“They found out that there were barren omegas. Like you, Phee. Like you. The entire sector knows now. What am I going to do? Do you know what this does to me—one daughter kidnapped out of my house, the other barren? I have failed. Completely failed.
“Your father says I am being dramatic. Do you think I am being dramatic? Were you thinking of me at all when you walked into an Admin building to complain? How could you do that? Do you know how many times my intercom has buzzed? This is the first chance I’ve had to call you.”
“You are my first buzz of the night. It is quite late, Mother.”
Her mother choked and sobbed. Phee heard the sound of glass settling on wood and wondered how much wine her mother had drunk. “Exactly right. So late. Because I’ve been hearing about my barren, childless daughter. Early menopause, they say. What is that? A drone disease? Are you an old drone woman? I’ve heard too about the other women who went to the clinic. One of them is Pinnah Cassey’s daughter. She committed suicide early last year. Just gave up. I can’t believe it, Phee. A daughter of my dear, dear friend is being talked about because of whatmydaughter did. Pinnah will never speak to me again. Never.”
“I’m sorry, Mother,” Phee said, and meant it. There was a good chance their whole family would lose prestige among the other matrons and daughters of Sector 5. A woman earned popularity by doing everything right and living above her animal self; knowing her place in the world and reveling in it.
“How could this happen?” her mother went on. “What did I do to deserve this? I taught you everything I know—gave you everything I had. How can you have early menopause? I don’t understand!”
“I don’t know,” Phee said.
“I had four miscarriages. And all those boys, too. And two girls. My cycle was relentless in my youth, but even I, even I…”
She trailed off. Phee said it for her. “You are still having your estrus cycle, Mother?”
Her mother wailed the way Phee thought she should be wailing herself. “What happened, darling? Did we miss a doctor’s appointment? Did we not take the vitamins? Did you not get the right vaccination? This is just cobweb womb, isn’t it?”
“No, Mother. It isn’t. What did the news say about this early menopause? Is it a new disease affecting the omega population?” She hadn’t heard anything before her visit to the clinic, but twenty-four omegas abused by those beta nurses—their diagnosis would have to have been recent, suggesting the disease was fairly new.
“Yes, new something-or-other. You aren’t the only one. There will be more investigations. They are still talking about you on my data pad. Your name is in the headlines. My daughter is going to be famous throughout the 12 Sectors for a drone disease!”
Her mother didn’t know what she was talking about. Menopause in drones was not a disease, and Phee’s biology was different from theirs, anyway. She knew the most common cause of infertility, cobweb womb, infected women all over the world. It started in drones before the Great Wars and became the catalyst for the entire breed population when scientists involved in DNA coding tried to save humanity from extinction. As a result, the breed, a race of superhumans was born.
Eventually, they’d found a cure for the sterilizing disease. All the girls born in the 12 Sectors, even the descendants of superhumans, had to be vaccinated, or face never having children.
No, this was something new. And it only affected omega breeders.
Were breed going to die out? There would always be betas and drones, but alphas and omegas were different in their physiology. Without omega breeders, the world would change. There would be no alphas, no leaders, no warriors. Some might argue that wasn’t a bad thing.
“I just don’t know what I am going to do now,” Mother moaned.
“I will be over tomorrow, I think.” Phee interrupted.
“Oh, I can’t, Phee. I’m sorry, but I just can’t. I’m going to bed for a week. Come over after. We will have tea together and talk this through.”
As if a good talk would change anything. “No, Mother. I will be over tomorrow. Swift has ended our contract. He will file the dispute with the Administration office in the morning. Which means I can’t live in couples’ housing.”
“Oh, Phee, no! What is that man thinking? Neither of you can live in couples’ housing if you are not a couple.”
“He will go stay with his mistress. He got her a place five months ago. She is pregnant.”
“No. No, no!”
“Yes.”
“They won’t be alphas or omegas. They will just be more betas. He can’t give her his knot. Will they have a contract? What can he be thinking? I will have your father talk to Swift. He will explain what to do. An alpha does not live with one of those women. He does not! What an insult this is. It will not stand. It will not!” As a woman whose husband-mate also occasionally entertained beta mistresses, her mother was properly offended.
“I will be home tomorrow, Mother. Clean out my room, please.” Phee was so tired. Even after a bath hot enough to turn her skin red, she still felt her insides chilling to ice. She needed to sleep. She hit the button to end the call.
“I told you he was a right and true bastard,” Menollie said from behind her.
Too tired to correct her for speaking out of turn, Phee said nothing.
Menollie handed her a glass of wine. “You didn’t eat much soup. Did Cook put too much salt in it again?”
“No. It was fine.”
