Omega Academy

by Lily Archer

  21

  Jeren

  I see her ship go down, and I immediately land next to the smoking heap of twisted metal. One wing is completely gone, and the other is wrenched at a sharp angle and interspersed with pieces of Gavros’s flying tank. The entire thing is upside down.

  “What happened?” Ceredes barks as he jumps from his own ship and runs with me toward the wreckage.

  “She shot Gavros down, but I think the energy burst caused her to malfunction.” I want to challenge the asshole to the dueling ring, to make him bleed for what he’s done to Lana. But first I have to make sure she’s okay. If she’s not, Gavros won’t leave this field alive.

  Master Daviti sets down in the churned dirt left by the crashing ships and jumps, rolls, and starts a wobbly jog toward the wreckage.

  Ceredes and I reach her ship first.

  “Lana!” I yell and try to open the back hatch. It’s stuck.

  “Here,” Ceredes calls, and I dash around to the broken wing.

  “Kyte, can you hear me? Kyte!” Lana’s voice carries through the hole in the wing.

  Ceredes and I ignore the sparking wires and shoulder our way through the narrow hole into the main cabin.

  “Lana.” I kneel next to her, but she looks okay. Not a scratch on her. Kyte’s head rests in her lap, his eyes closed, his golden glow dimmed. Tilda and Avri are stunned, but likewise unharmed.

  “Kyte, please.” She strokes his forehead.

  “What happened?” Ceredes pulls debris away from the wing and helps Avri and Tilda out.

  “Gavros tried to wreck us in the ravine, so then Kyte and Lana tried to down him.” Tilda sniffles. “It almost worked, but the burst disabled our ship, too.”

  “Didn’t account for the lack of dampeners on the training aircraft.” Kyte’s voice is low, hoarse, but he’s alive.

  “Oh my god.” Lana leans down and kisses his forehead, tears rolling down her cheeks. “You’re alive. You saved us. That thing you did with the green orb. You saved us all.”

  “You.” He opens his eyes and fixes his gaze on Lana. “I used you like a virudivan battery. You gave me what I needed to create the barrier.”

  Ceredes pushes back through the wing. “You could’ve gotten yourselves killed!” His voice is soaked in anger, but I can taste the fear underneath. I share it. The thought of losing Lana and Kyte makes me feel like I might retch.

  Kyte still holds Lana’s gaze. “We got Gavros, right?”

  Ceredes punches what’s left of the wall, his fist leaving an indention. “Damnit, Kyte.”

  “Don’t talk.” She kisses him again. “You’re going to be okay. We’re all going to be fine.” She lowers her voice to a whisper, “And we nailed that asshole.”

  Kyte snorts.

  “Any casualties?” Master Daviti calls from outside.

  “We need a medic.” Ceredes is a little calmer at least.

  “One’s on the way.” He coughs. “The others are fine, too, if you were worried.”

  “Not worried,” Lana whispers. “Fuck ‘em.”

  “What?” I have no idea what she just said. Must be a human phrase.

  She finally looks at me, and my heart does that weird jumping thing it’s done from the moment I saw her. “You don’t know the f-word?”

  “The f-word?” I’m lost.

  “Fuck.” She gives me an incredulous look. “It’s pretty much the most famous cuss word humans have.”

  “What does it mean?” Ceredes drops to his haunches.

  “See? Maybe we crashed, but we’re still learning.” Kyte smiles weakly. “Tell us more.”

  “Shush, you.” She strokes his hair. “The word is really … versatile, I guess you could say. Like, if you did something amazing, you’d say ‘fuck yeah!’, or maybe you’re surprised so you say ‘fuck me!’ or if you were mad at someone, you’d say ‘fuck you’ or if you wanted to—” She looks away. “—mate with someone, you’d say you wanted to ‘fuck’ them. So it’s just a nastier word for sex, I guess you’d say, but then it does a lot of work in other phrases, too.”

  “So, wait.” I try to keep my voice level despite the acid churning in my gut. “You said you wanted to ‘fuck them’ in reference to Gavros. Are you saying you want to mate with—”

  Ceredes tenses, and even Kyte grimaces.

