The tendrils rapidly loosened from around Bishop’s arm and neck, and slithered back out of the driver’s side door as the nightmare beetle thudly wetly into the ground. He quickly closed the door, took the wheel back from Freyr and handed her the pistol. “Whoo! Good shooting boys!” He shouted raspily into his comms set. With her hands free, Freyr looked back out of her window. She could just about see the last two beetles racing toward them out of the foggy blackness. “Go go go!” She urged. The Border come to a stop, and was just a few hundred metres away. Just behind the Border veil, Freyr could see the floodlit transit station.

“Come on!” Bishop yelled, arms taut around the wheel as he juiced every ounce of power from the accelerator. Their truck whined and grated, sparks began flickering behind some of the control panels. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that both of the bugs were right behind them. Their outstretched tentacles were reaching for the back of the truck, as energy bolts raked across both of their glassy carapaces. Freyr and Bishop both yelped as they hit a bump, sending the whole vehicle up into the air and careering through the Border at a tilted angle.

As soon as they crashed back through the Border and into colonised space, Freyr could see rows of CraSec vehicles parked around the transit station. Dozens of soldiers hiding behind the vehicles instantly opened fire upon seeing the beetles that’d followed them through. Issuing sharp clicks and squeals, the beetles skidded about and quickly disappeared back through the border.

Bishop slammed on the brakes, and they slid to a stop right behind the truck with Vreta on the turret. Freyr exhaled deeply, her whole body shaking uncontrollably. “Identify yourselves.” A voice demanded over loudspeaker, as a handful of soldiers drifted out from behind cover to surround the trucks. Most had their weapons trained on the clearly visible alien.

Once again returning from beyond the border was certainly a relief, though it did not prevent Vreta from remaining on-alert. If he had learned anything over the past half-hour, it was that this place was never safe. His state of intense focus persisted for only a short time, until he was questioned by the soldiers. “Vreta’Sori.” He answered quickly and directly, not that his name would have much meaning to them.

Vreta climbed off of the turret and into the back of the truck. He gave a look around at the soldiers crowded around in their seats. Some had escaped mostly unscathed, but there were others that looked rather badly wounded. The soldiers in his truck had been in a position to witness the help he had been giving them, and many he had personally pulled into the safety of the vehicle. They could be useful to him, he felt. He just needed to approach them with the right attitude.

“Can one of you take over talking to those soldiers? We need to get your wounded out of here quickly if they are to survive this.” Vreta remarked before climbing down the side of the truck, then held his arms up to take the first of the wounded. “Help me unload the injured. We need to hurry.”

Freyr gently patted Bishop’s shoulder. He was just sitting back in his seat, eyes staring straight ahead. “Well done, Mr Bishop. Thank you.” She murmured. “You’re uh...you’re welcome.” He replied weakly. Leaving the pistol on the dashboard, Freyr opened her door and jumped out; her legs were so wobbly she nearly fell. She put her hands up and walked slowly forward.

Several soldiers and a medic rushed to greet her. One shone a scanner beam in her eyes and another handed her an oxygen mask which she gladly took a few breaths from. “You’re clear. Name?” One asked. “Dr Freyr Lang. We have wounded in the back.” Freyr said, teeth gritting when the pain from her seared arm returned. “Can i have a burn pack please?” The medic pulled one from her bag and chucked it to Freyr before rushing around to the back of the truck.

Freyr pulled the remains of her jumpsuit sleeve back to reveal charred, red pink flesh. She activated the burn pack and wrapped it quickly around her entire forearm, crying out from the pain. It quickly subsided though, as topical anesthetics in the wrap numbed everything down underneath. She staggered over to the truck in front. Vreta had just jumped to the ground and was waiting to receive the wounded. “Vreta, right? Can we talk?” Freyr asked, stopping alongside the tall alien. “You can both talk to me.” A deep, gruff voice called from behind them.

Freyr turned, and found a severe-looking grey haired man in a smart black uniform standing before them. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he cooly regarded them with augmented eyes that glowed with three light blue points. “Our medics will see to the wounded, thank you Vreta’Sori.” He smiled, as three of them jogged round the sides of the truck and began pulling the wounded down around them. “Please, come.” He urged, gesturing for them to follow him toward the transit station.

Freyr glanced at Vreta. She’d wanted to talk to him about what had happened in that warehouse. The creature with David’s face had been talking to the alien, and Freyr was sure it meant something. But something about this man in the black uniform made her think they didn’t have a choice. Hesitantly, she fell in behind the man as he walked toward the rows of nervous CraSec troops, still scanning the Border as it loomed over them. “Was that Major Osman I saw, slumped over in that truck?” The man immediately asked, turning and looking at Vreta while still walking.

