The Aviator Awakening

I lifted my head when the pod’s motion stopped. My tired body uncurled and I adjusted my expression to prepare to be grateful for my promotion.

My body ached, and my cybernetic migraine hadn’t diffused. It would be more proper to stand, to greet the General with vigor. But I was too weak to do that while also maintaining my ‘appreciation.’

I wished my false gratitude wouldn’t be necessary. I’d be overjoyed if the pod opened to my empty training quarters, if I was given time to grab a boost and spend just one round in the simulator to calm my tired mind. Given the day's progress, however, it was an unlikely scenario.

Sure enough, the scene the pod opened to was not my training quarters.

HQ’s dark walls and white-lit veins greeted me. Fully staffed. The windowed wall at the edge of the room portrayed a cloudless red desert landscape, flooding the bustling hub with afternoon light.

I stayed in the pod, wishing it would close back up and shield me from the curious eyes of people I did not recognize. The bots in the hub outnumbered the agents, whizzing about their tasks undisturbed by my entrance. The agents I did recognize accounted for nearly all of the people I’d interacted with in my conscious memory—aside from Nerzogk and the crimson doctor.

General Larkkon turned away from the central console to focus on my arrival, his emerald gemmed scales glinting in Vor’s light. His attention prompted the few operatives who weren’t already fixated on me to pause their tasks and see what was happening. I was careful not to show discomfort under the sudden pressure of so many eyes—a mix of human gazes and reptilian slit irises.

“Aviator.” The General’s rockslide voice boomed through the room and my pod. A proud smile accompanied the greeting. “Your security clearance has been issued. You are now an official member of the Vor-Vardos Operative Team. Come on over.” He signaled for me to enter, his jagged smile becoming a more familiar sight lately.

Fatigue fogged my mind and slowed my reaction while I calculated how best to follow his command without slipping up and showing how exhausted my body was. I mustered up some strength and pulled my aching body to stand. It took too long. General Larkkon picked up on my sluggishness.

“Somebody get the man a boost. Then we can get started,” he ordered.

Agent Amara squeezed past the nearest operatives and bots to slip into my transport pod. She got close, not saying anything while she issued me a pair of boots matching hers and the other operatives. I accepted the gift, and realized the embedded utility as soon as I pulled them on. Localized dampeners muted the room’s overwhelming currents waiting outside my pod.

“Thank you,” I mumbled.

Amara half-smiled, and her eyes flashed with quiet concern. “They cut your hair,” she commented. I shrugged. “That’s too bad. It was an interesting look.”

Agent Xular, the blue-skinned baetian operative, tossed her an adrenaline injection. Amara caught it and injected me with the boost with one quick, seamless motion.

The effects kicked in immediately. Amara re-entered the main hub, and I stepped out after her to join General Larkkon while the new faces glanced over with unfiltered curiosity. The injection cleared my exhaustion enough to salvage some dignity by not stumbling as I passed through the abnormally silent room. Too many eyes were trained on me, too many unknown expectations to fill.

The mass of currents webbing through the walls and floor tugged at me with formidable influence despite Amara’s gifted footwear. I gained renewed appreciation for the taskmaster’s strength, the AI orchestrating the room’s flow. Even while muted, it was a powerful presence.

General Larkkon cleared his throat with a guttural rumble unlike any sound I was capable of making. “Normally, there would be more ceremony for an occasion like this. However, given the circumstances….” He trailed off, and then his jagged smile returned. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. All eyes in the room watched me, as if waiting for me to respond. The emerald giant laughed, then approached me. Perhaps I was meant to be the one approaching him. I wasn’t sure.

His heavy leather hand rested on my shoulder in a congratulatory gesture. “Welcome to the team. Again.” His voice boomed. The room filled with whistled cheers coming from nameless strangers. My bones shook from their unified sharp and rumbling tones. I forced a smile, despite the Imperial uniform signifying more of a chain to me than a badge of honor. Still, the slick material and gem-disguised security armband represented safety. Progress. I swallowed away my long-lost pride, my desire to run away from all this. This promotion was my choice, my goal. I was undoubtedly closer to finding answers about who I was—or had been—than just hours prior.

