Cath

The Cradle

“Ngata, make your way back up here please. Carefully.” 595 commanded, as the whole team burst into action. She looked at the sanguine armoured figure of the Sacred Band next. “Saddam, help Dr Wetherall and Nirann with whatever they need, please.” The soldier nodded at her. “Yes ma’am.” 595 looked at the lead scientist next. “How long, Dr Wetherall?” He habitually scratched the top of his helmet. “Longer than initial assembly. Twenty minutes?”

“Copy that.” Rareth's last comment reminded 595 that the Simrothians were still here, prostrate on the floor. She stared hungrily at them; they looked...energy-rich. A sudden thought snapped her out of it, and she turned her attention once again to the giant worm. “If you can communicate with us...does that mean you can talk to them as well?” The response was instantaneous. “Yes.” The agent bounced on the balls of her feet, enjoying being on a roll. “Can you please ask them, or tell us how to ask them, whether they have any fast, strong animals we can ride on, and someone to guide us on the best route?”

“They will not respond while this one is present.” 595 pursed her lips inside her helmet, luminous blue eyes studying the giant creature. “Could you...go? So we can ask - it would help us get to you quicker.” There was a pregnant pause of about three seconds. “No.” was the eventual answer. 595 held her tongue before she made the situation any worse with her reply.

The Cradle

“You will all come, quickly. No messages, not yet.” The voice replied. It was evening out now, becoming one musical, androgyous voice rather than a jumble of several. 595 jumped in. “We haven’t brought any methods of transport quicker than our feet. How far is that place?” She pointed to the spot of light. ”I am approximately thirty nine of your ‘kilometre’ measurement units away, following the best possible path. You must be vigilant.” The voice replied promptly, without elaborating. The agent followed up immediately. “Why must we be vigilant?”

“There are variables beyond my direct control.” 595 thought for a moment before asking another question. “Are you, the form looking at us right now, coming too?” There was a slight pause this time. “No. this one will stay here.” 595 shared an ominous look with Thebes and then Rareth. The agent signed something in between ‘I don’t understand’ and ‘I don’t like this’ using military sign language.

---

“An adroit suggestion, old boy! The transit station uses a lot, but we can probably make it work.” Dr Wetherall whispered to Nirann, having turned off his internal comms system in the hopes of gaining some privacy. He pulled up some schematics on another holopad and began cross-referencing power consumption with limits set by the fusion core.

The Cradle

Intrusion alarms began wailing from both the comms mast and transit station. “Foreign access detected, commencing emergency shut down” An automated voice chirruped. “No, no, no, stop that!” Dr Wetherall shouted, running for an interface to frantically try and regain control. ”Parasites that use my power and break the sanctity of my ecumene are not permitted." The voice boomed in their heads.

Dr Wetherall slammed his holo-pad into a mount on the side of the transit station and pointed an accusatory finger at the beast. “Now you listen to me. I don’t care if you’re a giant worm, you don’t get to sniff my tech willy-nilly, alright? That’s not the way to make friends; I’m warning you. Turn our transit station and comms mast back on right now!” 595 held a consolatory hand up from where she stood transfixed, motioning the beetroot-faced scientist to be quiet. “Dr Wetherall, please! Let’s all just relax for a moment, okay? We don’t want to piss this thing off.”

“Yeah Richard, shut up!” Dr Ngata crackled, from down at the bottom of the valley, looking up at the titanic worm’s face as it studied the whole camp. “You will come and speak with me personally.” The voice intoned again, and the worm looked to the light in the distance once more, before returning it's gaze to the assembled interlopers.

The Cradle

The amalgamated, curiously familiar voice responded immediately after Rareth had finished speaking. “You will stay with me, as honoured guests. The lights will guide your way.” The worm shifted to look at the brilliant speck on the mountainside some miles away. It then trained it’s luminous green lamp on the black shield covering the transit station and comms mast.

“This is not permitted. What is it?” The shield flickered and deactivated, revealing Nirann and Dr Wetherall working fervently together, equipment strewn all around them. Dr Wetherall looked up and around him, a hand raised to block out the harsh hunting light trained on them. "Oh...bugger." Dr Wetherall sighed, nudging Nirann, who appeared so engrossed in his work that he hadn't noticed.

The Cradle

The Sacred band all turned to face the new threat. They didn’t relinquish their circular defensive position around the camp, but a few of the team shuffled slightly to gain an unobstructed sight picture. 595 glanced over at the Simrothians and found a few of them peeking out at the massive worm from behind their hands; all of them were still motionless on the floor. “These primitives, they’re hiding from the worm!” She realised out loud.