  “No.” She holds up a hand. “No, you’re misunderstanding me. That’s the insult version. I said ‘fuck ‘em’ which means more of like ‘I don’t care about them.’ See?”

  Ceredes nods. “So, humans don’t care about the ones they fuck?”

  “No.” She presses her palm to her forehead. “We are officially in the weeds. Let’s just forget about that word, okay? We don’t need it. I mean, I may use it sometimes on accident, but it’s not like, a big necessity for me. I can live without it. Moving on.” She blinks hard. “Did you all know Kyte can do some sort of amazing magic and make a barrier appear?”

  “Not magic.” Kyte makes a pfft sound, and some of his color is returning. “It’s a Calarian trait. One of the reasons why I can heal.”

  Precious few Larenoans possess the healing ability. Kyte would be a god on the flotilla, though no Calarian has ever set foot there.

  “So many wires in this new tech.” Master Daviti pushes through the wreckage and peers around at the ruined cabin. “I talked with the other cadets, and we’ve all agreed that this was an unfortunate accident. No point in upsetting Master Harlan or the higher-ups. Just a ship malfunction.” He pats the spot where Ceredes punched, and a piece of ship falls off and clanks out of the wing. “Glad we can all agree on that finer point of flying.” He takes a swig from his canteen. “And I think we can also agree that tampering with the training models is never a good idea.” He locks gazes with Kyte.

  How does he know what happened? I’m gaining a newfound appreciation for the drunken, three-eyed flight instructor. An accident means no demerits for Kyte or Lana. An accident means we won’t be scrutinized by Master Harlan. But I still don’t know if I want to strangle Kyte for putting Lana in danger.

  She seems to read my mind, because she pins me with her big brown eyes. “It’s not his fault. Not really, anyway. I mean, Gavros instigated all of it.”

  I glance at Master Daviti, then back to Lana. “We’ll discuss this later.”

  “I hate that phrase. Whenever someone says that to me, it means I’m in trouble, and the trouble will only get worse until ‘later’ when I get a tongue-lashing.”

  My eyes round, and I look at Ceredes, who has the same expression.

  “I need to recover before the tongue-lashing.” Kyte coughs. “I want to participate.”

  “No.” Her cheeks redden. “I don’t mean … I mean being fussed at, not being licked or … I give up.” She blows a strand of hair out her face. “You three are doing this on purpose.”

  “Us? No.” Kyte smiles.

  “Onin is coming for you, Kyte. Just—” Master Daviti waves a hand and almost falls out of the wing. “Stay there. Lana, I need you with me.”

  “Oh?” She strokes Kyte’s hair. “I don’t want to leave him.”

  “And I don’t want to be the instructor who saw millions of fleet credits go down the shit chute because of a feud between cadets, but here we are.” He smiles with good humor, but Lana takes his point, because she gently scoots away from Kyte and pulls Ceredes down to take her place, then rises and picks her way to Master Daviti.

  “All of you let Onin handle Kyte. He’ll be fine, though.” Master Daviti clambers back through the wing.

  “Take care of him.” Lana takes my hand and squeezes it.

  “We will.” I help her through the debris.

  She’s almost out of the wing when Ceredes calls. “Fuck you, Lana.”

  22

  Lana

  The gunner seat in Master Daviti’s ship is tight, but I slide into it and use the belt strap across my waist. It’s similar to what cars have on Earth. I guess his ship doesn’t have that weird gravity thi
ng that mine does. Or, I guess, more accurately, did.

  I pull the strap tight. “I guess this gunner seat was made for someone with nice, narrow hips, huh?” I try to smile as I wiggle to get as comfortable as I can.

  “It was made for a Rulentin female.” He toasts to no one in particular and takes a swig.

  I’m about to ask what that is, but the engine grumbles to life, shaking the craft almost violently. Master Daviti lifts off, and the roar turns into a quiet purr as he maneuvers through the clear sky. I realize I almost prefer the feel of acceleration. It makes flying more visceral, not the static environment of the V-11s.

  “I like this ship.” I reach out and grab the controls. These are real, not the sort that comes to life in your hands. They are set and fairly intuitive. I could learn this. I know it.

