The Aviator Awakening

Amara followed Terrokk’s shadow through the Intelligence Department’s underbelly. His expression was distant, his mind elsewhere. “What’s this about?” Amara fished for a hint.

Terr’s dark brow creased. His gaze remained forward. “You are drawing attention, ‘Mara.”

“Is that all?” She gave a soft chuckle. “So, nothing new then.”

His lack of a response gave her goosebumps.

She didn’t notice the figure waiting for them until the man shifted in place, causing the light to play off transparent jewels decorating his albino-scaled skull.

Terr paused and waited for her to unglue her feet.

Amara pulled her shoulders back, steadied her expression, and moved forward.

They remained silent until they approached the vault door and the albino figure at the end of the long corridor.

“Agent Amara.” Director Vesar’s thin smile was even more unsettling than his beady red eyes. “Glad you could join us at such short notice.”

“It’s an honor, sir,” she lied with a soldier’s deference. Anger burned in her blood. The Director was renowned for twisting everything around him, and she blamed him for Terrokk’s change. She desperately wanted to give him a piece of her mind and a taste of her fists.

However, such a thing was beyond suicidal.

Director Vesar’s unblinking gaze stayed fixed on her. Terrokk shifted uncomfortably. Probably fighting the urge to intervene. But he was the Director’s right hand. Wrapped around the high council member’s little finger like a pet.

“I know my apprentice has been shielding you, Agent.” The Director’s words slithered through the air, smooth and sharp at the same time. A personification of the long, slender scar marring his left eye. “And even so, you’ve pushed the rules enough to gain my attention. You know what that normally would mean.”

Amara swallowed the retort lingering on her tongue, staying silent and standing firm.

“But, as we are all well aware, we are not operating under normal circumstances,” the Director continued. His albino frame moved to access the vault. Terrokk’s shoulders tensed, avoiding Amara’s eyes.

A shiver ran down her spine. Her mind raced, bracing for the worst.

But they were not in the dark alleys of the department’s investigative section. Nor were they on the deck of a departing spacecraft or in the disciplinary offices. So why, then, had they summoned her here? She kept her breath even, seeking control over the only thing she could claim sovereignty over: her perception, her sense of righteousness. Whether locked away, sent on probation, or sent to the gallows—she would remain fully herself. Fully human.

A blue light ebbed from the opened vault.

“I put a lot of consideration into how to deal with you, Agent.” Director Vesar stepped inside the vault, signaling for her to follow. As she moved forward, Terrokk followed. Close enough to stay in arm’s reach, to grip onto if needed, although they both realized showing that much weakness would be a mistake. Still, his presence helped her keep her head high.

Amara's feet stopped responding as soon as she saw the vault’s interior.

“I understand you have a vested interest in this remnant of the past, Agent Amara. You’ve done well working with salvaged Baet tech. However—I think we both know this is what you’ve always been after.”

“How….” Amara regathered her composure and closed her gaping mouth.

She’d seen other relics. Silent, lifeless memories of a golden age long lost. Empty shells that she’d desperately attempted to unlock, desperately sought to pry open to access their muted secrets. But this was different. The runes etched into the mysterious floating cube in front of her pulsed with blue veins, draping her and the rest of its surroundings in an otherworldly shade. It seemed to breathe, to live right before her eyes.

The azure light refracted across the gems marking the Director’s frame. His albino reptilian body seemed transformed in the light, washed in blue. A smile pulled at his lips. “Rather than discipline you, Agent, I would prefer to motivate you. The tides of the war are changing. The Aviator is simply one example of this relic’s potential.”

“Then…,” Amara marveled aloud, “his evolution…it was….”

“Yes. Not a typical regeneration.”

“He really is—”

“Reincarnated, as you seem fond of saying. Yes. In a sense.”

Amara swallowed hard. “I’m honored to be trusted with this information.”

“Ah.” The council member’s red eyes glinted. “An honest statement at last.”

Goosebumps returned to Amara’s arms. “I’m not sure what you want me to do, sir.”

