Cath

The Cradle

“Fifty two metres in diameter.” Freyr answered as she saw Vreta working it out. “It floats, we don’t know quite how, and it’s completely impossible to move. Believe me, we’ve tried. Which means that for all intents and purposes, the Sphere is weightless.” She stared up at the hologram above her desk, taking in the object’s featureless, off-white exterior.

“We think it actively counters all signals we fire at it, like some kind of defence mechanism. I believe the only way the hypothesis about organic matter came about was by analysing the signals that leak out of it every decade or so. They're so faint that you’d miss them unless you monitor the Sphere all hours of the day like we do. But they're rich with incomprehensible data when we unpack them. I used to think the team in the Vault were overly dramatic for describing the signals as ‘wails in the night’, but now with everything else I've seen, I'm not so sure…”

“Freyr, the rest of your team just showed up. ” Masgard jumped in while Freyr was mulling over the next of Vreta’s questions. He was looking over his shoulder at her from where he stood at the window. “Ah, great. I should address them.” Freyr looked back at Vreta. “How do you want to do this? Do you want me to introduce you now, and give you a chance to explain your role in the team?”

The Cradle

Freyr discreetly checked her watch as Vreta spoke; the evening was drawing steadily on. She noticed through the glass windows of her office that half a dozen more people on her team had just arrived in the lab, luggage in hand. Some of the people already working in the lab rushed over to greet them. She should probably address the team soon.

“Well, a full debrief would require data visualisations that i haven’t prepared for Rothian consumption yet. But you’ve already seen first-hand what the Cradle is. It’s a practically infinite virtual landscape, with varying geography just like in the real world. As we all know, it’s not a particularly welcoming environment, but nonetheless we’ve cultivated and occupied an area of the Cradle’s surface for many years. We’re able to tap into the Cradle’s processing power, and use it to power all kinds of things in the real world.”

Freyr took a last gulp of her drink and placed the tumbler gently back on the desk. “What you may not know much about is the physical form of the Cradle complex.” She cleared her throat again; the scotch sediment was irritating her mouth. Communicating with the lab’s database via her comms implant, Freyr pulled up an archive photo of the Sphere and projected it in 3D above the middle of the desk. “It’s buried deep beneath Babylon. We think there is organic and synthetic material inside, but it’s almost impossible to pin down. The Sphere distorts all our scanners and the exterior alloy is practically indestructible. Even if we were able to get inside, with everything that depends on the Cradle...It’d be like conducting brain surgery in the dark.”

Freyr leaned back and massaged the bridge of her nose. The scotch was making her sleepy, which was probably a good thing as she hadn’t properly rested in days. “That creature pinging a precise spot may have just been a mistake. But you can’t help but wonder if there are more of these objects floating about.”

The Cradle

Freyr frowned and cleared her throat, invoking a surprisingly pleasant aftertaste from the scotch. She leaned forward slightly, cradling her tumbler in both hands, and smiled sweetly at Vreta. “By the end of today, there’ll be twenty of the foremost minds on the Cradle aboard this ship. I’m privileged to lead them. Between us, we have about four hundred and fifty years of hands-on experience with a machine intelligence that’s almost certainly older than both our civilisations. The rest of my division is just a conference call away; at least another six hundred years of experience to apply to this problem. If anyone is going to be ‘catching up’, it is your team.”

Freyr leaned back and took another sip of her scotch, arms resting lightly on the arms of her seat. Masgard gave her an approving look from where he leaned against the plate glass window. “Your improved understanding of the natural world will come in useful, for sure. It may be that working around the Cradle may yield some kind of breakthrough. But let’s be clear - while the Cradle environment shares similarities with the outside world, it’s also infinitely more complex. We underestimated it before, and it took my family. I'm determined not to underestimate it again. We should prepare for all possible outcomes to this expedition. What kind of resources do we have at our disposal while on Rothia?”

The Cradle

Freyr shared a quick glance with Masgard while Vreta was just finishing his piece. He gave her an ...ok look before reaching for the bottle of scotch again. Freyr absently opened the top left drawer on her new desk, and was rewarded with the sight of four durable Navy tumblers tucked away in there. She quickly pulled three out and slid them across the metal desk toward the bottle and Masgard’s outstretched hand. “I mean, it is the weekend. And we’ve had something of a day.” Freyr explained to Masgard, her hands raised at her sides while she nodded to Vreta. Her lawyer grinned guardedly, his head tilted downward as he poured a double measure in each glass.

