Cath

The Cradle

They trooped down SG-413’s loading ramp in tight formation, nearly two dozen delegates and the same number of guards. Torrents of rain swept across the landing pad and the platform leading to the main building. The wind was rough, pulling at Freyr’s rapidly soaking hair and coat.

They’d made it halfway between the cutter and the entrance when Vreta broke the anxious silence. Freyr looked up from the floor she’d been focusing on in these unpleasant conditions.

“Looks can be deceiving, Vreta’Sori.” An unfamiliar, slow, artificially loud drawl answered his question to Thrace. The group stopped immediately and all of the CraSec operators raised their guns with a chorus of metallic clicks.

A needle-thin blue light projected in from far away off to their right, up high across Babylon’s cityscape somewhere. It rapidly digistructed the hologram of a slim man, swaggering toward them. He wore a well-tailored linen suit with a bowtie, and a crumpled white hat with a wide brim. The man’s lips curled back in a sneer, showing off a full complement of gold teeth.

“That’s close enough!” Thrace boomed, aiming down the wet sights of his gun at the man, just the same as the rest of the guards in front. “Everybody back to the ship, now!”

“I wouldn’t do that, if i were you.” The man warned casually, stuffing one hand in his coat pocket and raising the other, which was holding a compact hatchet, to scratch the scythe tattoo on his cheek.

The front row of their escort all opened fire immediately. A salvo of bright energy tore through the man, splattering across the platform behind him. The hologram flared up, turning bright blue before returning to true colour. The man smiled again, and kept creeping forward. The CraSec guards began pushing everyone backwards, away from the hologram.

“If we wanted you dead, Xīyì, they’d still be picking chunks off the grass now.” The man drawled. Freyr recognised his accent - he probably spoke Cantonese, one of the few prestige languages that’d stayed separate from the conglomerated mass people spoke now. 595 had moved in front of her already, but Freyr peeked out from behind her arm, transfixed by what this man might do next.

The Cradle

“It’s a strong possibility.” Freyr nodded. “I’m not certain my superiors fully understand, yet. I hope to educate them and us, in the small time we may have left in charge. What of our contingency plans for administration?” She asked.

Freyr was confident she’d be able to find all this out once she was fully plumbed back into the network anyway. She was mainly keeping the conversation going so that she didn’t dwell too much on what may happen in a worryingly short amount of time from right in that moment. This man in front of them seemed to know things and was prepared to talk, unlike many others. So let him speak. She stared out of the rain-soaked windows as Babylon’s cityscape rolled with the movements of the cutter.

The official glanced at 595 before answering. “My understanding is that we’ve expedited the transition as far as possible. With a few more months, we could’ve had a relatively smooth handover. There were significant calls for delaying this consolidation until we were more ready; it seems new evidence has tipped us in favour of urgency.” Freyr blew air out of her nose in amusement. You can say that again.

The Babel tower grew and grew until it blocked out the meagre sunlight on one side of the craft. Human buildings and terraces now completely covered the ancient organic spire underneath, clinging together like limpets on a rock.

In Outremer’s early days, Babel had housed the seat of Outremer’s colonial administration, as they sought to get as close to the Cradle as possible. Once the technology for accessing the simulation matured and the range expanded to anywhere within the biosphere, the government apparatus moved to flat ground.

Nowadays, most of the facilities attached to the spire were involved in researching and utilising the Cradle’s power. A giant complex of vanes and dishes sat atop the tower, transmitting trillions of commands every second to infrastructure throughout Babylon. Some of that was then carefully distributed throughout Outremer and beyond.

Vast research complexes, Cradle staff accommodation, CraSec barracks and funicular manufactories took up a large part of the surface area. Some of the rest was taken up by massive villas owned by private individuals who wanted the best view in Babylon.

The cutter came to a sudden stop on a large landing pad about halfway up, jerking Freyr against her seatbelt. “Here we are. Sergeant Thrace here will take you inside; stay close to him at all times.” The official instructed them as they left their seats, motioning to one of the CraSec operators who was organising his men by the airlock.

“Why all this security?” Freyr asked, looking around to make sure she had everything. “Just a precaution, ma’am. Skinner’s Guild have stepped up insurgent activity since you left. Stick with Thrace and you will be just fine.” The official smiled encouragingly, collecting the holo-pads back off them. “Good luck.”

Sergeant Thrace came forward. “All of you will come with me, quickly now. Can't leave the ship on the landing pad for long.”