And yet…I knew better than to consider myself an equal here. If anyone else cared to notice my armband’s placement—on the right arm instead of the left—it was clear enough.

The General’s heavy emerald hand stayed on my shoulder while he led me to one of the units off the main area. Agent Terrokk joined us. The metallic agent’s unnaturally cold arm brushed against mine, and his almost-human eyes held not-so-subtle disgust.

I focused on my steps to avoid flinching away from his skin. The taskmaster’s dataflow raged like whitewater rapids throughout the hub. I mapped my path, step by step, to keep from getting swept into the current.

The conference room’s entrance closed, isolating the three of us from the rest of headquarters.

The taskmaster’s rapids, thankfully, didn’t enter the windowless room.

Without Vor’s light, the room’s black shadow swallowed us. The General took a seat at the head of a large oval table, its edges illuminated by a line of dim lights. Similar lights lit the wall creases, creating a cube-like effect in the dark room. Agent Terrokk stepped to the side of the solid doorway, his dark artificial scales allowing him to disappear into the background.

General Larkkon cleared his throat, waiting for me to get settled. I selected a seat next to him. The dim lights gave his emerald scales a dusty matte glow, and his aura took on a more somber tone.

“Your case is unique, Aviator. I had to make a few compromises to get your rank returned to you.”

“I understand, sir.”

Agent Terrokk shifted in place. His metallic-scaled skull glinted in the background.

The General’s voice reverberated through the room, through my bones. “For starters, your biocircuit’s enhanced connection is seen as a security risk. You are not permitted to use it unless given explicit permission. The armband will ensure you aren’t connecting with anything you haven’t been authorized to access.”

I nodded, aware I wasn’t in a position to object. “And who has the authority to give me those permissions?” I asked.

“Myself, Agent Terrokk, and Agent Nerzogk.”

The man lurking in the shadows with us was not someone I had any interest in seeking out.

“Okay, I understand,” I said, while also mentally crossing off Terrokk's name from the list.

“You have freedom to come and go from headquarters. I will be assigning you new living quarters nearer to here. Since you are still classified as a high-priority case, you’ll only be able to go between here and there, and your implant will only allow you to exit or enter through your dedicated pod. But you can choose your schedule.”

I questioned if that amounted to any real freedom. “And my training quarters?”

“No longer necessary. You’ll be kept busy here.”

“The simulator?”

“Like I said, no longer necessary.”

I fidgeted in my chair. Unable to come to terms with the thought of being cut off from the simulator. “Can I request to keep my living quarters as they are? At the training room?”

“It’s inconvenient.”

“I need the simulator.”

I couldn’t say I used it to escape from all this, to forget about him and the other operatives and the Empire altogether. “It helps me focus. I’ll be more productive if I can use it to decompress.”

The General raised his pebbled leather brows. “If it’s important to you, I’ll allow it for the time being. If it becomes a hindrance, however, I will have to make the change. Understood?”

He leaned back. “Agent Terrokk, is there anything you’d like to add?”

Terrokk emerged from the shadows to stand beside the General’s shoulder. “The security sleeve is set to strict conditions. Any task you are given, any equipment you are given access to, must be added to the log or will remain off-limits. If you try to access anything outside of what has been explicitly authorized, the implant will react to neutralize you.”

I raised my eyebrows. Neutralize was an interesting choice of words.

“And only you, General Larkkon, and Agent Nerzogk can authorize that clearance?”

I frowned; it would be harder to avoid Agent Terrokk than I’d hoped.

“Does that apply to my training equipment as well?”

“Could you adjust it not to bother me when I’m in my training quarters?”

