Cath

The Cradle

595 immediately opened a private channel with Freyr upon Marae mentioning scans. ”Absurd overreach. Tell them we can scan our own people. Tell them.” Freyr glanced at the Agent, who was staring oppressively at her. She was doing exactly what Roth’Orsa had said she would. She didn’t see any way to reasonably maneuver 595 through a Rothian scan though. The Barb did have facilities more than capable of comprehensively monitoring neurological function in Humans.

Freyr tried to be diplomatic. “I agree. We can keep very close tabs on our group from here. The Barbarossa boasts one of the best medical suites Outremer has to offer, after all.” She shot a look at 595 after that. ”We do need to keep you under observation. Just to make sure there’s no damage.” Freyr blocked her out again to answer Marae’s other concern.

“We can just terraform the ground underneath where the lab will go. This allows us to detect any changes to geography and prevent the sim from, say, swallowing us up in a chasm.” Freyr spoke in a calm and matter of fact manner, like she had hundreds of times before when explaining the Cradle to the uninitiated. “It’s perfectly harmless.”

Four Score and Five Years Ago...

Welcome home

The Cradle

“Perfect! Roth’Orsa and I discussed a joint IP scheme for all these collaborations.” Freyr lied. “We’ll send over the documentation and will need to get post-hoc ratification before we can consider the equipment’s use for our mission. I’d also like my people to inspect the new additions, to make sure they’re safe for Humans. We can’t afford any more injuries.” Freyr glanced over at 595 to see if her new show of standoffishness was working. The Agent appeared satisfied, nodding at her from off camera. She carried on.

“We should have a full debrief, but right now my team is going through the data we collected. From what i can see, it’s not translating well at all. Which is why I’d like to try and set up a lab inside the sim next. It’ll afford us much faster processing times and give us a shot at finding something meaningful before the week is over. We have a full-size CradLab ready for insertion in the Barbarossa, either we can send a description or you’re welcome to come and see. I’ve also cleared the way for a Terraformer/Builder duo to insert and set up shop this time. I'm conscious of time, so how do you feel about spinning up the mission this afternoon?”

The Cradle

Snapping from her reverie momentarily, Freyr grabbed a pill from her back pocket and popped it in her mouth. She slurped her coffee again and wolfed down a spoon of her granola as she watched 595 make her way over. The Agent was being uber polite, standing aside to let scientists pass and exchanging pleasantries with them. That wasn’t a good sign.

---

At this point, Freyr realised didn’t have much to lose by doubling down on her statement. What she was saying wasn’t technically a fabrication. It just relied on the Speaker actually following up on what she’d said. “I’ve already told you. We talked about improving our Cradle-tech. You should be thanking me.”

Director-General Smith audibly sighed. Freyr noticed 595 look quickly at his holo, as if waiting for some signal. Smith almost imperceptibly shook his head at the Agent, before looking back at Freyr. Every nerve ending in her body was screaming at her to get up and run, but Freyr forced herself to remain motionless.

“Very well. I’d like you to conduct your investigations from aboard the Barbarossa. That way, I’m better placed to help you coordinate the team’s efforts, and can stay in closer contact. I also require the Agent or myself to be involved in every conversation you have with the Rothians from now, in the interests of national security.”

Smith paused, and returned with a consolatory tone. “Only together, will we bring your family back. That’s your main reason for being here, right? Remember that.” Freyr felt her jaw tighten and her breathing stop. The Director-General signed off, and 595 patted her gently on the shoulder before leaving her alone in the conference room, staring at the wall until she couldn't hold her breath any longer.

---

“Good morning. What’s the plan?” 595 asked enthusiastically, gliding in beside Freyr’s console. Freyr eat another spoonful of granola and made the Agent wait while she swallowed. “I’m going to request a tandem insert from the Barb. We’ve got the infrastructure here to move heavy equipment into the sim. It’ll be faster than transporting everything down to the FOB.”

“Exciting!” 595 grinned, stroking her arm. Freyr tried her best to not look resentful as she requested a call with Marae.

The Cradle

Freyr looked up from the console she was reading from over Dr Wetherall’s shoulder and saw Agent 595 exiting her office. They locked eyes across the lab - the spook winked and grinned devilishly at her. Freyr didn’t react, immediately thinking back to the previous afternoon.

The Rothian Speaker, Roth’Orsa, had questioned the motives of the Director-General, Agent 595 and the organisation they claimed to be a part of. A lot of what she...it had said resonated with what Freyr had pieced together so far. It had felt nice to talk to something that shared her concerns, even if they were almost certainly synthetic.

But any feeling of security Freyr gained from the meeting were immediately shaken upon leaving. 595 promptly and firmly whisked her back to the Barbarossa, where the Director-General was waiting on a holo-screen. Ostensibly, this meeting was for her to run through her report on their foray into the simulation, propose next steps and answer questions. Freyr dutifully obliged; the bright-eyed man was technically her boss, after all.

She explained her recommended course of action - learn as much as possible about the object before it was moved, try to negotiate terms of use for the Cradle. 595 jumped in, changing the conversation entirely. “What did you and the Speaker talk about? Back then, in Threria.” The Agent was leaning against the wall behind where Freyr was seated with her arms crossed. The Director-General’s holo was in front of her, staring into her soul.

