Cath

The Cradle

595 grimaced as she emerged onto a central causeway joining each of the Barbarossa’s levels. Streams of personnel broke around her like water around a rock. She switched to talking via her implant, while trying to make her way to the side of the passage so she could have a bit of privacy.

“That’s not my decision to make, Vreta’Sori. I’m just the instrument, remember?” She replied internally, pushing past a gaggle of off-duty crew. She sighed. She had a pool of dreadful excitement bubbling in her chest at the prospect of her meeting with the DG later. He’d be equal measures furious when he found out what she’d done, and proud when he found out what she’d gained.

”Outremer is resilient. We have contingency plans in motion even as we speak, believe me. It’s just a shame our politicians see fit to argue in public; we might even project strength at a time like this. What was it that you wanted to talk out, exactly?"

The Cradle

595 hid at the back of the conference floor, leaning against the wall with her arms folded. The tiny grimace on her face could’ve been a smile. She didn’t have the whole plan, but from what she knew, things appeared to be progressing as expected.

She hadn’t been able to contact the Director-General since the simulation, and noted that a subordinate had spoken of the Cradle in his stead. In some ways she was relieved; it gave her more time to deliberate on what she’d found. But it was concerning that she was effectively pushing from the inside with no equal external pressure - more risk that way. She resolved to try him again this morning.

After the meeting, 595 weaved through the clusters of conversation bubbling up throughout the room and checked in with Freyr. She looked pale and tired, so the Agent kept her company while they walked from the room. 595 half-heartedly agreed to go back through events again, but fortunately was saved by an incoming call from committing to a time. She ground her teeth when she realised who was calling, though. “Sorry, I guess I should take this.” 595 apologised to Freyr, before stalking off and accepting to call.

“Contrary to what our shared experience may have you believing...we aren’t pals, Vreta’Sori.” 595 growled. “I’m a government agent charged with protecting a VIP while she and her team conduct vital research which may decide the fate of both our species. I’ve given verbal testimony regarding our run-in with the Hegemon - I suggest we leave the actual analysis to experts, ok?”

The Cradle

Having already been briefed on the alien signal and its supposed origin, Outremer’s Navy Board contended that speed was favourable to stealth. Their nearest spycraft was much too far out, so they’d scrambled a nearby Fast Recon Picket to the system instead. They’d arrive marginally before the Rothians ordinarily, but after some negotiation it was agreed the forces would enter the system at the same time, albeit from different angles.

There were a lot of opinions on what this signal could mean, but the evidence seemed to point towards it coming from one of the object’s ‘family’, or it’s hunter. So the two sides agreed to proceed with caution, and continue evaluating the evidence in the meantime.

595 had already given private testimony to what she’d seen in the temple, so Outremer was not completely shocked by the Rothians’ report. Nevertheless, when the floor opened up for discussion, proceedings quickly devolved into chaos.

A few loud sceptics made evidently clear they’d prefer to leave the Object where it was and fight the Hegemon without its assistance. Other officials were clearly terrified by this unknown threat and wanted the Cradle gone as soon as possible.

Their cause was aided by a dire update on the condition of the simulation inside the Cradle. Forty years of terraforming had been rolled back in a month, and increasingly sophisticated and violent denizens were engaged in an arms race with Outremer’s Cradle apparatus.This outraged the hardliners, who were adamant they could subdue this threat too, without the Object’s assistance.

Facing all-out rebellion, President DeWinter stepped in, recommending all due haste with progressing the Object back to Outremer. The call ended abruptly, leaving those assembled in the Barb’s conference room in stunned silence.

The Cradle

595 remained silent, waiting until Vreta left before jumping out of the shower. Her suit closed and locked the cabin door as the Agent stalked back into her sleeping area with a towel around her middle. Her skin was pink from the hot water, which now dripped down her face and legs onto the floor.

She stared at the floor for a long time, just thinking to herself. A whirlwind of ideas and possibilities raged around her. Then, very deliberately, she looked back at the suit of armour that was standing to attention in front of her. “Show it to me again.” She ordered.

The suit held out a hand, palm up, and a small holo projector flipped out. It shone a 3D map of the galaxy into the air all around them, filling the room. Though incomplete and damaged, as if ripped straight from someone’s memory, it was still stunningly detailed in places. Hundreds of alien symbols danced above celestial bodies, including some that were larger and more urgent looking.

---

Early the following day, once everyone had had a chance to recuperate, an urgent meeting was called to discuss next steps. A large conference room near the bridge was made up to link the Barbarossa, Outremer and Rothia together.

The Cradle

595 stepped into the shower and turned her face into the stream of scalding water. As Vreta spoke, she examined these unwanted phantom memories again. They felt at odds with all her experiences around it; a cuckoo in the nest. It was too intimate for her, sharing the same emotions when they were two separate people.