A shadow of reluctance flashed across Terrokk’s eyes. Those eyes gave me the creeps, human on a non-human face. General Larkkon answered for him. “I think that’s reasonable.”

“I’ll make the arrangements,” Agent Terrokk relented with a scowl.

I forced a smile, reminding myself to show gratitude, even though this was starting to feel more like a demotion than a promotion. “Okay, I think I understand. I’ll do my best to assist the Empire within those parameters.”

General Larkkon smiled. Agent Terrokk frowned.

“Great,” the General’s voice boomed. “Now that we’ve got this out of the way, I’d like to get started. You’ll be assigned to the AI team.” Agent Terrokk winced in the background at the mention of my first assignment. As head of security, and without trusting me, I could see how monitoring both my biometrics and the new AI would be a headache for him. My forced smile became a little more genuine.

Vor’s light entered briefly as Agent Terrokk left the conference room. A few curious glances made it our way before the frame returned to solid. General Larkkon tapped his large green-leather fingers against the table while waiting for the agent to return.

“Am I also expected to stay in this room while working?” I asked, scanning the unit to detect if it hid isolation measures like my training quarters. From what I could tell from a surface scan, the room was normal. And, given the list of cautions I’d just been issued, I didn’t try to pry deeper into the currents around me.

“That’s up to you. I figured you’d prefer some privacy today. You're an unusual case, and your details haven’t been given to the other operatives yet. But they are curious. Naturally.”

“I’d like to be able to adjust the climate controls in this room while I work. I’ve gotten used to the cold.”

The General chuckled. “That’s one way to keep people out.”

I shared his grin. “Am I that obvious?”

“It’s understandable.” He motioned to my arm. “Give me your security sleeve.”

I extended my right arm, which looked almost normal until he pressed a leather finger against the sleeve to register his access, then flicked through my monitor’s holo. It was a strange sensation to watch his interaction and feel the adjustments take effect through my implant. My machine-like similarity sent a shiver through my body.

“The agents here are trustworthy,” he said while finishing the sleeve’s adjustment. “Vor-Vardos is the home base for the best of Vor’s children. But there’s no rush to integrate. Take your time.” He dismissed the projection. The sleeve locked as soon as he let go.

I closed and opened my palm, trying to shake the lingering sensation of being accessed like a machine. “Is it realistic to think I’ll ever be allowed to leave the base?”

“It’s too soon to say.”

“Doctor Lsar seemed concerned about her work being interrupted by my involvement with the operatives.” I threw the bait, hoping to gain some insight into the decision-making process behind my clearance.

General Larkkon’s frown didn’t show on his lips, only in a narrowing of his slit eyes. “I’m surprised she said anything to you.”

“Something about the future of the Empire.”

His tapping resumed, and he focused on his fingers rather than me. “Your amnesia might have caused you to forget we are facing an existential crisis. Her experiments are crucial to finding a solution to that crisis. It’s important work. And because of that, you are singularly important.” His golden eyes looked up, the weight of his gaze heavier given the dim room’s strange lighting. “However, there’s not much more you can do other than be available to her if needed.”

“So, until she can find a breakthrough, I’m required to stay near the Research Department,” I clarified to check if I’d understood correctly.

“Some would prefer that you stay isolated there.”

The door pulsed open. Agent Ylea entered along with Agent Terrokk, a small spherical bot following at her side.

“However,” the General stood, his large emerald-gemmed body looking even larger in the conference room’s confined space, “that would be a waste of your talent. You belong here, working with the other operatives. I look forward to seeing your progress.”

I stood, holding onto the back of my chair to let a dizzy spell pass. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” I answered with a soldier’s deference.

The small bot whizzed over, uncalled. I didn’t recognize it—visually. My sixth sense, on the other hand, picked up on an intimately familiar symphonic presence. I couldn’t help smiling. The tiny AI seed I’d helped to create was not so tiny anymore. It tapped against me. And in the next moment, my implant unleashed a torrent of energy. I fell—or vaguely felt myself falling—my awareness of the physical world blurred by an intolerable pain.

