Freyr checked the expedition manifest from her implant while the flyer jetted over Babylon. It showed that out of the nineteen other Division scientists she’d been allowed to bring on the expedition, five had already made it onto the OSC Barbarossa. This was the ship Freyr assumed would be taking them all the way to Rothia. A call sign appeared from Masgard Xandrus; Freyr initiated the call. “Hey, are you on your way Angharad?” Freyr had found out today that her lawyer was on the expedition as one of the official spokespeople.

“Yeah, thought I'd get a headstart on setting up shop. You?”

“I am, yes. Just had to wrap up a few things here. I should arrive at about the same time as you...I heard Vreta’Sori, our new Rothian liaison, visited you in the Cradle today, that right?”

“He did. Just in time for a power surge - a big one.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“Let's talk later. I have a few calls to make.”

The rest of the journey passed by quickly. Freyr relayed a few instructions to her team in the Cradle and the scientists already set up on the Barbarossa. But mostly she stared out of the window, drinking in her adopted homeworld’s dramatic scenery. From this high up, Freyr could see the ancient biosphere that surrounded Babylon curving down from a mile up to meet the ground in a near perfect circle. The field was almost transparent, apart from faint ripples that slowly moved across its surface like waves.

Beyond that, Freyr could see Babylon’s infamous Circle Desert. An incongruous ring of arid badlands in an otherwise fertile landscape, it stretched for miles all around the city. The exact cause of this permanent drought was unknown, but many scholars agreed it was likely something to do with the Cradle’s physical form. Freyr had only seen it once; an enormous sphere coated in an unbreakable alloy. It floated in an enormous vault (built around it) at the heart of a cave system deep underneath Babylon. A previous alien civilisation, long gone now, had built an entire city around the Cradle, living underground to be closer to it. 

Freyr was confident that some radiation from the Cradle rendered the ground around it practically unlivable, apart from the area within the biosphere. Even though rain regularly fell on the Circle Desert, nothing would grow.

“Approaching Port Angharad, ma’am.” Her driver announced, stirring Freyr from her reverie. She looked down and saw the port was coming up fast in front of them.

Every self-respecting citizen of Outremer knew Port Angharad was where the first settlers touched down, almost three hundred and fifty years ago. Freyr thought it must have seen better days. From above, it looked like quite a dirty, sprawling complex of terminals, auto-factories and ancient colonial administration buildings. Freyr supposed a lot of newer, more central spaceports had been built in the last few centuries, leaving Port Angharad as a government and military installation.

The driver received the gate of Freyr’s waiting shuttle from air traffic control, and took them in toward a low collection of landing pads. She could see Masgard waiting outside his own flyer in the parking area as they touched down. “Welcome to Port Angharad!” He called to her as she stepped out of the car. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”