The Aviator Awakening features a rebellious cybernetic character comparable to the protagonist in The Murderbot Diaries in a contained (and alien) setting similar to Project Hail Mary. This story will appeal to readers who enjoy character-driven SciFi with some elements of horror and slow-burn romance.
The Aviator is pretty sure heâs being lied toâbut, with no memories to rely on and the weight of a dying species placed on his shoulders, he decides to comply with his training and search for answers to his lost past along the way. The problem? The more progress he makes with his new cybernetic ability, the tighter his leash becomes. He discovers one saving grace in the mess of his situationâa mischievous mechanic and her reptilian vorgon colleague, both of whom are Imperial operatives assigned to manage him. As he comes closer to reaching his goal and graduating from the research department, glimpses of the larger powers manipulating his circumstances begin to seep through. To make matters worse, his training continually blurs the line between man and machine. His search for who he is gradually becomes overshadowed by the complication of what he has becomeâhuman, machine, or Imperial property?
The Aviator Awakening features a rebellious cybernetic character comparable to the protagonist in The Murderbot Diaries in a contained (and alien) setting similar to Project Hail Mary. This story will appeal to readers who enjoy character-driven SciFi with some elements of horror and slow-burn romance.
The Aviator is pretty sure heâs being lied toâbut, with no memories to rely on and the weight of a dying species placed on his shoulders, he decides to comply with his training and search for answers to his lost past along the way. The problem? The more progress he makes with his new cybernetic ability, the tighter his leash becomes. He discovers one saving grace in the mess of his situationâa mischievous mechanic and her reptilian vorgon colleague, both of whom are Imperial operatives assigned to manage him. As he comes closer to reaching his goal and graduating from the research department, glimpses of the larger powers manipulating his circumstances begin to seep through. To make matters worse, his training continually blurs the line between man and machine. His search for who he is gradually becomes overshadowed by the complication of what he has becomeâhuman, machine, or Imperial property?
Each victory into lucidity came with a cost.Â
A haunting sensation of being, somehow, incomplete.
I stitched together my sense of identity time and time again against the regenerative lightning tearing apart my grasp on reality. Gaining and losing awarenessâuntil two pairs of footsteps echoed through my disoriented haze.Â
I couldnât open my eyes, couldnât move my muscles. Couldnât respond to the spark of urgency demanding that I take action against the intrusion.
"This is the one?"Â
The manâs rough, dual-harmony tone became a lifeline in my fight to gain control. He was considerably larger than the other newcomer, judging from the heft of his steps.
"Yes,â a woman answered. âThe progress so far is promising. Heâs made it further than any of my previous specimens."Â
I knew their language well enough to follow the conversationâalthough not well enough for it to be my native tongue.
Beyond the conversation, a soft, repetitive beep faded in and out of focus, in sync with my irregular pulse.
My grasp on reality slipped, and the molecular lightning convoluting my senses pulled me under again. After some time, I latched onto the repetitive beep from beforeâits sound more steady now.Â
The voices returned. Or perhaps they never left.
"I should have been made aware of this sooner.â The manâs heavy footfalls paced the room. I gauged his distance, the likely positions of his vital pointsâas if I could do anything with that information if I had it. His voice continued to rumble through the room. âOur operatives arenât meant to be enlisted into these experiments."Â
"Well," the woman mused, the weight of her steps closer to my concept of average stature. "He was already dying. And now he's not only not deadâbut distinctly improved."
The man's pacing stopped. "Notify me immediately once the procedure is complete. I will be the first point of contact."
Who were these people? My inability to move or speak was infuriating, and the dimming pain gave space for panic to enter. I needed to get out.Â
Out of what? Out of where?Â
I searched my memory for information on how Iâd gotten here. Wherever here was.
My search came up blank.Â
The manâs steps faded from earshot. My formless voice struggled to beg the woman who quietly meandered from place to place in the room for more informationâfor help. My willpower did nothing to budge unresponsive lungs. Only silence filled the room. Silence, and the monitorâs lulling beep, beep, beep.Â
When the woman's heel twisted against the floorâs hard surface, turning to leave, I tried again to yell, to call out, to find answers rather than be crushed under continually building unknowns.Â
My words failed me.Â
The womanâs steps faded to nothing.
Did they know I was conscious? Did they care? I tried to find some point of reference to give meaning to my situation.
I found nothingâsame blank slate as before.
As the pain began to recede, other threads of sensation emerged through my existential fog. An icy chill coursed through my body. Dense, chemically sterile air filled my nostrils. I drifted in and out of the ebbing torment until I could open my eyes, wincing at a blinding white blur of a room. Aftershocks of molecular lightning wrung through my body in sync with mechanical, rotating arms sweeping across my vision.Â
The more reality sharpened around me, the more I wanted to escape back into the murky void Iâd woken from. I couldnât make sense of this place. Or, more accurately, I couldnât make sense of my place here, under this machine.
