Cath

The Cradle

The corner office was small and boxy. But it did have Freyr’s name on the door, a desk with a small bottle of Angjuskian Scotch wrapped in ribbon atop it, and views of the entire lab through plate glass windows. She was pleased to see the office was soundproofed; when Masgard closed the door behind them the noise of rapid assembly outside lowered significantly. “Ahh, the good stuff. Complements of the captain; very nice. I don’t drink Scotch, myself. Do you?” Freyr studied the label before placing the bottle back down on the desk. She sat down and ran her fingers through her hair. It’d been another really long day.

“Well, i’m sorry you’ve been dragged back into this.” Freyr chuckled humourlessly upon hearing what Vreta had been up to. “I’ve been working nonstop, to tell you the truth.” She continued. “Masgard, what can i say?”

“We have an operational partnership with the Rothians, so whatever you think will be useful to the mission.” Freyr nodded gratefully.

“Then i can tell you that things are bad. We’re making good progress in developing weapons and structures that can combat the Cradle’s creatures. But so far we haven’t been able to stop this gradual encroachment on the occupied zone. The Border is currently consuming about 1% of the occupied zone per week. There are signs that may increase, too.” On a whim, Freyr grabbed the bottle of Scotch and opened it, taking a sniff. “It’s hard to predict what we’ll find on Rothia, if anything. But my hope is it’s something we can use to communicate properly with the Cradle. Negotiate peace with it; if it’s capable of rational thought.”

Freyr took a small sip from the bottle, and wrinkled her nose immediately. “Eurgh, that is strong.” She offered the bottle to Masgard, who took a gulp and seemed to quite like it. He offered it to Vreta.

The Cradle

“Quite.” Freyr agreed before introducing Masgard. “Have you met Masgard Xandrus? He’s one of the expedition’s public representatives.” Masgard, 595 and the captain exchanged knowing nods as they shook hands. “We’ve set you and your team up down the hall - A12. I must admit it was a rush getting everything on board at such short notice. I hope everything is to your satisfaction.” Freyr smiled gratefully. “I appreciate the effort you’ve gone to. The list I sent was pretty extensive.” The captain waved away the praise. “I trust your team won’t delay in boarding? With everyone in place, I want to push forward the launch to early tomorrow morning, Outremer time.”

“They’ll all be aboard this evening, I assure you.”

“Good. Other government elements are still making their way in from the countryside, so I expect there’ll be a debrief this evening. Until then, I'll leave you to get settled in. Pleased to meet you both. 595, a word.” The blonde-haired agent nodded. “I’ll catch up with you both later.” She said, giving Freyr and Masgard another cue to leave.

“Wasn’t that woman arrested by the Rothians after the Skinners attacked?” Freyr asked after they’d left the bridge.

“Yeah. She got out as part of our deal with the Rothians.” Masgard replied.

“She was innocent, then?”

“Apparently, if she’s free. It’s best if we don’t discuss it; the details are not public knowledge.”

Freyr frowned. She knew something just wasn’t adding up with all these government agents, but she tried to put it out of her mind. Right now, she was excited to see what she’d be working with for the next few months at least. That was what mattered.

Compartment A12 was a big space, and it was alive with moving parts at the moment. Builder drones fizzed through the air, clutching everything from scientific equipment to partition walls. Human technicians wandered around making the finishing touches. Freyr saw some of her team from the Division in among the action, directing the layout of the lab; one of them waved to her as they entered. By a wall near the entrance, she spotted the unmistakable Rothian form of Vreta’Sori standing awkwardly watching the assembly take place. “I see you found the construction site! You remember Mr Xandrus?” Freyr shouted over the din as they walked over. “I think that might be a corner office over there, shall we go see if it’s soundproof?” She grinned, motioning with her hand.

The Cradle

“Yeah, sounds good!” Freyr replied, glancing at Masgard who was mouthing ‘what’s he saying?’. She paused the call connection. “He wants to meet.” She relayed; Masgard nodded. Freyr looked next at the petty officer in the front passenger seat. “Is there some kind of lab set up for us?” Just then the buggy entered a wide cargo elevator which began moving upwards. “Yes ma’am, compartment A12 is being refitted as we speak. It’s near the bridge.” Freyr thanked him and resumed the call. “Can we meet at the labs? Apparently they’re in compartment A12. I shouldn’t be too long, is that alright?”

The buggy traversed the innards of the Barb at a steady pace. Everywhere they looked, sailors were getting the massive ship ready to go. “How many people are on this ship?” Masgard asked, his head swivelling as he tried to take in every detail. “Approximately seventeen thousand five hundred all told, sir.” The buggy parked in a garage with dozens of other vehicles and the soldiers dismounted. “Rest of the way is on foot. My men will take your luggage to your quarters. Come with me.” They both followed the petty officer through a maze of rooms and passageways until a big set of bulkhead doors greeted them. The doors hissed opened after a camera scanned all their faces.

The bridge was relatively dark, but floor lights marked a path for them to take. Freyr had never seen so many holo-screens in one place before. The walls were covered with them in place of windows; she supposed they must still be deep in the bowels of the ship. Officers walked between stations set into the walls, taking readings and instructing operators who sat at complex looking consoles. The centre of the room displayed a massive projection of Outremer, with military assets and other important things marked with a variety of shapes and colours. Consoles surrounded it, and hovering by one of these consoles they found the captain.

She was tall and well built, like an athlete. Freyr placed her as about fifty years old, with silky, shoulder length grey hair tucked neatly behind her ears. She was talking to someone Freyr recognised after a couple of seconds. The petty officer stood at attention to introduce them both on the bridge; both the captain and the black-uniformed woman she was talking to turned to face them. “Dr Lang, it’s good to meet you. I’m Captain Andersen; please allow me to welcome you aboard the Barbarossa. I believe you’re already acquainted with Agent 595 from Cradle Security?” Five Nine Five grabbed Freyr’s hand after the captain and shook it. “Very pleased to see you alive and well, Dr Lang. We have a lot to talk about!”

The Cradle

With one last clunk, their transport touched down and settled on its landing gear. After a few moments the ramp lowered; the sights, sounds and smells of an enormous hangar bay greeted the two of them. One side of the hangar was essentially a continuous opening to the vacuum of space, partitioned by a shimmering blue force field. Swarms of transport ships in varying sizes were entering and exiting via this opening at well practiced speed.

The floor of the hangar was humming with activity too. Deckhands retrieved cargo crates from the back of transports and loaded them onto trains of hovering platforms. Freyr could see dozens of these trains snaking through the hangar along set paths marked on the floor in fluorescent yellow.

There was so much going on that Freyr and Masgard must have looked quite lost as they wandered down the cargo ramp. Crewmen filed past them to begin unloading. Luckily, a voice called out to them. “Dr Lang?” Freyr looked toward the sound and saw a smartly dressed petty officer. “Welcome to the Barb, ma’am. The Captain would like to see you on the bridge.”

They followed the officer to a waiting buggy, where two more sailors loaded their luggage into the back. Once everyone was strapped in, they set off across the massive hangar space. "This place is huge…" Freyr whistled, looking up toward the distant ceiling. "She's state of the art, ma'am. The first of a new class." The officer proudly chipped in. Freyr was about to ask exactly how big the 'Barb' was, when a call request from Vreta'Sori popped up on her HUD. "Vreta's calling me." Freyr accepted the call before Masgard could respond.

"Hey, I'm aboard the Barbarossa. Heading to the bridge to meet the Captain now. Where are you? Are you all set up?"

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.”