“Ladies, ladies,” I sigh, stepping between them with placating hands, trying to diffuse the tension. I’m doing them both a favorhere—they better not forget it. “Let’s not disgrace ourselves in front of the mini-Dracoth—uh, I mean gentleman.” I give a nervous nod towards the guard, but of course, he doesn’t react. Might as well be gesturing to a brick wall. “Let’s all relax and just enjoy the shower,” I glance between them, plastering on a smile so honeyed it could sweeten sugar. “Okay?”
Carmen turns away first, muttering a stream of Spanish curses under her breath, while I give Sandra a weak smile. She too only turns away, grimacing.
Ungrateful, rude bitches, the pair of them.
What follows is perhaps the most awkward walk of my life. Well, this or the time I was marched to the principal’s office when that snitch Stacy tattled, I was cheating on my exams. I’ve got two sour-faced women both refusing to speak, and a seven-foot creepy alien giant plodding behind us. It’s like a bad joke: Great. Amazing. So much fun.
I occupy my mind, trying to keep track of the unending corridors. It soon becomes an impossible task—they twist and turn like a labyrinth, with staircases leading to who-knows-where. Some of them look like ominous dark caves I’d sooner avoid. But one thing is clear—this ship is massive, which means Dracoth may actually be someone rich and important. The thought comforts me, like those warm furs back in my quarters.
“This is it,” Sandra announces, sounding like a sulky teenager, emphasized by her crossed arms.
“Oh,” I mutter, standing before yet another door that looks indistinguishable from the others. I step through, taking in a room as large as our cell. Black furniture that could be lockers lines the walls, while the center features rows of sleek, black marble benches.
“This is like a changing room,” Sandra says, confirming my initial impression. She moves to sit on one of the benches with a casual ease that suggests she’s done this before. I glance atCarmen with a shrug, before heading toward one of the glossy marble lockers. My fingers fumble with the string toggles of my garish tunic, a slight unease prickling the back of my mind. But seeing Sandra already stripping down, her reflection in a nearby mirror offering some reassurance, I press on.
“Here are the actual showers.” Sandra gestures to the opposite door. “I’ll see you inside,” she mutters, her bare feet slapping the damp marble floor as she hurries away.
Carmen scans the room, a frown creasing her face, but she doesn’t hesitate long before she starts undressing too. I’m only slightly ahead of her, struggling a bit, seeing how skinny the other women are compared to me.
But screw it, I’m hot stuff.
Now fully undressed, I head for the exit, drawn forward by the sound of rushing water. The door swooshes open and I step inside. Towering golden statues line the expansive room.
“This is more like it,” I declare excitedly. I mean, it’s nothing compared to my usual five-star hotels, but for this dingy spaceship, it’s practically luxury.
Kazumi stands beneath the cascade of water, scrubbing her glossy raven hair like she’s trying to pull her scalp off. Sandra is next to her, fiddling with some dial on one of the golden statues. It’s hard to see clearly through the thick, hazy steam that fills the room, but I relish the heat and the soothing sound of water rushing down.
Ah, the sound of clean.
Drawing closer to the others, the strange statues come into focus. They’re female versions of Dracoth or, to be more accurate, theClown-dathians. Each one holds a globe above their heads, and water sprays down from jets hidden within. The detail is incredible: flowing robes, delicate braids, the subtle gleam of their golden skin—it’s almost unsettling how lifelikethey are. I half expect one of them to step off her pedestal and stroll through the room.
Carmen enters, her gaze darting around, scanning the room not with awe but suspicion. Her eyes flick toward the corners as if expecting God knows what.
I frown, wondering where the switch is, seeing nothing other than a strange belt with runes etched across the buckle. The symbols remind me of something... Oh, right. The text I’ve seen on the alien’s blue wrist computers.
“You press that,” Sandra says, catching my hesitation. She gestures at the rune-inscribed belt buckle. “And make sure you turn it to the right, or you’ll end up freezing.” She giggles, returning to scrub herself under the hot spray.
“To the right, got it.” I repeat, doing as she says. Instantly, a powerful jet of warm water hits me in the face, and I squeal in delight. The sensation is heavenly. “God, it feels like forever since my last shower,” I groan, leaning into the stream as I twist the dial for more heat. “Hmm,” I hum in satisfaction. The warm droplets feel good, each one a tender caress, but I want it hotter, so it can wash away more than just dirt—something deeper, the bad memories clinging to my skin.
Carmen approaches the statue beside me, but it’s hard to be sure through the thick vapor swirling around us.
“You okay in there,Princesa?” she asks, her voice sounding oddly distant through the mist.
“Never better!” I laugh, wiping water from my eyes, feeling wonderful as the torrent soothes my body and mind. The temperature is only now reaching levels I’d call warm. But I want it even hotter. Turning the dial, I grimace, realizing it won’t turn any further.
“Ugh, my dial’s broken.”
“You break it, you buy it,chica,” Carmen tuts, stepping closer with a smirk. She reaches out to check the dial on my side. “Hijo de puta!” she snatches her arm back with a pained shriek.
“What happened?” I ask, startled by her reaction as she clutches her hand against her chest.
“What do youthinkhappened?” Carmen snaps, rubbing the back of her hand furiously, which now looks redder than usual. “Your water ismalparidoscalding!” She sucks the back of her hand as I grimace, thinking Carmen isn’t so tough after all. “How can you stand there? You must have lizard skin,chica!”
“Lizard skin? Really, Carmen?” My grimace shifts to narrowed eyes of anger. “Really? I’ll have you know my skin is as soft as a velvet cloud. I didn’t spend a fortune on the finest skincare products money can buy, just to be called a fucking lizard. Rude bitch.” I shake my head with disdain—the absolute nerve of this woman.
But of course, Carmen only laughs, “Perra, you must’ve bought lizard creams!” heightening her own amusement.Ugh, who laughs at their own jokes? “Roja!” Carmen calls out to Sandra, who’s been minding her own business, washing her freckled ghost-like skin. “You think ourPrincesahas lizard skin?”
“Lizard skin?” Sandra pauses, blinking in confusion as she looks between us.
