Captive Omega

by Riley Carver

  Captive Omega

  Earthborn Omegas Book 1

  Riley Carver

  Copyright © 2019 Riley Carver

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form on by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Kira

  The burst of azure light illuminates the night sky.

  The trees lining my backyard cast eerie shadows in the blinding blue flash.

  “What the hell?” my sister Sarah wonders aloud.

  Before I can answer, an ear-splitting boom explodes across the lawn. It sounds like a thunderclap, but it’s impossibly loud. Looking around, I see all the guests at Sarah’s engagement party drop to the ground, covering their ears.

  As the sound rumbles away into the distance, my father staggers up off the ground.

  “Is it them? The aliens? It can’t be.” I can see the whites of his eyes flash wildly in the dim evening.

  For weeks, scientists all over the world have been warning of their arrival. At first, they spoke calmly about what they were seeing at their observatories. They talked of their calculations and the margin of error.

  In the haze of numbers and technical terms, theories spread online. But they weren’t theories about the aliens. There was a constant drumbeat that the scientists were trying to make us afraid, that there was no way they could be right.

  The invasion wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be a lie. My parents, in particular, laughed over interviews with an imposing astrophysicist who yelled louder and louder the more the cable news host tried to poke holes in her claims.

  “Well, he cut her down to size,” my dad said, leaning back in his recliner. “That’ll teach her to spout her nonsense. They oughta cart all these so-called experts right off to the asylum—that’s what they really oughta do.”

  I started telling Mom and Dad that I was going to job interviews. I invented extra shifts at the restaurant where I’d been waitressing in the four months since I’d graduated from college. In every stolen moment, I went to the library instead.

  I pulled up article after article on Believer sites. I ordered a telescope and asked for it to be delivered in an unmarked box. I exchanged long emails with Believers I connected with on forums online.

  All of us were cagey and discreet. I knew usernames but no extraneous details. I biked home from the library past a garage spray painted with the words “Believer BITCH.”

  The air in the neighborhood seemed to hum with anxiety. It was like we were all waiting in a room full of gas for someone to inevitably light a match. Still, we all trudged on like life was normal.

  Kids lined up for the school bus at the end of my street. I’d see them shove each other, their small frames already unsteady from the big, full backpacks strapped to their backs. I saw them every morning after my telescope came. I’d stay up all night watching as a big blur got nearer and nearer.

  One morning, the blur was gone. I scanned the early morning sky for hours. Nothing. Finally, I let myself settle on the most comforting idea I could imagine: The scientists had been wrong. Maybe they were crazy, after all. Or maybe they had been working to destabilize the world economy, or trying to sell us bunkers, or one of the other myriad reasons Nonbelievers clung to and shouted about.

  I exhaled and collapsed on my twin bed. Through my pink ruffled curtains, the sun was shining. I felt a weight lift off me that I didn’t realize I’d been carrying, as though I’d flung off an invisible backpack of my own.

  It was the day of my sister’s engagement BBQ, and now I could finally enjoy it. I went through the many hours of errands and house cleaning and food prep like a Nonbeliever. I even caught myself humming tunelessly as I chopped carrots and carefully arranged the veggies and crackers on a tray. Everything was going to be fine! I checked myself in the mirror before heading down to greet guests, and as I smoothed my long brown hair, I saw the crooked grin I was wearing. I felt so light—maybe even happy.

  I should have known it was too good to be true. Because I’m at a party in my own backyard and I’m standing next to the grill, shaking, wishing we had a fence—something, anything—that might hold the aliens back and keep us safe. I remember the last post I’d read by believe_or_perish: “I know I always say, ‘adapt to survive,’ but it’s too late to prepare. I wish you all luck. You’re going to need it.”

  The aliens approach in swift strides. They largely resemble humans, yet they’re taller and far bigger. Muscles ripple under their gray skin as they stalk down the street. They move with a deadly, serpentine grace, almost floating above the cracked asphalt.

  The one in front is obviously the leader. He stands a head and shoulders taller than the rest. He points to his left with an enormous clawed hand, and two of the group break off and head in that direction without a second’s hesitation. The rest of them are heading straight toward us.

  The world flattens and time slows. It’s like I’m underwater: Everything is hazy and indistinct. A buzzing sound fills my ears, and I can hear my family murmuring beside me, but I can’t understand a word they are saying. It doesn’t seem possible that the aliens are walking across my parents’ brilliant green lawn.

  The smell of them fills my nostrils. It’s overwhelming. Like fresh-cut timber, but muskier. The heady aroma infuses every inch of my being. I can taste it deep in my throat, on my tongue, on my lips.