“I hope you are able to figure the Cradle out.” Freyr replied solemnly as she got her glass back, filled now, from Masgard. “Because, there is a distinct possibility we’re travelling all this way for nothing. But on the off-chance we do find something, it could change our relationship with the Cradle forever. Our saving grace, if we don’t find anything, is that we’ll still be able to work on the Cradle problem from our new lab. We can call it a very expensive cultural exchange mission.” She took a drink from her newly charged glass, and recoiled at the intense mix of flavours. “So, what would you say we need to keep in mind for our interactions with Rothia in general?” Freyr asked when she had recovered.

The Cradle

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.

The Cradle

“Quite.” Freyr agreed before introducing Masgard. “Have you met Masgard Xandrus? He’s one of the expedition’s public representatives.” Masgard, 595 and the captain exchanged knowing nods as they shook hands. “We’ve set you and your team up down the hall - A12. I must admit it was a rush getting everything on board at such short notice. I hope everything is to your satisfaction.” Freyr smiled gratefully. “I appreciate the effort you’ve gone to. The list I sent was pretty extensive.” The captain waved away the praise. “I trust your team won’t delay in boarding? With everyone in place, I want to push forward the launch to early tomorrow morning, Outremer time.”

“They’ll all be aboard this evening, I assure you.”

“Good. Other government elements are still making their way in from the countryside, so I expect there’ll be a debrief this evening. Until then, I'll leave you to get settled in. Pleased to meet you both. 595, a word.” The blonde-haired agent nodded. “I’ll catch up with you both later.” She said, giving Freyr and Masgard another cue to leave.

“Wasn’t that woman arrested by the Rothians after the Skinners attacked?” Freyr asked after they’d left the bridge.

“Yeah. She got out as part of our deal with the Rothians.” Masgard replied.

“She was innocent, then?”

“Apparently, if she’s free. It’s best if we don’t discuss it; the details are not public knowledge.”

Freyr frowned. She knew something just wasn’t adding up with all these government agents, but she tried to put it out of her mind. Right now, she was excited to see what she’d be working with for the next few months at least. That was what mattered.

Compartment A12 was a big space, and it was alive with moving parts at the moment. Builder drones fizzed through the air, clutching everything from scientific equipment to partition walls. Human technicians wandered around making the finishing touches. Freyr saw some of her team from the Division in among the action, directing the layout of the lab; one of them waved to her as they entered. By a wall near the entrance, she spotted the unmistakable Rothian form of Vreta’Sori standing awkwardly watching the assembly take place. “I see you found the construction site! You remember Mr Xandrus?” Freyr shouted over the din as they walked over. “I think that might be a corner office over there, shall we go see if it’s soundproof?” She grinned, motioning with her hand.

The Cradle

“Yeah, sounds good!” Freyr replied, glancing at Masgard who was mouthing ‘what’s he saying?’. She paused the call connection. “He wants to meet.” She relayed; Masgard nodded. Freyr looked next at the petty officer in the front passenger seat. “Is there some kind of lab set up for us?” Just then the buggy entered a wide cargo elevator which began moving upwards. “Yes ma’am, compartment A12 is being refitted as we speak. It’s near the bridge.” Freyr thanked him and resumed the call. “Can we meet at the labs? Apparently they’re in compartment A12. I shouldn’t be too long, is that alright?”

The buggy traversed the innards of the Barb at a steady pace. Everywhere they looked, sailors were getting the massive ship ready to go. “How many people are on this ship?” Masgard asked, his head swivelling as he tried to take in every detail. “Approximately seventeen thousand five hundred all told, sir.” The buggy parked in a garage with dozens of other vehicles and the soldiers dismounted. “Rest of the way is on foot. My men will take your luggage to your quarters. Come with me.” They both followed the petty officer through a maze of rooms and passageways until a big set of bulkhead doors greeted them. The doors hissed opened after a camera scanned all their faces.

The bridge was relatively dark, but floor lights marked a path for them to take. Freyr had never seen so many holo-screens in one place before. The walls were covered with them in place of windows; she supposed they must still be deep in the bowels of the ship. Officers walked between stations set into the walls, taking readings and instructing operators who sat at complex looking consoles. The centre of the room displayed a massive projection of Outremer, with military assets and other important things marked with a variety of shapes and colours. Consoles surrounded it, and hovering by one of these consoles they found the captain.

