Cath

The Cradle

"Really? I hardly touched the sweaty little man." 595 pouted. "I will admit this place is fun, but everyone needs to lighten up a little. I wasn't expecting that much pressure to return home after one minor incident in the line of duty. How much is the fine?" The agent asked, scratching her neck and carefully treading a path through the half-consumed drinks on the floor around the couch.

"Kalax darling, do you have food and clothing for me?" The Ambassador turned around from the hob. "Kedgeree and a tracksuit, my dear. Wallace sent over a change of clothes for all of us." Kalax himself was wearing his work clothes underneath a white chef's apron. He looked very fresh and handsome in an androgynous sort of way.

595 skittered over to the Ambassador’s lanky form. He held out a spoon of seasoned rice, dusted with flakes of haddock and egg. "Is this cooked to your satisfaction?" 595 maneuvered her mouth around the spoon with an exaggerated "NOM" sound. She swallowed and grinned. "Delicious. Where are the clothes?" Kalax turned and pointed to a large box on the other side of the kitchen island with his spoon. "You may want to wash first, you smell." 595 skittered round to the box and opened it. "Food first, wash later." She replied.

Back in one of the guest bedrooms, Freyr was blown away by this recent discovery. She'd sat up in bed, the duvet wrapped around her, a cup of water clutched in her hand. "So how did it happen?". Masgard glanced toward the door. "I think 595 was always going to hook up with someone last night. The pool of candidates just got a lot smaller when our outing was cut short.”

That response left questions in Freyr's mind, but she didn't get a chance to voice them before Kalax called over comms. “Brunch is ready! Don’t let it get cold.” Masgard levered himself off the bed. “Fresh clothes are here. Special delivery from Wallace.” Freyr was starving, so she jumped out of bed straight after Masgard exited the room, threw on the light, comfortable short-sleeve overalls, and followed him.

The Cradle

“How are you feeling?” Masgard asked, sitting on the side of the bed as Freyr swallowed the pill and finished the glass of water. The cocktail of painkillers, stimulants and electrolytes suppressed her crushing headache and allowed Freyr to at least open her eyes. She moved the cover from over her head. Masgard was dressed in a new suit, light grey this time. He looked annoyingly put together, all things considered. “Rough. I’ll be ready in the minute. What happened last night?” Masgard chuckled, looking out of a window and scratching his nose. “Well, umm, Vreta'Sori and 595 got together.”

“What?!”

“Shhh, they’ll hear you! I just wanted to warn you in case they’re still on the couch.”

In the open plan living space down the hall, 595 woke up to look straight in Vreta’s eyes. She looked around and realised where they were. “Well, good morning.” She murmured, quickly levering herself up so she could look over the back of the couch. The room was massive, but that didn’t stop the sounds and smells of Kalax preparing breakfast wafting over from the kitchen island. He didn’t seem to notice her, so she dropped back down.

595 quickly slid off the couch and found her underwear in a pile. While hopping into her sturdy black knickers and bra, she spooled back through her black box recordings to fill in some of the blanks. Admittedly there weren’t many; she’d been filtering some of the effects so she was still somewhat able to discharge her duties. She bit her lip at the memory of hoisting that innocent in the club. Oops. Kinda invigorating though. Being the most deadly woman in any room was a key benefit of the role, she thought.

595 looked at Vreta. “Don’t get any ideas, big guy.”

The Cradle

Freyr danced with all three of them, keeping to the beat of the music as well as all of their heartbeats. The edges of her vision were beginning to blur, and the colours were so vivid it hurt her eyes. Two tiny points were super sharp and zoomed in, if she squinted. Suddenly she was in the thronging crowd, trying to copy the rapid movements of a pair of Tindrel. She knew they were recreating Penultimate Rain Dance VII, and how she could help to complete the sequence.

Before they could finish, someone’s sweaty back barrelled into her from behind and sent her clattering to the floor. One of the Tindrel leant in close so she could use it’s legs as a support to get up. Turning around, she saw 595 with her hand around the neck of a very drunk, dazed clubgoer. He was suspended a couple of inches off the floor, his hands and feet dangling as he choked and spluttered. The agent’s head was tilted, studying his confused expression. “Agent...put him down!” Freyr could hear Kalax slurring from somewhere, was it in her mind? 595 smiled sweetly, set the guy down and patted his ruddy cheek. “Should we go to the next cl-”

---

Sunlight. Piercing her eyelids as a nimbus of burnt red pain. She opened her mouth and immediately regretted it. Dry, and smelling of alcohol and chemicals. She was somewhere soft, and realised slowly that it was in a bed. She slowly pulled the plush covers over her face. “Water...hangover cure...quick...please!” She sent out on all short range channels.

”Sleeping beauty is awake. I'll get it. Hydration, coming right up princess.” someone replied. After a short while, the red light appeared again; someone pushed a pull into her mouth and a small glass of water into her hand. ”You should really get this implanted.” they lectured. “Shhhh.” She replied, sloshing loads of water of her face as she tried to get a gulp in her mouth.

