Omega Academy

by Lily Archer

  “At least this will get me out of cellular regeneration lessons.” Kyte pops his neck. “Master Varat takes it a little too far.” He waggles his fingers, the pinky still regrowing from yesterday’s lesson. Golden bands loop around his wrists and more encircle his biceps. Kyte is a Calari noble, his parents wealthy traders of mined wealth from the ghost planet Latrides. Besides being skilled with energy and healing, he has the ability to regrow pieces of himself, a limited form of immortality that I envy.

  The planet looms in the front window as we approach, the blue of its seas blinding as clouds flit across its atmosphere. Pretty. But most planets are pretty when you float above them. They grow uglier the closer you get, the inhabitants grubby and the land often inhospitable. That’s why the Gretar Fleet exists—to bring order, to stop infighting, and to offer a clear way forward for all the peoples of the galaxies.

  “Can you hack the transport?” Jeren stares at the control console. “Maybe we can have a little adventure instead of picking up the Omega.”

  Kyte shakes his head. “No can do. The transports are piloted remotely by the Academy. Can’t risk the Sentients hijacking it. These are dummy controls.” He presses a series of buttons. Nothing happens.

  I berate myself for the hundredth time since I jumped onboard. This is a monumental waste of time. Master Harlan will grant me a demerit—my first. I seethe at the thought of it. “This was a mistake.”

  “Proud of you, Commander.” Jeren grins. “Finally taking a little walk on the wild side with us reprobates.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Kyte arches a brow. “I’m a fine member of the Alpha Academy.”

  Jeren snorts. “You’d have more demerits than me if your mother wasn’t on the Council of Regents.”

  Kyte gives a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe.”

  “Definitely.”

  “Let’s just get the Omega and get back.” I shift in the seat, the dimensions of it too small for my large frame.

  Kyte tinkers with the control panel until a green dot begins to blink and a smooth, female voice comes through, “Gretar Assistant, at your service.”

  “What sort of Omega are we picking up?” he asks.

  “Checking files.” It pauses, then says, “Human female.”

  “We know that. What’s it look like?” Jeren peers at the wide screen.

  “Bipedal, upright—”

  “No, what does this particular one look like?” I lean forward a little, but not enough to seem eager.

  The screen doesn’t brighten.

  “Information unavailable.”

  Kyte throws his hands up. “Useless.”

  “What do you know about her?” Jeren tries.

  “Human female, local taxonomy is homo sapiens, currently aged eighteen earth years—”

  “What’s that compared to Centari years?” I look down at the green and blue expanse that fills the window.

  “Each earth year is approximately a quarter of a Centari year. Would you like the full calculation?”

  “No.” I wave the voice away.

  Kyte wrinkles his nose. “Only eighteen short years? She must be not much more than a baby. A small child, at best.”

  “Why would the academy send for a baby?” I give him the you’re-an-idiot look he deserves.

  “Who cares?” Jeren kicks back, his feet on the console. “The transport will pick up the baby, while we scope out the planet.”

  I grit my teeth. The thought of travelling back to Centari with a crying infant the entire way notwithstanding, this trip is far and away the worst move I’ve made since my time at Alpha Academy. Then again, the fleet doesn’t recruit anyone unless they’ve reached maturation. So, no baby, right? I let out a quiet sigh of relief at the thought.

  We cruise through the atmosphere, the ship handling the friction with ease, and hurtle toward one of the green continents, the land taking shape beneath us. Our descent slows as buildings and roads appear, crude lights along the ground giving faint illumination.

  “Primitive.” Kyte peers out the dark window.

  “What did you expect?” I shake my head. “We’re far beyond the reach of the fleet. These planets are still lawless and backwards.”

  “Because the fleet is the savior of the universe, eh?” Jeren gives me a side glance. “You eat up every bit of propaganda they serve us at school, don’t you, Ceredes?”

  “It’s not propaganda if it’s true.” I know Jeren doesn’t follow any code except his own, and his disdain for authority is yet another reason why I can’t understand why I joined in on this little venture. Foolish. So foolish.