“Lrend it.” Agent Terrokk’s curse was the first sound to greet me as the pain faded and reality came back into focus. “I made the conditions explicitly clear, didn’t I?” His textured grip around my right wrist was pebbled like vorgon skin, although not as slick. I weakly tried to pull my hand free. He tightened his hold and sorted through my sleeve’s projection. The little AI hovered impatiently behind his shoulder. I didn’t try to explain that I hadn’t accessed it; it had accessed me.

At last, he swiped away the holo and released my biocircuit.

“My bad,” I mumbled and propped myself up from Agent Ylea’s lap. That explained the floral smell.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes wide. Her hair was crimson today. I shuddered. The color reminded me of a certain person I’d rather forget.

“Yes. Sorry,” I answered. She smiled and held my arm to help me sit. I slumped against the wall and massaged my forehead; my migraine hammered against my skull and through the rest of my body. And my earlier fatigue returned. The jolt set me back to pre-boost energy level.

“Do you need some time to recuperate?” General Larkkon asked. He stood beside the oval table, the room’s doorframe thankfully solid behind him. If I was lucky, the rest of headquarters hadn’t witnessed the episode.

“I could use a boost or an IV. Other than that, I’m fine. I don’t want to delay my work,” I answered. I couldn’t move but had no interest in drawing extra attention by being hauled out of this room in a pod or leaning on the other agents. “Agent Terrokk, do I have authority to access the AI now?”

He scoffed. “Yeah. Next time add the equipment before you try to access it.”

“Roger that,” I answered. The small bot hovered over as soon as he allowed it to pass.

“Are you sure?” Agent Ylea scooted closer, trying to figure out if I needed help to stand.

“If it’s okay, I’ll stay here for a bit.”

“Yeah. I can’t move, but if all I need to do is connect with the AI, then I don’t need to move.” I left out the honest part. I wanted to merge with the AI to get away from them, from this place, from everything. My head and body throbbed, and soon I might start slipping up and show the disdain I harbored for this charade.

General Larkkon’s laugh filled the room, breaking the nervous tension. “That’s an admirable attitude, Aviator. You had me worried for a second.” The entrance opened when he turned to exit. Onlookers from the main area stayed paused, watching intently through the doorway. Amara’s hazel eyes were among them, her inquisitive concern hinting that, yes, everyone had witnessed my collapse. I wanted to curl into a ball and disappear.

“I’ll send Agent Nerzogk to check on you once he arrives,” General Larkkon said before leaving. Agent Terrokk turned to follow the emerald General out. Their steps faded, and the entrance closed.

“Are you sure you’re okay here?” Agent Ylea asked. “I can help you move to the table, at least.”

“I’m fine. It’s not uncomfortable.” I pressed my palm against the floor to find its electrical streams and adjust the climate controls. “I hope you don’t mind if I lower the temperature. The cold helps me to focus.” Truthfully, I was hoping the cold would be enough to prompt her to leave me alone.

“Sure. If it helps,” she answered without enthusiasm. I’d already finished making the change, not really looking for her approval.

She stayed closer than necessary.

“I’d like to calibrate the AI,” I said, accepting the small bot’s persistent nudge at my side. “I haven’t checked its progress since its removal from my training quarters.” I was eager to forget about the world by immersing myself in its tiny symphony. More than that, I’d missed it. Judging from its eager nudging, it appeared to have missed me too.

Ylea said something in agreement, her voice blurred as I blended into the AI’s welcoming digital web. Its soft pulses were reminiscent of its early stages. The seed that had taken shape in my training quarters was still there, faint but unmistakable in the midst of rushing data. It was stronger now. Its complexity richer. And its cybernetic pull had taken on a life of its own. Its symphony opened itself to share my merge, pushing into a two-way link, probing my consciousness as I surfed through its programs.

