Omega Academy

by Lily Archer

  I wait for a moment while she stands there, seemingly frozen, then peer past her at the room. Four beds are arranged in a circle, each one neat but cozy with white comforters and pillows. Ornate white trunks sit at the foot of each bed, and woodsy-looking dressers with carved embellishments rest between them. Tall windows share a view of the grounds, and bright sun pours into the room giving it a friendly warmth. I can’t help but smile at how we all think aliens and futuristic things are sterile and stiff edges, when really it looks more like a rustic dorm suite in here.

  “Sorry,” she finally says. “I just talk a lot when I’m excited. Weird for a Granterry, right? And I can see I’m overwhelming you, so I’m going to try and calm down.”

  “I’m okay.” I look up at her and try not to stare at her silver eyes with the green pupils—or her too-sharp teeth. “Confused, scared, and dreaming, but okay.”

  “The first two, sure. But dreaming? No.” She sits next to me, her curly black hair tickling my upper arm. “This is real. You are at the Omega Academy. The sooner you accept that, the better off you’ll be.” Her eyes soften, and she bumps my arm with hers. “You aren’t the first cadet to be a bit shocked when the fleet came calling. You just have to shake it off.”

  “But I don’t belong here.”

  “None of us do,” she whispers. “But the Gretar Fleet does what it wants. And if it wants you, or me, or whoever—the fleet will take them.”

  “That seems … wrong.”

  She shrugs. “It is what it is. Better get used to it. Now, get dressed or we’ll be late to our next class.” She stands and crosses her arms, her foot tapping. “What’s wrong?”

  I don’t change in front of others. Not when I have bruises that could raise questions.

  “Oh, are you shy?” she chirps and turns her back. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” I slide out of my clothes and pull on hers. They don’t fit quite right—the skirt and top too tight—but at least I don’t stick out so badly now. “Ready.”

  She turns and smiles approvingly. “Much better. Now you’ll be safer from the mean Omega crowd.”

  “Mean Omega crowd?”

  She pushes her dark hair over one shoulder. “Ilwen and her friends. They think they’re the ones who’ll go up-fleet, but there’s no telling where they’ll be placed. Could be out on the Rift, for all they know. It’s not like they have any particular skills other than back-stabbing and gawking at the handsome Alphas.” A small chime sounds somewhere, and she spins back to me. “Time to go. Don’t want to miss combat assessment.” She takes my hand and pulls me toward the center of the room.

  “Miss what?”

  “Combat training.” She smiles.

  Combat doesn’t seem like a ‘smiling’ kind of thing, but maybe I’m mistaken?

  I ask the one question that surfaces above the sea of confusion. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  “Because I wish someone had been nice to me when I got here.” She squeezes my hand as a portal opens in the center of the room. “Let’s go.”

  She steps through the glimmering door and pulls me with her. At least this time I don’t scream.

  “There she is.” Ceredes pops to his feet as Tilda and I walk into a huge facility with an open ceiling, a tall, twisting jungle gym at the center, some sort of maze at the far end, and a wall filled with an array of weapons that make my stomach churn. Even in this alien environment, I know a gun when I see one. Those, and more, shine in the warm, too-orange sun overhead. By this time back home, I’d be in my bed and dreaming about making a new life away from my shit town and my mother. A yawn overtakes me at the thought.

  “Where have you been?” Jeren approaches, his eyebrows low, and Kyte saunters towards us, his gaze so direct that my stomach seems to tighten.

  “I had to change.” I gesture at my outfit that, thankfully, matches the other girls who stand in small groups chatting amongst themselves.

  “Nice skirt.” Jeren smirks.

  “Knock it off.” Ceredes looks down at me with concern. My stomach twists even more.

  “I just said she looks nice in it.” Jeren crosses his arms. “You do.” His smirk turns warmer, and now my insides are a giant pretzel.

  “Students, line up.” The tallest woman I’ve ever seen strides in, her black hair cut short and her light hazel eyes surveying the room. A row of low black horns dots each side of her head, giving her the look of a sleek dinosaur, one with sharp teeth and a love of meat. What is this place?

