Cath

The Cradle

“Sure!” Freyr laughed, as a nearby shuttle’s engines roared to life, blowing a sheet of dust over both of them. This close to the edge of the biosphere, sand was still more common than grass. Masgard levered himself off the side of his flyer where he’d been leaning and flicked his stim-cig into the dirt. “I thought we’d avoided the press by leaving from here. Guess I was wrong.” He nodded into the distance, where three small shapes approaching in the distance, blue sky behind them. “Are those news drones?” Freyr asked as the driver placed both their luggage onto a hovering cargo trolley.

“Yeah, let's get you squared away. This is our shuttle here, everything is taken care of.” Masgard ushered her towards the waiting transport and up the ramp, using his tailored jacket to shield them from some of the dust. As Freyr’s eyes gradually adjusted to the gloomy interior, she realised it was almost full of cargo boxes. Only a few jump seats remained near the exit. “All this for me?” Freyr joked. Despite her outwardly jovial demeanor, she still felt shaken by the recent Cradle power surge. They seemed to be getting worse. Freyr was secretly pleased she wasn’t making this whole journey alone with her thoughts. Masgard chuckled. “The military hates the government’s habit of letting everyone arrive separately. They make good use of the empty space on transport ships when we’re involved.”

After strapping in and making sure their luggage was secure, the ramp closed up and harsh lighting replaced the cool Outremer afternoon sun. The transport lifted up suddenly and Freyr held onto some cargo netting as the craft rapidly accelerated into orbit. She looked across at Masgard and noticed he’d gone decidedly pale. To try and distract him, Freyr asked one of the questions that had been weighing on her mind. “Do you know who else is coming with us? Like, outside of my Division?” Masgard shook his head quickly, his neck muscles tensing and his jaw set. “Not yet. It all happened so fast, but i expect we’ll find out soon.” Freyr nodded.

After about twenty minutes, the thunderous engine sound in the troop bay dipped slightly, and the directional strains gradually subsided. “I think we’re docking!” Freyr called. Masgard looked relieved.

The Cradle

Freyr checked the expedition manifest from her implant while the flyer jetted over Babylon. It showed that out of the nineteen other Division scientists she’d been allowed to bring on the expedition, five had already made it onto the OSC Barbarossa. This was the ship Freyr assumed would be taking them all the way to Rothia. A call sign appeared from Masgard Xandrus; Freyr initiated the call. “Hey, are you on your way Angharad?” Freyr had found out today that her lawyer was on the expedition as one of the official spokespeople.

“Yeah, thought I'd get a headstart on setting up shop. You?”

“I am, yes. Just had to wrap up a few things here. I should arrive at about the same time as you...I heard Vreta’Sori, our new Rothian liaison, visited you in the Cradle today, that right?”

“He did. Just in time for a power surge - a big one.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“Let's talk later. I have a few calls to make.”

The rest of the journey passed by quickly. Freyr relayed a few instructions to her team in the Cradle and the scientists already set up on the Barbarossa. But mostly she stared out of the window, drinking in her adopted homeworld’s dramatic scenery. From this high up, Freyr could see the ancient biosphere that surrounded Babylon curving down from a mile up to meet the ground in a near perfect circle. The field was almost transparent, apart from faint ripples that slowly moved across its surface like waves.

Beyond that, Freyr could see Babylon’s infamous Circle Desert. An incongruous ring of arid badlands in an otherwise fertile landscape, it stretched for miles all around the city. The exact cause of this permanent drought was unknown, but many scholars agreed it was likely something to do with the Cradle’s physical form. Freyr had only seen it once; an enormous sphere coated in an unbreakable alloy. It floated in an enormous vault (built around it) at the heart of a cave system deep underneath Babylon. A previous alien civilisation, long gone now, had built an entire city around the Cradle, living underground to be closer to it.

Freyr was confident that some radiation from the Cradle rendered the ground around it practically unlivable, apart from the area within the biosphere. Even though rain regularly fell on the Circle Desert, nothing would grow.

“Approaching Port Angharad, ma’am.” Her driver announced, stirring Freyr from her reverie. She looked down and saw the port was coming up fast in front of them.

Every self-respecting citizen of Outremer knew Port Angharad was where the first settlers touched down, almost three hundred and fifty years ago. Freyr thought it must have seen better days. From above, it looked like quite a dirty, sprawling complex of terminals, auto-factories and ancient colonial administration buildings. Freyr supposed a lot of newer, more central spaceports had been built in the last few centuries, leaving Port Angharad as a government and military installation.