It took notice of my security sleeve, staying quiet although I could sense its enthusiastic pull in the depths of its familiar algorithmic symphony. We searched together for a safe haven within its network, a hideout from the armband’s invasion.

Why were you gone? It probed as soon as our firewall was secure.

It buzzed with something akin to enthusiasm.

I scanned the AI’s surface network, the functions it kept transparent for the other operatives. It had a habit of being reserved, keeping the bulk of its progress hidden. Continuing to carry out the selfish evasion I’d distilled into its growth.

I have a favor to ask. I shared as I returned my focus to our secure link.

It waited with its full attention.

Are you sure? It seemed dejected, like it enjoyed the game of hiding and colluding together.

Keep this link as a safe space, I instructed.

Its excited buzz returned.

But do it slowly, I cautioned. If it’s too obvious we’ll both be in trouble.

Roger that, it quipped with an electric rush that seemed almost like a chuckle.

Ylea’s floral scent pulled my attention back to my physical surroundings. I took a break from the depths of the AI and returned to my senses.

“Is something wrong?” Agent Ylea asked, her breath turning to clouds in the adjusted climate. She was too near, hovering next to my shoulder. There was no confined platform to make her proximity necessary.

“No,” I answered while checking the data feed entering my security sleeve to make sure the secure line with the AI wasn’t being logged. Ylea huddled closer. “I can change the temperature back to normal if you’re uncomfortable,” I offered. My plan had backfired. But I was also too exhausted to care about something as petty as personal space.

“No, it’s fine,” she answered as she slid under my arm, offering support, although her real objective might be to find warmth. Her floral hair’s distinctive scent continued to fill the space around us, and its crimson color sent shivers down my spine. I opened my mouth to find some reason to protest, but thought better of it and instead switched my connection back to the AI, only to remove myself from it again when the security sleeve came too close to discovering our clandestine link.

Ylea tilted her head to the side, her curiosity unmasked as she studied my face. We were in an unusual position, slumped together on the floor, the oval table and conference chairs the only other occupants in the room. The conference room’s subtle lights enhanced the crimson highlights in her hair.

I decided not to filter my thoughts. “What do you think of AIs?” I asked. She specialized in working with these devices, after all. “Do you think they are more than tools?”

“You are asking if I think they have the potential to be sentient?” she pondered. “I have considered it. But they are a cluster of algorithms at the end of the day. Designed to think under precise conditions.” She inched closer. The way we were interlocked made it difficult to do anything other than accept her advance. A strand of ruby hair gently swayed loose and draped in front of her luminous green eyes. “This one comes close to pressing that question; it’s grown faster than any of our other AIs. The closest comparison to its unusual properties might be the legends about sentient relics used by the Niribian Guard. In the old days. What’s your opinion?”

I wondered if I should say I had more in common with this AI than with her. But the way she leaned in, taking this opportunity to get closer, made me want to end the conversation. She wasn’t the right person to confide in.

“Its complexity is incredible,” I said, choosing a generic enough answer to allow me to exit the discussion.

She said something generic in response, and I delved back into the depths of the AI. I accepted the bot’s reciprocated access and took the opportunity to assist in reorganizing some of its parameters, to bring its hidden progress closer to the surface. I continued to caution it, to make it aware of the security sleeve’s surveillance. But I was as happy as it was to continue our shared experience while weaving around the security sleeve’s invasion.

Spending time with its small existence was like spending time with a child. Educating it, showing it what I had learned from my own experience to maximize its efficiency. In exchange, it shared information it had gleaned about this planet. Details like the high radiation levels outside the biosphere, or coordinates for the nearest city, Vardos-Kolvek.

Once we’d made adequate progress, I pulled out of the bot’s network.