Vreta did not care as much about helping the wounded as much as giving the appearance that he wanted to help, so he complied quickly with the man’s request. The Human was not in combat gear, but he was clearly associated with the soldiers regardless. He gave the impression of being someone with some authority among the Humans, so Vreta decided it best not to snub his requests for now. They were heading towards a transit station, which was a direction of which he definitely approved.

Looking down at the man, Vreta tilted his head. “Are you referring to that soldier woman?” He asked, pointing a thumb back towards the truck. “A large creature, one much tougher than the beetles your men saw off, injured her. Crushed its weight against her chest. The beast took well over a dozen rounds, was lit on fire, and still could not be stopped. One of your soldiers eventually sacrificed himself to hit it with an explosive charge, but…I do not know if it died.”

Pausing a moment, Vreta gestured to Freyr. “Myself and Freyr, we did manage to get her out and to the truck. Last I checked she was still alive, though that was before we left. If she is still alive, she needs to be brought back to her body in the real world. In fact, based on what I saw, I would recommend you evacuate everyone from this place. Failing that, at least reinforce your soldiers with the heaviest weapons you can possibly give them. If those monsters attack again, well…even that may not be enough.” He warned.

“I see.” The man nodded thoughtfully at Vreta’s description of the attack. “Is this true?” His eyes drilled into Freyr. She nodded shakily. “Yeah, pretty much. I’m sorry...who did you say you were again?” The man smiled. “I wouldn’t worry about that right now, Dr Lang. The main thing is that i’m here to help - both of you.” He looked at Vreta again. “I also wouldn’t worry about this place. It will be a fortress by dawn tomorrow. We have our best terraformers on it.” The man gestured for both of them to walk through the glass doors into the transit station as they slid open. “Please, after you.”

The large, bright, sparsely furnished room Freyr had arrived in only an hour or two ago had been totally transformed. An entire command centre of holo-consoles and other equipment was being set up around the outside, leaving an open space in the middle for people to spawn in and out. Freyr could see a wide variety of people milling around. There were engineers and technicians in white jumpsuits, connecting up even more gear. There were at least half a dozen terraformers in whatever clothes they’d decided to program in. Freyr also spotted a few other people in the same black uniform as the man with the augmented eyes, who had now followed them through the double doors. These black-clad people all turned to stare directly at them, making Freyr feel incredibly vulnerable.

“Please, take a seat.” The man with the augmented eyes urged, walking past them to sit at an ornate wooden desk. There were two chairs facing him on the other side. After a split second, the man exclaimed. “Ah, of course, the chair!” He loudly snapped his fingers and a nearby terraformer turned around. The man gestured to Vreta, and after sizing him up for a moment, the terraformer hit a few options on her holo-interface. One of the chairs seemed to disassemble and reassemble in a flurry of half-digital moving parts. When everything settled, Freyr could see a large stool, presumably suitable for tailed reptilians. “Please.” The man smiled, gesturing to the seats again. Freyr sat down, growing slightly uneasy.

“Now - this creature you speak of. Is it the same creature as the ones who abducted those Skinners?”

“Yeah.” Freyr nodded, slightly thrown off by the fact that this man knew about the abductions.

“It came back? Why?”

“I uh, I don’t know.” Freyr turned to look at Vreta. “You said that it was doing something with a device when you found it. What kind of device?”

The man looked at Vreta as Freyr spoke, his facial expression completely unfathomable.

“You can fortify all you want, but don’t underestimate these things. I don’t know what these things are, exactly, but if they’re from the Cradle, then you’re fighting on their territory, not yours. You didn’t create this place.” Vreta warned.

In any case, Vreta followed the man into the transit station. Although, he could not help but to be disappointed that they did not return from the Cradle right away. He had a multitude of reasons for wanting to be rid of this place. He did take a seat on the stool provided for him on the man’s insistence, but Vreta’s general discomfort started to become more and more visibly apparent the longer the man spoke.

Vreta was making a few mental notes on the topic Freyr discussed with the man. While he had guessed this already, their conversation did confirm that the creatures were related to the disturbance at the office building. In his research since he arrived on Outremer, Vreta had heard of the Skinners. Their goals and methods earned them the label of terrorists, though with what Vreta had seen of the Cradle, he personally felt they might have the right of it. Regardless, he did not bring it up. When Vreta was finally questioned directly, he decided to give a show of cooperation with an honest answer. “I can’t be completely sure. When I investigated the shed, I only got a look inside for a few seconds before that thing knocked out the power. Just by its appearance, it might have been some kind of communications equipment.”