  “Open your eyes, mate.” Jeren waves his hand toward the rapidly approaching ground. “There are whole worlds and systems and galaxies that are surviving just fine without the fleet interfering.”

  “Living in filth.” I point to what looks like some sort of trash receptacle that overflows with garbage. “Look at the pollutant levels in the air.” I lean forward and tap the screen showing high levels of carbon dioxide, though the air is breathable. “They still run on combustion engines, haven’t begun to master the basic methods of nuclear fusion, and live in hovels.” They both turn to look at the dwelling we land beside, the walls covered in vines and some sort of vehicle rusting next to it.

  “Maybe this is just a bad part.” Even the optimistic Kyte has a bit of doubt in his tone.

  The landing gear settles us against the seemingly solid ground, and the back of the transporter opens.

  “Okay. It’s a shithole, but it’s a new shithole.” Jeren grins and practically bounces out of the shuttle, his cocky gait the definition of mischief. “Maybe there will be some Sentient patrols. Could get into a fight.” He cracks his knuckles.

  Kyte rises and peers out the front window with open curiosity.

  “You, too?” I shake my head.

  “You realize we’re all in the same pod here, right? You decided to skip school the same as we did.” He pats my shoulder. “Loosen up. Let’s go take a look around, find the Omega, then head back.”

  “The Omega should already be here waiting.” I stare into the night, a small moon just peeking over the tree-filled horizon.

  “I don’t see one.” He takes a deep breath. “How can they stand this stink?” With a wrinkled nose, he follows Jeren into the unknown land.

  I sit for a few more moments and contemplate my options. Kyte does have a point, sadly. I’m here. I may as well see what there is to see. Satisfy my curiosity. Try to find a reason why I would shirk my school duties. There has to be some reason I jumped aboard the shuttle, right? Maybe I’ll make some big discovery, find a Sentient stronghold, or do something—anything—that will justify breaking the rules.

  Reluctantly, I stand and stride down to the planet, its surface covered with some sort of vegetation.

  “What is this?” Jeren yanks at a rounded metal apparatus with handles all along its top.

  Kyte inspects it. “Clearly a torture implement.”

  With a groan it begins to spin, and Jeren holds onto it and picks up speed until he’s nothing but a smudge in the dark, the metal crying out for a quick death.

  Kyte laughs.

  “Try it. So fun.” Jeren’s feet lift off the ground, and he’s hanging on as the apparatus starts to wobble. This is going to end badly—for him, anyway. I’m rather enjoying the show.

  A smirk begins to twist my lips when I hear something. “Shh.” I dart over to Jeren and grab his leg. The stop is so hard he looks like he might be about to vomit, so I release him and step back.

  “Why’d you stop me? I thought this thing might lift off.”

  I put a finger to my lips. The sound comes again. A whimper somewhere in the thicker vegetation behind this tiny arena of pain.

  Jeren draws his short blades, the weapons materializing with a blue glow in this atmosphere. He fades into nothing more than a shadow—his stealth a gift of his people—and eases into the dark.

  I motion for Kyte to head around to the
right. He nods and creeps away. I unstrap my energy blade and walk straight ahead as Jeren moves through the brush. It occurs to me we work together as a team rather seamlessly, but I push that thought away. I intend to lead my own legion of the fleet, not join a band of warriors, especially not with these two. I’d be trying to enforce fleet order while they dicked around and made trouble.

  Easing through the scrub trees and undergrowth, I catch motion in the shadows. Something floats on the wind—a scent I can’t place but seems familiar at the same time. Pushing forward, I stop. When I realize what I’m seeing, I draw my energy sword and rush forward, prepared to spill fresh blood.

  3

  Lana

  Mud splashes in my eyes as I try to crawl away from Van. The papers were a trap, and Van sprang it as soon as I got far enough into the woods. I am an idiot.

  My right eye aches from his fist, and I can taste blood where my teeth sliced my cheek. But I can take a hit. Van doesn’t realize that I’ve been taking hits from my mother for years. He punches harder than she does, though, so I’m having trouble getting back on my feet.

