The corner office was small and boxy. But it did have Freyr’s name on the door, a desk with a small bottle of Angjuskian Scotch wrapped in ribbon atop it, and views of the entire lab through plate glass windows. She was pleased to see the office was soundproofed; when Masgard closed the door behind them the noise of rapid assembly outside lowered significantly. “Ahh, the good stuff. Complements of the captain; very nice. I don’t drink Scotch, myself. Do you?” Freyr studied the label before placing the bottle back down on the desk. She sat down and ran her fingers through her hair. It’d been another really long day.

“Well, i’m sorry you’ve been dragged back into this.” Freyr chuckled humourlessly upon hearing what Vreta had been up to. “I’ve been working nonstop, to tell you the truth.” She continued. “Masgard, what can i say?”

“We have an operational partnership with the Rothians, so whatever you think will be useful to the mission.” Freyr nodded gratefully.

“Then i can tell you that things are bad. We’re making good progress in developing weapons and structures that can combat the Cradle’s creatures. But so far we haven’t been able to stop this gradual encroachment on the occupied zone. The Border is currently consuming about 1% of the occupied zone per week. There are signs that may increase, too.” On a whim, Freyr grabbed the bottle of Scotch and opened it, taking a sniff. “It’s hard to predict what we’ll find on Rothia, if anything. But my hope is it’s something we can use to communicate properly with the Cradle. Negotiate peace with it; if it’s capable of rational thought.” 

Freyr took a small sip from the bottle, and wrinkled her nose immediately. “Eurgh, that is strong.” She offered the bottle to Masgard, who took a gulp and seemed to quite like it. He offered it to Vreta.