalow with a handsome stranger. Then another, because the sunset is beautiful and the music is good and she deserves to relax. Then a third, because Daniel asked if she wanted to dance and she needed liquid courage to say yes.
The night blurs pleasantly. Dancing. Laughing. The thirty-seven celebrating their collective survival — because that's what it feels like, sometimes, being engineered for a war that never happened and having to figure out what they're supposed to be instead.
Maeve finds Priya around eleven, pulling her aside near the dessert table.
Maeve: (low voice) How many have you had?
Priya: (giggling) I lost count. Four? Five? They're just wine coolers, Maeve. They're basically juice.
Maeve: They're basically alcohol. Are you okay? I'm seeing some... interesting timelines branching off from tonight.
Priya: (suddenly serious) Good interesting or bad interesting?
Maeve: That depends entirely on what you want. Just... be careful. Make choices you can live with tomorrow.
Priya: You know what I want? I want to stop being the sad girl who got her heart broken by a guy twice her age. I want to stop feeling like a child. I want to feel like a woman. Is that so wrong?
Maeve doesn't answer. She just hugs Priya tightly, then lets her go back to the dance floor where Daniel is waiting.
The party winds down around one in the morning. The thirty-seven drift back to their bungalows in pairs, some still dancing, some stumbling, some holding hands.
Priya and Daniel walk along the beach, shoes in hand, the warm Caribbean water lapping at their ankles. The moon is full, painting everything in silver light.
Daniel: You're different than I expected.
Priya: Different how?
Daniel: I don't know. Everyone talks about you like you're this super-serious telepath. All business. But tonight you were just... you. Laughing. Dancing. It was nice to see.
Priya: Can I ask you something?
Daniel: Anything.
Priya: Your thoughts. I can hear them, just a little. And they're... kind. You're thinking kind things about me. Why?
Daniel: (stopping, turning to face her) Because you seem like someone who deserves kindness. And because you're beautiful, and smart, and you've got this sadness in your eyes that makes me want to make you smile.
They stand there in the moonlight, waves washing over their feet, and Priya makes a decision. Maybe it's the wine coolers. Maybe it's the months of loneliness. Maybe it's just being twenty years old and tired of waiting for life to happen.
She kisses him.
He kisses her back.
And when they finally make it back to the bungalow, they don't bother with the couch.
Priya wakes to sunlight streaming through the gauze curtains and the sound of waves. Her head throbs — the wine cooler hangover is real — and for a moment she's disoriented, unsure where she is.
Then she feels the warmth beside her. The arm draped over her waist. The gentle breathing of someone still asleep.
Daniel.
She slips out of bed carefully, grabs a robe, and pads out to the deck. The ocean stretches endlessly before her, calm and blue and utterly indifferent to her internal crisis.
Her phone buzzes. A text from Maeve: I know. Come find me when you're ready to talk. No judgment. ☕
Thirty minutes later, showered and dressed and slightly more human, Priya finds Maeve on the deck of her bungalow. Two cups of coffee sit on the table. Alex Torres is conspicuously absent.
Maeve: (sliding a coffee toward her) So.
Priya: (taking the coffee) So.
Maeve: How do you feel?
Priya takes a long sip, considering the question seriously. How does she feel?
Priya: Confused. A little guilty. Like I let down all the girls. I was definitely too drunk to be making decisions like that. He was too — we both were. That's not how I imagined my first time going.
Maeve: But?
Priya: But... also relieved? Like I've been carrying this weight and suddenly it's just... gone. I'm not a virgin anymore. I'm not the sad girl pining over an older man. I did something. I made a choice. Even if it was a tipsy choice, it was mine.
Maeve: And Daniel?
Priya: Daniel is a nice guy. A really nice guy. But he's not... I'm not in love with him. I don't think I ever will be. This was just... I needed to feel something. I needed to prove to myself that I could. Does that make me a terrible person?
Maeve: It makes you a person. Period. We're twenty years old, Priya. We're allowed to make choices that aren't about forever. Ji-woo's been doing it for years.
Priya: (laughing weakly) The Ji-woo approach. One night, no strings, move on.
Maeve: There are worse philosophies. The question is: what do you tell Daniel?
Priya: The truth, I think. That last night was... what it was. That I like him. That I'm not ready for more than that. That the most important decision I'll ever make is choosing the father of my children, and I need to choose that person with a clear head — not after five wine coolers in a tropical paradise.