The Cradle

Music

Freyr removed 595’s hand from around her waist and slowly placed it on Vreta’s chest along with hers. She watched the agent take deep, laboured breaths as they traced a patchwork of individual scales together. Freyr leant in suddenly and kissed her neck, in the same way 595 had done to her seconds (or was it minutes?) before. The feeling of her lips slowly brushing against the woman’s taut neck muscles made Freyr feel as though she’d grown wings. A new set of unwieldy limbs on her back with exquisite feeling all of their own.

“Ohhh.” 595 moaned. “But we’re...dancing right now? What...incredible teeth you have.” Freyr watched the woman slowly raise her hand from Vreta’s chest upwards to try and touch his snout. Freyr could see 595’s mouth moving to form the words, and it was far too loud to hear her, but somehow she still understood. In fact, Freyr felt connected with quite a few people in the room. She felt she might be able to recall the name of the Tindrel dancing rhythmically nearby. She could tell Masgard was dehydrated as gyrated in slow motion with a female his own age. And not just because the strobe lighting illuminated his chest showing through the sweat-drenched formal shirt he wore.

The Cradle

“Outremer has these and worse, if you know the right people!” Masgard replied to Vreta, buying a shot of some strong liquor from a droid attendant and downing it before placing the empty vessel back on their tray. “This kind of expression is practically enshrined in our constitution. The first settlers weren’t exactly prudes! See anyone you like? Here is the place to have relations with them. Fuck, better not lose the girls. Lets go!”

They’d reached the edge of the packed dance area now. At least three different species of beings moved to the pulsing musical backdrop, lit up by fiercely strobing spotlights. 595 pulled on Freyr’s hand and led her through the thronging crowds, easily shouldering her way to a small open space near the middle. There, the agent turned to her and started moving her body to the music. Freyr did the same and realised she was starting to feel different.

The bodies around them swirled and undulated slower, and slower again. The music unfurled in agonising detail, every note sending another shiver down her spine. She could study the pores on 595’s unblemished cheek and the flecks of green in 595’s blue-grey eyes. Freyr felt and saw red plumes of vapour rising from a nearby Tindrel. That wasn’t there before. She noticed more familiar faces, Vreta and Masgard, appear nearby.

595 pulled Masgard slowly towards her, put her arms around his neck and slid her tongue into his mouth. After an eternity, they disengaged and 595 drifted over to her. Freyr was powerless to resist as the agent kissed her neck, sending every nerve in her body jangling. Her face looked to the ceiling and her mouth fell open in one long, silent moan. She could feel each breath, hot air entering and exiting her lungs. Her arms involuntary raised from her sides and she found the scales of what she hoped was Vreta's chest. They felt soft and bouncy to her touch.

“What...is...this...stuff?” Masgard to Freyr’s mind. She couldn’t answer; didn’t know how to.

The Cradle

Kalax led them down the ramp until they were walking along the side of the frenetic dancefloor, and then up a short gravity lift to a cluster of private booths overlooking the action from a raised platform. Most of the booths were full, but the Ambassador led them to one in particular that was guarded by two very large Human males in smart dress. Sat inside the booth were what Freyr imagined could be a ‘who’s who’ of Threria’s Human enclave. She even vaguely recognised a couple of them, despite the constant shifts in lighting from bright to dark.

As they approached, a tall, white haired woman with the same build as Kalax and the most extravagant purple gown Freyr had ever seen rose from the booth and came to greet them. The Ambassador and this woman kissed on the lips, before Kalax turned to introduce them all. “Everyone, this is Plenipotentiary Wallace, my superior! She’s only on Rothia for a few weeks. My dear, these are my new friends from that thing we were talking about!” The Plenipotentiary beamed a radiant smile. “You are just how i imagined! Welcome, my valiant adventurers! Will you take a Touch of Sthrirad?”

The woman named Wallace clicked her elegant fingers and one of the guards went into the booth and emerged with a small glass amphora. Even in the changing light, Freyr could see some kind of reddish vapour cloud packed into the vessel. The Plenipotentiary offered it first to Vreta, then Masgard, then 595, then lastly Freyr. “What does it do?” Freyr asked. “I can’t really explain, but It’s perfectly safe.” Wallace assured, shaking the amphora enticingly. “Don’t be a baby!” 595 cooed, massaging her shoulders. Freyr sighed, smiled and nodded. Wallace placed the amphora under Freyr’s nose and she took a deep breath in. The Plenipotentiary beamed. “Good. Now go, dance! I need to have a word with Kalax but promise to send him down shortly.”

Freyr scarcely had time to thank the woman, feeling no different as yet from the inhalation, when 595 grabbed her hand and began pulling her back toward the gravity lift. “You heard the lady; I don't want to miss the drop, lets go!” Freyr let the agent drag her away, but looked back at the booths before dropping back down to the dancefloor.

The Ambassador and Plenipotentiary had locked into a strange embrace. Their right hands extended, each grasped the inside of the other's forearm. Their off-hand held onto the other person's shoulder for balance. Their foreheads rested together. Freyr could see a thin, glowing blue line emanating from under their skin. It ran from their right wrist up their arm, across their shoulder, and up their necks to the back of each person's head. Just before 595 maneuvered her into the grav lift, Freyr saw Wallace lift her head up slightly and look straight at her. Then they all stepped into the lift, and the two figures disappeared.