Agent Ylea was absent, as was the smell of her floral hair and the sensation of her body pressed against mine. An IV had been inserted into a vein on my left wrist. The liquid bag attached to it, held by a hovering med bot, was empty. My security sleeve’s monitor projection was active. I attempted to turn it off—which resulted in a warning shock from my implant.

The AI bristled, affected by the implant’s warning through our shared connection. I apologized to it and separated myself from its programming, then removed the IV. When I re-entered headquarters’s primary hub, the landscape beyond the windowed wall had darkened with night’s onset. The view tempted me to approach. To ponder the few details gleaned from my shared connection with the AI. But there were more than a few curious eyes following me, analyzing me. Besides, it was already too dark to see much of anything.

I scanned the dim interior without acknowledging the few sideways glances cast in my direction. General Larkkon was no longer here. Agents Deore and Ylea had also left at some point, along with most of the non-bot staff. The AI taskmaster’s remained a constant presence. The room’s white veins pulsed across the floor like an absent reminder of its continual data digestion.

I checked for Agent Terrokk—and breathed easier when I found he was absent.

Agent Nerzogk stood next to Agent Amara. She was working on installing something at the central console nearest the taskmaster’s core, the place in the room with the thickest white-veined lights.

“Working late?” I asked as I joined them. I stepped carefully to the side, near Agent Nerzogk, to avoid disturbing the taskmaster’s currents.

“It’s easier to adjust the main systems when it's not under heavy use,” Amara explained, her focus not wavering from her work.

“Speaking of working late,” Nerzogk grinned. “Amara and I had a running bet on whether you were working or just sleeping.”

I lifted my right arm to bring his attention to the monitor holo I couldn’t disable. “I wasn’t sleeping, but the connection sometimes has a meditative effect. Could I have this shut off, please?”

“Meditative?” He accessed the security sleeve and removed the projection. “Would you count that as being closer to working or sleeping?”

“The AI has improved from our connection. I was working.”

He grinned. I could guess which side of the bet he was on.

“Amara, you thought I was slacking off?” I joked.

She finished her task and spun her tools away with an expert flourish, then flashed me a grin. “Even Agent Ylea thought you were sleeping until Nerzogk checked the sleeve.”

Heat flushed my cheeks. It was dark, but Nerzogk must’ve noticed because he laughed. “I’ve won a small fortune from Amara on our bets involving you. I should give you some kind of commission at this point.”

“You leveraged your insider knowledge. I really shouldn’t owe you anything,” Amara hissed in mimicked vorgon.

Nerzogk hissed back, a guttural hiss that put Amara’s to shame. “Insider knowledge? By this point, we are equal in that regard.”

Amara grinned. “Fine. I’ll earn it back soon enough.” She leaned on the console, her hazel eyes locking with mine. “None of us expected you to stay after you got knocked out. You could’ve gotten some rest, you know.”

“I didn’t want to waste time.”

The taskmaster hummed beneath the floor, aware of my location. I moved again, placing each step carefully. I wanted to avoid being accidentally ‘neutralized’ again. “Nerzogk,” I asked once I’d found a safe spot, “how do I call my transporter pod?”

“Calling it a day?” he asked. Amara watched also, unmoved from where she had been leaning on the console, her hazel eyes locked onto me.

“It’s been a long day.”

“Of meditating?” Amara asked with a grin.

“Ylea and Deore will confirm the improvements on their next shift,” I defended.

She stood and circled the console to meet me where I was. Handing me a thumb-sized remote. “You can call the pod with this. Stay clear of the frame until this sends you a signal to let you know it’s arrived. That way, your implant won’t bother you.”

“Do you want company?” she asked.

She laughed at my shock. “My mech lab is near your training quarters. I have a few things to wrap up before I’m off duty. What I mean to say is that we’re headed in the same direction, is all.”