Maeve: That's mature.
Priya: Is it? Or is it just something I'm telling myself so I don't feel bad about using someone for sex?
Maeve: You didn't use him. You were both consenting adults who made a choice together. Give yourself some grace.
Priya stares out at the ocean, the coffee warming her hands. Something inside her has shifted. The ache for John — that constant, low-grade heartbreak she's been carrying since Mexico — feels quieter now. Distant. Like a memory instead of a wound.
Priya: I feel like a woman. For the first time, I actually feel like a woman and not a little girl playing dress-up. Is that stupid?
Maeve: It's not stupid. It's a rite of passage. And you survived it with your heart intact. That's more than a lot of people can say about their first time.
The discovery happens by accident, as these things often do.
Ji-woo is looking for a charger. The resort's "digital detox" policy means limited outlets, and her phone is dead. She wanders into the resort's small administrative building, hoping to find a plug — and instead finds an unlocked laptop on a desk.
The screen shows a spreadsheet. Thirty-seven names. Paired in columns. With notes.
OBJECTIVE: Facilitate organic relationship formation among Constellation subjects to encourage second-generation psychic offspring.
METHOD: Environmental manipulation — isolated romantic setting, paired accommodations based on genetic compatibility analysis, removal of communication barriers (alcohol), structured bonding activities.
PAIRINGS (Genetic Compatibility Score):
• Priya Sharma + Daniel Reyes — 94.2% (telepathy + empathic sensing)
• Ji-woo Park + Marcus Chen — 91.7% (spatial awareness + pattern recognition)
• Maeve O'Brien + Alex Torres — 89.3% (precognition + probability analysis)
• [Additional pairings redacted]
SUCCESS METRICS: Romantic attachment formation, physical intimacy, long-term pair bonding, eventual conception.
NOTE: Subjects must not become aware of pairing methodology. Maintain cover story of "random" room assignments.
Ji-woo stares at the screen, her blood running cold.
They're not just assets. They're breeding stock.
She photographs the screen, then runs to find the others.
The emergency meeting happens on the beach, far from any buildings that might have listening devices. All thirty-seven gather in a loose circle, Ji-woo's phone being passed from hand to hand as everyone reads the evidence.
The reactions range from disgust to fury to heartbroken betrayal. They knew this was the Navy's plan, but to see it written down, to know the Navy didn't care, to know they were lied to once again.
Sophia: (shaking with anger) They bred us like dogs. They're literally trying to breed us like dogs.
Marcus: The room assignments weren't random. They were calculated. We're... we're genetic matches. This proves it.
Alex: Ninety-four point two percent compatibility. That's not matchmaking. That's animal husbandry.
Priya stands at the edge of the group, silent. The document glows on the screen in her mind: Priya Sharma + Daniel Reyes — 94.2%.
Daniel finds her at the water's edge, away from the group.
Daniel: Hey. Are you okay?
Priya: (not looking at him) Did you know?
Daniel: We all knew. I planned to just be a roomate. I just... I liked you. I wanted to get to know you. That's all.
She can hear his thoughts — panicked, sincere, horrified by the document just like everyone else. He's telling the truth. He's as much a victim of this manipulation as she is.
Priya: I believe you. But I need you to understand something. Last night... I don't regret it. Not entirely. But it wasn't the start of a relationship. It was me trying to move on from something. Trying to prove I could make choices for myself. And now that we know for sure those choices were engineered...
Daniel: (quietly) I understand. I won't... I won't expect anything. We can pretend it didn't happen if you want.
Priya: I don't want to pretend. It happened. It was real, even if the circumstances were manufactured. I just need you to know that I'm not ready for what you're hoping for. The most important decision I'll ever make is choosing who I build a family with. And I need to make that decision with a clear head, without the Navy's genetic algorithms telling me who to love.
Daniel nods slowly. There's hurt in his eyes, but also understanding.
Daniel: For what it's worth, I think you'll make a great mother someday. Whoever you choose.
Priya: (smiling slightly) Thanks, Daniel. You're a good guy. Too good for a drunken one-night stand with a sad telepath.
Daniel: Maybe. But I don't regret it either.