The Cradle

The smart-dressed man peered over at Vreta from the holo-pad he’d been tapping on, his face bathed in blue light. The cutter rattled and shook slightly as they plunged through the black clouds. “See for yourself.” He split the pad in half and strode the intervening distance to hand a part each to Vreta and Freyr. He then stood in front of them with his hands clasped behind his back, adjusting his footing to the cutter’s rapid maneuvers.

The pads showed a basic timeline map of the Cradle’s terraformed surface, from six months ago to the present day. Key settlements and points of interest were labelled and annotated with key metrics. As time progressed on-screen, areas on the fringes became crisscrossed with red lines. “Encroachments by Cradle denizens.” The man explained, watching the visualisation upside down. Before long, the entire border was on fire with red lines, and sections began turning completely dark. “That signifies our terraforming being rolled back and the area being returned to a wild state. So far we’ve lost 25% of our territory, though we are endeavoring to restabilise captured sectors before this happens.”

This wasn’t news to Freyr, who accessed the same model every day. She looked up at the man, who was holding onto the top of a jumpseat for stability. “Where is the rest of my division right now? Are they still in New Antioch?” The man nodded. “No ma’am, they were evacuated along with all other non-essential personnel today. Some are set up by the Vault, others are at your physical headquarters.”

The cutter exited cloud cover, and sheets of rain clattered against the windows. Freyr could just about see the Babel edifice in the grey distance. An enormous tower in the centre of the city of Babylon, continually built upon throughout Outremer’s colonisation, Babel guarded the entrance to the cave system containing the Cradle.

Halo: Aegis Team

The trolley Tar had kicked spun in transit, shedding some of its load before trapping one of the armour-clad rebels against more crates. The Sangheili pilot then traded a bruising fusillade of pistol fire with the rest of the small group until an EMP blast from somewhere overhead shattered her shields. Instantaneously, a pistol round pinged off Tar's left elbow and right knee armour, sending pain rippling through her body.

Tar leapt back behind cover and released her spent magazine. She fumbled for a new one and clumsily clipped it in. Her leg felt strange. She shakily levelled her pistol at the space where the riot-gear rebels were surely rushing through to kill her, but they didn’t come. Instead, she heard the trapped rebel shout “Don’t you fucking leave me here!” She poked her head around the side of the crates she had taken refuge behind and saw them running for the transports parked further along the platform.

Tar looked behind her, and could hear a Human voice she didn’t recognise calling to them. It sounded like their quarry was threatening to kill himself. Unacceptable. They didn’t get the luxury of killing themselves; that was her job.

Tar quickly crossed to where the lone rebel soldier had been squashed between the trolley and other packing crates. They tried to level their pistol at her, but Tar quickly swatted it away and ripped the riot shield out of her other hand. She jabbed fiercely at their visored helmet, and heard a yelp from within. Tar pulled at the visor and the whole thing came free, revealing a Human female with a bloody nose and mouth. They looked groggy from the impact, but still managed to spit a bloody wad of saliva onto Tar’s armour and grin.

Tar pushed away the equipment trolley pinning the soldier into place with one hand, and grabbed her with the other. The soldier could barely stand up, so Tar half carried and half dragged her into clear view of their quarry, and most of Aegis Team. She forced her to kneel, and then pushed her pistol against the back of the woman’s head. Tar looked up threateningly at the commander.

The Cradle

As soon as they stepped from the safety of the Barbarossa and into the space station, a cocoon of military personnel with guns encased them on all sides. The station was busy, with crew from two dozen ships milling around the supply vendors and administrative hubs near the station’s centre. Around a third of them weren’t in uniform, who to Freyr looked anxious and scrambled to have their documentation validated.

“Welcome to Cloud 9, this way please!” One of the stewards shouted over the din, motioning for them to follow. A half-dozen droids, similar to the ones Freyr had seen in Boycott Park, marched in front of their column, brusquely clearing a path through the scrum. “Stand clear! Caution!” They blared in grating voices. “Sorry we couldn't clear the deck for you and your team, ma'am. We're nearly there now - you’re all set for boarding.”

“Thank you, that’s quite alright. Is it always like this?” Freyr asked, being jostled on both sides as their group squeezed through the throng. She felt 595’s firm hand on her back, holding onto her coat so they never lost contact. “No ma’am. Lots of non-military traffic gumming up the system this week... Everybody move BACK! This is you; have a safe journey.”