  Everyone hurries into position.

  Ceredes guides me to the back of the room. “Stay here. It’s where the Omegas line up.”

  “Line up for what?” I want to clutch his arm. In this bizarre new world, he, Kyte, and Jeren have quickly become the most familiar things, the only hints of safety. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “You’re safe.” The connection between Kyte and me sparkles to life. “It’s just a sparring class.”

  “I can’t spar.” I turn to him, his green eyes calm.

  “You can do more than you think.”

  “This is crazy.”

  “This is the fleet.” He shrugs.

  Tilda motions me over to her. “I’ve got this. Go show off like usual, Commander.” She flicks her hand at Ceredes as if waving away a bothersome mosquito.

  “Don’t worry, Master Rav will go easy on you. It’s your first day.” Kyte squeezes my shoulder, that odd connection between us flashing bright as lightning before fading as he walks away.

  “Keep your head down.” Jeren presses his fingertip to my forehead. “And use your brain. Don’t just react.”

  Tilda taps her foot again in rapid-fire fashion. “I said I can handle this. Why are you three turning into such wet blankets?”

  “Just trying to help.” Jeren backs away and queues up with Ceredes and Kyte—all three of them in a line of students who look ready to tear this entire football-field-sized building to pieces. I try not to stare at the ones with too many eyes, or no hair, or spiky backs, or horns. But it’s hard, and I’m doing my best to accept this is real, this is happening, and I need to figure out how to survive it and get back home.

  “Come on.” Tilda points to a spot on the slightly springy floor. “Take your spot.”

  “I’ve never been much for gym class.” I stand behind her as what I assume are Omegas file into place ahead of us. “In fact, I got booted from gym class once for hitting a boy in the face with a basketball. It was an accident, really. I mean, did I throw it as hard as I could? Sure. Did he deserve it for teasing one of the larger girls in gym class? Definitely. Still, total accident.”

  Tilda guides me around to stand in front of her. “To keep you from bolting. And I don’t know what a basketball is, but if hitting others is your thing, this is the class for you.”

  “I’m really not into fighting. It just happens sometimes.” There aren’t many of us Omegas, only a handful compared to the long line of Alphas and Betas.

  “Master Rav will do an assessment of your skills before assigning you a sparring partner,” she says over her shoulder. “Don’t worry.”

  “Don’t worry?” I glance at the multitude of weapons on the wall and swallow hard. Maybe I should just sit down and refuse to participate. Maybe I can do like, I don’t know, some sort of strike until they send me home? Like a protest. Why didn’t I think of this before? If I decline to—

  “Attention!” Master Rav whips out a long, black stick from the arm of her white robe and slaps it into her palm so hard I can almost feel the impact. “You will all fall in line and shut your mouths! This class is serious. This is about survival.” Her voice is a harsh lash, piercing and loud. “The Gretar Fleet keeps peace, but that peace is often only achieved on the other side of great violence. The Sentient threat is at an all-time high. Some say that conflict can be avoided. Wrong. War is coming.” She smacks the wand down into her palm again. “You must be ready to defend yourself and your comrades from any threat. And you must b
e ready to lay down your lives, if necessary, to serve the greater good.” Smack. “Fighting is essential—no matter if you are assigned up-fleet or to thruster repair. A fight will come to you. And when your rotation in this class is done, you will be ready for it.” Smack.

  No, I don’t think I’ll be starting a sit-in in her class. Definitely not.

  “Beta! Come!” she barks.

  The queue to my right begins to shift, the first girl in the line dashing toward Master Rav. She moves quickly, her feet barely touching the floor, and I think she’s about to smash the teacher in the face until Master Rav does a fluid sidestep and sends the girl flying.

  “Omega!”

  My line moves as a guy rushes her, jumps into a forward roll, and reaches toward her legs. She kicks out hard, catching him in the chin, and his pained groan makes my knees go weak. That’s brutal.

  “Alpha!”

