The Aviator Awakening

The targeted regeneration didn’t take long to finish. Doctor Lsar downloaded the med bot’s data, pocketed her loyal holo, and motioned to General Larkkon. The two decorated officials kept their conversation hushed as they exited the training room.

Although curious about what they might be discussing, I resigned myself to accepting the mystery of it all. For now. Someday, sometime, somewhere other than here, if I played it well enough, there was bound to be an opportunity to seek answers myself.

Agent Nerzogk powered down the med bay. He removed a small metallic tube from the bot before it buzzed away. I sat up, slowly, to avoid scaring him. He wasn’t as quick to stiffen as before. Instead, he watched me with the same unfiltered curiosity I’d caught a glimpse of the other day.

“Would you like a boost?” he asked.

I didn’t understand.

“An adrenaline boost. For recovery,” he elaborated, his golden eyes and slit pupils locked onto me.

The tube looked tiny in his giant leather fist. I nodded. He pushed it against my arm, and a silent injection sent a wave of heat through my body. The edges of exhaustion instantly cleared away.

He discarded the empty tube.

“General Larkkon should be back soon. He wants to show you how to use the control console.”

I shrugged, not wanting to think about training or how I’d given in so easily in the simulator.

“How long have you worked for them, Agent Nerzogk?” I asked. I was nearly fluent now. I knew the language well enough; I just hadn’t used it much. Or that was my theory, at least.

“Why do you work for them?” I pressed.

He was one of the few people I had any interaction with. And, right now, he wasn’t showing the tense hostility characterizing him in the lab and during transport.

His chin tucked back, offended. “I am honored to serve the Vor Empire.”

I watched my jade handler. And the lingering discoloration where I’d attempted to collapse his throat.

“I was wrong to attack you,” I offered in an attempt to make peace.

“You were disoriented.” He relaxed and leaned against the med bay panels beside me, his armbands enhancing impressively muscular biceps. “I understand you’ve suffered some loss, Aviator. But I find it unbecoming for an Imperial operative to show so much disrespect. Amnesia or not, you’re making yourself untrustworthy.”

“You think Doctor Lsar’s procedure was wasted on me.” I read between the lines. I didn’t blame him. I might actually agree on that.

“I didn’t say that,” he mumbled.

“Do you wish it’d been you?”

He chuckled. “Lrend no.”

We waited in silence, watching the entrance. There was no sign of the General’s return.

“You don’t remember anything?” Agent Nerzogk asked, his rocky voice breaking the silence with surprisingly honest curiosity.

“It’s a stunning success. It would’ve been nice to have some background data,” he said.

“Yeah,” I scoffed. “It’d be nice to have some of that. For starters, I’d like to know how someone as different as me ended up working for this so-called Empire.”

Agent Nerzogk laughed. A rumbling, all-encompassing rockslide of noise. I bolted upright, my injured ribs nothing more than a memory, and watched him with wide eyes. A laugh—if that truly was what the thunderous sound had been—was not the reaction I’d expected. He wiped tears from his leathery tear ducts, his transparent eyelids closed but not preventing him from maintaining eye contact.

“You think you’re the only human operative?” he asked once his composure returned and transparent eyelids opened.

I didn’t know how to answer, so I didn’t.

“Human agents are the most common species of operatives in the galaxy.” The scaled man explained. “The war primarily focuses on proxy battles on and around the remaining human planets. So, obviously,” he chuckled, “obviously, most of the operatives are human. Like you.”

His golden eyes were still laughing. With his guard lowered, I had a hard time judging if he was a friend or foe. I slumped back against the med bay panels.

“Well, I guess not like you. Not anymore.” His gaze became more intense, making him look larger, looming.

I rubbed my arms to find some warmth. “You’re an operative, like me,” I said. “Can I ask about that? Why did I work for this Empire?”

“What is the Empire?” I tested. His shrug had shown neither acceptance nor denial.

He raised his pebbled brows. “What is the Empire?” The laugh in his eyes returned, and he visibly held back another round of eruptive snickering. I hated him for that. For making light of the unrelenting questions driving me toward insanity.

“Don’t tell me that’s also censored?” I asked, resisting the urge to renew the bruising on his neck.

“No…it’s just…basic.”

He must’ve caught onto my thought about attacking him because the laugh left him, and he returned to watching the entrance.

“You can ask someone else for a history lesson.”

“There’s no one else to ask.”

He rubbed his neck, frowned, but then decided to keep talking.

“You’re an Imperial operative, which—as a human—is more natural than working for the other side. We vorgons share the same roots as humans. So, you can relax about not looking the same.”

“The ‘other side’ is not human?”

“Then,” I paused, “what side is the human side?”

“You work for the Empire. Simple as that.”

“It can’t be that simple.”

“After Lhra’s End, it’s become that simple.”

I banged the back of my head against the panels. Trying not to get frustrated with Agent Nerzogk’s meandering explanation. If this was his method of payback, it was working.

The panels reacted by withdrawing the bed I was sitting on, dumping me on the floor. I caught myself, but not fast enough to avoid embarrassment.

Agent Nerzogk smirked. Then he crossed his arms, and a flash of pity replaced his teasing.

