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.”

Vreta exchanged polite farewells with the Captain before climbing into the frontmost buggy. Right away, he felt cramped trying to find a comfortable way to sit in a vehicle clearly not meant for him. There was at least no roof he had to duck under, but the seat was small for him, he had little leg room, and he could not avoid crowding up against Freyr beside him. There was no place for his tail, so he had to lean forward in his seat, which only made the problems of leg room worse. At the very least, it would only be for a short time. “Trust me, I have no plans on dying, Dr. Lang. Ideally, no one will be in a position to test Marae’s protocols today.”

---

All things considered, it was quicker to get through the space station onto their shuttle than it had been on Rothia. Their official, and time-sensitive government business meant they were processed through the station and herded onto their shuttle in mere minutes. It was one of the unmarked government craft that Outremer officials preferred to use when they did not want to draw attention. The Rothian frigate had made it more quickly through FTL than the Barbarossa, so the Rothian science team was likely already on their way to the surface.

Vreta did not show it outwardly, but he was nervous for whatever was to come. He did not much care for the uncertainty, and despite all they had learned, the entity was still a huge unknown. For the moment, at least, Vreta could once again stretch out his legs in the shuttle.

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.

Vreta supposed he should not have been surprised at the crowds. Even without knowing the full picture, there was no avoiding that the citizens would know something was wrong with the Cradle. It was simply too integrated into their infrastructure for it to be practical to hide its problems, especially when those problems started to spill over into the real world. That alone would be enough to inspire some to want to get off-world. Vreta just hoped that it would end up being unnecessary.

Sitting back in the passenger hold of the cutter was certainly more comfortable than the buggy. It still had some extra space available when they set out towards the surface. They would be getting to work immediately upon arrival, so Rhia was already encouraging Vreta to get himself prepared for whatever surprises might be in store for them.

The formally-dressed individuals who had greeted them were not people who Vreta recognized. He could not say for sure what organization they belonged to, but it was likely a safe guess that they were informed about the Cradle, at least. As they were starting to pass through the clouds, Vreta looked down at the tall man across from him in the hold. “Do you have any up-to-date information on the current state of 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.

“I am assuming the object is already underground.” Vreta commented. It was not a surprise to him that the situation in the Cradle had been deteriorating. His last visit had been beset by danger even in what was supposed to be the safest place in the Cradle, and the Humans had shown no signs of being able to turn back the tide. Hopefully, the entity would be able to solve these issues. It was of the same origins as the Cradle itself, so it stood to reason that it would know more about its operation than either of their species. Still, he did share at least part of Freyr’s uncertainty. He still felt it would be best to keep their distance, but he was starting to think he understood why Freyr was willing to take the risk. Not only was her family at stake, but the Cradle was her life’s work: a life that was much more brief than that of a Rothian. She did not have the luxury of time to be able to make a new legacy.

Vreta nodded, shifting in place in his seat as they started to hit turbulence. “We don’t know what this entity is going to do in the simulation. For all we know, your terraforming could be part of what has been causing this aggression from Cradle beings. When the entity integrates, it may well reshape anything or everything within the simulation. It would be my recommendation that no one be in the simulation unless their presence is absolutely necessary, with redundant transit stations nearby and ready for a quick extraction.”

“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.”

Aside from the Cradle itself, Babylon’s tower was one of Outremer’s most interesting features to Vreta. The spire at the core of the tower was ancient, having existed even before the Humans’ arrival on the planet. It was hard to say what created it, but despite its more natural appearance, it was highly unlikely to have been a natural formation. The Humans had, of course, built up around the spire to make the tower their own as they had constructed their city, but Vreta was more interested in the mystery at its heart. There had been another species which had inhabited Outremer before the Humans, but what use did they have for this spire? Had they created the Cradle as well, or had they merely discovered it? Recent evidence seemed to suggest the latter, though they still did not know what had caused them to disappear.