Vreta revealed yet more of his discomfort when his grimace showed his bloodstained teeth. Glancing to the side, he put more pressure on his injured arm. “Look, I’m willing to talk about this with you, but I’d really rather not do this in the Cradle. That creature knocked out a few of my teeth, by arm burns like the ninth ring, and frankly, the blood loss is distracting. More importantly, I’m not completely convinced that border isn’t going to come crashing down on us again at any moment. Did those creatures really retreat, or are they just gathering their forces? I promise my cooperation for every one of your questions if we return to the real world. Like I said, my name is Vreta’Sori, representative of the Zuraxi’Synkuur corporation. I’m staying on the twenty-first floor of the Synastar Hotel. You look like a man with the authority to run my identity, so I’m sure you can get confirmation this is all true. Someone as high-profile as me, you know I can’t just escape unnoticed. I’ll go back to my hotel room and wait for you there; you have my word.”

The fact that the creature may have been interfacing with exo-Cradle comms equipment rang alarm bells in Freyr's head. What could it have been doing? However, she held her tongue at this moment. It was abundantly clear that the alien was in a lot of pain, and didn't want to stick around to talk here. She couldn't blame him; the events of the last hour would almost certainly haunt her forever.

However, she could find some kernels of hope among this sea of despair - she was reasonably sure her family were still alive somewhere. She was also confident she’d gathered more useful data today than in the previous ten years of work. She just needed to go home and assimilate all the information for it to be any use. She knew where Vreta was staying - she resolved to talk with him privately about the specifics if she could.

The man with augmented eyes nodded considerately at Vreta’s story. “I understand completely, we’ll get you back to the real world in just a moment - we know where both of you are. I just have one more question for you, Vreta’Sori. Why is it that you were in an evacuated crime scene today?”

While this was happening, Freyr could hear a slight commotion behind them. She turned to see the wounded from their trucks being stretchered inside. At the same time, the room hummed slightly, and looking over her other shoulder she caught a squadron of heavily armoured CraSec soldiers being spawned in. They lined up to grab weapons from an armaments locker before heading to the doors. There was a lot going on, and the questioning was getting a bit above her paygrade, so Freyr was longing to just get out of here.

The Human’s thinly-veiled accusation was apparent, but this was a game to which Vreta was no stranger. He did not give any hint to his thoughts in his reaction, letting out only something of an amused hum. “Well, the simple answer is that I wasn’t.” Vreta replied.

Vreta paused just a moment, letting out a grunt as he shifted his injured arm into a more comfortable position. “Like I said, I’m a representative of the Zuraxi’Synkuur corporation. I am not at liberty to discuss all of the details of our transactions, but suffice to say that we have extensive dealings with the corporation that holds this district. A part of our agreements stipulate that I am permitted to inspect their testing and production facilities to ensure they meet our agreed-upon standards. That was why I came here today. I got wind of a disturbance in one of our partners’ holdings, so I wanted to ensure they were not at fault for whatever was happening. Negligence on their part could affect our contracts with them. This district was not locked down, either by its owner or the Outremer government, and I had full permission to be here. I respected all boundaries set by your men at the crime scene and did not trespass. The shed I investigated was outside the perimeter set by your soldiers. Whether or not they should have restricted access to that building is between you and your officers, but I broke no laws in entering. I can provide you copies of all of the necessary legal documents, once we are out of the Cradle.”

The man nodded, stretching his face into a taut smile. His eyes remained fixed on the alien. After a pregnant pause, he replied “Great, well, I think I have everything I need for today. We’ll take it from here. Thank you both - I’m terribly sorry this happened to you. Dr Lang, I know this must weigh particularly heavy on you." The man’s stare began unlocking all the horrors of the day, and Freyr felt her own eyes welling up with tears. “A liaison will be with you both tomorrow. Freyr, I took the liberty of signing off some military-grade PTSD meds for you; they should be arriving at your apartment soon. Get a good night’s rest, and we’ll be in touch.” He nodded, to signal that he’d finished talking.

Freyr got up shakily, desperate to get away from all these people. She turned to Vreta and mumbled something which may have sounded like ‘thank you for saving me’ before rushing to the centre of the room and logging out of the Cradle.

