Cath

The Cradle

Freyr was secretly pleased that the soft spoken alien liked her rationale. He seemed very knowledgeable, and it was so refreshing to share ideas with someone from an advanced species like the Rothians. She did have one other theory that had been gaining momentum as the data pieced together in her mind. It terrified her, but it didn’t pass her lips, as something told her to stop. Perhaps it was the medication, granting her clarity of mind, but she suddenly realised she’d said quite a lot. Her work wasn’t officially ‘classified’ top secret, but she had been instructed not to divulge technical information about the Cradle to anyone outside the ‘need to know’ loop. Vreta’s charming mannerisms and leading questions had gently teased information from her drugged up head like an angler fishing in river rapids.

Freyr was thinking of ways to get the conversation into safer territory when something, or rather someone caught her attention. The man who had locked eyes with her a few moments before was looking her way again. He turned his head to track them as he walked across the market through thinning crowds, heading vaguely in the direction of the arch Freyr had entered from. When he saw Freyr was looking, his lips twisted into a malicious grin. Time seemed to slow and Vreta’s voice faded out. Freyr felt this must be the medication again, heightening her concentration. The man crossed his hand up to the left side of his face, by the cheekbone. His digits were all clenched apart from the index finger, which was crooked like a hook.

Pressing that crooked finger against his cheek, the man slowly dragged it down the left side of his face, ending at the chin. The sickening smile never went away.

A hooded figure sat on the bench next to them quickly got up and knelt down in front of Freyr, who wrenched her eyes away from the display to look down at them. The figure pushed their hood back slightly, and Freyr recognised the blonde female agent who’d showed up at her place with the pills and the body bag. “Dr Lang, listen to me very carefully ok? The Skinners are here. They’re here for you, so we need to get you out of here right now. Do you understand?” Freyr’s mouth hung open in astonishment. Why would they be here for her? What had she done to them? “Wait, why are you he-” Freyr began, but the agent obviously had no intention of replying as she quickly spoke to someone via her comms over the top of Freyr.

“Five Nine Five calling in a Skinner sighting at Boycott park. Have VIP seventy ten, need urgent extraction, over.” She obviously didn’t like the answer, gritting her teeth before looking back at Freyr. “I need to get you to get you to your apartment, right now. Lets go.” The agent pulled a sleek black silenced pistol out from her long coat. She looked up at Vreta. “Will you help me? I think we both want Dr Lang to make it out of here alive.”

The Cradle

Freyr sighed, none of this made any sense. “It sounds like the thing wanted to abduct you as well. Good thing I showed up!” She chuckled, rather morosely. “But you are right. We’ve had teams looking for other instances of the same technology, but found nothing in over three hundred years.” Freyr reached into the deep pockets of her coat and pulled out the sketch she’d been working on while talking to Vreta on the phone.

On a real-paper pad was one side of the legs, body and neck of the creature, in firm graphite strokes. “Despite its durability, the creature’s makeup leaves lots to be desired.” She traced the very end of the neck, where it connected to that ghastly visage. “There was a lot of rugged tissue where the face appeared to have been transplanted on, or grown at an unnatural rate. I think the beast would struggle to turn its head much without moving its whole body.” She moved her finger to trace the front right leg. “I believe the Cradle has actually devolved the leg layout to support more weight. But as a result the Coxa here...” She gently tapped the bulbous pack of muscle connecting the leg to the body. “It’s composed of much softer stuff than the rest of its body, which makes it vulnerable.”

Her pad got a few stray drips of rain on it, so she stuffed it back into her coat pocket. “What I'm trying to say is that while the Cradle appears to have used it’s massive potential to create giant killing machines, they have serious flaws. Flaws which it could solve if it had access to evolutionary data from other life forms...” She took another bite of her now cold Gỏi cuốn. “I don’t know, it’s just a theory. But it could explain why it wants to collect different specimens. It’s learning. Squeezing evolution from millions of years to months.”

