Page 9 of Dark Revolution

Chapter 2

Annora

The ship easesdown on the landing pad, and my eyes fly open. Home. By now, the second sun is starting its descent, and I know I have to hurry if I want to eat dinner and still have time to grab a shift for tonight. I try not to work at this brothel, but it’s the quickest way to make money. Every week, I tell myself not to accept Lady Alpha Marlana’s desperate plea, begging me to work, but I always end up caving.

The money is just far too good. Even though it’s a High Echelon sanctioned brothel, it can still get rough at times, making it dangerous to work at. As with all brothels, there are plenty of Alpha and beta watchmen, all of them keeping a close eye to ensure nothing gets too out of hand. That alone should make things safe, but in Stanlion, armed muscle isn’t enough.

I’ve seen things there that still haunt my dreams, forcing me awake in a cold sweat. Though I have another two hundred and fifty credits for the suppressants locked away in my safe and some more illegal tender for the ride, it will still leave us with a gaping hole in our finances. Leaving things up to chance just doesn’t feel safe.

Clutching the food closer to my chest, I make my way down the familiar streets, nodding at passersby with a tight smile. The smell of dinner wafts out into the road as many families start their meal preparations. They laugh and smile, greeting each other with warm hugs and fond hellos. They don’t have the taint of the Dead Lands sullying their soul, and as such, have no idea of the true horrors out there.

To my knowledge, I’m the only omega in this sector, with Karis being an unknown with omega markings. I’ve never seen any of my neighbors even look at the button for the lower levels, much less venture out into the Dead Lands for suppressants. It’s just me living my lie while others walk around in blissful ignorance. Alone.

Masking helps, but there are still awkward interactions and tight smiles as I attempt small talk and jokes. Most of these families knew my parents, and I’m sure that’s tainted some of our conversations. No one ever mentions that night, even though it looms between us all like a gaping hole.

The bright lights of our house wink at me from the distance as I redouble my efforts, picking up the pace. Right now, I just want to be home with Karis. I don’t want to have to work tonight. I just want to curl up in bed with her and read her tall tales like we used to when she was more of a child.

Now, she’s more interested in her datacom and chats with her peers and less interested in childish pursuits. I only allow her the freedom to go to school, but that’s it. I can’t chance someone triggering her and overriding the suppressants. Though rare, it has happened. Before martial law took over, omegas were rutted in the street, snapped up by any Alpha that could bite them first.

Though it’s not the best solution, at least having the government in charge means there’s less chance of death and dismemberment. The dead omega flashes through my mind again, and my stomach lurches. Still though, as a marked omega, your life has no more meaning. You are resigned to the High Sanctum to live out your life as a doll until a political marriage is achieved.

Once a match is sanctioned by High Echelon, you become the sacred Alpha’s property. You can’t do anything without his permission. Basically, if the stories are correct, you turn into a living sex toy, there to satiate the Alpha. The beta resistance may claim that they are oppressed beyond measure, unable to live or properly provide for their families, but they still have far more control than an omega.

Even the most impoverished beta can choose where to go or what to do within their sector. An omega can only spread her legs and allow her Master Alpha a release from his rut so that he may better function. As a beta, I can entertain and converse with a whole host of people. Is it ideal? No, but I still earn credits in a far better way than whoring myself out for them.

Karis will have even more opportunities than I do. She’s top of her class, set to be a records keeper or better. I can’t let her go from that to making babies and fucking an Alpha every moment he demands it. It’s not right. It’s not fair. My resolve hardens as I make my way up the smooth, black walkway leading to our house. Even if it means risking my life, I’ll do what I can to make sure Karis’ life is happy.

Once entering the house, I set the food down and make a beeline for the bathroom. If Karis sticks to her routine, she’s probably playing games with her friends on the main console in the living space. I don’t completely approve of how much time she spends there, but it keeps her in the house, and her grades haven’t faltered.