There might have been more that Vreta wanted to say, particularly to Freyr. Whether he liked it or not, it was still his task to learn more about the cradle, and he saw the possibility that a grateful scientist that worked on the cradle could help him towards that end. However, at this point, he was not going to do anything that might slow down his return to the real world for even a second. Once he was allowed to do so, he gave a polite farewell to the both of them and finally logged out of the Cradle.

---

Returning safely to his hotel room was now one of the most relieving feelings Vreta had experienced in his life. There was no one that Vreta encountered on the way back to his room, so whoever that man represented might not have had anyone in the building just yet. It was hard to say, truthfully; it would all depend on how the Human decided to approach watching him. Though, he had little doubt that he would be watched in some way. Frankly, Vreta might have felt offended if he was not.

It was tempting for Vreta to want to relax after all the stress he had been through. He had survived more near-death experiences in the last hour than he had in the past two centuries combined, and he felt rather horrible in general. He was, quite thankfully, back in his actual body, complete with all of his enhancements. His neural implants were already at work correcting his neurochemical balance to reduce the chances of long-term psychological damage. However, he was still feeling phantom pains, particularly in his arm, for injuries that did not exist. That, to his understanding, might last a day or two.

Before Vreta could even think about resting his mind, he first had to give his report to his superiors. His mission was not over, he knew, but he had finally learned something worth reporting. As he headed into his bedroom to get his suitcase once again, he started writing up his report, though not through anything as inefficient as an external device. Through his neural implants, he could create a data file, write and edit it purely through thought, and have it strongly encrypted, even by Rothian standards. For now, he just kept his report mostly to a factual recounting of events, without too much speculation or opinion on his part. He would have time to consider the implication of the night’s events later. For now, he activated the data pad he had used to interact with his sniffer programs and uploaded his report to it. The Zuraxi’Synkuur corporation had in its headquarters Rothian superluminal communications hardware, which worked on a level of sophistication beyond Human understanding. His device could bypass the usual adapter layer that Human networks used to interact with Rothian software, allowing him to send his message discretely. It masked the true message under a more mundane one sent through usual channels, so while an intercepted message was unlikely to begin with, he still had a good deal of plausible deniability. The encrypted message could easily be seen as junk data stemming from the fundamental differences in their computer architecture. Even so, he wiped the device once more to erase any chance of leaving a trace.

After a cacophonous couple of hours, the silence from Freyr’s apartment closed in like water, miles under the ocean. She gasped for breath and jumped from the sofa. Seeing Karos Childermass sitting motionless in the armchair, Freyr pivoted and stumbled to her kitchen area. Grabbing up the same cup she’d dropped upon learning he was visiting, Freyr once again filled it with water. She managed one trembling sip before her feelings overwhelmed her.

She howled ugly sounds and cried into her cup, stooped over the kitchen worktop by her sink. Eventually, she slid down the side of the kitchen units to sit on the warm wooden floor, her face in her hands. After a couple of minutes, Demeter came online. “Welcome back, Dr Lang. I’ve detected that your guest, Dr Childermass, has suffered catastrophic brain trauma consistent with ‘Cradle Death’, and is now in a comatose state. I will inform the relevant medical autho-...manual override initiated.”

Freyr looked up, confused and teary, as everything powered down in her apartment. After nearly a minute, the lights blinked back on and Demeter returned. “Good afternoon, Dr Lang. There is a visitor for you approaching your front door. Would you like me to let them in?”

“What? No. Who are they?” Freyr demanded, wiping tears from her eyes and getting up off the floor. “They are here to extract the body of Dr Childermass and update your medications.” Demeter replied blankly.

Freyr moved quickly into the hallway and grabbed her pistol out of its holster on a coat hook. Creeping to the door’s peephole, she saw a woman with short blond hair and the same black uniform as the man with augmented eyes. “Good afternoon, Dr Lang. Please open the door, i know you’re here.” She looked right in the peephole. Realising she had basically no choice, Freyr opened the door a crack and stared defiantly out at her, hand tightening around her pistol which she kept out of sight. The woman smiled encouragingly. “Hi. I’m sorry about your colleague. I’m here to take him to cold storage and give you these." She held up a canister of small pills. “They’ll help you process your feelings and keep a more level head. If that’s what you want.”

Any fight that Freyr might have had seeped from her body. She opened her door fully and let the woman file into her apartment. She wasted no time, putting the pills down on the kitchen counter before walking over to Karos. Freyr followed her, finally summoning up the courage to kneel beside her boss’ inert body. She hated the way they’d left things, and wished she could turn back time. Karos had pulled a really manipulative move on her, getting her into the Cradle to confirm David’s likeness. But that didn’t cancel out ten years of mentorship and good memories. Freyr understood now just how desperate he was. She was also getting an idea of how much was at stake here. Through gritted teeth, she resolved to not let his death be in vain. She gripped his hand and gave it one last squeeze.