  “Stupid bitch.” He grabs my ankle as I try to crawl out of the drainage ditch. “Think you’re funny talking about me and my sister?”

  “Let go!” I kick with my other foot, but he catches it and wrenches it to the side, forcing me to flip on my back to keep it from snapping.

  He jumps on top of me, his fists swinging again. I throw up my arms to block his blows, but each one sends a shock of pain through my body. More mud splatters as I try to buck him off me, to do anything besides lie here and get pummeled. But he’s too big.

  When my elbow gives a little, he lands another good blow to the side of my head, and my vision goes black for a second.

  He takes the opening and—instead of knocking me the hell out—uses the opportunity to paw at my breasts.

  I try to stop him, but I’m hurt. He knocks my hands away easily, and my heart sinks. A beating? Yeah, I can take that. What he’s doing? No. The word wells up inside me.

  “No! Get off me, you asshole!” I reach for his hands again, but he slaps me hard.

  “I’ve been putting up with your fucking mouth for too long.” His rage comes from somewhere dark, the same bottomless pool I’ve seen in my mother’s eyes when she’s been drinking. “Now I finally got something in return.” His smug face is begging for my fingernails. “Be thankful I don’t take more.”

  “Fuck you!” I lash out and rake my nails down his cheek.

  “Bitch!” He puts one hand to my throat, squeezing hard, using his body weight to cut off my breath.

  I scratch at his hand until my vision begins to dim. Giving up isn’t an option, so I keep fighting, keep trying to breathe in even though nothing is getting through and my lungs are burning. Despite my efforts, I’m almost out when Van’s weight lifts, and I’m able to take a huge breath. I gulp in air and roll over, determined to crawl away.

  Van’s yell is cut off with a hard thud, and the ground shakes a little from the impact. I don’t want to know what Van’s doing, all I want is to get to safety. Hell, I’d rather deal with my mother than spend one more second in the muck with violent-gropey-sex-offendery-Van.

  “Omega.” The low voice belongs to a pair of shiny black boots that stops right in front of me. If this is one of Van’s buddies, I’m screwed. “Omega, are you all right?”

  “Huh?” I shiver, the cold muck seeping through my clothes.

  Strong hands grip under my arms and lift me to my feet with ease. I glance around but don’t see Van. Instead, three boys—no, scratch that—three men surround me. Craning back to meet the eyes of the one in front of me, I swallow hard. He’s handsome. Why is that my first thought when I’ve just been subjected to groping? I don’t know, but it is. He has dark brown hair, cut short, a hard jawline, and the most intense blue eyes I’ve ever seen. But he doesn’t look that much older than me. Just a lot … bigger. And he’s wearing something that looks like a soldier outfit from a Halloween shop. Underneath is a grown man. Possibly an overgrown man, he’s so tall and thick. But damn, those eyes. He’s a stunner.

  “Are you all right?” he asks again, his eyes searching my muddy face.

  “I’m good.” I step back, but bump into the one standing behind me. Turning, I find the other two, both almost as large as the first. One with black hair and dark, soulful eyes. Ink runs down the sides of his neck and disappears into his black t-shirt, and he looks at me with a smirk that sends a shiver down my spine. The third is just as drop-dead gorgeous, his golden blond hair and green eyes a combination created to slay any pair of panties in a five-mile radius. It seems he went to the Halloween shop, too, because he has two curved horns atop his head. I stare at him with a curiosity he returns.

  “That’s not a baby,” the golden one says with a raised eyebrow.

  “What? Who the hell are you guys?” I scratch my nose, the mud tickling me as it dries.

  “We’ve come to escort you to Omega Academy.” The one with the black hair smiles, but I can’t tell if he’s being genuine or sneaky.

  “Where’s Van?” I try to peer between them, but they close ranks, blocking my view.

  “Don’t worry about him.” The golden one smiles, too, but his seems more legit.

  It occurs to me that nothing good can happen in the dark woods with three strange men plus Van, so I walk to my backpack, grab it from the wet grass, and shoulder it.