Regardless, Vreta focused quickly on the task ahead once their vessel set down on the landing pad. The security was less of a surprise to Vreta, though he was not sure he believed the explanation. Still, he kept close to this Sergeant Thrace as requested, following close behind Freyr out onto the landing pad. He hardly seemed to pay attention to the rainfall sliding off of his scales, instead taking in the sight of the tower from up close. Though, he only seemed distracted for a brief moment before turning his attention back to their escort.

“Are these Skinners really much of a concern? Their beliefs seem to restrict them from using the equipment and augmentations that would make them effective. Ten of them together could not kill me when they attempted an ambush.” Vreta remarked. Of course, he knew he had not been attacked by actual Skinners, but his attackers had attempted to imitate their equipment and tactics.

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.

Within the confines of his mind, Vreta was quick to react. ”Rhia, use every sensor you can access to scan the area. Explosives, biological agents, hidden people with knives, anything he could attack with, I want to know about. And if he’s using a hologram, then he has to have access to some local network. See if you can trace it back to its source.”

”Already on it, though you might need to buy me time. See if you can stall him.” She answered. Outwardly, Vreta regarded the man with what seemed to be curiosity. He did not show much in the way of surprise when the soldiers’ shots struck nothing but air. Even without Rhia marking his form as a hologram on his HUD, it would have been suicidal to simply walk up to them. If his goal was merely to cause damage, then the attack would have come without this kind of warning to tip them off. If nothing else, he cared for theatrics, which was something Vreta could use.

“Hmm, I suppose I’m not too well-versed in the ways of your guild. The internal political conflicts of other states are not something my people involve themselves in. Usually other nations prefer that we stay out of it, and we do not mind respecting their wishes.” Vreta replied. He was curious about the fact that the man had identified him, though his public identity was no secret. “The Rothian people have no quarrel with your organization, unless you make attacks against us. What we are doing here benefits you as much as it does everyone else on this planet. Did you come here to interfere, or do you have something to say?”

“I came to warn you. We know what you found, what you brought back here.” The man twirled the axe lazily between his fingers and swayed gently toward them. There was a bright flash from high above the group; Freyr craned her neck to see. A sinister purple glow shone through the black cloud cover. Something was happening high in the atmosphere, or up in space.

The man switched seamlessly to Cantonese now that he had everyone's attention. “The people deserve to know, Doctor Lang. If truly you intend to kill them all.” He trained his gaze on Freyr from where she peered out behind Agent 595. He smiled knowingly at her when they locked eyes. Freyr cleared her throat and falteringly replied in kind. “I’ll do no such thing.”

“Leave her alone, you sadistic bastard.” 595 shouted over the rain, shooting a bolt from her pistol straight through the man’s chest. He laughed throatily, pointing his axe at the Agent while still locking eyes with Freyr as they all backed away. “This gweilo bitch and those like her are a scourge on this world, but we know you’re different, Freyr Lang. You have the power to stop this before it's too late. If you don’t...well, the Guild doesn't look kindly on traitors.”

As if on cue, another bright light, closer this time, lit up the dreary rain-flooded sky above Babylon. Several members of the congregation yelled in fright and a general air of panic spread through the group as a towering gout flame erupted from an area of the city off in the distance. “Parliament! I’m pretty sure!” Someone shouted. Freyr gasped and clamped her hand to her mouth to stop her wailing. She felt sick.

The man spread his hands, a triumphant look on his face. “We’ll see you all soon.” He smirked, switching back to his accented Standard.


The hologram burst into a million pieces which blew away on the wind, leaving them standing across from another security detail who was running to meet them.

“Get inside, NOW!” The first one shouted. They were all dressed in smart black suits and ties, sporting big guns. One of them barged through the front line and grabbed Freyr, pushed her head down and began pulling her towards safety. 595 packed in close on the other side. The CraSec operators all started shouting at once, herding the group quickly forward.