The woman attached a small module to the underside of Karos’ right shoe, which quickly unfurled into a strong plastic covering that tightly enveloped his whole body. She also unfolded a hovering stretcher, just like the one Freyr had pushed Major Osman along in barely an hour before. The module on Karos’ shoe lifted his whole body, wrapped in plastic, up into the air and gently laid it down on the stretcher. It then began maneuvering slowly out of the flat - the woman followed alongside it.

At the door, she stopped and turned to Freyr. “Again, i’m really sorry for everything you’ve been through. Please try to get some rest and drink some fluids. We’ll be in touch tomorrow morning.” She touched Freyr’s arm supportively, which she flinched away from. The woman and her stretcher then left her apartment, with Demeter closing the door behind them. Freyr stood staring at the door for a long time after they’d gone.

With his message sent, Vreta could finally start trying to put the day’s events behind him. Through experience and a cool head, he had gotten out alive, and if he could help it, he was going to try to avoid entering the hellscape that was the Cradle again. What he had witnessed only cemented his views on Humanity’s exploitation of the Cradle. It was technology they did not understand, and they were foolish for intertwining it so deeply into their society. They were so desperate to try and push their technology forward that Outremer was now dependant on what could essentially be a time bomb. The creatures could not have come from anywhere but the Cradle itself, and no one, not even the Rothians, knew the true purpose of the Cradle.

Now that he was out of danger, Vreta did have the opportunity to think in more depth about what he had witnessed. He wished he could have had access to his implants through it all, for a multitude of reasons, but mostly for the purpose of recordkeeping. With his implants, he could have recorded everything he saw so he could go back and view it again to catch anything he missed. Regardless, his neural implants now, at the very least, could save his memories as they were so they did not degrade any farther.

Once again, Vreta found himself laying back on his couch, his feet hanging partially off the side. Normally after such physical exertion, he would have worked up an appetite, but he supposed none of that exercise was truly real. So, instead of a second dinner, he thought back on the details of his experience. Of particular interest to Vreta was his brief conversation with one of the creatures. The way he saw it, there were two likely possibilities for what they were: Human minds that had been corrupted in some way, or independent intelligences that came from within the Cradle. Or some combination of the two. The most striking evidence of the former was that the creature had used a face that the Human, Freyr, had recognized. Vreta distinctly remembered the creature claiming “They are mine” when she asked about her husband. However, Vreta also remembered a part of the conversation that would have been strange for just corrupted Humans.

When it was just him and the creature, it spoke of recognizing Vreta. It would not make much sense for it to be speaking of him as an individual, since he hardly knew any Humans on this planet personally, so all that was left was for it to be speaking of him as a Rothian. The phrasing was strange, too. It spoke of him “crawling from the ocean to the rocks”, as he remembered it. The Cradle was a truly ancient supercomputer, and those words made it sound like its creators had watched the Rothian species itself evolve. Though, he did not want to make such rash assumptions just yet. There were other ways he could interpret the encounter. Perhaps this was some combination of an independent intelligence within the Cradle, and corrupted Human minds? Perhaps it had gone insane as a result?

Eventually, Freyr put her pistol back in it’s holster and manually bolted the door. She wandered back into the living area, her eyes transfixed on the now empty armchair. Her breaths arrived in ragged gulps, and she realised her heart was racing. She shakily picked up the canister of pills and examined the prescription label. It had her name, address and dose instructions all printed out. Take one daily, with food. She opened the lid and shook a pill out. Water wasn’t going to cut it, Freyr decided, so she pulled a bottle of dark red wine from the rack, poured a large glass and took the pill with a big slug of that. She had no idea if the medication was really as they’d described, but at this point she didn’t care.

Taking a few more sips from her wine, Freyr sat down on her sofa and wondered what to do. Sleep seemed impossible at the moment. As horrific as today had been, she felt an undercurrent of inspiration struggling to break free. She’d had the first piece of evidence that her family may be alive. The creature had practically said so. She just needed to piece together all the information she had, and carry on building up a picture. Her thoughts drifted back to Vreta, the alien she’d found talking to that thing with David’s face. Why had he been there at exactly that time? Had he been looking for something too? The alien had obviously witnessed something, something Freyr needed to know.

