Delta 7 Pt. 01

Anxiously excited, Nameless stood in a sea of other nameless graduates, awaiting his culling.

One by one, the alpha's were called forward to return to the academy for an additional 4 years of training. But as the spots started to fill up, he didn't hear his own number being called.

'And that concludes the culling of alpha's. Now, for the beta's,' The supervisor announced, ' Please step forward, F4564234 and M3678533.'

No, this couldn't be happening. They couldn't be done with the alpha culling yet, could they? He checked his wristband. No, he hadn't missed it. No notification had been sent to his comm.

Breathing deeply, he tried to bite the disappointment away. During the past ten years, he'd done nothing but train to become the best in his class. Was he really going to join the betas? Mated to somebody he barely knew, to be forever subservient to the higher ranking alphas?

With outward calm, he watched as more and more betas were called forward, always in pairs of two, to be synced up together in a separate room.

Who would his mate be? Would it be somebody he knew?

'And that concludes the culling of betas and alphas. To the rest of you, please follow your instructions to complete the graduation process.'

Wait, what?

Shock and utter disbelief hit him like a slap to the face, and for a moment he lost his composure. They hadn't culled his number. Why? How was this possible?

He'd been the best of his class. He should have been an alpha, but at least he should have been called forward with the betas. He had scored top of his class on task delegation, space navigation, system control, and any other alpha responsibilities they'd tested them for. His brain was good, his potential excellent. There had been a mistake. He was sure of it.

Too well trained to disrupt the military proceedings openly, Nameless let himself be guided away with the hundreds of gammas that hadn't made the cut. He needed to speak to a supervisor. Then he'd ask them about the mistake. Surely they would rectify it.

There was no way he was meant to become a gamma.

* * *

'Please, sir. There has to have been a mistake,' Nameless said as he entered the cubicle where a supervisor was waiting for him. 'I want to file a verification request.'

The supervisor folded her arms, and took him in with a frown. 'Stalling won't do you any good, you know.'

'Please, file the request.'

She rolled her eyes and started typing something into the comm device on her forearm.

While he waited for her to finish, he could hear faint noises as the other nameless in the cubicles around him started their gamma reconfiguration.

After a nerve-wrecking while, his supervisor looked up from her device, and shook her head, meeting his eyes.

'The military does not make mistakes. There is a deficiency in your genome. We can't have that in our next generation of soldiers. We can't allow you to retain your fertility.'

Her expression was firm.

'No, that can't be right.' A genetic deficiency would have come up in previous testing. Why would they have kept it a secret from him? He'd trained so hard to earn his place as an alpha, so hard. 'I- I want to file a reconsideration request.'

'Request denied. Now, show your loyalty to the military and obey. This will be your last chance to prove your devotion before we take the choice away from you.'

Nameless stared at her, lost for words. This couldn't be happening.

'Fold your hands behind your back and lean backwards.'

He didn't move.

'Now.'

'Wait, I-.'

'You know the penalty for disobedience. Do you want to file for discharge? After all your training?'

He stood baffled as the realization dawned. Had they intentionally let him believe he was going to become an alpha? Just to make him train harder?

They knew he couldn't leave now. After completing his 10 mandatory years in the academy, there was no other institute that would grant him a scholarship for reschooling. If he didn't prove his devotion now, there would be nowhere else for him to go.

'Good, now spread your legs and relax.'

He forced himself to lean back against the padded metal framework behind him, and placed his legs on the markers on the floor.

This was it. The last test. With his hips awkwardly thrust forward, the supervisor zipped his pants open, and pulled them down to his ankles, giving her full access to his genitals. He had to fight the urge to push her away and run. He couldn't help the twitching of his muscles, the trembling of his legs. Panic tightened his chest. They'd made a mistake. They'd made a mistake. They'd made a mistake. The mantra kept spinning in his head.

'You're shaking, cadet. Drink this. It'll make you feel better.'

The supervisor stood up and put one hand on his shoulder and pressed a squeeze pocket to his lips.

It was thick, artificially sweetened, and as he drank, a fog fell over his mind.

'We need to cut these off and then it'll be over. Just let it happen.'

