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The Avian Way

Jason was uneasy.

This was somewhat of an understatement. Having been left on his own by his allies on an alien planet, and with no idea how to operate the ship to get home again, in a mission that seemed increasingly suspicious the more he thought about it, it seems increasingly likely that uneasy was the baby cousin of the word needed to describe how he felt.

Maybe terrified?

Nah, terrified wasn't really accurate, it wasn't like he was sobbing in fear. Jason had never really been terrified of anything. Perhaps... lost. Lost and alone, with all that that entailed.

Six months ago, Jason had been chosen to go on an expedition to Avia-5, the first planet outside the solar system to have been discovered that could house life. It was an exhilarating prospect, and one that he could never have turned down - as rather a small time researcher, Jason had only sent in an application letter out of vague optimism that they might want a large scientific team there and he could work as an assistant.

His already great surprise at being picked increased dramatically when he discovered that he was the only scientist on the team. The rest appeared to be military men, who, while okay company, seemed a bit odd for the job. He'd been told the life there was very primitive, and that the expedition would take place far from the habitat of any large predators, so why would they need soldiers?

He'd asked this of Teresa Shark, head of NASA, during one of the briefings, and been told that that wasn't for him to know. Jason had accepted this at the time, because arguing was a good way to get taken off the mission, and he didn't want to do that. Whatever he was or wasn't allowed to know, this was a historic opportunity.

He felt a bit different about it now he was actually there. The colossal mountain range, while impressive to look at in the shuttle from orbit, was rather dull to actually be in. It surely would have been more invigorating if he were allowed to leave their camp's perimeters. He hadn't minded for a while, as he could chat with the soldiers, but two days ago they had left on an expedition of some kind and told him to activate the distress beacon if they weren't back within forty-eight hours.

It was coming up to that now. Jason eyed the large red button on the control panel dejectedly.

As if it would actually bring help in time - it would almost be like flying the ship back to pick up more men to help, then embarking on another expedition, without the prospect of ever getting home.

Jason was stranded. Alone. On a planet he was realising he knew increasingly little about.

The clock beeped. Forty-eight hours.

Jason pressed the button.

* * *

It was a few days later. Jason hiked up the steep mountain wall.

It wasn't that he'd particularly liked the soldiers. Jason was not a fan of the military, and while he would chat with the men, he felt rather resentful about having been selected alongside them. But having no contact with others of his kind was maddening - the radio wouldn't work out here, it took months for the signal to get home, and it would take further months for a reply to come. He needed someone to talk to.

Anyone.

There was a screeching sound, like that of a bird of prey. Jason didn't pay it much heed - he'd heard the sound before around camp, but knew the species was little bigger than the eagles back home. He didn't even look up until he heard it again, this time much closer, and by then it was too late to react. It landed on his shoulder and sank its talons into him, piercing his skin. Panic set in, and he lashed out at it with his free arm; the bird gave another screech and took off again. Jason staggered, in shock; his foot slipped on a rock, and he crashed down, hitting his head and blacking out.

* * *

It was dark when he awoke. Jason felt sick. He made to push himself up and head back to the ship.

Or at least he tried to.

But he couldn't. His body wouldn't move. It just kept telling him that it was in pain.

He heard a squawking sound, and felt something moving around near his head. He couldn't turn and look at it, but he recognised the sound as the bird that had attacked him. It was still here?

Why did his shoulder feel so weird?

Jason could feel dried blood on his chest that had trickled down from the puncture wounds in his shoulder. Or at least, he thought it was blood. From the position his head was in he could see that it was vaguely translucent. Blood didn't dry that way.

Jason struggled to think, not the easiest task when his body wouldn't stop telling him it was in pain. It was leaking from the puncture wounds, so it must have been something the bird did. Was it some kind of toxin that caused paralysis? Why hadn't the bird eaten him, or flown off yet?

His thoughts were interrupted as the pain intensified. All over his body, all at once, was a pain like needles were being stabbed into the surface of his skin. Jason wanted to yell, to scream out, but he couldn't make his vocal cords ring.

There was another squawk. Jason's vision faded.

* * *

It was bright, far too bright. The star that breathed life into Avia-5 was no larger than the Sun, and not further away. Jason closed his eyes with a groan that didn't come out right, and rolled onto his side.

It took a few moments for it to sink in. He had moved on his own. The paralysis was gone. He breathed a sigh of relief. But something was wrong.