  “I’ve flown this ship for longer than most of these cadets have been alive. Maybe some of their parents, too.” He slurps down another drink. “But we’re not here to talk about me.”

  Right, we’re here to talk about me wrecking two good ships. “Look, I know I shouldn’t have tried to take Gavros down, but he’s a real asshole, and he tried to kill us in the ravine, so I don’t think—”

  “Calm down.” He runs a hand through his thin, curly hair. “You think you’re the first cadet to destroy one of the training ships?”

  “Well, when you put it like that, I guess not.”

  “Definitely not.” He hiccups and wipes his mouth on his sleeve.

  I press one of the buttons on the controller.

  A dark red blast shoots from the front of the ship and obliterates the top of a small hill just ahead of us. Oh, shit.

  He shrugs. “Don’t, uh, press anything.”

  “Okay.” I tuck my hands under my arms.

  “You’re a natural flyer. I don’t get many of those these days. You’re the first I’ve had in a century.”

  I try to keep my smile to a minimum. No need to look like a grinning fool. But that fails. So yes, I’m a grinning fool. “How can you tell?”

  “I’ve only been flying for 400 years.” He maneuvers around the edge of a forest, the ship reacting to him in perfect time. He’s like an artist with it, as if he and the craft are one, and together they bend the world to fit their trajectory. “But you’re completely raw. Most of the cadets I see have been flying since they’ve been walking. It’s essential in fleet society. You don’t have that. And maybe that’s a good thing.”

  “Why would that be good?” I’m not quite following him, but maybe that’s because I keep thinking about Kyte. Will Onin be able to heal him up quickly? For that matter, what was actually wrong with him? Did creating the barrier tax him too much?

  “It’s good because you won’t be sent to a squadron. You don’t have the experience to pilot in space, to get in the shit with the Sentients.”

  “I won’t?” I hadn’t thought about flying for the fleet, not as a fighter pilot. But the more he talks about it, the more it makes sense. If fighting the Sentients keeps the galaxies safe—including my own—then why shouldn’t I?

  “Nope. You have the skill, but not the training.”

  I stare at the back of his head as he maneuvers past the arch that Gavros just destroyed. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to teach me?”

  He points. “That arch was created over millions of years. The water that flowed through the ravine left it. A gift for anyone who saw it. Before the academy took these lands for training, people used to come from Centari City just to marvel at it. Now it’s gone.” He sighs. “When the Pillars create something special, it’s always in danger. Being unique, being different—that’s what caused Gavros to destroy the arch. It became a target.”

  I rub my eyes, because I’m not sure what else to do. “The arch was special. I get that. And I didn’t want him to destroy it. But back to the fleet, aren’t you supposed to be the one training me on how to fly so I can have the experience I need?”

  “I don’t train anyone. Not really.” He takes another drink. “I show you the ships. I tell you what they do. And then you fly them. And some of you fly off to a squadron. And that’s where you die.” He says it with such finality. But I suppose that’s what death is—final.

  “Not all the pilots die, surely.”

  “Oh, but they do.” He waves a hand, his drink sloshing. “My entire squadron, just gone. Utterly gone. Because that’s war. And the Sentients—they never want this war to end. Not until the fleet is theirs. Not until we’re all cyborgs or slaves or food for the Rift creatures. They won’t stop. So, yes, it’s a good thing you’ll never be a pilot.”

  I see why he drinks. It dulls the pain. My mom did the same thing, though it made her mean, not sad like Master Daviti. I unwind a little, though I don’t go anywhere near the controls. “You lost your entire squadron. All your friends.”

  “My friends. My Omega.” His voice cracks on the last word, but he clears his throat and continues, “When I send pilots to the fleet, I send them to die. But you have that spark, you see? My Omega had it. She was the best damn pilot this universe has ever seen. A tiny Rulentin female with the heart to captain a ship right alongside Nox.” The pride in his voice rips a hole in my heart. “But did it matter? No. Not when the Sentients tore her ship apart and flung her into space. Lirian died outside my window. I still see her.” He raises a hand to the windshield, as if she’s just outside.