She was tall and well built, like an athlete. Freyr placed her as about fifty years old, with silky, shoulder length grey hair tucked neatly behind her ears. She was talking to someone Freyr recognised after a couple of seconds. The petty officer stood at attention to introduce them both on the bridge; both the captain and the black-uniformed woman she was talking to turned to face them. “Dr Lang, it’s good to meet you. I’m Captain Andersen; please allow me to welcome you aboard the Barbarossa. I believe you’re already acquainted with Agent 595 from Cradle Security?” Five Nine Five grabbed Freyr’s hand after the captain and shook it. “Very pleased to see you alive and well, Dr Lang. We have a lot to talk about!”

The Cradle

With one last clunk, their transport touched down and settled on its landing gear. After a few moments the ramp lowered; the sights, sounds and smells of an enormous hangar bay greeted the two of them. One side of the hangar was essentially a continuous opening to the vacuum of space, partitioned by a shimmering blue force field. Swarms of transport ships in varying sizes were entering and exiting via this opening at well practiced speed.

The floor of the hangar was humming with activity too. Deckhands retrieved cargo crates from the back of transports and loaded them onto trains of hovering platforms. Freyr could see dozens of these trains snaking through the hangar along set paths marked on the floor in fluorescent yellow.

There was so much going on that Freyr and Masgard must have looked quite lost as they wandered down the cargo ramp. Crewmen filed past them to begin unloading. Luckily, a voice called out to them. “Dr Lang?” Freyr looked toward the sound and saw a smartly dressed petty officer. “Welcome to the Barb, ma’am. The Captain would like to see you on the bridge.”

They followed the officer to a waiting buggy, where two more sailors loaded their luggage into the back. Once everyone was strapped in, they set off across the massive hangar space. "This place is huge…" Freyr whistled, looking up toward the distant ceiling. "She's state of the art, ma'am. The first of a new class." The officer proudly chipped in. Freyr was about to ask exactly how big the 'Barb' was, when a call request from Vreta'Sori popped up on her HUD. "Vreta's calling me." Freyr accepted the call before Masgard could respond.

"Hey, I'm aboard the Barbarossa. Heading to the bridge to meet the Captain now. Where are you? Are you all set up?"

The Cradle

“Sure!” Freyr laughed, as a nearby shuttle’s engines roared to life, blowing a sheet of dust over both of them. This close to the edge of the biosphere, sand was still more common than grass. Masgard levered himself off the side of his flyer where he’d been leaning and flicked his stim-cig into the dirt. “I thought we’d avoided the press by leaving from here. Guess I was wrong.” He nodded into the distance, where three small shapes approaching in the distance, blue sky behind them. “Are those news drones?” Freyr asked as the driver placed both their luggage onto a hovering cargo trolley.

“Yeah, let's get you squared away. This is our shuttle here, everything is taken care of.” Masgard ushered her towards the waiting transport and up the ramp, using his tailored jacket to shield them from some of the dust. As Freyr’s eyes gradually adjusted to the gloomy interior, she realised it was almost full of cargo boxes. Only a few jump seats remained near the exit. “All this for me?” Freyr joked. Despite her outwardly jovial demeanor, she still felt shaken by the recent Cradle power surge. They seemed to be getting worse. Freyr was secretly pleased she wasn’t making this whole journey alone with her thoughts. Masgard chuckled. “The military hates the government’s habit of letting everyone arrive separately. They make good use of the empty space on transport ships when we’re involved.”

After strapping in and making sure their luggage was secure, the ramp closed up and harsh lighting replaced the cool Outremer afternoon sun. The transport lifted up suddenly and Freyr held onto some cargo netting as the craft rapidly accelerated into orbit. She looked across at Masgard and noticed he’d gone decidedly pale. To try and distract him, Freyr asked one of the questions that had been weighing on her mind. “Do you know who else is coming with us? Like, outside of my Division?” Masgard shook his head quickly, his neck muscles tensing and his jaw set. “Not yet. It all happened so fast, but i expect we’ll find out soon.” Freyr nodded.

After about twenty minutes, the thunderous engine sound in the troop bay dipped slightly, and the directional strains gradually subsided. “I think we’re docking!” Freyr called. Masgard looked relieved.

The Cradle

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?”