  Ceredes strides forward, not running like the others. The teacher’s lips twitch with amusement.

  “Tired today, Commander? Perhaps a bit out of sorts from your recent space travel?” She twirls the long stick in her hand. “I heard about your unauthorized trip.”

  “Not tired.” Ceredes swings his arms as if he’s loosening up. “Just bored with your methods.”

  “Here we go.” Tilda leans to the side to get a better look.

  I lean too, keeping Ceredes in view.

  “Cockiness from an Alpha? How unsurprising.” She keeps him in front of her, turning as he walks to her right.

  “Mediocrity from a Beta? Also unsurprising.”

  The entire class does a hard intake of breath. My eyebrows hit my hairline. Maybe I’m out of my depth here, but taunting a teacher, especially one as scary as Master Rav, is never a good idea.

  She stops. He moves so quickly that all I see is a blur hurtling toward her. But she lashes out at the very last moment, and he darts back, her blow barely missing his nose. After that, they’re both a whirling mass of movement. They dodge and feint, both of them looking to land just one hit on the other.

  “Holy shit.” I find myself clutching Tilda’s arm as Ceredes moves like water, smooth and deadly, each motion controlled but fluid. “How does he do that?”

  “He’s a fighter. It’s in his blood. He comes from a long line of Bellatians, the most vicious warriors in any galaxy They serve on the frontlines of every fleet conflict.” She chuckles. “At the beginning of this session, he was already besting her. Now? He just toys with her for a while before going in for the kill.”

  “This session? Like a semester? Is it almost over?”

  “We’re in the last half, yes. But there’s still about two months of classes before the ball.”

  I suck in my breath as Ceredes deals a blow to the instructor. Her head snaps back as his fist makes contact with her jaw, but then he steps back and stills.

  She laughs, the sound full-throated, and rubs the spot where he hit her. “Good work, Alpha Commander.”

  He gives her a curt, respectful nod.

  Turning back to the rest of us, she resumes shouting out the different houses, none of the other students managing to so much as get near her. She assigns partners, and they begin fighting each other in the middle of the gym, some of the pairs growing more aggressive as the sparring wears on. I shuffle along behind Tilda, moving ever closer to Master Rav, dread building inside me until I feel like my neck and face are on fire but the tips of my ears are ice.

  While watching an Alpha take her turn, I accidentally bump into the Omega ahead of me. “Sorry.”

  She turns, her red hair hiding half her face, but doesn’t speak.

  “I wasn’t looking.” I try again. “My bad.”

  She just stares at me with the one blue eye I can see.

  “Um, Tilda?” I pull on her sleeve. “A little help here?”

  She looks from me to the red-haired girl. “Oh, Uaxin, this is the new Omega, Lana.” She motions toward the girl. “This is Uaxin.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I start to offer my hand like an awkward businessman, then pull it back.

  She still doesn’t speak or acknowledge me but turns back around.

  I widen my eyes at Tilda.

  She leans into my ear. “Uaxin comes from a planet near the Rift.”

  I nod as if I have any idea what ‘the Rift’ is, and she continues, “She’d been taken by some rogue Alphas before the fleet found her. We don’t know what happened to her, but it wasn’t good. She doesn’t speak. But she’s kind, and she’s a good cadet.”

  “Okay.” I turn that information over in my mind, inspecting it. Did she go into needing like me? What happened? I’m only beginning to understand the restraint the three guys had when we were on that shuttle, and I’m grateful.

  Master Rav slams a Beta onto the mat so hard I can feel the impact. Shiiiit.

  My hands are shaking when Kyte gets called forward.

  He clasps his hands behind his back as he strides to her. “Looking lovely today as always, Master Rav.”

  She settles back into a loose stance, her gaze never wavering from him. “Be careful or that golden tongue will get you into trouble.”

  “I certainly hope so.” He circles her and holds out a hand, blue sparks crackling in his palm.

  My eyes probably bug out of my head. “He can control electricity?”