The Cradle

A wave of giddy excitement washed over Freyr as they approached a club called the Platinum Orbit. The Outremer Security Council delegate had elected not to come on this little escapade. However 595 had clearly been making some calls, because Masgard met them outside. He had dark bags under his eyes and was still dressed in his regular work suit, but Freyr thought he still looked very presentable indeed.

Masgard blew out one more massive cloud of vapour through his nose before putting his stim-pen back into a jacket pocket. “Good evening, ladies…” He exchanged a kiss on each cheek with Freyr and 595. “...and gentlemen.” He bowed to, and then shook the hand of Ambassador Verengoning, before also shaking Vreta’s hand. “Thank you for the invitation.” Masgard said, looking between Kalax and 595. The Ambassador waved his hands in the air. “Think nothing of it! One can never have too many pulchritudinous lawyers hanging around. Come on everyone!”

Despite her tipsiness, Freyr felt slightly self-conscious in the little black dress 595 and Kalax had persuaded her to wear, as they strolled past an impressive queue of people at the entrance. They went straight to the bouncers at the front, who waved them through after the Ambassador waved some kind of diplomatic passport at them.

They entered into a bustling lobby area that split off in three different directions. Kalax led them down a long, dimly lit corridor to a grand set of double doors. The doors opened as the group approached, and a wall of noise hit them in the face as they entered a raised platform looking out over a cavernous club room. Freyr’s mouth dropped open and her eyes got lost in the panoply of holograms that danced across the walls and dancefloor. A strong hand grabbed hers and stopped her crashing into a robotic attendant offering them drinks from a tray.

Freyr grabbed one and took a sip, tasting grapefruit before 595 pulled her along. “Kalax is taking us to meet his friend, and then we must dance!” The agent shouted over the music, looking at each of the group in turn as they followed Kalax down a gently curving ramp. 595 nudged Vreta with her elbow. “What do you say, big guy? I bet you know some killer moves.” She winked. Freyr smiled, watching Vreta’s expression. She hoped they hadn’t just roped him into something he was wholly uncomfortable with. “We can just sit first, if you like, Vreta!” Freyr shouted.

The Cradle

Freyr laughed along with Vreta. As she’d learned since the incident, the judicial application of alcohol was helping her temporarily escape her overheating mind and the gravity of her responsibilities. Freyr knew in the back of her mind that it made things worse a bit later down the line, but once again she tried to suppress that acknowledgement in favour of enjoying the moment. “Don’t talk yourself down like that. You’re already a hero in my eyes; you did save my life, remember?” Freyr grinned, cradling her face between the backs of both her hands.

“So one glass of extra strong wine is all it takes to turn your frown upside down - good to know! Kalax and I might go to a club after this; he can get us VIP perks. Would you and your new boyfriend like to come?” 595 sent from the next table. Freyr shook her head, smiling at the agent’s persistent teasing. At any rate, she hadn’t been to a club in, well, over a decade. With her buzz on, it all sounded rather exciting. “So...we’ve just been invited to a club after dinner. How do you feel about that? I must admit i’m curious to see how Threrians enjoy themselves after dark.” Freyr asked Vreta.

The Cradle

Freyr thought about it for a while. “I think we’d definitely take a holiday.” She laughed. The stress was palpable nowadays, with no sign of abating. “I want to bring them to a beach.” Freyr smiled, drinking her wine. “But forgive me if i don’t share all of your optimism. The issue is uniquely complex and oceanic in depth. I’m uncertain there will be a quick fix that gives me a proper ‘out’. Besides, i don’t think the government really peddles in rewards. We get paid high salaries to stick at it for fifty years, by which time we have enough saved to live the remaining fifty in luxury.”

”Spoken like a true bureaucrat, good job.” 595 giggled in private comms. The strong wine must've been working its magic, because Freyr chuckled too. “What about you? Are you on track for a medal if this goes well?” She asked, leaning forward slightly.

Halo: Aegis Team

Tar 'Mdalak

---

Tar fell dutifully into her new unit and moved down the left passage. She was with the slim grey Spartan who’d turned out to be team leader, the Sangheili Major, another rather serious but silent Spartan and two ONI-types. Tar soon migrated to the front of the group and holstered her pistol in favour of her Mauler. The corridors were tight, and they were approaching an entryway, so she had to be ready for close quarters.

The set of doors in front of them slid silently open on approach. Tar heard raised voices as they entered through into a wide open chamber stacked high with boxes; it looked like a few of the closer ones had been knocked over to open up lines of sight. After a couple of seconds gunfire began peppering their position from a nest of fortifications in the middle of the room. Tar tucked in behind a pillar and began scanning the avenues of attack on either side, including the ceiling above.

“Watch the platforms above; there could be snipers!” Tar called over the gunfire, pointing straight up with one finger. She swapped her Mauler back over for her pistol, and leaned out to her right. She could see a couple of shapes behind a metal barricade; she shot three times at them. “Moving!” She announced calmly over comms, coming out from behind cover and shooting two more times before crouching behind the first in a long row of crates.