Page 2 of The First Omega Made (Scales and Tails of Fate #2)

Sarge

I slept a lot more. That was one change, since my body showed signs of failing.

I took my shirt off and stared in my chamber’s mirror.

The knotted network of scars across my chest pulsed rhythmically.

Beneath that skin lay my true form. I pressed fingers that were not my own to the translucent, pink surface.

It’d be so easy to rip the skin off, to crawl from that form and find a new host. There were plenty aboard, but I’d made a grave error for my species—I cared. I valued sentient life.

Once upon a time, I hadn’t.

“Gnarly-looking, Sarge.” Merriel’s two cents chimed in unwelcome. We’d all been picking up on twenty-first-century Mater Terra slang from Noel, and I didn’t hate it. I didn’t know what cents were or why there were two of them.

“Don’t you have work to be doing, Merriel?” I closed my shirt, fastening the buttons hurriedly.

“I’m doing it. I can be multiple places at once. Found a few places to hit, too. So, like, the last time I found a haunted military base, we got Noel. Can I pick another creepy-ass place?” Merriel’s voice distorted with excitement.

I paused, brow tightening. The sensation didn’t bode well as numb patches tightened. “You’ve not been telling us about places just because they’re haunted?”

“I mean, duh?”

I sighed heavily. “What’s the most cursed place you can send us to?”

“There’s this old Revulon war base outside of TS-490. Even Kanoiks flee the place. Seriously. If we go to the planet, there’ll be a few of the bastards in orbit trying to swim through space to escape it. Haunted AF.” Merriel’s tinny tones grated on my every nerve.

“You know what? Let’s go there. Now. I’m making the call. Tell Captain.” I marched from my quarters and down the hall, making my way to the mess hall. Maybe Wallace would have something for me to eat. Meat sounded good, and we still had an ample supply since Roan’s gift to Noel.

Fortunately for me, as I made my way in, Wallace caught my eye on his side of the galley and shuffled to the kitchen unspoken.

He prepared a bowl of stew for me—meat, shalk root, and generic greens floating in a brown sludge that threw off a heavenly scent.

Noel said it lacked something called garlic but otherwise tasted like Mater Terra beef stew.

It wasn’t too bad, but he tended to eat it with a copious amount of rice.

As I settled down to take a bite, a clamoring of claws tapped across the metal floor and drew my gaze. Crouched on all fours, a bright blue little Naleucian child stared up at me, our captain’s errant little one. “Hey, guy.”

He grinned, baring sharp teeth. His eyes, unlike either of his parents, were solid blue, no discernible pupil, just an expanse of ice that glittered as if backlit. “Mea!”

He’d not quite mastered the use of t’s, but for a two-month-old child to say words at all was astounding. So, grudgingly, I fished a chunk of meat from my stew and offered it down.

He grabbed for it with clumsy little fingers and stuffed the hot morsel in his mouth with an appreciative noise. “Fank oo!”

He licked at his hands for a moment before scampering off, straight up a wall and into one of the air vents. Polite little shit.

“That healthy?” Wallace leaned out of the window, staring at the gaping hole where a grate used to be.

“Haven’t seen a lyret in weeks. Noel and Vil gave up trying to stop him.” I shrugged, going back to my stew. “Besides, Merriel is watching him.”

Wallace stared at the hole for a long time. I went back to eating as he did so, but eventually he spoke. “Is that a good idea?”

“I didn’t knock Noel up, soooooo… Not my problem.” I scraped my spoon against the bowl a few times. Thank the gods for salt—one of the few things I could still taste.

As if on cue, Vil came marching in, tail swaying as he made his way to my table and sat. “Have you seen my k—”

I pointed toward the vent at the same time Wallace did.

“Well…haven’t seen a Lyret in a while…” He stared at the vent where a series of skittering noises preceded a wounded screech. “That’s my boy… Anyway! Merriel says we’re heading off to a cursed war base to scrap?”

“Yep.” I kept it short. Risks made money.

“Any reason why?”

I felt like taking risks. I wanted a chance to throw myself at something dangerous and die already. High risk, high reward. Money. Suicide, mostly. That seemed like a good end to my run.

“What’s the likelihood an old war base has any Naleucian tech?” I raised a brow. It wasn’t uncommon for some of the war-faring races to collect anything deadly they could. Especially Revulons.

Vil frowned. “You wanting to…upgrade?” The hesitancy in his voice made my shoulders pinch involuntarily. At least some of my host’s brain still had reflexes.

“Maybe? Not sure. Being human is great and all, but I’m feeling my age.” I thought about putting a note in about not wanting to leave Nexus short an uncle—that was too much.

The thought of mortality seemed to make Vil blink. He didn’t like that thought, either. “Okay. I’d talk to Doc about it, maybe? He seems to be getting real damn good at gene splicing.”

His voice trailed off, and I pursed my lips. “I don’t think he knows you know.”

“We have eyes. His hair has changed; he’s getting scaly in places. I can scent omega on him at times. It’s getting weird, but Noel says he’s okay with it. It feels right, at least.” Vil scratched at a spot on the table. “Like we’d care about species. None of us do.”

That last part made my true body squirm in my chest out of guilt. My legs spasmed in an odd jerk from the motion—the wrong nerves jerking.

“You okay?” Vil leaned over and eyed my legs.

“Yeah, just excitement.” I offered a big grin, and Vil squinted at me.

“Your left eye is drooping.” He leaned in and I pulled away, slapping my hand over it.

“Feeling my age, like I said. I’m going to head off to see Doc. It’ll be fine.” I stood and put my dishes away before heading back to my quarters.