Freyr had been expecting the question, but her throat still tightened and her cheeks still burned. She gulped. “She wanted to talk about how they could best assist us with our investigations.” 595 appeared from behind and sat down in a seat facing her. “And what did you say?” The Director-General asked. “We’re, uh, going to set up a joint patent scheme to take advantage of Rothia’s advanced technology. They claim to have improved our mobile transit station design. Don’t worry, I’ll have our team ensure they-”

“You’re lying to us, sweetie. I thought we were friends?” 595 asked.

“I’m not lying, I-”

“You do not have the authority to make deals on Outremer’s behalf. I will need to see your implant recordings of this conversation, to see if it’s something we can legally offer.” The Director-General interrupted her.

Freyr hesitated, then pretended to look through her internal archive before focusing back on him. “I don’t have anything recorded, the Speaker must have a scrambler. I’m sure she’d repeat it for you though.” 595 chortled.

The Director-General considered her like a science teacher might inspect a dissection sample. A few seconds passed before his features softened and spoke softly again. “These aliens, Dr Lang...they aren’t your colleagues. That thing you just talked to is the leader of a police state. They want nothing more than to take the Cradle for themselves and turn us into a satrapy if we give them the chance. While our leaders have lost their senses and agreed to cooperate with them, that doesn’t mean we should let our guard down.”

He took a pause. “I understand that collaboration in the pursuit of science is your natural response. But this is no longer just a scientific endeavor. The survival of our entire species hangs in the balance now. Conspiring against Outremer and Humanity with a foreign power is at best, grounds for dismissal. At worst, treason. So i’ll ask you one more time. What did you say to them?”

The Cradle

“My patience is wearing thin, Agent. This is the second time you’ve failed us.” The Director-General spoke directly into 595’s head. She was curled up in Freyr’s office, cross-legged in her chair. Rows of symbols flashed on a nearby monitor as she stroked the interface pad. “Your inability to control the powers we’ve invested in you will be drawing even more attention to us...Do we need to replace you?”

“No, Master. I’ve meditated on it now. All the signs point to my Sublimation having begun already. I will exercise more restraint from now on, like you taught me. I will keep an eye on the other Humans too, in case they show any signs of change. The Rothian Datius may prove a bit trickier…”

“Don’t attempt anything until we’ve extracted the Navigator from Rothian space. Just run interference on any further investigation. We have to assume the entity interpreted our handshake as we intended...We have a team examining the sample data you sent. If you hear anything from CRD about the location of the other artifacts, you report back immediately. Understand?”

“Yes, Master.” 595 wanted to ask about the situation at home, about the fight raging inside the Cradle. But she knew the Director-General wouldn’t answer. He chimed in again. "And try to drive a wedge between Dr Lang and this...Vreta'Sori. We'll deal with him properly when the time comes." 595 spotted Freyr entering the lab space outside the office windows. “Of course. I have to sign off now - Dr Lang has risen.”

“Don’t let me down. We are watching you closely.” The connection to Outremer ceased. 595 quickly uncurled from her comfy position on the seat and padded out of the office.

The Cradle

Andersen studied Rareth’s face closely. “Of course.” She said.

Thebes nodded at the Datius kind offer. “Thank you.” He glanced around. “We’ll think about it.”

None of the assembled parties appeared keen on small talk, so from there they quickly said their goodbyes and went on their way. The Sacred Band to begin a long night of mourning, and the Captain to talk to the ship’s resident spook.

---

Freyr had bad dreams again that night. She woke up tangled up in her bed sheets on the floor with someone knocking at the door. “You alright, Freyr?” She recognised Dr Wetherall’s voice. She gulped to wet her bone-dry throat before answering. “Yes, fine. Just a bad dream.” There was a pause from behind the door. “You were shouting. I think a somnologist would call that a night terror.”

Freyr opened her cabin door, dressed in her ship-issue pyjamas. “I’m fine. Coffee and granola please, if you’re making some.”

The old scientist sighed, before bowing deeply. “Oui, madame. Good choice!” He straightened with a flourish, and Freyr closed her cabin door again. She sighed herself, rubbing her eyes. She desperately wanted to share her ordeal with someone, but it would only make her team drop the ball. For now, she just needed to put on a brave face until they had more answers.

Freyr changed into comfy grey tracksuit bottoms with running shoes for her feet. She then completed the look with a white t-shirt emblazoned with her department’s sigil and her trusty lab coat.

Once ready, she strolled out of her cabin and plastered a sweet smile on her as she took her breakfast and coffee from her colleague. “What are we working on?” She asked, as they walked through to the lab together.

“We’re synthesizing all the data we retrieved from our encounter with the sim. Then, we’re going to brainstorm potential sites for the other objects.” Freyr slurped her coffee. “What did Dr Hou’s sample-set come back with? Any clues in Human DNA?” Dr Wetherall pursed his lips. “You know what, i’m not sure. I’ll look into it.”