Now this was an interesting development. For the Skinners to have any knowledge of what they had found on Rothia, they would have had to have information from within the project. Vreta found it highly unlikely that they would have access to the kind of technology that would allow for the kind of hacking attempt they experienced, so he felt the more likely scenario was that they had one or more informants on the Barbarossa. Though, that was a question for later. For now, he just needed to keep the man talking.

Unfortunately, the man did not seem to have a mind to stick around, regardless of what was said to him. Vreta was right about his approach to theatrics, but he had already prepared the climax to his monologue ahead of time. It was an attack on a building in the distance; Parliament, if the judgement of one of the Humans nearby was to be believed. Vreta grimaced. The situation on Outremer had likely deteriorated even more than he had thought if their authorities were no longer able to prevent such attacks. Their resources may have been spread too thin by the focus they had to put on the Cradle.

Vreta did not argue when the security detail ushered them inside, though he did not expect to be in much immediate danger. There would not be much point in the Skinner delivering a message if its recipients were meant to die immediately afterwards. Still, Rhia stayed on high alert. She had not been given enough time to trace the Skinner, so she just focused on security for now. She scanned the area in great detail with every sensor Vreta had available, and even sent out a program to “commandeer” access to any networked surveillance equipment in the area. Though, she kept her involvement with them purely to passive observation.

Obviously, the attack was concerning, but it was not a mystery to Vreta. He knew exactly what the fireball meant, but that strange violet glow he saw in the sky beforehand was an unknown quantity. ”Rhia, could you contact the cruiser? See if they have sights on whatever is causing that phenomena in the sky.”

“Please let me go.” Freyr sobbed, wrestling her head out from under her guard’s vice-like grip. “Are you hurt?” He shouted in her ear. “You are hurting me! Let me go!” She pleaded as they passed through the big automated doors into the complex. He released her head, but still held onto her arm with his off-hand.

They were in the brightly lit lobby of the research vertical which contained her division’s physical headquarters. It was a home away from home for many people Freyr worked with, and she had some happy memories here. There were labs, supply stores and dormitories, along with state of the art training facilities for Cradle adepts.

“That little shit!” 595 growled as the doors closed and locked behind them. She turned to the CraSec sergeant. “Ok, change of plan Sergeant Thrace. Take them to the accommodation and lock down that floor. No one in or out without me saying so, understood?” The man nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” 595 then turned to the leader of the plain clothes security who had been waiting for them.

“Are you in touch with the Vault?”

“We have a hardline open. Through there.”

“Get a sitrep from them, tell them we’ll be delayed. Then find out where that blast was.” 595 ordered, before turning back to the assembled civilians.

“Everyone OK? Just a precaution, but I want you to follow Sergeant Thrace into the facility until we get the all-clear, alright?”

“It was the space station, the one we docked at. That was the light in the sky, if that's what you're asking about.” Vreta answered back to 595. “I have contact with our cruiser. They’re reporting a large detonation after a ship was flown into it. The Barbarossa itself is still in one piece; its shields were up at the time. I can’t say the same about the other ships docked there. The cruiser is sending in search and rescue drones to sweep the debris for survivors."

At this point, Vreta found himself truly concerned about the state of Outremer. How overstretched was their security that they could allow two major bombings to take place? Were there agents of the Skinners that had infiltrated their security forces, or had they found a way to hide their explosives from the military’s scanning techniques? Perhaps the Rothians could lend out teams with higher quality scanning equipment to help prevent future attacks? Their scanners could pierce even highly-shielded containers to identify their contents. He just had to get it into the Outremer government’s collectively stubborn skulls that they should accept the help they were offering.

For now, Vreta complied with staying with the group to head into the facility. After they had dealt with the current crisis, they could worry about preventing the next one. Rhia had already sent a report to Rareth regarding everything they had witnessed. No doubt, she would get to work on the problem long before Vreta would be in a position to do so.