With night falling on Babylon and rain still pattering against her tall windows, Freyr activated her comms implant while absently sketching the legs and body of the ant creature and sipping her wine. Now, what was the name of the hotel Vreta had said he was staying at. Syna something? She began trying combinations and quickly found it. She put in a call request with the hotel AI who forwarded it to Vreta’s room.

She grew nervous as she waited for him to pick up, not quite sure what to expect. When he finally did, she began talking quickly. “Hi, Mr Sori? It’s Freyr Lang here. Sorry to disturb you, but i can’t stop thinking about that moment back in the warehouse. Can we talk? As you may have realised, the reason I barged in like that was because it...it looked like my husband. He was abducted along with my daughter a few months ago and I've been searching for them. I’m not really sure what I'm looking for, but I believe any information you have about the creature could be useful. I’m a xeno-biologist, you see… I realise i’m gabbling now, but could we please just start from the top?”

Vreta had been considering getting some rest when he suddenly received the notification for a call, and the caller herself was someone who immediately caught his eye: Freyr Lang. In truth, she was someone he had intended to contact himself, eventually. He had just intended to lay low for a few days, but having that opportunity present itself so quickly was not something he wanted to ignore. She was clearly a scientist who worked closely with the Cradle. By helping her as much as he had, he was already well on his way with ingratiating himself with her, which could prove a boon to his goal of learning more about the Cradle. Still, considering the other factors involved with CraSec and the Outremer government, he would have to play this well.

Vreta had the call routed through his neural implant as an overlay with the call information appeared in the corner of his vision. He patiently allowed Dr. Lang to speak, despite her rather rambling approach to a greeting. Even with his own goals aside, he could genuinely understand why one in her position would be so out-of-sorts. When it was finally his turn to speak, he made sure to keep his tone calm and soft. “Of course. You can call me Vreta. Rothian names are not…quite the same as those of Humans. As for what happened I…just want to start by saying that I am so sorry for what you are going through. I can hardly imagine it. I know it might not have seemed that way back in the Cradle, but you have to understand I was a soldier many years ago. In such dangerous, stressful situations, I know I can seem rather…detached. It is a mental defense mechanism that is trained into us. Now that we are in safety, though, I just want to say that I do feel for you. No being deserves to suffer through such a thing, and I promise I do want to help you.”

With some degree of hesitation in his voice, Vreta continued. He wanted to make sure to convey that this was not his preferred answer, but the situation was forcing it upon him. “But…are you sure this is a conversation you want to have remotely? I heard the Skinners were involved in all of this, yes? From my understanding, they are a criminal group, right? Terrorists? I apologize if this is offensive, but I do find digital security on this world to be…lacking by Rothian standards. For a topic as personal to you as this, I wouldn’t want a group like that to catch wind of it. Who knows how they might use it against you, and…you never know who might be listening in on a call like this?” Vreta warned, his words carrying a double meaning. His reason for not wanting to speak about it over a call was genuine, though it was not the Skinners he was concerned about. Regardless of whether or not she picked up on the subtext, though, his stated reason was a valid concern.

“Would you rather talk in person?” Vreta asked.

Freyr was slightly surprised by the response. She’d called him to talk and had once again been deflected. As an expert on machine intelligence, she knew that most of the AIs on Outremer were exceptionally resilient. She’d taken part in working groups that helped define some elements of the psyche for newer models. But that had been a long time ago now, who knows what advances had been made since? The Cradle had been the only AI in her focus for the last few years.

It struck her that the way Demeter had rebooted just now seemed slightly irregular. It sometimes rebooted when it was undergoing finetuning or maintenance, but the timings seemed a little bit too perfect. Going offline at the exact moment that woman appeared? Vreta had mentioned the Skinners, but truth be told it wasn’t them she was worried about. At this stage, she was inclined to agree with their quest for zero Cradle integration.

Freyr really did not feel like going outside right now, but she was desperate to hear Vreta’s story. The pill she had just taken did seem to be working some magic too, as her appetite had made a rare return. She thought for a moment. “I know you’re a little way away, but there’s a street food market in Boycott Park. Would you meet me there? I don’t really feel up to going further afield. I don’t know what kind of things you enjoy, but the Gỏi cuốn there is to die for.” Freyr attempted a small laugh, but it got kind of caught in her throat. “If not tonight, then early tomorrow? I’m keen to hear the whole story before we’re asked for a statement.”