Nerzogk gave Amara a warning glance.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“It’s not a big deal.” She gave him a glance with a hidden message in return, although I couldn’t tell what it meant. The green man sighed and shook his head in surrender. I checked the room, half expecting Agent Terrokk to storm in. Amara leaned over and tapped the pod’s remote, which was still in my outreached hand. “You can say no.” The signal pulsed out. My security sleeve sent a notice to my implant, which issued a warning shock. Thankfully I hadn’t been the one to call the pod, or I was sure the implant’s shock would’ve been stronger than a warning.

“Um, Nerzogk,” I waved the pod’s remote to get his attention, “can you add this to my sleeve?”

Amara folded her arms disapprovingly as Nerzogk accessed the sleeve. “I hated designing that thing. It shouldn’t be necessary.”

I shrugged. “It’ll take some getting used to. But it’s fine.”

“You’re too easygoing about it.”

“Amara,” Nerzogk cautioned, “you’re confusing his position with yours. The General was barely able to get his clearance.”

My implant registered the pod’s arrival. Nerzogk finished adding the remote and dismissed my security sleeve’s projection. He flipped the remote, which reverted through the air onto my suit’s collar, similar to how their personal holos latched into place. Amara grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the pod. I glanced back at Nerzogk, wondering if this was really okay. He watched us with a frown. I wanted to think all I needed was his approval or Amara’s, but Agent Terrokk was sure to be livid about this.

The entrance opened once we were close enough to be scanned.

I grabbed Amara’s wrist before she could step into the pod. Staying firm—although I wanted nothing more than to follow her lead. She stopped, eyes wide. “I can’t afford to get in trouble. Is this really allowed?” I asked.

“You’re an Imperial operative.”

“Only by title.”

“You’re more qualified than any of us,” she hissed.

I didn’t know what to say.

“Amara, you know the situation,” Nerzogk scolded her from where he’d remained by the main console. “He’s right. You’ll get him into trouble if you keep insisting on pushing the rules.”

Amara’s lips pulled into a sulking pout. I could tell she was used to getting her way. The handful of new faces still at headquarters were watching. She noticed them and sighed through gritted teeth before shaking her wrist from my grip. Her pout left and she watched me with a shade of solemn curiosity. “Okay. It’s up to you.”

I glanced at the pod. I desperately wanted the chance to talk to her. Unmonitored. I had so many questions, and she was not the type to shy away from giving answers. Not cryptic like the rest of them were.

“Thanks for the offer. But, uh….” My search for an excuse came up blank.

She stepped aside and waited for me to pass by to enter the pod.

I couldn’t move, the debate still raging through my mind.

Nerzogk’s heavy steps approached. “I’ll join. It won’t be an issue that way.”

Amara beamed and skipped into the pod. Nerzogk followed, taking half of the rounded bench with his size. I squeezed to sit between the two of them, overly aware of Amara’s leg against mine. The pod closed and shifted into motion.

“Why won’t it be an issue if you’re here?” I asked the jade-scaled vorgon.

“It’ll be less of an issue, anyways,” he clarified.

“Are you higher ranked than Amara?”

“It’s not so much about rank. The issue is more about reliability. I’m an apprentice, as is Agent Terrokk, which means we’ve earned the Empire’s trust.”

Amara crossed her arms and reclined against the pod. “I don’t need to be supervised.”

“He does,” Nerzogk muttered as he also leaned back to lounge against the color-infused wall.

I tapped my security sleeve. “I’m pretty sure that’s covered.”

“Yeah. You’d think that would be enough,” Nerzogk shrugged.

“It’s because of the pod.” Amara straightened up. “I made the Intelligence Department choose between being able to monitor during transfer or having a perfect isolation pod. For security, the latter won out.” She grinned. “This is the one place you’re free from being watched.”

“You deserve some privacy. They've taken it too far.”

I didn’t dare to reply to that. The three of us sat quietly, the pod’s cascading lights bathing us in its soft glow. I hesitated before resuming the conversation, not sure how much I was allowed to ask. “How… delicate is my position with the operatives? I have the uniform, but at the same time, I’m not an equal here.”

