The Aviator Awakening

When Xular entered General Larkkon’s office, the baetian was met by their superior’s silhouette against a cloudless red rock vista. The way the afternoon starlight danced across the vorgon’s emerald skull was both beautiful and daunting.

As petty as it might be, it was their superior’s impressive aura and sharp wit that had drawn Xular to his side. Baetians were simple creatures when isolated from the hive. Or, at the very least, Xular found themself to be surprisingly simple-minded as a result of being separate from the collective. Their exhaustively long life dulled the passage of time, which led Xular to focus on things that gave them immediate inspiration.

General Larkkon was one such person. Kind, yet firm. Authoritative, yet, at times, simple.

It was a shame he was unlikely to have more than one consequential successor.

Xular often imagined the fate of the next vorgon to occupy this office. By then, the Empire’s position was likely to be unquestionably futile. All hope extinguished other than a hope to die well.

At least—that had been Xular’s impression prior to linking with the Aviator’s mind.

“Well?” General Larkkon asked without glancing up from the holo on his desk.

Xular drew closer to the windowed wall behind the General’s desk, peering across the canyon-riddled valley. “The potential is promising,” they informed.

“How much time will you need to develop the AI for the field?”

“It won’t take long—contingent on the asset’s cooperation.” This was only partially true. The larger obstacle was the Vor Empire itself. The council’s bureaucratic grip on both Xular and the Aviator was suffocating. It wasn’t unexpected—they were both outsiders.

It was, nonetheless, infuriating.

“Agent Terrokk was not happy with today’s progress. A thought link cannot be monitored.” Xular summed up their predicament in over-simplified terms.

“Let me deal with the Intelligence Department.”

Xular’s attention returned to scan the horizon. Their thoughts lately were prone to distraction. Was it hope? Excitement? Maybe both. “If the asset proves successful, it will not only be the Empire that benefits,” Xular’s echo stated their musing aloud, wishing they could share their optimism directly—without the complications of words. Their brief lapse into traditional communication stirred a longing for the hive. For simplicity. For belonging.

“You still hold out hope for overthrowing the O'Tzar.”

The General’s shift in attention was never subtle. Prisms spun across the room, indicating the General’s golden-slit eyes had left the holo above his desk.

“Yes,” Xular confirmed. “If the hive mind can be disrupted, even momentarily, it would open a path to restore balance.”

A long pause held between them, prolonged by Vor’s steady blanket of starlight. Xular’s senses had long been stifled by pessimism. By premature grieving. Now, however, the worlds were filled with potential’s vivid light. How long had it been since optimism had entered their musings? Or, for that matter, for musings to enter at all?

Too many years to count.

“I’ll take any advantage we can get,” General Larkkon broke the silence with an underlying hiss. “We’ve been crushed by the Legion for as long as anyone can remember. I’d prefer to crush them in return.”

Xular glanced toward the emerald giant.

The vorgon’s stern expression mellowed with a heavy shrug. “But I am not one to pass up a more immediate solution, if it should present itself.”