Everything was strikingly sharp. Nothing could escape his gaze; he could even see the antennae of a beetle twitch on a tree several meters away - a far cry from before, where too much late night research had given him the need for reading glasses. Jason blinked twice, and shifted an arm to rub at his eyes.

Only it wasn't an arm. It was a wing. A giant wings covered in sleek, jet black feathers.

Jason's heartbeat accelerated. He pushed himself up, and saw that it wasn't merely his arm. His whole body was covered in the feathers, and his clothes lay in tattered shreds on the ground around where he had been passed out.

He let out a yell. Or rather, he tried to. But what came out wasn't a scream, it was a screech. And it hadn't come from his mouth, it came from his curved predator's beak.

Jason stumbled. His body mass had shifted, and he felt unsteady - for a moment he thought that he would fall down further into the chasm that knocked him out in the first place, but he didn't. His body wouldn't allow for it. Sharp tal0ns instinctively dug into the soil underneath him and secured him firmly to the ground.

What the hell was this? Some kind of joke? Was he hallucinating? He tried to pull at the feathers, but his hands were gone. He hesitated, then lowered his head and tugged at the down with his beak.

Well the pain seemed real enough to him.

Come up.

The words rang loud and clear though Jason's head without apparently having bothered with the process of entering his ears. They were clearly feminine in pitch. He looked around momentarily to see where they had come from, but his enhanced vision didn't pick up on anything. But regardless, he listened - he couldn't stop himself. The ravine he had fallen into wasn't as deep as he'd thought in the dark, and scrambling out was a simple enough task once he had steadied himself, even with the lack of hands.

Perched on a low tree branch was the bird that had attacked him. It was watching him intently. This was the first time he'd been able to observe it in detail. It most closely resembled a harpy eagle in shape, but its head lacked the fan of fluff that distinguished them from other species. Its feathers were a deep magenta in color, and it had a small plume on the top of its head like a cockatiel. Jason wanted to keep his distance, but something overrode the desire, seeming to draw him towards it.

You will follow.

The voice belonged to the bird; that much seemed clear to him somehow. She took flight and disappeared over the treeline. Jason wasn't exactly keen on following even if he knew how to do so, but something was overriding his thought process. Somehow, disobedience of the creature wasn't an option.

He spread his wings wide, and kicked off the ground with a powerful push of his clawed feet. He didn't know he had managed to gain flight. Something very instinctive was driving him, assuming direct control. Jason's stomach dropped as he soared over the life below. Nothing had ever been so exhilarating - or so terrifying - to Jason than this in his entire life, especially when he seemed to lack any level of control on the matter.

It was like a second voice existed in his consciousness, a powerful voice that he had to obey. He could think independently of it, but acting on his own impulses was another matter, and he could feel the second voice growing more and more prominent with every passing second.

It was thinking with him, and it knew everything about him. He could question it, but outright rebellion seemed impossible.

The bird flew ahead of him for what must have been hours. When she finally dropped down and landed, Jason lowered himself and landed obediently behind her. They were in a small clearing encircled by trees. All of this seemed surreal to Jason, but it couldn't be a dream. No dream could be quite this real. The trees were filled with other birds, many looking similar to Jason. They had various differences in feather coloration and size, but the general shape was the same - they were a mix of humanoid and avian.

He could hear all of them. Not only their verbal squawks, but also somehow their thoughts. Each one of their minds was a part of the consciousness that he could feel, the one that told him how to fly. But the thoughts emitted by some of them seemed to show entirely different patterns, as if of different worlds altogether. Jason realized that he wasn't among the first group of extraterrestrials to have visited Avia-5.

His eye was caught by marines; he could recognize them through all the feathers and the beak. They were bulkier than he was, no different from when they were all human. But Jason noticed something off about their eyes. They were dull. They weren't thinking like the other birds, they weren't thinking at all.

No, they weren't being allowed to think. That was their punishment for attacking the birds.

You will not become like them.

_ _

The voice was that of the female that Jason had followed here. She was one of the originals; not a hybrid, but pure. Superior, he found himself thinking, almost like a ruling class. When they spoke, the workers would listen.

But Jason was fine with that. He could tell his will was being overwritten, but he was finding increasingly that he didn't want to resist.

It was right that he should serve them.

Your name will Icarus, and in time you will become one with us.