“Operative work is tough. And it becomes personal sometimes,” he said. “I’ve lost many comrades. And you, you’ve lost everything, haven’t you? But that’s our role. That is how we maintain peace. The few of us take the brunt of the power struggle so that the many can enjoy stability. You might no longer understand the nuances of the war, but you’re a part of it. Now more than ever.”

“What kind of war is it?” I straightened up and leaned more carefully against the panels.

“Skirmishes, mostly. After Lhra’s End, most of the remnant colonies united under the Vor Empire, and their coalition reclaimed one of the two remaining human planets. It’s a fight against time. Most of the other colonies have fallen silent.” He looked over his shoulder at me, analyzing the way I mimicked his casual position leaning against the med bay. “As a human, becoming an Imperial operative is an honor. You’ve been saved from a miserable existence. And, for the rest of the galaxy, the proxy battles buy normalcy.”

We were quiet after his explanation, with Nerzogk biding his time until the General returned. I quietly sorted through the information he’d given me.

“Will I meet them?” I asked, interrupting the heavy silence.

“Meet who?” he asked without looking away from the entrance.

“Other human operatives.” I was curious to see people who looked like me. And I wanted to hear their perspective on why they served the Empire.

“That’s up to General Larkkon.”

The entrance dissipated. Agent Nerzogk stood straighter. I remained slouched against the panels. The General’s steps echoed inside before his glinting emerald scales came into sight.

“I don’t have much time, Aviator,” his rocky voice announced. “I’d like to finish showing you around your training quarters.”

Agent Nerzogk waited. When I didn’t immediately leave the med bay he returned to his role as my handler, taking hold of my jumpsuit collar to push me towards the central platform. He shadowed me closely as I approached General Larkkon.

“Take your position,” the General ordered.

I followed his command before my handler could run out of patience. A concentrated chill on the platform turned my breath into clouds. The console came online, its ring of panels raised from the floor with an electrical buzz noisier than the room’s usual current. I understood that, audibly, this was silent. I would need to work on distinguishing between those two senses. Or, maybe not. I rubbed my arms, eyeing the General’s jacket enviously through the holos. The idea of becoming a tool for these people still wasn’t appealing. I had gotten distracted by the simulator last time—this time, I’d make sure to put in a minimum effort.

The General ignored my obvious discomfort from the platform’s chill, which helped to solidify my resolve to be useless.

“Your training is divided into two parts,” he said. “One part is combat training. That’ll be accomplished in the simulator. The other part of your training is cybernetic. According to Doctor Lsar, you should be able to access and influence these systems.”

Hearing mention of the doctor reinforced my desire not to become too useful.

The General continued, “This is a typical control center, in function. Modified to encourage your specific skills.”

He swiped his fingers across the nearest panel, calling several holos online. The projection array surrounded me, displaying a variety of shapes. It appeared more like a game than a training program.

“These programs are dummy programs, all locally contained. You aren’t authorized to access any real systems, and this room is not connected to the rest of the base.”

I didn’t think the warning was necessary, but I understood what he meant.

“You will start with incremental steps,” the General went on. “Play around with it until you get comfortable. Then we can introduce some more interesting applications.”

He paused, waiting for me to follow his instructions.

I rubbed my arms, still at a loss for reasons why I needed to do any of this. Agent Nerzogk’s finger returned to hover over his ring remote. The room’s chill thinned my rage’s filter, and I glared at his unnecessary threat. He returned my gaze, the laugh in his eyes turning to pity, and his finger moved away from the implant’s trigger.

I didn’t need or want his pity. I replaced my expression’s filter, and reached forward into the nearest projection, a cube, to skim the programming creating the shape. The electrical sensation was similar to what I’d felt when disrupting the base’s camera network. Disrupting currents was an instinctive reaction, more straightforward than actively manipulating them.

I might be able to do it. If I wanted to.

Instead of following the General’s instructions to familiarize myself with the program, I willed my fingers to pass through the cube. Then I made the same motion again, repeating it a couple more times before making eye contact with him and shrugging in defeat.

He frowned. Clearly disappointed. Agent Nerzogk frowned as well, although his reaction held more suspicion than disappointment. The General’s fingers drummed in thought, tapping distractedly against the panel's exterior.

“You’ll get the hang of it,” he reassured.

I nodded, feigning some interest.

He glanced at the exit as if reading the time. Although there was no clock, or any other way to track the days or hours.

“I’ll be gone for a few cycles. I have a lot that requires my attention. If Agent Nerzogk isn’t available, the bots in the unit will respond to your commands.”

He scanned me with a quick appraisal, then offered a few words of advice. “It’s in your best interest to commit to your training. I’ve been advocating for you, Aviator. This is the only way to keep you out of Doctor Lsar’s lab.”

My chest twisted with the acknowledgment of that particular background threat. And, for the first time, he confirmed he wasn’t solely in charge of my future.

“I look forward to seeing your progress when I return.” His fingers stopped tapping, and he pivoted to leave.

I returned to rubbing my arms to disguise the uncertainty plaguing me. His steps faded until his oversized silhouette was out of sight. Agent Nerzogk locked eyes with mine before he, too, left the room. I shivered, the cold more pronounced now that I was alone.