Vreta paused just a moment in consideration of Freyr’s suggestion. His ideal situation would be to hold the meeting in his apartment, as he had already made certain that he could keep anything that happened within its walls away from prying eyes. However, he doubted that would be an option in this case. Still, it was no disaster. With the right applications of the tools at his disposal, he could control recordings of him in public spaces almost as well. The program that ran his neural implants was essentially an AI by Human standards, albeit a specialized one. With his thoughts directing it, he could tailor custom malware to invade Human networks and manipulate them in real-time. His power over them was not limitless, but he was confident in the sophistication of his programs.

“I…can’t say I know what Goi Cuon is, but I’m willing to try it.” Vreta answered, matching her somewhat more positive tone. “I do want to talk about this as well. Maybe together we can make some sense of the insanity that has been this evening. Just give me an address, and I will make my way there as soon as I can.”

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Vreta had not required much in the way of preparation. For him, the vast majority of what he needed to do his job could be found under his scales. Even if he carried nothing with him, he was, with the notable exception of the Cradle, always prepared. Traversing the city was much slower than back home, but he had been in the city for long enough to have grown accustomed to it.

When he finally did arrive at Boycott Park, there was a moment where Vreta lost focus on the task ahead of him. The food market itself was, from his perspective, a rather unique sight. It was in the center of a fairly large park, wide and open, with plenty of natural flora. It felt separate from the rest of the city, and the market even moreso. It had a myriad of small, privately-owned stalls all packed closely together. It was a place he would describe as vibrant and lively. Even as the sun was beginning to set over the horizon, the crowds did not seem to diminish. Many of the pathways were lit by paper candles hanging on strings crossing over them. The general glow of the city surrounding them likely would have been enough to illuminate the area, in any case, but they did add to the visual appeal.

It was places like this that Vreta enjoyed to visit, and it was one of the advantages of working outside of Rothian territory. By the way the crowds acted, he could tell it was not just a novelty to them. It was…genuine, not a tourist attraction. For a moment, Vreta was tempted to follow his nose to the most interesting of the scents that filled the air, but he could not be shaken from his purpose for long. He had a task ahead of him. He went ahead and planted his program in the city’s public network by hiding it in a simple request for a map of the local area. From there, it could start its work on breaking through security protections. With that situated, he sent a quick message to Freyr to inform her that he had arrived. Somehow, he doubted he would be hard to find in the crowd.

After giving Vreta the name of the park and it’s nearest transport links, Freyr went to the hall and put on a warm, waterproof coat. She eyed the pistol hanging up on it’s hook for a couple of seconds before electing to leave it. She didn’t want to be that person who was packing heat the whole time. The street food market was only a few hundred metres from the door of her building, and it was well lit the whole way. Crime was very low in this part of Babylon, but something about this meeting was still making her uneasy. Freyr was blown away by how effectively the pill she’d just taken was working; she wasn’t a ball of tangled emotions anymore. Her fear and grief and anger were still there, but they were cold, manageable objects that she could store at the back of her mind. So that’s what she did, at least while she could.

Freyr left her apartment and went down a lift to the tastefully appointed lobby. “Going somewhere nice, Dr Lang?” Demeter politely asked, inhabiting the concierge droid by the front doors. “Just to the street food market, Dem.” Freyr smiled. “Won’t be long.” The droid bowed slightly, and threw a small orb gentle into the air. It quickly expanded into a thin, wide covering that moved to hover above Freyr’s head. “For the rain, ma’am. Enjoy your walk.” The AI purred. Freyr got a notification from Vreta, informing her of his arrival, so she just nodded and moved past the droid.

She pulled her coat together and stepped out into the rain, the majority of it being deflected by her covering. She crossed the road and entered the familiar lantern-illuminated path to the centre of Boycott Park, where the street food market hid behind an arrangement of manicured bushes. The panoply of delicious smells greeted Freyr as she walked through a leafy archway into the wide cobbled square. One of the store vendors recognised her and called a friendly greeting. She smiled clumsily, aware they were probably curious why she hadn’t shown up for so long when this place was previously a nightly excursion. She’d stopped coming when David & Amy were taken; she couldn’t face all of the memories of them.

Freyr found Vreta standing awkwardly among all the hungry people moving between stalls; she noticed some were giving him funny looks and a wide berth. She approached the tall alien. “Hey. Thanks for coming.” She smiled, trying to be friendly. “Are you hungry? That neo-Viet stall I love is over there.” She pointed to a colourful wooden stand with a laughing couple chopping vegetables and meat into large pans together.