Ngata, who was a world-class xenobiologist, looked back up at the ridge. “Right! This thing might sense vibrations, nobody move!” But it was too late, for Rareth was already racing away from the camp; she’d already committed and couldn’t reasonably stop now, it seemed. The giant worm’s whole body quietly adjusted to watch the Datius speak, and after a few seconds a tight beam of sickly green light emitted from the beast’s larger eye. The area around Rareth lit up like a gruesome spotlight was trained on her. The Simrothians hissed quietly, sounding quite stressed, and buried their heads even deeper in the dirt.

“Carthage, get ready. Everyone else - don’t move a muscle.” Thebes cautioned, training his rifle at the worm’s head. Carthage slowly pulled a small tube from her back, which began assembling into a launcher. The silence was palpable. The worm was motionless; making no indication that it understood what Rareth had said. Until a deafening siren erupted in their private comms channel, making 595 jump out of her skin. A voice immediately followed, completely synthetic to begin with, but becoming more human with every word. It even sounded familiar in the last sentence, with the tone changing with each word. “Why are you here? Where have you come from?”

The Cradle

The line crackled for a few moments. “I’m ok, i’m alright.” Dr Ngata replied eventually. His suit lights shone from a huge pile of debris at the bottom of the valley. The scientist got to his feet and looked around. “This earthquake will make it hard for me to get back up right now, though.” 595 frowned to herself. “But...the ground has stopped shaking up here, Doctor.” She sent. “I’ve got a big heat sig in the valley. Dr Ngata, watch out behind you!” Athena reported from the ridge’s edge. 595 ran to take a look.

Through the gloom, she could see a sinkhole opening one the other side of the valley. The earth disappeared in a huge, gaping maw full of small grinding teeth. Leg/arm appendages surrounded this mouth, wiggling in the fresh air. 595 could see three domes that looked like eyes too. This monstrous face rose into the air and faced them as a worm-like head emerged from the soil. A long, thick, ribbed body followed, twisting around several times into the air until 595’s suit measured the protruding height at some ninety three metres. Even with them standing on the valleyside and this thing at the bottom, it’s face looked down on them.

“Woah, hey there little guy.” Dr Ngata said, taking a step backwards.

The Cradle

“The Cradle never made noises like that.” 595 mused, consigning a quick note and audio recording to her classified internal black box. A particularly violent judder forced her to rebalance her footing. “How are we doing in there, fellas?”

Saddam crunched over and took a handhold on the comms mast next to Dr Ngata, just as the soil underneath the stocky scientist gave way. “Woooaahhhh take it!” Ngata roared, rapidly sinking up to his armpits in the black earth. A deep, v-shaped landslide opened up underneath him, sending a massive stream of material clattering down the side of the valley. Dr Ngata disappeared briefly, until his suit lights came on halfway down the valleyside, still moving fast to the bottom. “Tai! What’s happening?!” Dr Wetherall called from the opposite side. A crackling storm of white noise was the only reply.

Saddam locked into position as the mast tottered precariously on the edge of the landslide, with no Dr Ngata holding it upright. Servos whined in the supersoldier’s suit as he held one of the support feet as well as the mast itself. “Pull it down and towards you from the other side, i don’t have this for long.” He said to Nirann and the lead scientist. He could already feel the ground weakening beneath his feet. “Where is Dr Ngata?” Dr Wetherall asked; his line of sight was almost entirely blocked by the bulky mast. “He’ll be alright, just focus on moving this back from the edge.” Saddam urged both of them.

“Athena, get eyes on Dr Ngata!” Thebes ordered. “Yes sir.” the sniper confirmed, just as the ground abruptly stopped shaking. For a few moments, the only things to be heard was grunting over the shared channel by the people wrestling with the mast, and the frightened whimpering on the Simrothians. Then, one more deafening sound echoed around the valley, which 595 recorded, and a bright burst of light blinded 595’s night vision. She put her hands to her eyes while it adjusted. The Simrothians shoved their faces closer to the dirt.

When 595 took her hands away from her eyes after a couple of seconds, she was looking right at the source of light. Far away, a thin finger of white luminescence reached from the shoulder of a mountain, up into the dark sky. “Look.” She said, pointing to it. “There’s something over there, on that mountain. What's that at the source of the beam?” Gradually, the light dimmed until the surrounding mountain range was shrouded in gloom again, but the source was still clearly illuminated.

“Looks like some kind of structure!” 595 commented excitedly, zooming in as far as she could with her implants. “That has got to be what we came for.”