  The massive alien in front swivels toward me. His mouth opens and his tongue flicks out, testing the air. His golden eyes widen slightly as he considers me.

  Fear knots my stomach as I meet his gaze. His large eyes are like liquid puddles of gold. I take a step back, but it’s as if I’m moving in slow motion. My body is heavy, and I stumble.

  In a daze, I feel wetness between my legs. Lust mounts deep inside of me. What the fuck?

  My body is responding in ways that I’ve never felt before. My legs tremble. The slickness is running down the inside of my thighs.

  As I start to fall to the ground, the golden-eyed alien darts forward gracefully and catches me as I crumple. So close, the smell of him is even more overpowering. I whimper into his broad chest as he holds me tightly to him.

  The sound of my family screaming reaches my ears, but it’s muted and muffled, like it’s coming out of tinny speakers far away. Much closer is a rumbling purr echoing from the alien’s chest. It is unlike any sound I’ve heard before. It soothes and comforts me.

  I stare up at the starry sky and the tree I played in as a child. Its branches move and shift. I must be moving. Cradled in the alien’s strong arms, I hear him utter a single word in his booming voice: Omega. Then the world fades.

  Drax

  I smell the Omega before I see her. The sweetness she gives off is unmistakable. The smell gets denser and more comp
lex the nearer I get to her. When I’m an arm’s length away, the sweetness gives way to a raw, animal smell.

  I want to bare my teeth and growl. I could paw at her, rend her clothes, make her howl with pleasure. But I have a job to do, and the mission comes first.

  It takes all my restraint to hold off. Still, after years of training, I don’t doubt my self-control. I’m used to tamping down my wants and needs for the good of the Upper Council. There’s no time for dalliances. We’re preparing for war.

  The Omega tilts her head up and locks eyes with me. She’s a small thing, probably five galaxars shorter than me, which makes her about five-five in Earth parlance, if my preparations for the mission haven’t failed me. And they haven’t. I didn’t spend a year locked in the ship’s library studying Earth languages and the customs of the Earthborns for nothing.

  Her pupils dilate, and she shudders. Seeing her stiffen, I can tell her slick is coating her thighs. I push away the image of me between her legs that flits into my mind. She begins to sway slightly. Grabbing her is pure instinct.

  The Omega’s body is so warm against mine. Earthborns have an unusually high body temperature, something I’ve only read about but never felt before. When it was simply a fact, numbers on a page, I took a purely clinical view. But with the Omega in my arms, I have a bad feeling about staying this close.

  I hand the Omega to a Beta on my tactical team and wave him away. The other Alphas are sniffing the air, and everything in their biology is telling them to circle the Omega and challenge each other for primacy. I trust my team most of the time, but there’s a reason I’m in charge.

  “The target has been acquired. Make your way back to the base. Immediately,” I bark at them. They snap out of their Omega-induced trance and straighten up at once. They fall into two rows, enveloping the Beta holding our prize.

  I turn on my heel, pleased to be heading back. The sooner we can get off this backwards planet, the better. While it’s been interesting to me on an intellectual level to see everything I studied about the Earthborns firsthand, I wasn’t prepared for how glum it makes me feel to be here.

  The Earthborns are like ants, but instead of building hills of sand, they have poured a kind of tar over wide swaths of land. The effect is a grim landscape, and I yearn for the rivers and fields of Fysi.

  I fall into lockstep with my men. I am breathing a sigh of relief and thinking of home when I feel it. Something has hit my back. I feel it again. When I snort and wheel around, it’s from a mixture of amusement and annoyance. One of these Earthborns is throwing rocks at me.

  I scan the area and lock on to a small, red-faced man wearing a wide-brimmed hat. He must be their leader.

  “Hey! Hey!” he screams, raking his fingers through his disheveled hair.

  I cock my head and wait for him to continue making a fool of himself.

  “You-you bring her back. That’s my daughter,” he yells. “And I don’t know who put you up to this, but I know you’re not real. This is a fucking hoax.”

  At the word “hoax,” he is shrieking. Everything he says after that is a jumble of sounds. I can’t parse them, and I don’t think anyone born on Earth could either. Nothing he is saying registers as any of the Earthborn languages I know.

  I search my memory for this word that’s set him off. It’s a favorite of these Earthborns, so it doesn’t take long for me to place it.

  The Upper Council went to incredible lengths to prepare the Earthborns for our arrival. We transmitted information about our coordinates so that our approach would be easy to track. We attempted to make contact with governments across the globe but were unable to identify the appropriate bureaucrats. And when we did manage to craft rudimentary communication machines, no one we contacted took us seriously.