Commander Marsh arrives by seaplane that evening, summoned by an urgent message from the resort staff that "They stole my laptop! The subjects are aware of the project parameters."
He finds thirty-seven young adults waiting for him on the dock. Their expressions range from cold fury to steely determination. Maeve steps forward as their spokesperson.
Maeve: Project Genesis. Breeding program. Genetic compatibility pairings. We agreed that this wasn't going to happen. Want to explain?
Marsh looks older than he did in Hawaii. Tired. Like he knew this moment was coming and dreaded it.
Commander Marsh: It wasn't my idea. The brass wanted—
Maeve: We don't care whose idea it was. We care that you looked at us and saw wombs and sperm instead of people. You engineered a romantic getaway to get us to breed. Like livestock. Like we're your personal genetic experiment. And you lied to us - that's what hurts the deepest.
Commander Marsh: The program invested billions in creating you. The next generation—
Sophia: (cutting him off) The next generation is OUR choice. Not yours. You don't get to decide who we sleep with, who we love, who we have children with. Those aren't military decisions. Those are HUMAN decisions. And despite what your files say, we are human beings.
Commander Marsh: I understand you're upset—
Priya: (stepping forward, her voice quiet but sharp) Upset doesn't begin to cover it. You violated our autonomy. Our consent. You tried to manipulate us into creating children we didn't choose to have, with partners we didn't choose, for purposes we were never told about. That's not a birthday party. That's a breeding facility with better decorations. I'm most upset - really - about you - that we trusted you - and I really like you - and you lied. And you were stupid to think we wouldn't figure it out.
The commander looks around at thirty-seven faces, all united in their anger, and seems to realize he's lost.
Commander Marsh: What do you want?
Maeve: Project Genesis ends. Now. Permanently. No more genetic pairing. No more "environmental manipulation." No more treating us like breeding stock. Our reproductive choices are ours alone. If we choose to have children with each other, it will be because we fell in love on our own terms. Not because your algorithms told us to.
Commander Marsh: I can't promise the brass will agree—
Maeve: Then tell them this: we're contractors. We can quit anytime. All thirty-seven of us. Imagine explaining to Congress why your multi-billion dollar psychic program walked away because you couldn't stop trying to breed them like prize horses.
Silence. The waves lap against the dock. Somewhere, a seabird cries.
Commander Marsh: I'll... I'll make the call.
Priya watches the sunrise from the deck of her bungalow. Daniel is gone — moved to a different room last night by mutual agreement, no hard feelings. The bed feels too big without someone in it, but also somehow right. Hers alone. Her choice.
Maeve and Ji-woo join her as the sky turns pink and gold. They sit in comfortable silence, three sisters watching a new day begin.
Ji-woo: So. Hell of a birthday party.
Priya: (laughing softly) Not exactly what they planned.
Maeve: They wanted us to pair up and start making babies. Instead, we united against them and killed their breeding program. I'd call that a successful rebellion.
Ji-woo: (to Priya) And you? How are you really doing?
Priya: I'm free.
Maeve: Free from what?
Priya: From being the sad girl. From waiting for someone to save me. From this idea that I needed silence to be happy, or that one heartbreak would define me forever. I did something impulsive and messy and very human, and the world didn't end. I'm not pure anymore — whatever that even means — but I'm also not broken. I'm just... me. Twenty years old. Still figuring it out. And that's okay.
Ji-woo reaches over and squeezes her hand. Maeve leans her head on Priya's shoulder.
Ji-woo: Welcome to the Ji-woo approach. One experience at a time. No regrets.
Priya: A few regrets. Those wine coolers were a mistake.
Maeve: The hangover or the lowered inhibitions?
Priya: Yes.
They laugh together as the sun climbs higher, painting the ocean in shades of gold. Three young women who were engineered to be weapons, refused to be soldiers, and are now refusing to be breeding stock.
Just people. Flawed and free and still becoming.
And that, Priya thinks, is the best birthday present of all.
Priya: And what about you two? Did you ... you know?
Maeve and Ji-woo just smile and walk to their bedrooms.
Go To >>> Constellation - Convergence - Episode 10: March 3-5, 2026 <<<
The knock came at 7:47 PM, sharp and deliberate—three raps that seemed to carry their own weight. Maeve felt it before she heard it, a ripple in the immediate future that made her hand freeze over her calculus homework.
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