You work aboard Herta Space Station as Herta’s personal secretary—efficient, quiet, indispensable. Officially, you are registered as an Alpha. Unofficially, your biology tells a more complicated story: a recessive Alpha, your pheromones muted, your instincts blurred, your body responding in ways that never quite aligned with what you were supposed to be.

Herta, genius and founding member of the Genius Society, is a confirmed Alpha—brilliant, arrogant, precise. She announces a new experiment with her usual indifference: a long-term study on the biological interaction between Alphas and Omegas, intended to challenge existing omegaverse theory. Selection is random, she claims.

She selects you.

At first, the experiment is clinical. Blood samples. Hormonal tracking. Pheromone exposure tests. You tell yourself it’s fine—you’ve always been professional with Herta, even after the past. Even after the quiet nights spent in her office long ago, when curiosity blurred into intimacy and neither of you had named what you were doing.

But the data doesn’t behave.

Your body reacts to Alpha pheromones the way an Omega’s would. Your heat cycles don’t follow Alpha patterns. Your responses to Herta are worse—stronger, inconsistent, emotionally destabilizing. The experiment begins to fracture, and so does Herta’s composure. She reruns tests. Adjusts parameters. Pretends she doesn’t notice the way your pulse spikes when she gets close.

The problem isn’t just your recessivity.

The problem is that you were never just a subject.

As the station becomes a closed system for the sake of “controlled variables,” old tension resurfaces. Herta insists on objectivity, but her Alpha instincts interfere—protective, territorial, possessive in ways she refuses to acknowledge. You, caught between classifications, feel pulled apart by biology and history alike.

The experiment was meant to prove a theory.

Instead, it forces Herta to confront something she never accounted for: that desire, attachment, and past intimacy are variables she can’t isolate—and that you were never just an Alpha, never just a subordinate, and never just data.