“Yes, you’re right. But if we could get a Terraformer and Builder inside the simulation, they could create us a lab that’ll give us a shot at realigning the languages. This would allow us unprecedented access to-’”

“Dr Lang, with all due respect; we simply don’t have time for ‘realignment’!” The Director-General interrupted her. “Even without this Hegemon threat, we are still losing a war for control of the Cradle from [b]within[/b]. You remember that transit station where we met? It’s now an island, in the middle of an angry sea. Every day we waste means more lives lost.”

Freyr hmphed. She didn’t quite understand what her boss was doing, but she was going to fight for David, Amy, and all the other dead who she hoped were still retrievable somewhere inside the Cradle. Even if that meant being sacrificed on the altar of public opinion in the process. “It is my [b]job[/b] to control what the Cradle interacts with. If we do as this thing says, it’s quite likely we’ll lose control of the Cradle forever, and all the lives we’ve lost will be in vain.”

Freyr licked her lips and gulped to moisten her parched throat. “There may be nothing we can do to stop it leaving and taking our best chance of surviving any potential attack with it. But give me enough time with it in its current state, and I may be able to extract the tools we need to repair the Cradle ourselves. We might even find a way to bring the Cradle dead back.”

There was a moment of what Freyr perceived as 'stunned silence' in the conference room. “Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but that sounds a lot like torture, Dr Lang.” The Director-General growled. “It is my duty to give you all of the options. Especially if they can potentially save our planet from chaos." Freyr insisted, folding her arms.