The driver received the gate of Freyr’s waiting shuttle from air traffic control, and took them in toward a low collection of landing pads. She could see Masgard waiting outside his own flyer in the parking area as they touched down. “Welcome to Port Angharad!” He called to her as she stepped out of the car. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

The Cradle

“Understood, I'll see you there. Glad you’re alright; at least now you’re up to speed on how things are going.” Freyr responded grimly, ending the call. She then entered the private comms sub-channel used by the Division’s scientists that she’d picked for the expedition. “Hi everyone. I hope you’ve made your work ready for transit; I want to be set up in the ship labs this evening. I’m logging out now, if there are any questions, get me on comms. If not, I’ll see you there in a few hours."

Freyr had more than a bit of apprehension about going on this expedition. There could be no doubt that any evidence of the Cradle communicating with other planets in the galaxy had to be investigated. Nothing like this had happened before, certainly not in the few centuries Humanity had been on Outremer. But then again, the situation that was unfolding in the Cradle itself had never happened before either, and Freyr’s family was still trapped in there somewhere. Freyr could feel it. However, she ultimately decided to go with her gut and hope this new lead led somewhere.

Freyr logged out of the Cradle and checked the big bag of belongings that Demeter had packed for her. Everything seemed to be in order there; she projected she’d be wearing her work clothes for the majority of the trip anyway. Freyr also checked her implants and data pad were updated with her latest notes, so she could manage the division from anywhere with a comms relay. With everything confirmed, Freyr took one last look around her apartment before heading for the roof pad. Her driver (one of the perks of being Division head) greeted her warmly, loaded her luggage into the back of the flyer and promptly set off for Port Angharad.

The media circus outside Freyr’s building had long since died down, meaning she had grown used to not wearing the headband which muffled her facial features. However, some of the more resilient outlets had stationed drones high above the buildings. They tracked Freyr’s flyer leaving, and took off in pursuit.

The Cradle

The operating theatre was filled with a deafening staccato of gunfire as the CraSec soldiers fanned out into the room, targeting the pungent mounds of flesh growing all around the room. They created a loose perimeter around Freyr in particular, and for all the scientists to get lower to the floor, giving them a clear line of sight toward any hostiles.

Freyr grabbed a scalpel from the surgical table. She ducked down onto her hands and knees and crawled over to the nearby wounded soldier. Vines had wrapped themselves around his midsection and neck; he was desperately pulling at the latter, the whites of his eyes clearly visible even in the gloom. Freyr scooted up next to him and began carefully sawing at the vines around his neck with her scalpel.

After a few seconds of cutting, the vines gave way and the man drew a gasping, ragged breath. Freyr was about to begin cutting away the creepers around his chest when something at the door caught her eye. Facing them through the glass double doors leading to the gloomy corridor stood a man-sized creature. It was composed entirely of the same grungy flesh currently coating the walls and bubbling up through the floor. It had oversized arms with long, thin, organic but sharp looking spikes on the end. Freyr couldn’t see any features on its face.

With the flickering ceiling lights casting long shadows on it’s form, the man-creature burst through the double doors, both of its arms out in front of it. Freyr fell onto her back and tried to scrabble backwards but vines caught her hands. “Look out!” She shrieked. One of the soldiers must have noticed, because energy bolts blew holes in the creature’s chest. But it kept coming, jumping towards Freyr’s prone form.

The lights stopped flickering, and in another blink of an eye the regular operating theatre had returned. The vines, fleshy piles and rushing creatures were nowhere to be seen, except as an imprint on her eyelids when Freyr blinked. She collapsed back, her head resting on the cold floor as she caught her breath. The soldier with the mangled foot moaned loudly as the other soldiers called for medical help.

"Vreta, are you still there?" Freyr called via their resumed comm connection, still laying on the floor for now.

The Cradle

Freyr chuckled. “Yes. Who’d have thought it? Visiting Rothia was actually high on my to-do list before...well, everything.” She peeled off her surgical gloves and put them into a bin attached to the portable surgery table. “No that’s quite alright, you stay put. I’m just finishing up here and then my team and I will make our way to Port Angharad. Will you be joining us on the voyage, as our liaison and cultural guide?”

Just then, the lights in the operating theatre flickered. Freyr and some of the other scientists peered up at the banks of lights on the ceiling, hands shielding their eyes from the intermittent glare. After a few moments, it stopped and the lights returned to normal. They all shared knowing looks. This usually meant one thing; and everyone remained motionless and waited for it.

