The Facilitator stared soberly up at Rareth - an eyebrow twitched. He mopped his sweaty brow with the cloth again. “I’ll see what I can do. A friendly word of advice though: you should get your people off-world before things turn really ugly. This isn’t even close to being over, believe me.” He pointed at the TV. The picture showed Group Admiral Hale, who they’d met at a previous conference, addressing a cloud of journo-drones via secure uplink. 

“-bring the perpetrators to justice. Please allow our law enforcement and civilian services agencies do their work, and remain in your-” 

The Facilitator brought the hardline up to his ear again. “Go for the Vault…Code please…Confirmed. I’ll send them up - make sure you’re ready.” He put the phone down and called loudly into the room. “CRD, Rothian delegates, pack your things! You’re heading out in FIVE minutes! Sergeant Skopec, assemble your team. You’re going up with them.” 
[hr]
Freyr would’ve argued harder to remain in the Vault, where they could make a real difference, if she’d been able. But she felt too groggy after her sleep to put up much of a fight. A headache split her right down the middle, so the most she could do was hold back the endless waves of nausea and stay close to Dr Wetherall as they scrambled to evacuate the Vault. A coterie of anonymous technicians filed in to take up posts left by her team.

“Come, my dear. Let's go and get you some fresh air.” Dr Wetherall soothed, offering an arm for support as they left the control room. She looked back one last time at the picture of the Cradle hanging in the air, the Navigator spinning slower around it. She hoped it wouldn’t be the last time she could lay eyes on it.
[hr]
The ride up to the surface was somehow even more tense than the journey down. The camp outside the Vault was buzzing with activity, with all manner of vehicle speeding about. Black-clad soldiers were everywhere, scanning CraSec forces and loading them into troop transports. Freyr started when she thought she saw 595 in the throng as they drove through, but it was just a man wearing very similar armour. He was standing in the middle of a melee of soldiers and giving orders, pistol drawn and tapping impatiently at his thigh.

The rail system out of the Vault complex and up towards the surface was jam packed with soldiers and civilian personnel. Freyr realised at that point that her team was no longer the most important piece of the puzzle. She exchanged a concerned look with Vreta, who seemed to always be hovering nearby.
[hr]
At least fifty heavily armed operators, led by Sergeant Skopec, surrounded them on their way through Babel Tower to their exfil pad. It was a couple of hours before dawn now, and the wind bit at Freyr as they finally arrived in an open-air hangar where four armoured transports waited. The front and back vehicles were already full, so they all piled into the third one and they took off almost before everyone had strapped into a jumpseat. Through the open (but shielded) doors at the back, Freyr just about made out a cloud of drones following them into the air.

They banked out of the hangar in tight formation. Freyr caught a glimpse of black smoke from the Parliament estate billowing into the night air, against a backdrop of Outremer’s moon. Many of the city’s lights were still on, presumably with people unable to sleep after recent events.

She felt no such issue anymore. Despite the bitter cold in the transport, sleep tugged at her like a comforting blanket. Her eyelids drooped as she crossed her arms and leaned her head against Dr Wetherall’s shoulder. “Wake me when you need me.” She slurred, as everything went black.

[h1]END OF PART ONE[/h1]