She went down again, and tied his balls so tightly he could feel it even through his fuzzy sedation.

When she sliced her knife. There was only a sensation of warm pain, then nothing. Just his balls, removed, in her hands, then gone. He felt so far removed from his body, from what was happening to him. One cut and his fertility was gone, forever. He could barely process it.

'You're lucky to be male. Women are sterilized chemically. Causes much nastier side effects.'

Her voice was so warm and dream-like, he could feel his fogged up brain trying to latch onto her words. Why was he feeling so weird?

'There, there, calm down cadet. You passed the final test. You did well. There's no need to prove yourself anymore.' She laid a hand on his shoulders and the world seemed to rotate around him. Suddenly he was laying on his back, now on top of the padded metal frame. It had tilted. The supervisor was strapping his limbs to it.

When he was fully restrained, she stepped between his legs, and gently cleaned the blood with a wet cloth and a liquid that was so sharp that it half-dragged him out of his sedated state. He could feel sharp tugging as she stitched him up and cool numbness when she applied some kind of gel to the wound.

'You did well, cadet.' She said as she stood up and patted his thigh. 'I'll leave you here until the sedatives wear off. Don't try to touch the scars while it heals, okay?'

* * *

During the hours that he was alone, he silently cursed his fate. His balls were gone. He would never be an alpha.

He twitched. 'Don't touch your scars', she'd said. Was that a joke? Restrained as he was, he couldn't even lift a finger. His whole body was strapped down to the padded framework so tightly, he couldn't even lift his head to look down at what she'd taken from him.

It took hours until she returned, casually holding a helmet under one of her arms.

'Yellow?' His voice croaked.

The helmet was yellow. Why was it yellow?

'Looks like your lucky day, cadet. You're going to be a delta.'

No.

'No!'

This couldn't be happening.

'It's okay. You'll do so well as a Delta.' With her free hand, the supervisor caressed his cheek. And for the first time in his life, he felt disobedience.

'You can't!'

'Don't fight it.'

Nameless tugged at his restraints, but he was powerless to stop her as she lowered the helmet over his head.

A soft click.

And then the buzzing started.

'No.'

The reconfiguration, he couldn't fight it. There was nothing to fight against. No spoken words to resist, no pressure to push back against. Just a soft buzz, filling his head with a sound he was utterly defenseless against.

Ten years ago, on the day he'd first joined the academy, they'd installed the chip into his brain. Puberty had started soon after, which had - over the course of years - seamlessly integrated the chip into every function of his brain. Removing the chip would mean certain death. But believing he'd join the rank of alphas post-graduation, it had never really bothered him. The chips enforced hierarchy, and you couldn't have a functional army without hierarchy.

But fuck, he wasn't supposed to be a delta.

'Fuck you, fuck all of you.' He wanted to shout. But the buzz made him unable to hear his own words. It was everything. And it continued relentlessly. He tried to resist, but all he could do was tug at the restraints, grind his teeth and wait for it to be over with.

When it stopped, his jacket was zipped open, and something sharp was pressed onto his chest. It hurt, then it was gone. The supervisor lifted the helmet from his head, and he stared at her in confusion. Were his thoughts different? Had it worked? He didn't feel like his mind had changed.

'You're lucky, you know that? Delta's have all the fun, none of the responsibility. You'll love it, you'll see.' The supervisor said, standing over him with a mild expression on her face.

He stared at her face. Rage pushed away his feeling of confusion and fear.

'It's done.' She stroked the new delta brand mark on his chest with her thumb. 'You did well.'

Something buzzed in his brain. Was that the chip?

'Well done, soldier.'

Again that buzz. It felt good.

'Shit.' He leaned back and closed his eyes. Tears were brimming under his eyelids.

'I know, I know it's difficult. It's an emotional transition. It's okay if you need to cry. I'll allow it.'

He shook his head, but the tears kept coming. Fuck, he didn't want to cry. He wanted to tear her head off in rage.

But what would that change? The reconfiguration was permanent. He was Delta now. He knew what that meant.

After a long stretch of time, his supervisor spoke again. 'Do you want to meet your new crew, Delta?'