Their military escort deposited them on a walkway heading to the airlock of a long, sleek cutter, seen through long windows on either side. A dozen CraSec operators in their distinctive armour waited for them at the end. After a quick document check, the airlock opened and they filed through in groups. The craft was very cool and breezy compared to the sweaty heat of the station. Three officials in formal suits and ties greeted them.

“Welcome aboard SG-413, Dr Lang. It’s an honour to meet you.” The leader, a tall man with jet-black hair, shook her hand, before glancing quickly at 595, Vreta’Sori and Masgard Xandrus who flanked her. “I’m sorry we couldn’t roll out the welcome wagon for you properly - things are a bit hectic around here of late. Be seated, we’ll get you where you need to go right away.”

The cutter detached from the space station almost immediately after everyone was on-board and seated. After about ten minutes it began its descent towards Babylon through dark rain clouds.

The Cradle

Freyr smiled brittly. “I have to be there. I’m not taking any chances.” She breathed in deeply through her nose, looking around to see if she’d left any of her effects lying about. “Ok, lets get going.” She said, louder, to set the team in motion.

In a flurry of final activity, the Human scientists, their support staff, and Vreta’Sori trooped out of the lab which they’d called home for almost a month. A line of buggies was waiting for them in the passage outside. Freyr spotted Captain Andersen sharing a final word with Agent 595 and Masgard Xandrus as they clambered into the front buggie.

She responded to Vreta as they approached the jumble of farewells. “It’s a promising area of study, but don’t bet your life on it just yet. I’ve seen the figures, they still have a big margin for error.” The Captain looked over as they drew nearer. “Have a safe onward journey, Dr Lang, Vreta’Sori. We are all counting on you.”

“Thank you for having us, Captain. You’ve been very welcoming; may our paths cross again.” Freyr bowed slightly. Andersen smiled. “Who knows? With more of those things out there, it may be sooner than either of us imagine. This is your buggy, up front.”

Song Reference time

One more now and I'm out the door
Three more down and I become the floor
I've been keen on burning out
I'm leaning harder on you now
Going on and on about the world
I'm begging, begging for more

Think fast, don't look back
Coming at you like a heart attack
Move slow, head low
Gonna feel the pain from head to toe
Three more down and I become the floor
Thoughts of a second chance have got me begging
Begging for more

Begging for more

The Cradle

Freyr chuckled humorlessly with Vreta, looking surreptitiously around her. There was no sign of Agent 595; Freyr supposed she was packing her things. Dr Lang then fixed Vreta with a steely stare.

“Lets just say i have a bad feeling about this. I need to return to my division headquarters in New Antioch, where we have the best possible view of any changes to the Cradle macrocosm. There is a risk of disentanglement if this new object decides to try and escape with it, but we’re completely powerless on the outside. I can use more people I trust on the inside. People with...nerve.”

Freyr didn’t quite know how to word the Rothian’s surprisingly competent handling of stressful situations. It was certainly something she could use more of - her hand still shook from their descent down the side of that mountain. She supposed 595 was right that he must be some kind of secret agent; at least that might mean the two of them would cancel each other out.

The Barbarossa pulled up slowly alongside a geo-sync docking station and they latched together. Only the slightest vibration registered in the lab. “Ladies and gentlemen, we need to go! Freyr, Dr Khatri packed your bag and sent it on. You were never going to do it anyway.” Dr Wetherall called from across the lab, slipping his coat on.

The Cradle

Freyr almost didn’t respond to Vreta. His words ran down her neck like warm rain, completely unnoticeable until they hit a dry patch. After a couple of seconds, she looked up and turned slightly to look at the Rothian. The feedback loop in her mind replayed his question to her. “Oh, thank you. That’s very kind, but I think I can manage.”

She smiled at him distractedly, then sighed. “It seems we’re in the middle of a labyrinth, Vreta’Sori. Every step we take just seems to muddle the way through even further. And now, we’re introducing the biggest change to the Cradle’s conditions in potentially millions of years, and I’m still not clear on what exactly will happen. I was close to piecing some things together in the simulation, but now we're out of time...How do you feel about re-entering the Cradle, after what happened last time?”

Runt's 1x1 Interest Check - CLOSED!

Sure, lets parle .

My Discord is Catharyn#7204. I'm working right now but should be free in a couple hours. Whisper RP things in my ear pls.