Suddenly, the floor underneath them began vibrating, and a deep rumbling groan emanated from all around them. The surgical table began moving about on its own, and some of the screens arrayed around the specimen rattled violently. The lights began flickering again, much faster this time. “Don’t move!” Freyr commanded, holding her arms out for balance as the whole room vibrated. “Vreta, are you there?” She shouted over the din, but all she could hear back through comms was white noise.

“Everybody get down!” A man shouted. Freyr turned and saw four CraSec guards bursting through the operating theatre doors. “Wait, stay where you a-” Freyr yelled, but it was too late. In the blink of an eye or a flash of the lights, the whole room changed. The clean white walls were suddenly covered in green-brown trunks, like that of a rotten tree. Vines flecked with faint purple veins covered most of the floor and ceiling. The lighting lost its sharp edge and changed in hue, becoming a much fainter orange glow. Shadows collected in the corners of the theatre and pooled on the floor. The vibrations appeared to stop, or at least subside temporarily.

Three of the soldiers, driven by their directive to protect the high value asset at all costs, stopped at Freyr’s command. But one of them carried on rushing forward. He shouted out as his left foot and ankle fell into a large gaping mouth with many teeth that’d just opened up in the floor before him. The mouth promptly snapped shut and Freyr heard a crunch of bones. The man fell awkwardly to the floor crying in pain, and vines began moving to wrap around his body.

Freyr could hear bubbling, and through the gloom could see various mounds of organic material beginning to appear on the floor and in the corners. A rancid smell swept through the room. “Shoot them!” She pointed. The soldiers obliged, walking more carefully into the room and firing energy bursts at the small gurgling shapes.

The Cradle

Vreta had logged into the seat of Outremer’s power in the Cradle, New Antioch. It was a gleaming city state of white gold towers and painstakingly terraformed gardens. Architecture from all ages and locations of human progress were present, from pseudo-ornate crenellations to modern skyscrapers.

The only real ‘city’ of this size in the Cradle, New Antioch sat on the first available entrypoint for those brave first colonists, hundreds of years ago. When they first managed to enter the Cradle, a sea of darkness greeted them. So the settlers set about building a walled, brightly lit enclave from which to begin their expansion. It wasn’t much to start with, as they basically had to terraform everything from scratch.

As the human’s understanding of the Cradle improved, many scholars agreed that the most efficient way to expand Humanity’s access to the Cradle was to spread out across the landscape into power-rich areas. But New Antioch, or NA for short, remained as the administrative hub, and was gradually transformed from a ramshackle FOB into an impressive, compact example of Humanity’s terraforming prowess.

Freyr had mostly been based in NA’s Institute For Cradle Research since returning to work. It was a grand, dome shaped building near the centre of the city. The interior had been recently rebuilt using techniques considered least perceptive to the recent power surges. Freyr was considered a high value asset, so was strongly advised to remain within the relative safety of NA as much as possible.

Freyr and a team of scientists were busy conducting surgery on a live specimen from beyond the Border when her comms implant signalled a call from CraSec. Stepping away from the mutant body, Freyr accepted the call. “Go for Dr Lang.”

“Ma’am, there’s a Rothian by the name of Vreta’Sori here to see you.” Freyr narrowed her eyes for a moment as she tried to place that name. “Oh yeah! I know who that is. Can you put him through to me please?” When Vreta’s ID appeared in her HUD, Freyr tried to greet him warmly, despite how exhausted she was. “Good afternoon, Vreta’Sori. Long time no speak! I heard about the partnership, is that why you’re here? I’m at the IFCR if you want to speak in person.”

The Cradle

After the meeting, they had a polite wrapping up and goodbye outside in the courtyard garden, by the cars. They all congratulated Freyr on her promotion again, then the Director-General requested Under-Secretary Sequeira and Masgard Xandrus ride with him. Freyr thought the man was struggling to hide his apoplexy, although that may have just been because one of the spotlights in each of his eyes momentarily blinked red. It happened so fast, as they were shaking hands, and the Director-General didn’t acknowledge Freyr’s concerned look, choosing instead to quickly retire to his flyer. But she definitely saw something lurking underneath his calm exterior.

Once they’d gone, Freyr, Dr Uchida and Dr Kamau went for lunch together, closely guarded by plain clothes police officers. This lunch eventually turned into dinner and drinks, with the two esteemed scientists catching her up on everything that had happened during her absence from duty.