The Cradle

“Everybody spread out. I want eyes all around the camp.” Thebes called, stepping backwards slightly more as the Sacred Band fanned out around the transit station. 595 stepped out from behind the team leader’s armour to watch the Simrothians. They lay as one quivering mass on the onyx ground. “What are they so afraid of that they don’t even try to run...” She murmured, looking out across the valley.

“I’ll take your observations on board but i don’t think we can make any design changes to the mast right this second.” Dr Wetherall grunted back at Nirann from the edge of the shield. The part of the mast protruding from it wobbled slightly. 595 could hear a faint hissing sound coming from nearby, growing louder despite the persistent rumble all around them. “The hillside is shifting!” Dr Ngata crackled. “I’m slipping!”

“Saddam, help them!” Thebes ordered. “On it, boss.” The sanguine coloured soldier peeled away from the perimeter and ran into the opaque shield. “There’s a heck of a lot of...something falling down the side of the valley this side.” Carthage called from her position next to Athena. “The earthquake must be causing a landslide. We need to move the mast, or it’s going to fall!” 595 realised. “Yes…please.” Dr Ngata groaned, from somewhere under the mast.

Just then, a deafening, synthetic sound overlaid with that of the shifting, rumbling ground. 595’s suit filtered it down to an acceptable level, but the Simrothians couldn’t. They covered their ears and ululated as a single entity. “What the fuck was that?” Memnon asked, cycling his heavy repeater so it was primed to fire at a moment’s notice. “Wait, shut the hell up and let us listen.” 595 commanded. A couple of seconds later, another different sound caused the Simrothians to wail even louder.

The Cradle

“Good idea! Lets go opaque.” Dr Wetherall pounced on Rareth’s suggestion. He grunted with exertion while putting the case of equipment down near the interface screen. With his hands now free, he started fiddling with the settings. After a few moments, the transit station effectively disappeared into the darkness for everyone outside the shield.

“Good, some privacy. Yes, your nimble fingers and sharp mind will doubtless come in handy. Pass me one of those holo-pads, would you old boy? Lets see what we can see.” 595 emerged from behind the shield and walked back to the Sacred Band.

She could see Simrothians (as she called them) crowding in close around Rareth again as she offered up the gift to them. Seizing the initiative, one of the larger in their group snatched the knife out of the Datius’ hands. The others jostled him, but he managed to get the knife out of its sheath and held it above his head for all to see.

The other Simrothians backed off slightly, making awed noises and studying the lofted blade. This sound turned to worried mewing when the Simrothian with the knife brought it down and levelled it at one of the other villagers in particular. The target put their hands out in front and began inching away. “Maybe we should take the knife away now.” 595 smirked.

Abruptly, a low BOOM filled the valley like rolling thunder. The ground beneath them shook, and alarm sounds bleated from behind the transit station shield and on the comms mast interface. The Simrothians all screamed as one and prostrated themselves on the floor. The Sacred Band all raised their weapons and took a dozen uniform steps back toward the camp, until 595 could practically touch Thebes’ light blue armour. “Datius - defensive position, now!” The agent barked, drawing her pistol.

"The mast is coming loose!" Dr Ngata shouted. "Grab it! Don't let it fall!" Dr Wetherall yelled.

The Cradle

Thebes thought for a moment. “Memnon, throw Rareth your knife. Best keep our distance to avoid spooking them.” Memnon wordlessly detached a long utility knife and it’s sheath from his breastplate. “Up high, Datius.” He crackled, chucking it in a perfect arc toward Rareth. “Athena, run circuits of the base. Make sure this isn't a diversion.” Thebes ordered next. The sniper nodded and left the shield wall to walk around the perimeter.

The transit station flashed again behind them as Nirann came in. The assembled Sim-Rothians, including the ones closely examining Rareth’s outstretched hand, instantly recoiled at the light, covering their eyes and squealing loudly. They recovered quickly though, and some of the braver individuals began shouting and pointing around Rareth to the Sacred Band and the camp. They sounded angry.

“Oh crumbs. Is Dr Dlamini alright? Yes. The simulation has been playing merry hell with our equipment. It seems divergence in source code between the Cradle and this place may be behind it... Ah, good! You’ve brought diagnostic tools and spares with you.” Dr Wetherall greeted the droid, eyeing up the carefully arranged piles of cases. He disabled the transit plate before stepping out and picking up bits from the pile.

595 addressed the droid’s other concerns. “Not yet, but the flash from the transit station is riling them up. Surely it’ll be attracting others too, we need to fix that as soon as possible.” Dr Wetherall interjected. “I think the flash is energy misuse. So not only are things coming in slightly crooked, but we’re lit up like the galaxy’s most invasive Christmas tree. Would someone help me move this stuff?”