Page 65 of The Omega's Unexpected Bounty
“Before you do whatever you want to me,” said my father. “Do me a favor and answer two questions?”
Peter said nothing, and Nate took it as a yes.
“Your folks? They good?”
Peter’s face softened but not by much. “My Pa’s well. He was here last month. He’s getting older, but still moves around.” He stayed silent for a few seconds. “Are you really asking about Becky? She married and got a good man – adecentone.”
He nodded that he heard. “I wish I could have treated her better. When you see her, tell her I’m sorry.” His cheeks puffed out before speaking. “Peter? Is there a point where I’ve paid for that night? Twenty years Peter, twenty god damnyears. They passed me around for that long. The Volardi...” a tear went down his cheek. “They turned me into an Omega and took away my muscles. I can barely pick up a large rock. Made me into something to be used by men.”
“From what I heard, you betrayed a crew willing to take you on and gave up your child. You didn’t just hurt me. I remember you, you lived your life pushing around others because youcould. You were the king of your little hill back home. If it weren’t for the Volardi what would have happened? Would I be in the ground somewhere because you didn’t like the ‘queer boy?’” His forgotten accent thickened until it was almost New Texan. “The only reason you’re remorseful is because the galaxy wasn’t fucked up like you.”
Nate took everything Peter said and not because he was beaten. There’s a time where a man hears the truth and can’t deny it. The galaxy isn’t fair. Nothing should have happened to Peter. I can’t say my father deserved twenty years, but I wonder what he would have done if he succeeded in his plans before I was born. If he wasn’t stuck on the mining colony, would he have continued to hurt people?
All good questions and something I may have had an answer for if we were able to stay there uninterrupted. A searing red flash removed Peter’s head or rather his sim’s. Nate yelled and pointed behind me while a shimmering force field separated us. The acidic smell of chemical smoke entered my nose, and the world fogged before me. Without intention, my muscles stiffened. I instinctively blinked away the grey spots in my vision. Like water dripping out of a glass, I could sense the control leaving my body. Under my blanket, fingers that tingled and felt like they belonged to someone else, pressed then slid against Tiny’s back.
Hope I turned you on in time.
***
I think I activated him. Otherwise, I was in deeper trouble, and I had plenty.
With dead fingers, I couldn’t sense anything. Blurry vision cleared, but that was the only thing I got back. I was still a prisoner in a pregnant body. Now I was paralyzed too; a prison within a prison – although this stone hallway was the official jail thus adding to the multiple layers.
Amid the pungent odor of mildew, I looked up in the bearded face of Balo and did... well nothing. To be fair, I couldn’t move, and Peter’s sim was merely out if lucky. At worst, his brain was fried. Sim connections were tricky. You could use the slow, plodding ones to build a house. The multiple firewalls that protected you against zapped synapses also slowed down your response time. If you wanted something more combat oriented with faster reaction time, you got real-time feedback but no firewalls.
The fact that there were no alarms or anybody rushing to my rescue confirmed the worst for Peter. All I could do was listen to Balo and try to come up with a plan. Although, I didn’t have a body that could do it.
Balo spun me around quickly in my hoverchair several times while vertigo overtook me. I was already incapacitated, and there was no need to do that. I suspected he did it only because he could. I knew Soturi men weren’t universally evil, but it didn’t mean they were all good either.
During one spin, Nate’s purple force field flickered off. The chair jerked to a complete stop, and I fought the urge to throw up. After leaving ‘morning sickness’ behind, I wasn’t looking to revisit that part of Omega pregnancy. In my side vision at the end of the hallway was my father. The Omega process allowed him to have the appearance of muscles, but it was a facade. The additional punishment made him weaker than the weakest Femeni. He flexed and walked – although some would say stomped. The voice of a man I didn’t truly hear before yelled out within the grey stone walls. “Leave him alone. Now.”
It was a valiant effort, but that’s exactly all it was; anattemptand no more. Peter was out – just a useless sim with a separated head on the stone floor. I was paralyzed both with whatever he shot me with and my own body. All Nate could do was posture like Alphas and Soturi, but he had nothing to back it up. No gun, tricks or clever words. It was all fake.
I could feel my lips quiver while the seconds disappeared until what I knew was coming, Balo didn’t run, or sprint over. That would’ve been the smartest thing to do if for no other reason than to eliminate any possibility of Nate helping me – small as they were. Instead, Balo strolled over as if he wanted to savor it. To Nate’s credit, he threw the punch first, and Balo caught it in his left hand. With a strength not typically seen – even in Soturi – he gripped, and I heard the sickening crunch of bone. I willed myself to scream – and take Balo’s attention – but all I did was open my mouth wide while a low moan escaped. He wouldn’t have heard me anyway, Nate’s yells were loud enough for both of us.
I know this wasn’t the first time Nate’s been hurt by another man, and I’m sure the flood of memories came. Twenty years is plenty to grow bad experiences. Either it was common sense or some sort of family connection, but I swear I saw it on his face. A stream of powerful men hurt him, and now another continued the tradition.
The next hit from Balo wasn’t a clenched fist, just an open slap that sent Nate over to the other side of the wall. If it were made from Smart-Material, it would’ve changed into something rubbery and soft. Instead, this was hard stone from the old days. The only thing that was modern was the force field and the matter-rearranger to feed prisoners their food.
Despite my immobility, I could think. Tiny was in the area somewhere. He had to be. That’s the only one who could have turned off the field. Most people don’t look down or up, but I did. With all the force of will I could muster, I spoke. “Balo...” He didn’t turn as he stood over Nate.
My eyes narrowed. Several times I tried to will my arms to move the chair. Anything to give Nate a chance. Getting into a fight went against every Omega instinct to protect my baby. However, that same family drive included my father. Whatever he did in the past, I didn’t save him just to have him die now.
Good thoughts, but they did nothing to stop the flurry of punches and kicks.
With every hit, Nate groaned a little less, and it wasn’t because he was getting used to the pain. There’s only so much agony and injury a body can take before the person shuts down, perhaps forever.Dammit, it Tiny. Where are you?
Balo raised his boot, and there he was underneath my hand-sized double. Enhanced strength, in the size of a fist no larger than my fingernail, punched up with a blur. Tiny’s unnaturally strong muscles would be enough but all that power was compacted with an incredibly small area. Blows that would merely hurt could tear through flesh. Balo’s foot went down, and I couldn’t see the rest. Almost faster than I could have thought possible, Balo snatched Tiny from the floor. “The weaponized simulacrum,” he said with a mocking tone and turned to me. “Tell me, Earthling, what would you do once I crush him? Attack me with your non-existent claws perhaps?”
My eyes widened with realization.That’s not Balo.
***
Chapter Thirty-Six
GRADEN
I sat cross-legged within a thick semi-clear membrane on top of a long electric eel three times the length of my bedroom. Like many things on Augo, this was the child of three cultures. The creature’s tinier ancestors were from Earth but modified by Ryba biotechnology. Two decades ago, Matros’ mate saved Augo from a Ryba attack that would have come had we not extended the Volardi Hand instead of the Boot. Our pride presumes no other culture could dare challenge us. For the most part, we were correct. Our technology and fighting skills are without peer, but we have gaps in our knowledge. Earth has an affinity for stories and imagination. The Ryba uses creatures much like we use simulacrums and matter-rearrangers.