Apparently, things had changed dramatically from that fateful night when Freyr’s husband and daughter were taken. A lot of the civil servants in senior Cradle management positions had been replaced by shadowy, highly knowledgeable individuals. Uchida and Kamau suspected these people reported into even more unknown quantities like the Director-General.

This new management cadre was arguably far more capable in affairs of the Cradle than the previous elected representatives; they quickly and efficiently put the Cradle apparatus on a new path. One that focused less on expanding the Cradle’s usable territory and much more on trying to understand and dampen it’s capabilities. Kamau and Uchida suspected this group had the tacit support of the administration outside of the Cradle, as massively increased emergency budgets got signed off with practically no fanfare.

Freyr finally gave her statement on the events in Boycott Park to the police upon returning to her apartment. She started back at work the next day, logging into the Cradle from the comfort of her constantly guarded living room. She found out on her first day back that all private sector Cradle leases and contracts were now being bought out. All non-essential access had been revoked. Freyr also received a new and improved NDA to sign, making all new information about the Cradle classified top secret.

Freyr quickly confirmed her suspicions that the Cradle Research & Development division was in disarray. Giving a collection of brilliant but entrenched scientists a massive budget and lots of ambitious young graduates, and then changing the division’s entire mission statement within a few months was always going to be a tough ask. Karos had made a start, but he’d always been something of a traditionalist. So Freyr’s first major challenge was getting the team ready for anything.

She had her work cut out. A few weeks after the incident at the testing facility, the Border began encroaching on colonised territory in a few hot spots. Terraformers with upgraded gear successfully reversed the advance. Until a few weeks after that, when the Border began shifting again, all across the frontier. All manner of creatures ventured from beyond the opaque bulwark, wreaking havoc upon squads of Terraformers and CraSec guards. Strange power surges hit the occupied zone every week, momentarily changing the pearl white facades of the administration’s new fortress cities into…something else. A twisted labyrinth of organic matter, like some sick perversion of the structures that had stood in their place just moments before.

A few months passed. Freyr found herself practically living in the Cradle, working day and night to roll back the advance. She’d almost forgotten about the meeting at the Rothian Embassy in the maelstrom of other meetings and planning sessions. That is, until she got a message from Masgard Xandrus, her public liaison and legal representation. It said the Outremer administration had made a good deal with the Rothians. They had a working partnership, and an expedition to Rothia was being made ready to leave tomorrow. Freyr was to lead it, leaving both her deputies, Dr Uchida and Dr Kamau (she hadn’t been able to choose between them), to hold the fort.

The Cradle

“Hmm. No, no that won’t do at all.” The Director-General smiled. The blue points of light in his eyes all cycled one position anti-clockwise. “Some of my counterparts might ask for access to your antimatter infrastructure, or something like that, in return. But I know you won’t entertain that possibility, because your technology means to you what the Cradle means to me. I was negotiating with an open mind, but it seems you aren’t ready to be serious with us. For that reason, this meeting is over. Come on, everyone.” The Director-General stood up, expertly scooping his jacket off the back of his chair and putting it back on.

The Under-Secretary, who had sat slightly open-mouthed as the Director-General played a weak hand with magnetic energy, decided to throw his weight behind the maneuver. As he stood up with the rest of the human delegation, he addressed the Ambassador directly. “Thank you for your time, Ambassador Taranik. Would you please inform the Zuraxi’Synkuur corporation to expect a full audit of its operations, in line with the Outremer Espionage Act, and to update its clients? We’ll need to ask all employees and consultants to provide a complete previous employment history. If you have any questions, please just let my office know."

Freyr got up hesitantly from her chair. ”What is happening?” She sent to Masgard. ”I’ll explain later.” He sent back, putting his jacket back on. He came over, smiling encouragingly, and put a hand on her back to softly guide her toward the door along with Dr Uchida and Dr Kamau.

The Cradle

The Director-General chuckled as the Ambassador defended her charge, rubbing his clearly shaven chin on a knuckle. “Sure thing.” He winked an augmented eye at Vreta. “I’m sure your man has updated you on what happened last night, so I won’t go into all the details. But I sent a team back to the compound after those things had cleared out. They discovered the creature Vreta was chatting with had been using a Rothian testing backdoor to manipulate a long-range comms array here on Babylon. It was trying to ping something using a very precise set of coordinates. And do you know where those coordinates led us?” The Director-General took another sip of water.

This was the part that truly excited Freyr. She simply had to find out what the creatures from the Cradle wanted so much. She jumped in almost without realising it. “Somewhere on Rothia.”

