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

it.” Maya’s tears instantly stopped, and her head snapped up, jaw open as she stared at her jaguar.

“Maya, don’t,” Jon whispered loud enough for Maya to hear. She looked at him. The expression he gave told her that he felt as she did, but that nothing could be done about it now. It was time for them to depart and suffer their shame elsewhere.

“If even one of you obstructs or interferes with me and mine when we walk out this godforsaken shit-hole of a city, I will return and kill all of you.” Lucy hesitated and cast a quick sideways glance at Maya.

Maya wanted to tell her that she had gone too far, but she knew that Lucy both knew that and yet still meant what she said. The creeping certainty that she had become the villain today poured deeper into Maya’s soul, cement filling the cracks.

“If you are too dumb to tell friend from foe, darkness from light, then you deserve what you get. I won’t fucking hesitate.”

Maya watched in speechless horror as Lucy studied the crowd, looking for signs that she was getting through to them, that they understood. When the crowd fell into silence, the cyborg continued.

“Now. Tomorrow, you can greet the dawn, mourn your dead, and then take my lady’s advice here.” She nodded her head back slightly in Maya’s general direction. “You can rebuild, work together. Form a militia of volunteers to man that wall and protect your families and your crops from bandits and worse. You could make something here. You could put a touch of humanity back on the map. Move forward. Make your own way.” No one moved. No one said a thing. A hundred sets of eyes stared at Lucy in something halfway between fear and shame.

“Or…” She paused for dramatic impact. “You can kowtow to the next vile piece-of-shit that strolls in here and promises you protection in exchange for a slice of your soul. You miserable nothings. Pray that your children grow up in a different world than this and never come to know of your cowardice, your dishonor… your revolting, boot-licking shame.”

Silence and stillness.

Then, before any of them could be so stupid as to say something, Lucy stepped back and said, “Your five minutes start now.” And for an added touch, she drew both of her weapons.

The people did as they were told, naturally, and cleared the dead from the plaza, scurrying off into the night. Weapons were left on the stone floor to mark the ash and blood stains. Jon collected Maya and put an arm over her shoulders, comforting her as best he could.

Ratt broke the silence, mentioning that they should go rendezvous with Carbine, as he had no way to communicate, not even having fired his railgun into the air to let them know he was okay. Lucy nodded her approval and led the way to the main street, where they had entered the city when they first came to its dark palace.

No one said another word to each other as they walked out of the city.

Only Maya turned to look back.

Wisps of steam rose from the heated water like flames into the air, a thousand licking tongues probing, exploring. A splash echoed. Ripples bounced from the center of the pool to the edges and back. Condensation coalesced on the tiled walls and ran, first as solitary spies, then entire battalions to the slick floor below.

Having reached the shallow edge, a figure rose from the water, naked and glistening.

The man stepped up and out of the pool, and made his way, dripping, to the wooden bench against the wall and the fresh linens piled there.

Reaching down, he plucked up one towel and tied it around his slender waist. Once the first towel was secured in place, he retrieved a second one and fastened it around his long lavender hair.

He stretched his arms and chest, enjoying the tautness in his muscles from the vigorous swim, and he sighed.

“I swear, I shall die of boredom, waiting,” he said aloud, mild annoyance lacing his voice.

Umbra slipped his feet into a pair of sandals that lay tucked under the bench and made his way across the room to a recessed vanity in the far wall.

Admiring himself in the embedded mirror, he smiled wryly and went about pouring himself a tall measure of herb-infused wine in a crystal goblet.

He drank deeply, closing his eyes and inhaling, savoring the refreshing flavor. Setting the goblet back down, he retrieved a small glass orb from an ornate golden tripod and held it aloft.

Peering into it with aloofness, he spoke.

“Glyer, I want you.”

“Right away, my lord,” a voice from the sphere responded.

A minute later, a wretched half-man came crawling into the pool-house. His warped and misshapen head hung low.

Umbra reclined on a cushion, wine in hand, and beheld his advisor.

The man slithered his way into the room and toward his lord. Where his legs should have been, a robotic, serpentine appendage twisted and writhed, gliding snake-like across the floor. On his back, bolted into his flesh, a metal frame supported his otherwise weak torso. His face was disfigured and only wisps of greasy hair lay strewn over his pockmarked skull.

“Why haven’t we heard anything yet, Glyer?” Umbra asked the spineless snake-man.

The advisor shuddered and made a face as if a sneeze were trapped in his nose. Slurping up his liberal drool, eyes still downcast, he forced his report.

“Our agent has not yet reported their arrival, my lord.”

“They should have already been there. They departed weeks ago,” Umbra said, his face darkening.

“Yes, my lord,” the toady agreed.

“Yes? Yes, what? Yes does nothing for me. Have you been in communication with the agent? Or are you simply waiting for her to report?”

“I will make inquiries, my lord.” Glyer shuddered again as if racked by a chill.

“See that you do. You’re running out of body parts for me to replace.” The threat smothered the conversation like the oppressive humidity in the room.

“Yes, yes, my lord.”