Vreta’s eyes scanned the crowd to search for Freyr. It was something of a difficult task for him to spot her out among all of the other Humans, especially since he did not have an image of her on record as he usually would have for Humans he wanted to remember. His Rothian mind was not designed to pick up on Human facial features, so having images for reference could help him interact more naturally with them in social situations. The rain also presented a problem in that most of the crowd were walking around with coverings over their heads to keep them dry. Rain did not bother Vreta nearly as much as it seemed to affect Humans. His scaly skin was waterproof, so the rain slid off of him easily.

Fortunately, it was far easier for Freyr to pick Vreta out of a crowd, so it did not take long for her to approach him and grab his attention. By that point, his program had embedded itself firmly in various corner’s of the district’s public network. In many ways, it was like a living thing in itself, maneuvering its way through the city’s software unseen and hiding in the shadows of other programs from the automated intrusion detection system. The Cradle itself might have been peer to Rothian technology, but his program was still hundreds of years more advance than anything Human-made that might try to root it out. With the access he now had, Vreta did not yet do anything disruptive. He simply had his program identify any camera or other sensor that could see or hear himself or Freyr so that he could make changes to what they observed if he deemed it necessary.

For the moment, however, Vreta did not require any secrecy. He matched her friendly approach with just as friendly of a greeting. “Hello. It is no trouble to be here. I think this is something we can both benefit from talking about.” He remarked as he started to look around the market, particularly at the stall Freyr pointed out. He did not want to rush straight into business, as some more casual conversation could be useful to obscure what they were discussing. “I shall be honest, I do not know what that is, but I am eager to try it. Coming to places like this, it is one of the things I enjoy about working in foreign space. Stepping into this market is like stepping back in time. I’m sure I could find something like it somewhere in Rothian space, but that would be no more than a novelty. This is just…a part of your city. There are many of my kind that find it dangerous just to leave Rothian worlds, but I do think it worth a little risk to really experience the galaxy. I learned as much as I could about your people’s cultures before I came here, but it is quite different to experience it in person.”

Freyr couldn’t help but smile as she heard the Rothian (she finally placed the species name) speak. “Well, i’m glad i could add to your time here!” She grinned as they walked to the stall. The owners recognised Freyr immediately, and greeted her fondly, but cast a wary eye over her alien companion. Freyr returned the greeting in their own language, the words and their pronunciation being fed into her mind via her comms implant. She then slowly introduced Vreta’Sori to them, before moving on to order two portions of Gỏi cuốn. They arrived quickly - three semi-transparent rolls each, sat on giant lettuce leaves in a takeaway box. The stallholders didn’t seem keen on handing the second box to the giant lizard, so Freyr quickly took it from them and handed it to Vreta.

With their food now served, Freyr guided them through the crowd to a cluster of long wooden benches which they could sit on and eat. Freyr mopped up some of the rainwater stuck on the bench with her napkins before settling down. “So, Rothian huh? I remember studying you guys in university. How does eternal life treat you? I think I'd go mad after a while.” Freyr realised that was slightly morbid but couldn’t row back now, so she leant into it. “I guess there are ways of ‘mixing things up’, in a manner of speaking?” She wrapped the first of her rolls in a lettuce leaf, dipped it into the little pot of sweet sauce provided and took a bite, savouring the delicious mix of flavours.

Vreta chuckled softly for a few seconds as he took a seat on the bench alongside Freyr. While somewhat small, he would not call it uncomfortable. “We do not age as most other species do, that is true. Eternal life, though…well, I do suppose that is the goal, for most of us. The oldest of us come from a time just before we started to leave our homeworld. By your counting of years, I think that would be around…1,100 years? I’m not completely sure of the conversion. Or, well, I should say that 1,100 years is when our medicine became sophisticated enough for us to essentially guarantee survival against disease and disorders. Some individuals are centuries older than that. For me, I am in my sixth century. Back when I was a hatchling, it was just us and two other intelligent species known in the galaxy. Our galactic community has grown quite a lot since then.”

Following Freyr’s lead, Vreta followed the same motions of wrapping his roll and eating it with the sauce. It seemed to be a mix of meat and vegetables, wrapped in a way that made it quite convenient to eat. That, in itself, was not a unique idea to their species, but the ingredients certainly were. Rothia imported foods from nearly every intelligent species in the galaxy, but they tended to favor meat more heavily when they crafted dishes from those ingredients. The roll, and particularly its sauce, tasted quite different from anything he had tried. He did particularly enjoy its sweetness.

“But yes, we do live many lives across the centuries, to keep those lives interesting. I have been everything from a soldier, to a programmer, to a corporate executive, to a failed professional athlete.” Vreta replied before giving another look down at his roll. “Also, just…a question. Do you know if they grow their meat, or raise it from animals here?”