Freyr pulled her coat around her tight. The sun had completely dipped below the horizon now, and a chill breeze was beginning to pick up. “The way it spoke to you… it feels like a patchwork of imitations. Potentially another instance of it ‘learning’ to do something. But the bit about ‘parents’, plural, is interesting.” Freyr took another bite, her eyes accidentally locking with a man watching her from the other side of the market. He took a long drag of his stim-cig and looked away. “During my time studying the Cradle…” Freyr continued, watching him start moving. “I’ve begun to suspect there is more than one intelligence in the Cradle. I’ve never been able to prove it; the code is bafflingly complex. But the ‘mood’ of the environment in general changes occasionally. I wonder if the creature has just nodded to that…”

The Cradle

Freyr nodded through Vreta’s unexpectedly thorough description of his work. “So, that’s what you were doing at the compound, checking out the facilities?” She had so many questions, she couldn’t contain them any longer. “What do you think brought them there? I’m probably not supposed to tell you this, but the Skinners were going to plant an explosive device in one of the office blocks. That thing, along with others, abducted all of them and their bomb. Just like something took my baby and my husband...” Freyr looked at the floor, experiencing pure sorrow. But she didn’t cry. It must have been the pill she took, bearing the brunt of her grief.

“Do you think they’re connected?” Freyr turned her whole body suddenly so she was facing him. “I just don’t understand why they’d take my family and then use my husband’s face. It’s like they wanted to goad me! To get a reaction from me somehow... And now the Skinners have gone too, it doesn’t feel right at all. The Cradle has reacted negatively to us before - corrosive algae that spreads from the Border and rots buildings for example. But never anything so advanced, so malicious.” Freyr stared into Vreta’s face, unsure what she was expecting. Comfort? Advice? “What happened in the warehouse, when that thing was talking to you. What did it say again?”

The Cradle

“1,100 years? Wow, that is a long time.” Freyr confirmed politely, taking another bite. That was one of the figures she’d memorised while gaining her doctorate, but she didn’t mind keeping that foresight to herself. She'd had precious little time talking with alien species since moving to Babylon, so it was fascinating to watch Vreta in action. The xeno-biologist in her studied everything from the movement of his jaw to the way his oversized hands manipulated the roll into his mouth.

Freyr detected a hint of humor as Vreta went through his list of past professions, so chuckled. “That’s an impressive career! I’ve only ever been a biologist, specialising in alien & machine intelligences.” Freyr admitted, feeling somewhat inadequate. “That’s how I ended up working in the Cradle. It’s the ultimate combination of organic and synthetic...Oh, it’s all grown protein here. Animal meat is an acquired taste, for the most discerning, and uh...murderous gourmet.” She laughed.

After another couple of bites, she looked at him again. “The fact that i’ll have to go back in there soon, it… it’s not a nice thought. Did you say most of your business is in the Cradle too?”

The Cradle

Freyr couldn’t help but smile as she heard the Rothian (she finally placed the species name) speak. “Well, i’m glad i could add to your time here!” She grinned as they walked to the stall. The owners recognised Freyr immediately, and greeted her fondly, but cast a wary eye over her alien companion. Freyr returned the greeting in their own language, the words and their pronunciation being fed into her mind via her comms implant. She then slowly introduced Vreta’Sori to them, before moving on to order two portions of Gỏi cuốn. They arrived quickly - three semi-transparent rolls each, sat on giant lettuce leaves in a takeaway box. The stallholders didn’t seem keen on handing the second box to the giant lizard, so Freyr quickly took it from them and handed it to Vreta.

With their food now served, Freyr guided them through the crowd to a cluster of long wooden benches which they could sit on and eat. Freyr mopped up some of the rainwater stuck on the bench with her napkins before settling down. “So, Rothian huh? I remember studying you guys in university. How does eternal life treat you? I think I'd go mad after a while.” Freyr realised that was slightly morbid but couldn’t row back now, so she leant into it. “I guess there are ways of ‘mixing things up’, in a manner of speaking?” She wrapped the first of her rolls in a lettuce leaf, dipped it into the little pot of sweet sauce provided and took a bite, savouring the delicious mix of flavours.

The Cradle

After giving Vreta the name of the park and it’s nearest transport links, Freyr went to the hall and put on a warm, waterproof coat. She eyed the pistol hanging up on it’s hook for a couple of seconds before electing to leave it. She didn’t want to be that person who was packing heat the whole time. The street food market was only a few hundred metres from the door of her building, and it was well lit the whole way. Crime was very low in this part of Babylon, but something about this meeting was still making her uneasy. Freyr was blown away by how effectively the pill she’d just taken was working; she wasn’t a ball of tangled emotions anymore. Her fear and grief and anger were still there, but they were cold, manageable objects that she could store at the back of her mind. So that’s what she did, at least while she could.