She lightly tapped her head against the wall-side of the shower cubicle. “Get out of my head…” She mouthed silently to herself, a tear creaking from her eye to mingle with the streams of water rolling down her face. She didn’t reply right away, clearing her throat a couple of times to make sure her voice was steady.

“Thanks for stopping by, Vreta’Sori. My suit will show you out.” She said, finally.

Right away, her suit unfolded its arms and took a small step forward, motioning with one hand where the door was.

The Cradle

“You don’t understand the first thing about me.” 595 sneered derisively. She snapped her fingers at her suit which was stood by the now closed door. “Come and stand here.” The suit duly obeyed, padding over and standing between 595 and Vreta. It crossed its arms, mirroring the Rothian’s stance.

595 quickly peeled the top and shorts from her sweaty body and chucked them across the room into the laundry unit. “Outremer at large may be willing to overlook your extension of soft power throughout the galaxy. Your bleeding heart doctoring and compromised technology. But I don’t need you. We’re more than capable of handling this ourselves.”

Leaving her suit facing off with Vreta, 595 turned and headed into the bathroom cubicle behind her. She turned the shower on, staring at the floor to process this information. So he’d seen her graduation. That meant he could know about her first assignment, the start of it all. That complicated things a bit.

Without looking, she called back: “Was that all, Vreta’Sori?”

Song Reference time

My oxygen's goneeee, awayyyyy

Closer, to closure
So take this out of me
Take anything you want
Cuz I'll still bleed, I'll still breathe
Fading thinner but still, it's haunting me
I can't find the words to say to the angels
That took you from me.

But three words, three words
My oxygen's goneeeee

The Cradle

595 nodded placidly along as Vreta discussed the mission, idly massaging her bum and inner thighs over the top of her shorts. But soon, her facial expression turned hard and she stared coldly at Vreta when he began describing something to her. A darkened room? The Director-General? Was he talking about the Institute? He couldn’t possibly know about that!

...Unless...

595 recalled the jumble of strange scenes that’d played out immediately after she’d looked inside the Navigator’s head. Before they’d turned into those squid things, she’d seen something as if she were Vreta. It’d felt like a dream in its brevity, with a long time crunched into a few seconds. But it was really as if she’d felt those emotions herself. Could that have been an actual memory, rather than a construct of her own making? 595 supposed it was possible. She tried to remember the events that’d unfolded, and found she could still clearly recall.

And if she’d received one of Vreta’s memories as her own, could he have received one of hers in return? The prospect of this giant lizard seeing through her eyes made 595’s skin crawl.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The Agent calmly picked up her water bottle and took a big drink. “Are you sure you’re not just imagining things? Fantasising about me and my life?" She smirked. "Turn around, I'm going to take a shower.”

The Cradle

595 had a lot to think about after the operation. She’d been taught from ancient texts, like everyone else. No one could deny her fanaticism for the cause. Yet, her role as sin-eater required a certain open-mindedness, to avoid compromising the mission. It was this thread of assimilation with Outremer at large that pulled at the back of her mind. Something was different between what she’d seen today and everything she’d been told before.

She’d checked Dr Lang was alright after the bumpy extraction. The scientist had seemed badly shaken, and for good reason. 595 had long since been desensitised to stressful situations like the rig falling off a cliff, but she was aware that many of these academics had led relatively sedentary lives until the last few months. The Agent had made sure they were accessing the support they needed, then retired to her quarters to fuck a crewmate and then meditate.

The Agent was holding a Dragon Squat in the middle of her room, low to the floor and completely motionless with her eyes closed when there was a knock at the door. She slowly opened her eyes and looked at her armour, which stood to attention in front of her with its visor down. “Answer it.” She ordered calmly.

The suit of armour padded silently to the door and unlocked it. It swished quietly open, and 595 could see her opposite number standing in the entryway. Already? The guy was insatiable. “What a pleasant surprise, Vreta’Sori! Come on in.” 595 ladled on the syrup, seamlessly exiting the squat and warming down her fiery muscles. “That was a close one, huh? Nothing like a bit of skydiving to make you feel alive.”

The Cradle

Andersen looked curiously at Rareth, then directed an eyebrow at her team.

“Well…it could be these signals have always been transmitting, just hidden.” One of her chiefs hypothesised. “Like a sleeper cell, waiting for the activation sequence.”

Andersen nodded, then turned back to Rareth. “My instructions are to stay with the asset until it’s safely back on Outremer. In sixty seconds i’m going to report this new info to my superiors, who will undoubtedly want to investigate. Do you want me to recommend a joint operation?”