The Cradle

Thebes looked at his team, arrayed around him. Even though most had their visors down, from their body language he knew what they wanted him to say. He turned back to Rareth. “That’s generous, but it’s not what Mem would have wanted. He always hated anyone he didn’t know making a fuss over him...As is customary, we’ve fought in his honour.” Thebes gestured back towards the sim-arena. “Now, we’ll wait through the night, and toast his life with a drink.”

Thebes looked around him at the Sacred Band; they nodded. Thebes pointed at Kjartan. “That means you too - no exceptions.” Kjartan beamed, glad to be included. “Ale and song, I look forward to it!” Thebes looked back between the two Rothians. “Although no one outside the Sacred Band is ‘invited’, we won’t object if you decide to attend.”

Thebes spotted Captain Andersen approaching them, flanked by two aides. He instantly snapped a smart salute, and the Sacred Band quickly followed. Kjartan kneeled respectfully, as was traditional for the Varangian Guard (and practical when holding a massive hammer and shield). “At ease. I was sorry to hear about Memnon, he was an excellent soldier. On behalf of the whole ship, please accept my condolences.” Andersen said, standing up straight with her hands politely behind her back.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Andersen sniffed awkwardly, glancing at the Rothians as she considered how to phrase her next request. “I respect your Funeral Rites, as per our contract. But I saw the sim just now, and wanted to ask you to help train my marines. When you’re ready, and not on mission. I want them to be able to look to you for leadership, as a permanent fixture aboard this ship. Not only that, but there may come a time in the not so distant future you’ll need to work together, once again. I want us to be prepared.”

Thebes shook his head. “Ma’am, it’s an honour. But we couldn’t-...”

Andersen interrupted him with a wave of her hand. “I know you’re not contractually obligated. But contracts can change. Just think about it, Ok?”

And just like that, the Captain turned and smiled cordially up at Datius ‘Jharn. “Welcome aboard, Datius. I trust everything is to your satisfaction?”

The Cradle

“Your aim must have broken the sim, Vreta’Sori.” Saddam joked. He jumped out of the first floor apartment he’d been occupying, landing with a crunch. He jogged to catch up with them. “We’ll make sure to eliminate you first, next time.”

They kind of had to stop walking when Rareth blocked their way. “Thank you, but there’s no need. Any soldier would have done the same. We just hope Memnon didn’t die in vain. He was our friend.” Thebes answered the Datius.

“Please vacate the sim area, immediately.” The co-ordinator instructed over the loudspeaker, as Knossos and Athena joined them. Carthage had just respawned when the simulation ended, meaning she was already waiting patiently for them in the staging area with her arms crossed.

Thebes gestured for Rareth to go ahead of them as they moved toward the exit. “We're in mourning for fourteen earth days, then we look for a permanent replacement. Kjartan is on trial with our Captain’s blessing.” Kjartan took that as his cue to pipe up. “Anyone want to come gym? Sauna?” He looked round; Knossos shook his head.

The Cradle

The Agent glowered up at the command pod for spoiling her fun. There she saw the big Rothian from the earlier simulation, and Captain Andersen. She was standing among the technicians and some other officers, staring right at 595; she didn’t look pleased.

The Agent huffed. She turned around and headed quickly for the staging area and exit, pushing past a marine who was chatting with the soldier beside him.

“Move!”

As she navigated her way around the mounds of nondescript cover and thought it through, a little seed of dread germinated in her head. Even if the Rothians captured her little toy and had the nerve to disable the controls, they wouldn’t see the same thing she’d just seen. They couldn’t, not yet. She’d covered her tracks too, so diplomatically they couldn’t touch her.

But that wasn’t what was unnerving her. It was how connected she’d been to that virus in its final form. She’d been training for this over fifty years, but nothing could have prepared her for the raw power mainlining through her implants.

She’d gotten a partial map of the inside of Vreta’s head, but otherwise the controlled virus had obviously been outmatched, fighting with one hand tied. But the other one...she couldn’t help but wonder if it would’ve accomplished its mission and more…

“Everyone make your way carefully back to the staging area while we reboot.” The co-ordinator ordered.

595 checked her arsenal, making triple sure the Scrivener-Fujikawa controls were fully enabled again. It looked secure; although she couldn’t help but distrust the virus’ willingness to go back to its prison.

The Agent’s skin crawled; she suddenly wanted to feel the open air. She peeled back her visor but wasn’t satisfied. She opened the whole front of her suit and stepped out, clad in shorts and a vest. It remained open and walked confidently behind her, ready for re-entry at any moment. 595 snatched the assault weapon out of its hands and shoved it into the armoury-tech’s arms before stalking to the doors.

---

“Not yet, anyway!” Kjartan jokingly responded to Vreta. His blood rage faded away quicker than it had appeared. He offered a consolatory hand to Thebes, who was on his hands and knees preparing to get up. The Sacred Band leader took it and got to his feet, holstering the energy blade he’d hidden under his body. Kjartan seemed close to deprecating the team leader, but something stopped him. "I serious about joining Sacred Band." He admitted gruffly, nodding respectfully at Thebes as they made their way towards the exit with everyone else. "I know." Thebes replied.