Locking the door behind me, I pull out my datacom and click on her academics. High marks as usual. With a sigh, I set it on the counter and take a hard look at myself. No one who knew me would even guess that I was hiding under this costume. It cost a pretty penny for all my looks, but it’s well worth it - nothing that three or so shifts at the brothel didn’t cover.

I take off the auburn wig and set it aside before shaking out my hair. Ebony tresses cascade down my shoulders and brush against my low back. Groaning, I rub my scalp, easing away some of the tension gathering there. Next, I lean forward, close to the mirror, to remove my contacts. Eyes the color of a gathering storm glance about in my reflection - eyes like Karis, eyes of an omega.

Gray eyes are a mutation that only seems to happen in omegas. Though they can have eyes of any hue, gray only shows up in that dynamic. No one knows why for sure. The theory is that it’s a modification that was set in place around the same time as the proof of our sacred offering. But those are just stories. No one really believes in them anyway.

From the moment Karis and I were born, Mother knew what we were. From babies, we were fed a daily diet of supplements. As I got older, I realized what was happening, but I went along with the lie for Karis's sake. It wasn’t until the sector wars that I really understood what it meant to be an omega. My own mother was dragged out into the streets to be reassigned to a beta, as was befitting her station, leaving my father no choice but to take her back.

A single tear rolls down my cheek, and I wipe it away before staring at the jet-black contacts before me. Karis still believes that we wear these to protect our eyes from the three suns, and I don’t plan to tell her any differently. As long as she thinks they’re vital to her protection, she’ll never question me, and she’ll never be found out.

Walking over to the shower, I slam my palm against the middle button, waiting for a moment until the jets pound the inside of the cubical. As the water heats up, I gather the supplements and money and stash them inside a hidden panel I discovered as a child. To my knowledge, I’m the only one that knows it exists.

With that put away, I hide my clothes and wig in a cupboard but don’t take nearly as much care with those. It’s so much easier to excuse away a wig and an outfit but far less easy to explain the supplements and illegal tender. With everything put away, I can finally wash the death and decay of the Dead Lands from my body.

* * *

As I already suspected,Karis sits in front of a large screen, fingers flying over the console on her lap. No doubt she’s completely forgotten about dinner. With a groan, I retrieve the bag of items, ignoring Karis’ sounds of gagging as I take them past her spot. More than likely, I’ll be the one eating from these and not her.

The government still provides while she’s in school, but with me not being able to keep a steady source of income, it’s not enough to thrive. Walking over to the row of cabinets where I store the food, I pull out some of the vegetables that look like they’re about to turn and set them on the counter.

I keep all foods from the lower levels in this sealed cabinet, lest it taints the proper food and leaves Karis without something she’ll eat, even if it’s begrudgingly. I don’t miss those school days where looks were everything. She’s already as small as an omega ought to be, but since she’s passing as a beta, it makes her look like she’s just malnourished.

She’s not. She just refuses to eat most of what I put in front of her. Glancing at the time, I chop my veggies into a quick salad and prepare Karis a more traditional meal. Though I would prefer to eat with her and make sure she cleans her plate, I need to hurry if I want to catch the good crowd at the brothel.

While her meal simmers in the prep station, I scarf down my greens, ignoring the earthy, bitter tang as they go down. To me, food is just a thing to keep you alive, to provide sustenance. I don’t need anything fancy to eat; it just needs to hold me for at least a day. With my calculations, if I can keep my meals down to once a day, then that’s extra money to go towards other bills and supplies.

It’s not ideal, but it’s manageable. Besides, if I’m good and work hard, I’m sure to get some leftover scraps to take home and use as a buffer. Rinsing my bowl, I grab Karis’ meal, glancing over to ensure the meat is properly cooked before bringing it out to her. She barely looks at it before continuing with her game.

Sighing, I kiss the top of her forehead and head back towards the door. “Please try to eat at least half of it?”