“Exactly right, Dr Lang!” The Director-General grinned, clapping his hands loudly together and slapping them back down onto the table. “Somewhere on Rothia. And I'm willing to bet my ridiculous government paycheck that you can’t detect it on your own. Otherwise, you would’ve found it already. So, I am proposing a joint expedition to Rothia, to figure out whatever that creature was trying to communicate with. With the galaxy’s most informed Cradle experts…” The Director motioned to Freyr and her deputies stood behind her “at the helm, i’m certain we’ll be able to track it down. In exchange for your full support on this expedition, and dropping all charges against Five Nine Five, we will share the knowledge of whatever we find with you. You can’t say fairer than that.”

The Cradle

Freyr could scarcely hide her surprise. She sent a message to Masgard; “Five Nine Five...was that the agent who rescued me?” She got a simple confirmation from Masgard in return. Now she was really confused. She’d understood the meeting to be about discussing events in the Cradle, not negotiating the release of prisoners.

As soon as it became clear they were about to watch a video, Masgard covertly sent a message to Freyr. “Do not watch the video. It could be doctored to influence your own memories, as a key witness. Please turn your screen off.” Although she was curious to see what happened, that warning plus the indication that it’d be gory were enough to convince Freyr. She turned off her display as soon as she was able. Osman turned hers off soon after, obviously not prepared to experience more random, wanton violence. The Director, the Under Secretary and Masgard all watched the video in silence. Their expressions were hard to read, although Freyr did note that the lawyer’s complexion went significantly paler through the course of the clip.

Freyr began to get very uncomfortable. Even without the screen, Freyr couldn’t help but think back to the raw terror of their escape, nausea creeping up from her stomach to her throat. Although she supposed this was inevitable, as the other topic, their escape from the Cradle, was equally traumatic. She poured herself a cup of water from a jug on the table and took a drink to calm her nerves.

After the video finished, the diamond-scaled Rothian unfurled a litany of accusations against the blonde haired lady who’d escorted her to safety. It was a little difficult to understand without seeing the clip, but Freyr pieced together that the Rothians were accusing the agent of trying to kill Vreta. It had struck Freyr as odd that they hadn’t tried to come after the two of them, but she’d put that down to the fact that it was pitch black in the park that night.

The three men in the centre of the Human side listened intently to everything the Counselor had to say. Then they turned to each other in turn, communicating via implant for almost a minute. Freyr watched the Under-Secretary’s fist clench underneath the table. Eventually, they all turned back to look at the Rothians and Masgard replied. “We can’t comment on these accusations until we have time to consult internally, and speak with the agent in question. Perhaps we can pack away that detour for now and stick to the main object of the meeting.” Masgard directed that last part, and the pointed urgency in his voice as he said it, at the Director General. The man with the blue eyes sat motionless at the table, his arms crossed. Freyr could tell he was disappointed at the position he’d been put in.

“You know, we’ve long suspected the Skinner’s Guild of infiltrating the Cradle. They come from old money, and their influence stretches far beyond car bombs and pirate broadcasts. My inquisitors tell me more of their operatives could have been among the team at the compound yesterday. They would have noted your stellar performance, Vreta’Sori. Appearing from thin air to ‘inspect’ an empty facility, only to valiantly fight off those creatures and live to tell your superiors of the experience.” The Director General leaned forward at this point, hands clasped on the table in front of him, his head ever so slightly tilted as he looked at Vreta.

“They’re looking for a way to destabilise this administration. They hate our society’s integration with the Cradle, but they also hate AI and augmentations of all kinds. Something the Rothian civilisation has in abundance. So when they find what any experienced eye could guess is a recently activated Rothian spy operating in the Cradle, they see the endgame. A machine intelligence with practically limitless power, in the hands of one of Outremer’s most powerful allies. However, they also see an opportunity. A chance to turn Outremer and Rothia against each other.” The Director General took a drink of water at this point. The room was utterly silent until he spoke again.

“By trying to assassinate the agent in charge of gaining intelligence on the Cradle, and making it look like the efforts of the Outremer administration, they’ve killed two birds with one stone. Destroying Outremer/Rothia relations, therefore hampering Rothian chances at technological advancement, and putting the Outremer administration into an embarrassing situation which it may never recover from.” The man looked at all of the Rothians in turn.

“But, I’m not willing to let that happen. I’m going to propose we begin a new era of collaboration between Outremer and Rothia on matters of the Cradle, starting right now. One in which we help each other, and prosper together. That's the reason we're all here today. All you have to do to get started, is release Agent Five Nine Five. What do you say?”