Despite being far larger and stronger, Vreta was far gentler than the Human soldier when he placed his hand on Freyr’s shoulder. Even without computer-assistance for her expressions, it was obvious she was distressed. “Are you alright? I promise we’ll do whatever we can to keep this from happening again.”

Despaired mutterings rippled through the group as Vreta relayed what he knew. Freyr let in a shuddering breath and shook her head. “No, that can’t be…” 595 swore again, and whirled round again to address the plain clothes security who had taken up defensive positions around the lobby. “You four, with me. We’re going to the security office to sweep the route. The rest of you, cover the exits. Lets go!”

As the different teams departed, Freyr looked at Vreta, nodded shakily and sighed heavily. She patted Masgard’s arm as he stood looking concerned and surveyed the rest of the scientists. They were talking quietly in groups, loosely ringed by the bulky CraSec operators. Sergeant Thrace clanked forward, facing them. “Alright, you heard the lady; let's get you squared away. We’ll take the stairs up to your HQ.” He announced.

The division headquarters was only a few floors up. It was early evening now, and a weekend, so there weren’t many other souls about. Those that were had already received instructions to stay put and lock their doors. Other Babel security guards clustered at chokepoints, but let the mass of armed soldiers and scientists pass.

Freyr realised on the way up why they’d elected to head to the HQ rather than all hang around in the lobby. It only had two entrances - one either side of the spire. It also had strong rooms intended for unstable substances that would also stand up to severe punishment from the outside. The stairs brought them up into the main atrium, which branched off through decontamination stations to accommodation, labs and everything else. “Make yourselves comfy in the Lab 4, but don’t wander off.” Thrace instructed, consulting a holo-map.

For now, Vreta had to be content with waiting, though he hoped the delay was not too long. He still had every intention of going through with their plan. Aside from carrying out multiple terrorist attacks, this Skinner had decided it was important to warn them about the dangers of their plan, yet at the same time, not provide any actual explanation or evidence as to why. If he was actually trying to stop their plan, his methodology could use some work. With good reasoning and proof, Vreta knew that Rareth very well could be persuaded to halt their plan; however, as it stood, it seemed more likely that the Skinners just had some ideological opposition to being involved with the Cradle based on their notions of Human purity.

If worst came to worst, Vreta supposed that the Rothian team could simply start the process, if they ended up being delayed too long. As far as he knew, their team had arrived ahead of them and were already with the object. Regardless, they just had to wait on the Agent to complete her security sweep. Vreta already found himself missing Rothia. He felt much safer under the watchful eyes of the Rahn’Saki. Here, all one had to do to escape surveillance was to enter most private residences. There were even some public spaces that law enforcement could not always watch. And that was not even to mention the kind of dissent that might exist even within their own security forces. The Humans simply could not keep near as close of a watch on their population as he was accustomed to, and it showed in these bombings.

On Outremer, though, Vreta had to look to his own safety. At least now, he had help. Rhia had found an opening into the local surveillance systems, so she was keeping a watchful eye on anything Vreta’s sensors could not see. She kept just as close of a watch on their own supposed protectors as anyone else, as at this point, they did not know who they could trust. In the meantime, Vreta tried to focus on doing something valuable with his time and sent a private message to Freyr. ”Are you coming to the same conclusion about this as I am? I highly doubt these Skinners were responsible for that hacking attempt back on Rothia, so the only way they could know about the object is if they have an informant on the Barbarossa. Likely someone directly involved with, or with access to the project. There may be a traitor among us.”

Freyr’s eyes flicked up to study Vreta from over the bridge of her AR glasses. She was leaning forward over a console, getting reacquainted with the HQ’s unique connection to the Cradle. The Object was in the staging area just outside the Vault, where the Cradle was kept. She flicked through some cameras, but couldn’t concentrate right now.

A sizable complement of her division, the majority of those who had stayed behind on Outremer, were already in the lab when they arrived. There had been some relieved hugs and many of her team were still catching up with each other, sitting on tables or lab equipment. Someone had brought her a cup of herbal tea.

