Hostile Genus: An Epic Military Sci-Fi Series (Invasive Species Book 2) Ben Stevens (best contemporary novels txt) 📖

Ratt didn’t have to be told twice, having stayed up all night working on the necklace and packing the hoverboard. He peeled off his darkened goggles and hit the mattress as hard as the city’s women’s pestles coming down on the handful of maize in their mortars.

Maya whispered down into her radio necklace before climbing in beside Ratt. “Get some rest, you two,” Maya said to her silent and invisible guardian angels on the mountainside. “If you can, that is. I’m sorry that I’m not there to sing you to sleep.”

Far up on the hillside, Jon flicked the safety off the railgun and tracked the incoming outlines down the hallway to the doors of the penthouse suite.

Heads up, Lucy.

Lucy flung the door open so quickly and so suddenly, she completely surprised the trio of young girls on the other side. They stood frozen, like a hare gazing into the eyes of the hunting cat, the lead one’s fist raised in mid-air, prepared yet prevented from knocking a second time. Lucy suspected their wide eyes were more from her Santa Muerta appearance than the abrupt answer to their knock, but acted as if nothing was out of place, even knowing what her visage would signify to the Latina girls.

“Yes?” Lucy asked coolly.

The girls were all young and pretty. Each one’s dark hair hung over their slender shoulders in a singular loose braid, the spaghetti-strap white gowns they wore contrasting wonderfully with their cinnamon skin. The two behind the knocker carried items, one a neatly folded assembly of clothes, the other a basket filled with bathing salts and scented oils.

“Señorita, we are here to prepare Miss Sapphire for Señor Fernando,” the knocker spoke shyly.

Lucy carefully eyed the girls and the goods in their arms. Satisfied, she slowly stepped back and to the side. “Of course, please come in.” She closed the door after the last girl passed through and called out to her lady.

Maya awoke with grace and ease and welcomed the ladies into her chamber. Lucy gave Maya an inquisitive look and Maya signaled her with a slight nod that all was okay and to relax.

“Señorita Sapphire,” the lead girl said as she bowed. “We are here to prepare you for Señor Fernando.”

“So I’ve heard.” Maya crawled out from behind the canopy. “Let’s go ahead and get to it; I wouldn’t want to keep him waiting,” she said playfully. She brought her thumbs up to the straps of her nightgown, paused and looked at Ratt.

“Time for you to go, boy,” Lucy ordered.

Ratt stood still with a dumb look on his face, his double eyes blinking as if they were petitioning her demand in Morse code.

“Ratt, why don’t you put on your glasses and scope out places where we may be able to hold the show?” Maya suggested, winking at him.

Ratt nodded his understanding and grabbed both his tinted goggles and his leather jacket, which he draped over his Dead Kennedys t-shirt as he ducked out of the suite.

Lucy was a watchful ghost while Maya allowed the girls to lead her into the bath chamber, disrobe her, and draw a hot bath. They poured generous amounts of oils, salts, and soaps into the running water, making it smell of honey and flowers. They scrubbed her skin tenderly and washed her hair by hand, massaging her scalp.

Two of the girls stationed themselves behind her, one folding shampoo into her hair, the other tenderly mopping her shoulder with a soaked cloth, while the third sat in front of Maya and asked for her leg. Taking it once it was offered, she raised it out of the tub’s water and began to apply a creamy lotion of some kind to Maya’s short, slender legs.

The serving girl turned around and squeezed another dollop of lotion into her hands, then leaned back over the tub to apply it to Maya’s upper leg. As she leaned over, Maya could see a peculiar marking on the nape of the girl’s neck, perhaps a tattoo—a pictographic symbol that she did not recognize.

Before Maya could study it in detail, the serving girl turned around again, wiped her hands on a towel, and then faced her once more, this time with an ivory-handled razor in hand. The girl’s bushy ponytail had fallen over the tattoo now, obstructing it from further scrutiny.

Forgetting about it for the time being, Maya watched the young girl carefully pull the razor along the contours of her leg, peeling off her stubble, dead skin, and the lathered lotion. It felt good, invigorating.

The girl, while young, was skilled at her art and never once cut Maya’s skin. Maya watched the polished edge of the razor run up her calf and noticed another anomaly on the serving girl: a small, rectangular piece of plastic seemingly embedded in the underside of her forearm.

Cybernetics? Maya wondered and frowned subconsciously.

The girl shaving Maya’s leg noticed the frown as she leaned up to wipe clean the blade before another pass.

“Is something wrong, Señorita Sapphire?”

“Oh!” Maya’s cheeks flushed. “I, um, was noticing your neck tattoo and that, um... Well, what is that on your arm, if I may ask?”

The serving girl looked a mix of amused, confused, and scared. Maya caught one dubious eyebrow raise on the girl’s face before she remembered her place and dismissed it. Maya also felt the momentary pause in the scalp massage and shoulder-arm wash from the girls behind her. The girl holding the razor looked over Maya, presumably to read the face of the girl washing Maya’s hair. Apparently satisfied at what she saw, she turned her gaze downward to Maya.

“I beg forgiveness, Señorita, but I’m not sure what you mean.” The girl was clearly trying hard to be polite but was confused. The situation seemed to make her uncomfortable. She behaved as if she were afraid to give offense. Her voice was softer than the squeak of a church