Freyr left her apartment and went down a lift to the tastefully appointed lobby. “Going somewhere nice, Dr Lang?” Demeter politely asked, inhabiting the concierge droid by the front doors. “Just to the street food market, Dem.” Freyr smiled. “Won’t be long.” The droid bowed slightly, and threw a small orb gentle into the air. It quickly expanded into a thin, wide covering that moved to hover above Freyr’s head. “For the rain, ma’am. Enjoy your walk.” The AI purred. Freyr got a notification from Vreta, informing her of his arrival, so she just nodded and moved past the droid.

She pulled her coat together and stepped out into the rain, the majority of it being deflected by her covering. She crossed the road and entered the familiar lantern-illuminated path to the centre of Boycott Park, where the street food market hid behind an arrangement of manicured bushes. The panoply of delicious smells greeted Freyr as she walked through a leafy archway into the wide cobbled square. One of the store vendors recognised her and called a friendly greeting. She smiled clumsily, aware they were probably curious why she hadn’t shown up for so long when this place was previously a nightly excursion. She’d stopped coming when David & Amy were taken; she couldn’t face all of the memories of them.

Freyr found Vreta standing awkwardly among all the hungry people moving between stalls; she noticed some were giving him funny looks and a wide berth. She approached the tall alien. “Hey. Thanks for coming.” She smiled, trying to be friendly. “Are you hungry? That neo-Viet stall I love is over there.” She pointed to a colourful wooden stand with a laughing couple chopping vegetables and meat into large pans together.

The Cradle

Freyr was slightly surprised by the response. She’d called him to talk and had once again been deflected. As an expert on machine intelligence, she knew that most of the AIs on Outremer were exceptionally resilient. She’d taken part in working groups that helped define some elements of the psyche for newer models. But that had been a long time ago now, who knows what advances had been made since? The Cradle had been the only AI in her focus for the last few years.

It struck her that the way Demeter had rebooted just now seemed slightly irregular. It sometimes rebooted when it was undergoing finetuning or maintenance, but the timings seemed a little bit too perfect. Going offline at the exact moment that woman appeared? Vreta had mentioned the Skinners, but truth be told it wasn’t them she was worried about. At this stage, she was inclined to agree with their quest for zero Cradle integration.

Freyr really did not feel like going outside right now, but she was desperate to hear Vreta’s story. The pill she had just taken did seem to be working some magic too, as her appetite had made a rare return. She thought for a moment. “I know you’re a little way away, but there’s a street food market in Boycott Park. Would you meet me there? I don’t really feel up to going further afield. I don’t know what kind of things you enjoy, but the Gỏi cuốn there is to die for.” Freyr attempted a small laugh, but it got kind of caught in her throat. “If not tonight, then early tomorrow? I’m keen to hear the whole story before we’re asked for a statement.”

The Cradle

Eventually, Freyr put her pistol back in it’s holster and manually bolted the door. She wandered back into the living area, her eyes transfixed on the now empty armchair. Her breaths arrived in ragged gulps, and she realised her heart was racing. She shakily picked up the canister of pills and examined the prescription label. It had her name, address and dose instructions all printed out. Take one daily, with food. She opened the lid and shook a pill out. Water wasn’t going to cut it, Freyr decided, so she pulled a bottle of dark red wine from the rack, poured a large glass and took the pill with a big slug of that. She had no idea if the medication was really as they’d described, but at this point she didn’t care.

Taking a few more sips from her wine, Freyr sat down on her sofa and wondered what to do. Sleep seemed impossible at the moment. As horrific as today had been, she felt an undercurrent of inspiration struggling to break free. She’d had the first piece of evidence that her family may be alive. The creature had practically said so. She just needed to piece together all the information she had, and carry on building up a picture. Her thoughts drifted back to Vreta, the alien she’d found talking to that thing with David’s face. Why had he been there at exactly that time? Had he been looking for something too? The alien had obviously witnessed something, something Freyr needed to know.

With night falling on Babylon and rain still pattering against her tall windows, Freyr activated her comms implant while absently sketching the legs and body of the ant creature and sipping her wine. Now, what was the name of the hotel Vreta had said he was staying at. Syna something? She began trying combinations and quickly found it. She put in a call request with the hotel AI who forwarded it to Vreta’s room.

She grew nervous as she waited for him to pick up, not quite sure what to expect. When he finally did, she began talking quickly. “Hi, Mr Sori? It’s Freyr Lang here. Sorry to disturb you, but i can’t stop thinking about that moment back in the warehouse. Can we talk? As you may have realised, the reason I barged in like that was because it...it looked like my husband. He was abducted along with my daughter a few months ago and I've been searching for them. I’m not really sure what I'm looking for, but I believe any information you have about the creature could be useful. I’m a xeno-biologist, you see… I realise i’m gabbling now, but could we please just start from the top?”