  “What’s electricity?” Tilda’s gaze doesn’t stray from the match. “Each Calarian is born with a shard of the same energy that makes up the center of their planet. Kyte’s manifests in healing, barriers, and rarely, into destructive bolts.”

  “He’s electric.” I gawk.

  “Have you changed your hair, Master Rav?” He smiles congenially. “It’s looking particularly nice.”

  “Enough talk.” She waves him forward. “No Calarian tricks, either.”

  “You always ruin the fun.” Dousing the sparks, he moves toward her, then back, and they engage in a swift dance that looks something like convoluted tag. It’s not as efficient as Ceredes, but it works, because he eventually manages to tap her shoulder before dodging away from her attack with the stick.

  She gestures toward Ceredes. “You two get to work.”

  Motioning to Ilwen, she takes up a defensive stance. The pink terror dances out toward her, moving quickly and lithely.

  “Don’t prance so much.” Master Rav twirls her stick. “Throws off your balance.”

  Ilwen bends her knees but keeps away from the teacher.

  “Come.” Master Rav slides her stick behind her, holstering it.

  Ilwen surges forward and almost makes it, but Master Rav kicks out high and hard, catching her in the chest and sending Ilwen thumping onto the mat. I want to cheer but manage to keep my enthusiasm to myself. Barely.

  Ilwen screeches with frustration and catapults back to her feet in a purely acrobatic move. Wow.

  “You needed to wait for the right moment.” Master Rav waggles a finger at her. “You tried to take the easy way, and you telegraphed it ahead of time. That’s what cost you. Good effort.”

  Ilwen rubs her chest and sulks away toward the sparring partners.

  “Alpha!”

  Jeren strides up but circles Master Rav from the periphery.

  “Come, shadow. Give us a touch.” Master Rav smiles and stands straight, her arms loose at her sides.

  “Already did.” Jeren smirks.

  Master Rav’s dark eyebrows collide, and she reaches back for her stick but finds only air.

  Jeren pulls it from behind his back and twirls it with ease.

  “How did he do that?” I whisper to Tilda.

  “He’s a Larenoan,” she replies, as if that explains it.

  He tosses her the stick, and she calls several more forward until only Tilda and I remain in the Omega line.

  I slink around behind her, hoping to avoid humiliation for as long as possible. “Maybe she can just assign me to be your sparring partner without all the—”

  “That wouldn’t be a good
idea.” Tilda pats my hand.

  “Why not?”

  “Omega!” Master Rav calls.

  “Because—” Tilda disappears.

  I blink hard.

  She reappears and taps Master Rav on the shoulder with a silver blade.

  My eyes open so wide they get a weird ache. “What the fu—”

  “I let you have that one, Granterry sneak.” Master Rav pokes Tilda with her own blade. She already had it in place to open Tilda’s stomach. “But never let your guard down.”

  “Pillars.” Tilda says it like a swear.

  Master Rav waves her away. “Spar with Ilwen.”

  “Omega.” She points at me. “Come.”

  “I don’t, um … I have no idea what to do here.” I step forward, though I’d rather turn tail and run. This is not my wheelhouse, not even my galaxy, for that matter. I don’t fight—not in real life, anyway. I’ve taken enough hits to know I’m not interested in throwing any.

  She smiles, but it’s more calculating than anything else. “All you have to do is touch me.”

  “Okay, sure, but I’ve been watching this whole time. I know for a fact that I can’t touch you. Not on my best day with both your hands tied behind your back and a blindfold over your eyes.”

  “With that attitude, you’re correct. You’ll never make it.” She pulls her stick out and tucks it under her arm. “But you must make the attempt.”

  “You have to try. Otherwise, she’ll come after you.” Kyte’s voice floats around in my mind, and I look up to find him, Ceredes, and Jeren all looking at me.

  No pressure.

  I swallow hard. “Okay.” I step forward.

  Someone snickers behind Master Rav, and I already know it’s Ilwen.

  “May I spar with her, Master?” a deep voice calls from the Alpha line. Gavros leers at me when I look that way.