The Ava Protocol

The first thing I felt was a dull, persistent beeping. I forced my heavy eyelids open, staring at a sterile white ceiling. This wasn't home, not even a hospital-just a cold, modern corporate infirmary.

Panic, cold and sharp, flooded my chest as I looked at my hands. Small. Delicate. Not mine. My name is Ava. I am Commander Ava Rostova, lead engineer of the Olympus Station project, a celebrated astronaut. The last thing I remembered was the decompression alarm. Now, the face in the mirror wasn't Ava's-it was a young woman with wide, terrified brown eyes, maybe twenty.