  I look down at my uncomfortable seat. He said it was made for a Rulentin female. For his Omega, Lirian. “I’m sorry.” My voice shakes at the pain in him, the anguish that’s still fresh when he talks about his Omega. “I can’t imagine how hard that was for you.”

  He raises his canteen and downs a huge gulp. “You shouldn’t have to. And you won’t. I won’t let them have you. So, keep that in mind when you’re flying. When you’re soaring out here in the blue and feeling free, remember that being the best comes with a high price.” He wipes his nose on his sleeve. “Because I see a bit of my Lirian in you. She’s there. Her spirit. And she loved to fly, to lead. But look where it got her.” He sniffles again, then says softly, “Look where it got her.”

  We fly the rest of the way back to the academy in silence interspersed with hiccups. I chew over what he’s said, the warning in his words. I love flying. It’s the only subject at this school that I seem to have any aptitude for. But if it’s going to get me killed? Maybe I should try something else, something a little less … deadly. Then again, as I watch Master Daviti maneuver through the sky, dance with the clouds, and weave through the landscape, I wonder if maybe that spark he sees in me might be the thing that will keep me in the air—and keep me alive.

  23

  Ceredes

  “These are all we have to choose from?” Kyte frowns at the four different dress uniforms available for the ball.

  “The fleet wants consistency.” I don’t particularly like them, either, but fashion isn’t high on my list of concerns. “Everyone has to look perfect since the Council of Regents might be there.”

  “These are just so plain. Not a touch of gold anywhere.” He frowns.

  “Not everything has to be covered in Calarian riches.” Jeren inspects the darkest of the uniforms, naturally. “This one will do fine. Besides, I’m more concerned about finals.”

  I turn and give him an overly-surprised look. “You, the shadow of the Alpha Academy, the Larenoan who doesn’t even want to be here—you are concerned about finals?”

  He grabs the pillow off my bed and throws it at me. I catch it and throw it back.

  “You know what I mean. Lana. She’s so far behind.”

  Kyte glances out the window on his side of the dorm. “She and Tilda are at the fountain again, studying for Master Lintaru’s class.”

  I know. I always know where she is. It would probably creep her out if she knew how closely I watched her. But if I don’t, worry eats away at me. What if Gavros was bothering her again? I don’t feel at ease unless she’s near, so I keep tabs on her.
At least Kyte and Jeren don’t know how bad I’ve gotten.

  “We know you already know where she is.” Kyte smirks.

  “What?” I turn and pretend to inspect the white uniform. “No, I don’t.”

  “Yes, you do.” Jeren laughs. “It actually makes me feel better.”

  “What does?” I shine the silver button at the uniform’s throat.

  “That you’re always keeping watch. Don’t deny it.” Kyte leans against the wall. “I won’t. I admit I have a link to her still, from that very first day. It wanes if I haven’t seen her for a while, but when we get back together, it’s there. I think that once the circle is sealed, it will always be there, and strong. But I spy on her sometimes. Nothing intrusive. I just sort of … check in.”

  “And I’m the one who watches her too much?”

  “Not too much.” Jeren flips through a textbook on his screen. “Just enough.”

  Every day that goes by and the circle isn’t sealed, it’s like a splinter is embedded under my skin. I can’t imagine the relief I’ll feel when that splinter is gone. Not to mention the other side effects of denying myself. The thought of Lana is all it takes for my cock to act up, the knot aching. And I know she feels the same. The perfume of her slick is like a tease, and it grows stronger when all four of us are together.

  “You’re drooling.” Kyte points.

  “No, I’m not.” I wipe my mouth just in case.

  “I do the same thing when I think about her.” He lies back on his bed, one hand resting on his stomach. “Maybe the mating won’t be public, but it will be epic.”

  “Don’t talk about mating,” Jeren snipes. “I won’t be able to concentrate on the things I need to go over with her tomorrow.”

  “I wonder who she’ll choose to taste her first, to touch her.” Kyte’s hand makes lazy circles on his stomach, and I imagine what it would feel like for me to be the first to spread her legs and run my tongue along her sweet slick.