I wasnât alone.Â
A quiet, methodic pace matching the woman from my first memory echoed from beyond the machinery. She didnât seem to take notice of my waking. She probably knew I wasnât a threat. Yet. I still couldnât move more than to tilt my head and twitch my fingers.
When the woman, at last, drew closer, I couldnât help but compare her scarlet snake-scale body to my pale skin. Her ruby eyes stayed focused on a holo device hovering at her side, avoiding eye contact like I was nothing more than an object. I didn't question our difference in appearance at first. It was not overly foreign to me, in the same way the earlier language had been familiar without being entirely natural.
The callousness she moved with, however, disturbed me.Â
Was she an ally? An enemy?
The cryptic woman collected data from the masses of equipment before shutting them down one by one. My steady beeping companion silenced, and the rotating arms slowed to a halt before folding away unceremoniously. She removed the machineâs web of tubes from my body with expert speed, then fastened thick straps across my chest to lock me in place.
Not exactly something an ally would do.Â
My muscles were still too raw to protest, and my words refused to form. Her handâs leather texture was silky and cold as she finished harnessing the strapsâunaware of my struggleâand stepped back to study her data.
She turned to leave.
I needed contextâan explanation. I forced my limbs to move, if only slightly. She couldnât leave. Not yet. Not without telling me somethingâanything.
A shock released from the straps and bolted through my bodyâforcing the air from my lungs in something between a plea and a scream.Â
Enemy or not, I simply wanted to ask what was happening and how Iâd gotten here.
My desperate outburst bought me no more than a few seconds of the womanâs attention. The door she paused in front of flashed green and emptied to reveal a vacant corridor. Her slick-scaled brow raised in surprise at the sound of my unintelligible garble, and her ruby eyes scanned me as if searching for an error in her work. When her analysis concluded, she blinkedâtransparent eyelids closing and opening from the sides rather than from top and bottom as mine didâapparently determining my outburst to be within an acceptable range. Her reptilian features regained a neutral expression, and she stepped outside without a word.Â
I missed the monitorâs relay. Its steady beeps offered me something to focus on. Without itâŚmy rapid pulse was deafening to my racing mind. Where was I? Why was I here? Why did she deny me such basic yet crucial information? AndâŚwhy was I restrained? I pulled against the straps, each time pulling harder and each time suffering through an increasing severity of shocks.Â
I didnât mind the pain. Pain was simple. Predictable. Each wave of electric bursts brought momentary clarity until something snapped and the clarity reversed course, sending me into the storm. A strange, out-of-body sensation. I gasped and clawed my way out of the disorienting internal free fall.
I expected the restraints to hold me down when reality snapped back. Instead, I fell past the bedâs edge. I groaned and uncurled to lie on my back while waiting for the world to stop spinning. The limp restraints had dropped off my naked body, swaying above me from where they remained attached to the hovering bed.Â
Theyâd been unlocked. By me. I did that. How did I do that?Â
This new intuition, or whatever it had been, was a strange thing.
StrangeâŚand useful. I wasnât as helpless as Iâd been just seconds earlier.
The roomâs illuminated walls pulsed red. The doctor, or someone, seemed unhappy with my accidental victory over the restraints. I waited, the floor cold against my bare skin, expecting someone to rush in to counter my escape.Â
The room remained empty.Â
So, they werenât going to do anything. Just keep me locked in here without answers, without acknowledgment. I stared at my surroundings, trying to decipher the electric fog buzzing beneath the floor and through the walls. Not a noiseâa feeling.
I pulled myself up, grasped onto the bed to steady my shaking limbs, and turned my attention to the roomâs exit. Every step shot needles through my raw body.Â
I stood in front of the circular doorframe, just as the crimson woman had, and waited.
An intangible scan breezed through my bodyâsilent, unnoticeable, if not for my newly discovered intuition. I could feel the scanâs pulse. Understand it.
The scannerâs analysis concludedâand the door remained a stubborn red.
I slammed my fist against the obstinately solid wall, which had allowed the woman to pass but denied me, and screamed. Again and again, I pounded against the door and screamed at my inability to do anything, to know anything. My frustration changed nothing. I fell silent, unmoving, my palms and forehead pressed against the unyielding wall.
It made sense, of course. The restraints hadnât exactly been a beacon of freedom. But now, the unknowns caught up to me. Who were they to determine what I could and could not do? Who were they at all? Who was I?