  “It’s been fun, but I need to get home.” My face aches, and all I want to do is take a hot shower. Maybe Mom will lay off me when she sees I’ve already had a thorough ass-whipping before even setting foot in the door.

  “Home?” The one with the blue eyes and the GI Joe outfit keeps step with me as I hurry through the undergrowth.

  “My house. Yeah.” I’m not about to tell a complete stranger where I live. That has to be like, Stranger Danger 101. I’ve already been too stupid to live by following Van’s murder trail. I’m wising up by the minute.

  “But the transport is here.” GI Joe scratches his chin as we exit the trees.

  I breathe a sigh of relief—though my throat is sore—when I see the open sky, the flickering porchlight, and the porn playing on the huge TV instead of Fortnite. Ugh.

  I stop when I see something like a shipping container sitting on the edge of the playground. “What the hell is that?”

  “The shuttle.” Blondie runs a hand through his perfect hair. “We sort of hitched a ride on it. I know you weren’t expecting company.”

  “Huh?” I realize I sound like an idiot, but I truly can’t follow what they’re saying or why they’re saying it.

  “You received a message. You must have.” GI Joe points to the shipping container. “This is the transport. All Alphas and Omegas located by the Gretar Fleet are required to attend their respective academies. You were found by the fleet somehow.” He looks around, giving me a good view of his gorgeous profile. “I don’t know why they’d monitor this primitive slum of a planet—” He turns back to me, his eyes widening. “No offense intended of course.”

  I shake my head, not sure if I should be offended or running. Maybe both. “Of course.”

  “Anyway, the message—”

  “I didn’t get a message.” I hurry through the high grass. “I need to get home.” But the conundrum reappears—I can’t go home with them watching. They’ll know where I live. I stop and turn to face all three of them. “I don’t know you guys, and thanks for whatever you did with Van, but I’m not down to talk to strangers, especially not after the shit night I’ve had so far.” I point to my bruised, mud-caked face. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a mess. So, if you’d kindly just turn and go back the way you came, that would be great. K, thanks, bye.” I flick my wrists at them in a ‘shoo’ motion.

  GI Joe glowers. I thought only hardcore adults could make the face he’s making, but I was wrong. Young, dreamy cosplay guys can do it too.

  “You have to come to the academ
y.” The black-haired one crosses his arms in front of his wide chest. “Believe me, I tried to duck the transport, too, when my summons came.”

  “Look, if you aren’t going to leave, just turn around and quit looking at me.”

  “Why?” GI Joe’s glower deepens. Whoa.

  “Because I don’t want you creepers following me home.”

  “Creepers?” His voice lowers to something verging on a rumble.

  “No offense.” I smile sweetly, but the mud probably ruins the smartass effect I’m going for. “So, yeah, later, thanks, bye.” I back away.

  “You can’t just walk away.” Blondie shakes his head at me. “The transport is programmed to—”

  GI Joe holds a hand up, cutting him off. His gaze is fixed on me, the blue of his eyes almost burning like low flames, and a cocky smirk quirks the side of his full lips. Goosebumps break out along my skin, and that strange pang hits me hard in the lady lounge. At this rate, Aunt Flo is going to destroy me this month. Great.

  They keep watching me, but I’ve had it with them, so I give up and turn my back so I can hurry to my door. I get a few steps farther before I stop.

  No, I don’t stop.

  Something stops me. I try to take a step but can’t. “What the—”

  When I start to float backwards, my feet just above the ground, I scream. The sound doesn’t carry beyond the odd glow that now envelops me, the beam of light pulling me backwards toward the shipping container. I scream again as I float past the three men, their gazes focused on me as I struggle but can’t escape the glowing bubble. “Help me!” I reach for them, but they just follow a few paces behind.

  When I get to the shipping container, the light drags me inside, plops me down into a seat, and straps me in tightly. Something buzzes next to my head, and a surging pain explodes in my brain. I see words. I can taste words. All of them foreign, but somehow, I know them. Despite the pain, I try to get up. But the light holds me in pace.