Freyr sighed and picked up the cup, raising it to her face and letting the hot vapours waft over her. She still looked at Vreta as she drank, across the bank of computers from herself. That Skinner had really scared her, saying her name like he knew her personally. The prospect of others like him living and working all around her sent shivers down Freyr’s spine.

I suppose you’re right. But why would they do such a terrible thing? Freyr felt grateful for implant comms right now; she didn’t feel up to the task of verbal speech right now. She sat down on the swivel chair behind her.

On his part, Vreta did not act like he was talking to Freyr. Given the subject, it was best that their conversation remain truly private. For the most part, he looked around the room, trying to find somewhere comfortable for him to sit while they spoke. ”Fanaticism can allow one to justify horrible acts in the name of ‘the greater good’. If they truly believe that they will be saving billions by killing hundreds, then their acts are virtuous in their own mind. As for who it could be…I do not know most of the Humans here well-enough. Naturally, I don’t think it is you, and as much as it pains me to admit it, I think we can trust 595. For this, at least. Unless the Institute is carrying out some impressive deceptions, they are about as opposed to the Skinners as I could imagine. I’ll try to give some thought to this. Maybe there is a way we can, if not catch the traitor, at least protect ourselves from them?”

Vreta did not pause too long to let Freyr dwell. As much as he was rightfully concerned about a traitor in their midst, it was also hard not to notice the fact that events had taken a major toll on Freyr’s well-being. He did not want to add too much to her anxiety at once. “But, among all this worry about traitors, or Skinners, or the Object, I want to ask how you are holding up, Freyr? You’ve been working non-stop; worrying non-stop. I know it’s unavoidable, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t unhealthy. You’ve been walking around carrying the weight of worlds on your shoulders. If you just take a step back, look at yourself, be honest with yourself, do you need help?”

Freyr huffed at Vreta’s forward line of inquiry. It wasn’t totally surprising he was asking her such a personal question. She knew from her time around Rothians that they tended to be direct and have no concept of privacy. She resigned herself to answering, growing tired even as she did so.

”Honestly, this feels like the new normal now. I’ve been swept up on the tide, with no time or perspective to plot a safe course. And how can I seek help, when everyone has their own agenda? No, best I focus on holding things together long enough to unravel this whole mess…”

Freyr took another long sip of her tea, savouring the hot liquid in her throat. ”This ‘traitor’, how can we possibly ‘protect ourselves’ from them if we don’t know who they are?”

”Everyone does have their own agenda, naturally. It is the way of things. If you understand those agendas, you can still plan around them, though. My people do want to learn from the Cradle, for instance. The Agent knows this, and obsesses over it, really. I don’t think she realizes our motives are more complex than that, though.” Vreta replied honestly. ”The Cradle is by far the most important object on Outremer for Humanity. You’ve relied on it to advance beyond your years, and it could continue to elevate you beyond where you are. It doesn’t mean the same for us. Yes, we would like to learn from it, but we don’t rely on it. We elevated our civilization to its current heights on our own, with just time and effort. If there is one thing we have, it is patience. If the cost of learning from the Cradle is too high, then we can let it go and be happy with that decision. Preserving sapient lives also matters to us; it matters to me. Given enough time, we will learn anything the Cradle could have taught us on our own, so if we ever have to choose between the Cradle and sapient lives…as I said, we can let the Cradle go.”

Vreta could relate to her obvious stress and fatigue; he could feel some of it himself. Certainly, he felt no comfort at the number of lives at risk from their work, and not just Rothian lives. Outremer was full of innocents, and there were many that had already died in these bombings. Vreta’s training kept him calm and focused, but that did not mean the regrets did not exist within his mind. But, those were regrets on which he could not afford to dwell. He just had to move onto the next problem. ”So, given all these…mixes of agendas and motivations between everyone on the project, do you think you can trust me? Do you think I am being honest?”