  I don’t have time for this maniac of a man. I pull my laser gun from its holster and flip it to stun mode. I casually fire off a shot, and it hits the man square in the chest. He flies back, losing consciousness a second after his mouth forms a surprised “O.”

  I barely notice the other Earthborns swarm around him. They are crying and screaming. It’s all very loud and unpleasant. I wish the Earthborns were smarter and less emotional. I’ll be happy to hand off the Omega to the collection center and never step foot on this planet again. How does anyone tolerate this useless species? It’s annoying that the Upper Council insists we protect them from the Avekis. If it were up to me, we’d let this planet and the people living here burn.

  Chapter 2

  Kira

  Everything in my field of vision has fuzzy edges. I can’t seem to focus on what I see. I am straining against the arms holding me, but it’s no use. One strong hand tightens around the back of my neck while the other squeezes around my waist. Under my dress, my thighs are still wet.

  We are moving quickly through my neighborhood, and every step bounces me violently. The soft breeze on my wet legs makes my teeth chatter. As we pass the cheerful sign that announces the entrance to my neighborhood, Brent Gardens, I look down and see the aliens’ huge boots trampling the petunias planted around the sign’s base.

  These men—or males, I guess—are brutes. Nothing more. They have no regard for anyone else, and I quake with fear imagining what they have in store for me. For weeks, I have been reading Believers’ theories online. I’d give anything to forget what I’ve read.

  The Believer community is split on what the aliens want: Half of them think the aliens want to conduct medical experiments on humans. Now I can’t get one Reddit thread I read out of my head. It was about the aliens using their advanced technology to keep people alive as they peel off our skin and harvest our organs.

  Tears roll down my cheeks. I want to be back with my family, pretending that my sister’s fiancé is good enough for her so that she has a nice engagement party. I even miss the way my dad makes fun of my “useless” degree when I get home from waitressing each night. I don’t even know if my family is okay. Were any of them taken the way I was? Will I see them wherever I’m going? Or am I utterly alone?

  I try to yell or fight back, but no sound comes from my lips, and the alien cradling me doesn’t even register my movements as I try to twist and break free. I turn my head, and my vision seems to clear at the worst possible moment.

  We have reached the highway, and it is filled with aliens. From my vantage point, I can’t even hazard a guess at how many there are. It’s like a swarm. I’ve never seen a highway devoid of cars and trucks. Without the honking of horns or the sound of motorcycles whipping past, it feels eerie. I can’t explain it, but it’s like a death.

  I close my eyes. I can’t handle this, and I don’t want to know what’s coming next. My heart starts to beat fast. It hammers in my ears, loud enough that I don’t register the sounds around me for a minute. There’s a clicking and popping noise that’s difficult to put into words. It’s like the whirr of cicadas plus the sound of a vacuum-sealed jar lid opening for the first time.

  I swallow hard, willing myself to calm down and ignore the strangeness around me. I won’t let these bastards experiment on me. I am shaking and know that even if the brute holding me put me down, I would fall. I’m not going to be able to outrun them. I have to outsmart them. As I force myself to breathe deeply, I start to make a plan.

  Drax

  The battalion has landed, and it seems that our strategy has been an effective one. The Alphas and Betas under my command are standing at attention on the long expanse of tar. I switch on the amplifier from the control panel on my wrist and deliver my next set of commands to everyone assembled in front of me.

  After I finish, I return my soldiers’ salute and turn my attention to the transport craft to my left that’s hovering one step up off the ground. I select two Alphas from my extraction team and order them aboard, along with three Beta soldiers and the Omega’s attendant. One of the Beta soldiers carries the Omega carelessly in his arms. She gets whiplash every time he moves.

  “Beta!” I shout. “Hand her
over. You bring shame to Fysi with everything you do.”

  The Beta looks at the ground as he passes the Omega over to me. He stutters out an apology, and I correct myself. “I was wrong. You bring shame to Fysi with everything you do and say. Join up with the soldiers headed to the ship and receive new orders from the Beta company captain.”

  The team I’ve selected boards the transport craft that will take us to our makeshift command center on Earth, and I step forward to join them. As I do, the Omega reaches out and latches onto the side. Like all the humans I’ve met so far, she is making a terrible racket.

  I’m so much stronger than her that I could pull her off without any effort. But from what I know about the Earthborns’ pathetic physiology, I’m afraid I’ll misjudge my strength. I’m distracted by the warmth of her body too. And if I’m not paying attention, it’s possible I could rip her arm off like the wing of a fly (a species we, unfortunately, have in common with the Earthborns).