I moved without thinking, edging closer to the door to melt into its electric fog. If the strange out-of-body interaction could buy my earlier freedomâmaybe it could do the same for this obstacle.Â
The fog gave way to a storm as I pushed deeper into the systemâs complex, interconnected maze. Its undercurrents threatened to whisk me away. I exited, perhaps a little too quickly, spooked by the possibility. My head spun.Â
The door remained as red and cold as the womanâs callous gaze. What would happen when she returned? I didnât intend to stick around to find out.
I breathed through the connectionâs disorienting residual effect, then searched for a way to re-enter the roomâs stubborn electric barrier. After some time and more than a few mental re-runs through the events leading me to this point, I decoded my new instinct. I took a moment to steady myself, then re-entered the currents flowing beneath the doorâs security frame and scanner.
I lost my out-of-body self for a tumultuous, terrifying moment. When I finally got through the fog, I held on just long enough to identify my target and nudge it into compliance.
My vision was the last sense to return after exiting the scannerâs system. I reached out to use the door for support. Instead of finding a solid wall, my hand passed through the airâs green glow. I fellâagainâand clutched my aching body, half strewn between my prisonâs red walls and the white-walled hallway beyond, gasping for air. When my lungs finally inflated, I laughed. A hysterical, deranged laugh.Â
Iâd done it. Iâd made it out.
SoâŚnow what?
My laugh echoed and died down the empty corridor.Â
I stayed on the cold floor, naked and overwhelmed, completely at a loss for what to do.Â
The hallway plunged into an inky dark, interrupted by periodic flashes of red and a blaring alarm. I didn't mind the alarm. Its screaming thunder and floods of red consumed me and gave me the kick in the ass I needed to move forward. What I did mind, however, was the prickling sensation of eyes watching through a network of cameras.Â
I peeled myself off the floor and placed a hand on the hallway wall. Whoever they were, the ones behind the cameras, the ones as apathetic as the crimson woman, I wanted them to feel what I was feeling. Confusion. Lack of control. A dose of their own medicine. I closed my eyes to search for a path through the cybernetic fog. I found lines of electric current within the wall, and through those lines, I sought out the ones supplying the hall's surveillance network. Once I found them, I cut them off. All of them, as many as I could reach. The alarm, however, I left on, finding comfort in its rhythmic noise. I traced my way out of the fog, then leaned against the wall for a few breaths to wait for the dizzy aftereffect to pass.
In the distance, marching deepened the alarmâs echo in answer to my challenge. The thrill of danger cleared my head and woke my body. I slipped behind the nearest accessible door, prompted it to close, then turned around and found myself face-to-face with a stunned soldier. He stood, half-dressed, in front of an opened locker. Maybe, just maybe, my luck was beginning to turn.Â
Neon orange scales covered the soldierâs reptilian body, his size similar to mine. I wasnât sure if he was more shocked by my sudden entrance or my nudity. Either way, his surprise gave me an opening. I slipped behind him and tightened my hold around his leather-slick neck before he had time to register what was happening. He fought back by slamming me against the locker and nearly crushing my unguarded lower region. I grunted and held on tighter until his will to fight faded, and his body went limp. I released my grip, and his scaled body collapsed onto the floor.Â
I checked for a pulse, confirmed he was alive, then removed the cap from his skull and returned to his locker to find a new uniform. Voices from the backside of the locker room called out, investigating the commotion. The calls hushed into whispers when the soldier currently on the floor failed to respond.
I counted roughly a dozen pairs of heavily booted steps. Average weight. Average training. Slowly falling into sync, gaining uniformity behind a leader with a confident stride. I mentally mapped their approach while sorting through cartridges on the lockerâs shelf. I tested one out by pressing the cylindrical tubeâs top. A dull black nano-material released to envelop my naked body, slick like the neon manâs leather-scaled skin. It fit well enough, and I tossed the emptied cartridge to the floor next to the unconscious soldier before positioning myself for the oncoming ambush. Adrenaline aided my instincts to take over. I anticipated the confrontation, hungered for it as I placed a mental line and waited for it to be crossed.Â
As soon as the targets entered my range, I slid around the corner to greet them. Their leaderâa tall, black-scaled manâwas quick to react, although it came too late. I moved onto the subordinates before his leather-scaled body hit the floor.
Confusion gave way to shouts after two more of their comrades fell. They had a tougher, thicker build than mine. I slammed my palm into the chin of one and drove another, head-first, into the ground. Their armored scales protected their skull and backâbut their brains seemed to bounce around and shut them down like any other opponent, given enough force.