The Cradle

After a cacophonous couple of hours, the silence from Freyr’s apartment closed in like water, miles under the ocean. She gasped for breath and jumped from the sofa. Seeing Karos Childermass sitting motionless in the armchair, Freyr pivoted and stumbled to her kitchen area. Grabbing up the same cup she’d dropped upon learning he was visiting, Freyr once again filled it with water. She managed one trembling sip before her feelings overwhelmed her.

She howled ugly sounds and cried into her cup, stooped over the kitchen worktop by her sink. Eventually, she slid down the side of the kitchen units to sit on the warm wooden floor, her face in her hands. After a couple of minutes, Demeter came online. “Welcome back, Dr Lang. I’ve detected that your guest, Dr Childermass, has suffered catastrophic brain trauma consistent with ‘Cradle Death’, and is now in a comatose state. I will inform the relevant medical autho-...manual override initiated.”

Freyr looked up, confused and teary, as everything powered down in her apartment. After nearly a minute, the lights blinked back on and Demeter returned. “Good afternoon, Dr Lang. There is a visitor for you approaching your front door. Would you like me to let them in?”

“What? No. Who are they?” Freyr demanded, wiping tears from her eyes and getting up off the floor. “They are here to extract the body of Dr Childermass and update your medications.” Demeter replied blankly.

Freyr moved quickly into the hallway and grabbed her pistol out of its holster on a coat hook. Creeping to the door’s peephole, she saw a woman with short blond hair and the same black uniform as the man with augmented eyes. “Good afternoon, Dr Lang. Please open the door, i know you’re here.” She looked right in the peephole. Realising she had basically no choice, Freyr opened the door a crack and stared defiantly out at her, hand tightening around her pistol which she kept out of sight. The woman smiled encouragingly. “Hi. I’m sorry about your colleague. I’m here to take him to cold storage and give you these." She held up a canister of small pills. “They’ll help you process your feelings and keep a more level head. If that’s what you want.”

Any fight that Freyr might have had seeped from her body. She opened her door fully and let the woman file into her apartment. She wasted no time, putting the pills down on the kitchen counter before walking over to Karos. Freyr followed her, finally summoning up the courage to kneel beside her boss’ inert body. She hated the way they’d left things, and wished she could turn back time. Karos had pulled a really manipulative move on her, getting her into the Cradle to confirm David’s likeness. But that didn’t cancel out ten years of mentorship and good memories. Freyr understood now just how desperate he was. She was also getting an idea of how much was at stake here. Through gritted teeth, she resolved to not let his death be in vain. She gripped his hand and gave it one last squeeze.

The woman attached a small module to the underside of Karos’ right shoe, which quickly unfurled into a strong plastic covering that tightly enveloped his whole body. She also unfolded a hovering stretcher, just like the one Freyr had pushed Major Osman along in barely an hour before. The module on Karos’ shoe lifted his whole body, wrapped in plastic, up into the air and gently laid it down on the stretcher. It then began maneuvering slowly out of the flat - the woman followed alongside it.

At the door, she stopped and turned to Freyr. “Again, i’m really sorry for everything you’ve been through. Please try to get some rest and drink some fluids. We’ll be in touch tomorrow morning.” She touched Freyr’s arm supportively, which she flinched away from. The woman and her stretcher then left her apartment, with Demeter closing the door behind them. Freyr stood staring at the door for a long time after they’d gone.

The Cradle

The man nodded, stretching his face into a taut smile. His eyes remained fixed on the alien. After a pregnant pause, he replied “Great, well, I think I have everything I need for today. We’ll take it from here. Thank you both - I’m terribly sorry this happened to you. Dr Lang, I know this must weigh particularly heavy on you." The man’s stare began unlocking all the horrors of the day, and Freyr felt her own eyes welling up with tears. “A liaison will be with you both tomorrow. Freyr, I took the liberty of signing off some military-grade PTSD meds for you; they should be arriving at your apartment soon. Get a good night’s rest, and we’ll be in touch.” He nodded, to signal that he’d finished talking.

Freyr got up shakily, desperate to get away from all these people. She turned to Vreta and mumbled something which may have sounded like ‘thank you for saving me’ before rushing to the centre of the room and logging out of the Cradle.