“Doctor Lsar and I are having difficulty tapping into the relic’s full potential.” The Director circled the relic, then returned his attention to Amara. “We have one lead. One key. Unfortunately, we can’t wield this key at the moment.”

She shook her head in stunned disbelief. “You’re talking about—”

“The Aviator. Yes.”

Amara swallowed hard. “I don’t understand, sir.”

Director Vesar drew uncomfortably close. Terrokk tensed. “The asset has a soft spot for you, Agent.”

Amara’s eyes widened. “You want me to get him under control.”

“You’re a fast learner.” The Director waited for her to say more, but she was at a loss for words. He stepped away, giving her space to breathe. His voice continued to ooze around them, along with the relic’s blue waves. “Agent Amara. Native of Nes-Fedora. A girl who dreams of Niribian resurrection. This is your chance to make that dream a reality. To save humanity and vorgon kind alike. To eradicate the Baet Legion—rather than the other way around. Isn’t this what you always wanted?”

Her heart beat frantically as she struggled with the proposition. Had Terrokk betrayed her innermost thoughts? Her deepest desires? And all the while, the relic beckoned to her. “What will happen to him?” she asked in a shaken whisper.

“The asset?” The Director’s red slit eyes searched hers.

“If he’s cooperative—he’ll be a hero.”

“And if he’s not?”

Director Vesar drew close again, whispering into her ear. “Then we’ll keep trying to create his replacement. Or, with any luck, he’ll create his own replacement.”

Amara resisted the urge to flinch away. “The AI?” Her voice betrayed a tremble, giving away the false resolve she stood with.

“The AI could shape up to be a promising substitute. It’s an unusual little device, isn’t it?”

Amara steadied her voice, banishing the tremble. “Does General Larkkon know about this?”

“Not the full scope of it.”

When the gemmed high council member finally withdrew toward the exit, Amara remained frozen in place. The Director’s skull glinted with a nod to Terrokk on the way out before the vault door closed behind him.

“You knew about this?” Amara asked without making eye contact.

Terr deflected the question. “I need your answer before I can allow you out of here.”

“How could you keep this a secret from me?”

“Because it’s classified.”

Amara turned to face her former lover, tears brimming. “You knew this all along. You knew the role I was intended to play. And you knew I couldn’t possibly refuse.”

“Your fascination with the lost age is no secret, ‘Mara.”

Amara’s shoulders sank. “I’m not like you. I can’t use another person as a tool.”

Terr shook his head. “I didn’t want it to turn out this way. I didn’t want you to be involved. How many times did I….” The midnight man seemed to shrink in the relic’s light. “It is what it is now. And it’s not necessarily a big change. You just have to be the asset’s anchor, a reason to keep him malleable. That’s easy enough. Just keep being yourself. But please, ‘Mara, go along with it. If you refuse—”

“They’ll kill me,” Amara completed the sentence for him.

He answered by dropping his gaze to the ground.

Amara approached the relic like a moth to a flame. The truth was the Director had her pegged. She was lost to his demand the moment she set eyes on this echo from a greater age.

“He was never intended to leave the Research Department, was he? You’ve been lying to him all along.”

“It’s necessary to explore all avenues of the asset’s potential until he can be trusted with the main objective. Or until Doctor Lsar can find a more reliable replacement.”

“You don’t seem to think he’ll ever be trusted. You’re always operating on the assumption that he’ll run. Why not let him know his potential? The good he could do for humanity? He might choose to help, you know.”

“We can’t all be as optimistic as you, ‘Mara.”

“He’s not a bad person. He’s just confused,” Amara lectured while tracing the relic’s pulsing blue veins. The ancient cube was neither hot nor cold. Its touch gave the tip of her finger a strange sensation. As if it wasn’t fully there. “He simply needs someone to believe in him.”

“And you intend to be that person?” Terrokk asked in a tentative whisper.

“Yes,” Amara confirmed. “I’ll prove your assumptions about him wrong.”

Terr’s gaze hardened. “If I turn out to be right, I need you to let it go and stand aside. If we have to take extreme measures, promise me you won’t get too attached to him.”