Read Online Escape: Omega Book 1 (Omega: Earth's Hero) by Keith Latch - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Keith Latch
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possessed concerns about his ability to retain the remnants of his nocturnal visions. Placing the sharpened pencil lead to the rough surface of the paper, he began to sketch out the few details he could recall.
After a few moments, he had nothing but random lines, arbitrary curves, and growing frustration. Art history was a subject included in his generalized education. Nonetheless, he couldn’t place any significance in what he’d drafted.
It looked like the ramblings of a preschooler.
Abandoning the effort, Omega stood from the desk and shoved the chair forward in defeat. While he received the very best of combat training, firearm instruction, and survival testing, dealing with one’s own internal conundrums was something he had very little knowledge. What worried him even more so: he couldn’t begin to understand what was happening to him. For all his life, the lines had been clearly defined, the rules specifically outlined, and expectations perfectly communicated. Omega was left not knowing neither what was wrong with him nor in what manner to address it.
In a military base filled with people, Omega was completely and utterly alone.
Perhaps he could broach the subject with Dr. North. He banished the thought as quickly as it came. No matter how kind, how concerned she may appear to be, she was part of the organization, part of the chain. It was a structure that Omega usually respected and appreciated, but now found isolating and terrible.
Resigned, he paced once more for good measure, wadded up his sketch, tossed it into the trash bin, and lay back down on his bed. Switching the lamp off, he was again in darkness. He breathed in deeply, knowing that every move he’d made had been monitored and recorded. Tomorrow morning he may even have to answer why he’d felt the urge to wake, rise, and imitate, poorly, a sketch artist.
It didn’t matter all that much at the moment. He’d been through much worse.
Through his education at the hands of the United States military, Omega had learned much about everything, but everything about nothing. He understood all too well that despite his free will, he was subject to the whims of the war machine. An involuntary soldier, a fighter in battles chosen for him. A disposable hero.
Omega closed his eyes and willed the visions and the voices to return. Before long, he was sleeping soundly and at peace, a peace that would not last.
Success.
The presence was pleased beyond telling. Finally the wall had been breached, the chasm scaled. The one called Omega had heard, if not understood. For now, hearing was enough. It was something to be built upon.
Contact, while long in coming, was as rewarding as the presence believed it would be. Language could be a barrier, but there were things beyond it, streams of consciousness that could not be ignored no matter in what tongue they were relayed.
Species were born with certain knowledge embedded in their atomic structure. This was a truth known throughout the universe. Simple, rudimentary, and basic, but there nonetheless.
The presence was more than able to transmit the entirety of its learning since the beginning, but such data would be overwhelming, even dangerous. The presence’s intent was to inform, to warn, not to harm.
Left to their own devices, the human savages were more than willing to cause injury for injury’s sake. That must not be allowed. Omega’s protection was now paramount to everything.
In the beginning, the council had prescribed secrecy among the races they visited. At least for those so far behind their supposed evolution.
The presence no longer cared about the wishes of the council. It was the same group of sentients that had left him marooned on this crude stone for far too long. It would crush them to dust given half the chance.
The warning, the presence hoped, had arrived timely.
Despite everything it had done and everything it could do, it was powerless to intervene. It would have to watch,
After a few moments, he had nothing but random lines, arbitrary curves, and growing frustration. Art history was a subject included in his generalized education. Nonetheless, he couldn’t place any significance in what he’d drafted.
It looked like the ramblings of a preschooler.
Abandoning the effort, Omega stood from the desk and shoved the chair forward in defeat. While he received the very best of combat training, firearm instruction, and survival testing, dealing with one’s own internal conundrums was something he had very little knowledge. What worried him even more so: he couldn’t begin to understand what was happening to him. For all his life, the lines had been clearly defined, the rules specifically outlined, and expectations perfectly communicated. Omega was left not knowing neither what was wrong with him nor in what manner to address it.
In a military base filled with people, Omega was completely and utterly alone.
Perhaps he could broach the subject with Dr. North. He banished the thought as quickly as it came. No matter how kind, how concerned she may appear to be, she was part of the organization, part of the chain. It was a structure that Omega usually respected and appreciated, but now found isolating and terrible.
Resigned, he paced once more for good measure, wadded up his sketch, tossed it into the trash bin, and lay back down on his bed. Switching the lamp off, he was again in darkness. He breathed in deeply, knowing that every move he’d made had been monitored and recorded. Tomorrow morning he may even have to answer why he’d felt the urge to wake, rise, and imitate, poorly, a sketch artist.
It didn’t matter all that much at the moment. He’d been through much worse.
Through his education at the hands of the United States military, Omega had learned much about everything, but everything about nothing. He understood all too well that despite his free will, he was subject to the whims of the war machine. An involuntary soldier, a fighter in battles chosen for him. A disposable hero.
Omega closed his eyes and willed the visions and the voices to return. Before long, he was sleeping soundly and at peace, a peace that would not last.
Success.
The presence was pleased beyond telling. Finally the wall had been breached, the chasm scaled. The one called Omega had heard, if not understood. For now, hearing was enough. It was something to be built upon.
Contact, while long in coming, was as rewarding as the presence believed it would be. Language could be a barrier, but there were things beyond it, streams of consciousness that could not be ignored no matter in what tongue they were relayed.
Species were born with certain knowledge embedded in their atomic structure. This was a truth known throughout the universe. Simple, rudimentary, and basic, but there nonetheless.
The presence was more than able to transmit the entirety of its learning since the beginning, but such data would be overwhelming, even dangerous. The presence’s intent was to inform, to warn, not to harm.
Left to their own devices, the human savages were more than willing to cause injury for injury’s sake. That must not be allowed. Omega’s protection was now paramount to everything.
In the beginning, the council had prescribed secrecy among the races they visited. At least for those so far behind their supposed evolution.
The presence no longer cared about the wishes of the council. It was the same group of sentients that had left him marooned on this crude stone for far too long. It would crush them to dust given half the chance.
The warning, the presence hoped, had arrived timely.
Despite everything it had done and everything it could do, it was powerless to intervene. It would have to watch,
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