Another fell, and shouts from the remaining soldiers got louder. The increase in volume motivated me to move faster. I made quick work of the proactive ones, the ones trying vainly to avenge their commander, then chased the strays until the last of them fell and silence settled.Â
I stepped over their bodies to return to the entrance, watching for the rise and fall of their chests. All were alive, I think. A couple of hits had landed harder than intended. Their leather skin required extra pressure, and it had taken me a couple of combatants before Iâd gotten the hang of it. But, for the most part, it seemed likely theyâd recover. That was important to me for some reason. Protecting life. Even enemy life. I wasnât sure why. Wasnât sure of anything.Â
I paused at the door. A subtle vibration thudded through the floor. I focused on counting my breaths while the marching outside passed, careful not to let my eyes linger on the unconscious soldiers and their reptilian characteristics that so clearly differed from mine. The vibrations dimmed into silence. I lowered the rim of my stolen cap, covering as much of my pale skin as possible, and exited the locker roomâhigh on the thrill of danger.Â
Whoever I was, I lived for moments like these. And there was something more, something urgent, compelling me to get as far from these bleak corridors as possible. What was it? What had landed me in that room, attached to that machine and locked away? I tucked the questions to the back of my mind and continued through the halls, avoiding waves of soldiers when I could duck out of sight, marching among them in the inky dark when I couldnât. I quickly learned it was better not to enter random rooms if I could avoid itâalthough, so far, I was able to subdue the startled occupants when there were any.
Finally, I reached the end of the corridor maze. I unlocked the exit and glanced from side to side as casually as I could, considering the circumstances. Mimicked daylight veined the roadway tunnel waiting on the other side. I was glad to be out, of course. But nowâŚthe dark no longer hid my complexion. I stepped onto the roadwayâs vacant pavement with less confidence than before. Moving around out here promised to be more difficult.
The alarmâs periodic blare blasted andâfor the first timeâfilled me with panic. I tapped the door closed, then plastered myself against a thick, subtly curved stone wall. My pulse returned to normal when the empty tunnelâs silence resettled. My entrance hadnât drawn attention. I scrambled to keep it that way and searched for somewhere to hide.
A cleaning bot approached. Its large, multi-armed body crept along a maintenance rafter overhead. Long cylindrical fingers ran across the veined curving walls, sweeping from bottom to top and then shifting over, inching closer, taking no notice of me as it executed its methodic task. My mind and body were tired, pushed too far too soon. It took everything I could muster to keep from lying on the stone-textured floor despite the risk of discovery. I watched the arachnid-like machine, calculated its speed, and analyzed the wide structural beam supporting it as it crept along the top of the tunnel. A sort of catwalk. When the bot came near, I hopped onto its closest appendage. It protested. I subdued its programmed reluctance, and it continued its task as before, with the addition of me as a hitchhiker.Â
The arm lifted me closer to the machineâs main body, which wasnât much larger than mine. I slid into its rafter and breathed a little easier. My escape, however, came with the same hollow victory as earlier.Â
Iâd done it. Iâd made it out.
SoâŚnow what?
âAviatorâs Awakeningâ is listed as a Space Opera, but it doesnât fit the genre comfortably. It has the prerequisite alien species, neatly conceived and well-described. It has the military setting, with a hazy background of interstellar war, but the action takes place in a very restricted setting, and the majority of the conflict is either interpersonal or inside the main characterâs head.
The main conflict revolves around the main character, the âAviator,â who has no name and no memory of who he is, but he has strange powers to read and manipulate electrical circuitry. He is apparently a unique individual the military wants to duplicate. The resulting struggle is between the Aviator trying to regain his humanity and place in society, and the emotionless elements of the military, who treat him like a lab specimen.Â
The psychological part of the story is its strength. The scientific framework of the conflict is well thought out, and the main characterâs reactions to the way he is treated are realistic, detailed, and sympathy-provoking.Â
The most interesting secondary characters are the two beings in the whole story whose actions are motivated by sympathy and humanity. The rest are rather stereotyped.Â
The tone of the book is very dark. The main character is putting up a futile battle against huge odds. His supposed objective is to solve his amnesia and find out who he really is, but he never makes any progress in that regard.Â
The âBâ story (the romantic part) doesnât start until a third of the way through the story. It is a breath of warmth in what has been until now a cold and hopeless landscape, but it plays a minor part in the total story arc.Â
Unfortunately, the whole story (and especially the first third of it) is just too long and repetitive. There are several different sequences that happen over and over again, and the small amount of progress the Aviator achieves does not make them worthwhile.
Then the whole thing breaks open in the last three chapters, with significant action that expands the world and sets up a sequel. Itâs almost enough to make me want to read the next book in the series.