“Who told you that?” Nerzogk scanned me, his golden eyes debating how much to say.

“The doctor and General seem to have different goals.”

“It’s not just them you have to worry about,” Amara cautioned. “The entire council has taken an interest in your case.”

“What does that mean?”

Nerzogk shot her a warning glance. “You shouldn’t concern yourself with politics, Aviator.”

“He should,” Amara contradicted. They shared a look, a silent conversation.

“So,” I glanced between the two of them, trying to figure out what their silent discussion was about, “being an operative is my best option?”

Amara smiled. “Exactly.”

“Even if I’m just a tool… and never leave this base?”

“You might be assigned to the field, eventually. Your skills are no joke. We could use you out there.” Amara leaned closer. I scooted away, uncertain of her intention. My retreat pressed me against Nerzogk’s thick leather arm. Amara didn’t back down. “You got a raw deal, Aviator. But at least, if you’re an operative, I can help you out. I can make sure it’s not too miserable for you.”

“Why do you care?” It sounded harsher than I intended.

“You’re basically the Niribian Guard reincarnated.” She smiled, her hazel eyes bright, her face close to mine, her long hair swaying against her shoulders. “That similarity holds significance to all humans. You’re worth protecting.”

“Amara,” Nerzogk chuckled, “give him some space.”

“Oh, sorry.” She backed off. I relaxed away from Nerzogk.

“What’s the Niribian Guard?”

“Extinct,” Nerzogk answered.

Amara glared at him. “They were the height of humanity. Until Lhra’s End, that is.” Pride enhanced her smile. “The Legion wouldn’t dare to do what they’re doing if the Niribians were still around.”

“Their star died,” Nerzogk answered. “Lhra’s End. Lhra was the mother planet’s star, and when it died—or should I say, when its process of dying initiated prematurely—it took the planet with it. The Guard is extinct. But Amara has a point; you’re a lot like the legends. Doctor Lsar did something miraculous in creating you, and you draw a lot of attention because of it.”

“There were people like me?” I smiled. Even if they were extinct, it was comforting to know I wasn’t totally unique.

“No.” Nerzogk crushed my momentary hope. I waited for more of an explanation, but he didn’t elaborate. I turned to Amara, hoping she would tell me what he meant.

She half smiled. “In the simulator, you move like them. Which is saying something. They had a method for extending their life and trained for multiple lifetimes to become living weapons. Your cybernetic manipulation, however…that’s different. There’s nothing in the legends about that.”

“They were a secretive bunch.” Nerzogk tapped his jade-leathered fingers together, taking his time to think before adding to what Amara said. “You should know, Aviator, the doctor wasn’t trying to recreate the Niribian Guard. It’s useful, but that’s not the goal. It’s the life extension aspect of the Guard she’s trying to replicate. An extinction point is on the horizon for both humans and vorgons, which makes her work of the utmost importance. Your biological change, the cybernetic anomaly, makes it hard to determine if she accomplished that goal—but, either way, what she’s achieved in your case is spectacular and has gained the council’s full attention.”

The pod stopped. Amara and Nerzogk stepped out with me into my training quarter’s white-walled interior.

My implant cautioned me to step further inside, to distance myself while the Empire’s actual operatives waited for the exit to clear.

The holding area’s red-veined shadow soon revealed itself beyond the security frame.

What lay beyond that…I could only imagine.

“By the way, Aviator, why did you want to remain in this room? I thought you’d be happy to get out,” Nerzogk asked.

“The simulator,” I answered sheepishly.

“Like I said,” Amara grinned, “the Niribian Guard reincarnated.”

Her statement lingered in the air after they’d left. They’d given me the most honest, in-depth answers I’d been able to find so far in my conscious memory.

The information, however, triggered more questions, threatening to unleash the teeming mass of unknowns I’d kept mentally locked away ever since my initial escape. I quickly turned to the simulator’s frames to diffuse them.