Cath

The Cradle

Andersen studied Rareth’s face closely. “Of course.” She said.

Thebes nodded at the Datius kind offer. “Thank you.” He glanced around. “We’ll think about it.”

None of the assembled parties appeared keen on small talk, so from there they quickly said their goodbyes and went on their way. The Sacred Band to begin a long night of mourning, and the Captain to talk to the ship’s resident spook.

---

Freyr had bad dreams again that night. She woke up tangled up in her bed sheets on the floor with someone knocking at the door. “You alright, Freyr?” She recognised Dr Wetherall’s voice. She gulped to wet her bone-dry throat before answering. “Yes, fine. Just a bad dream.” There was a pause from behind the door. “You were shouting. I think a somnologist would call that a night terror.”

Freyr opened her cabin door, dressed in her ship-issue pyjamas. “I’m fine. Coffee and granola please, if you’re making some.”

The old scientist sighed, before bowing deeply. “Oui, madame. Good choice!” He straightened with a flourish, and Freyr closed her cabin door again. She sighed herself, rubbing her eyes. She desperately wanted to share her ordeal with someone, but it would only make her team drop the ball. For now, she just needed to put on a brave face until they had more answers.

Freyr changed into comfy grey tracksuit bottoms with running shoes for her feet. She then completed the look with a white t-shirt emblazoned with her department’s sigil and her trusty lab coat.

Once ready, she strolled out of her cabin and plastered a sweet smile on her as she took her breakfast and coffee from her colleague. “What are we working on?” She asked, as they walked through to the lab together.

“We’re synthesizing all the data we retrieved from our encounter with the sim. Then, we’re going to brainstorm potential sites for the other objects.” Freyr slurped her coffee. “What did Dr Hou’s sample-set come back with? Any clues in Human DNA?” Dr Wetherall pursed his lips. “You know what, i’m not sure. I’ll look into it.”

The Cradle

Thebes looked at his team, arrayed around him. Even though most had their visors down, from their body language he knew what they wanted him to say. He turned back to Rareth. “That’s generous, but it’s not what Mem would have wanted. He always hated anyone he didn’t know making a fuss over him...As is customary, we’ve fought in his honour.” Thebes gestured back towards the sim-arena. “Now, we’ll wait through the night, and toast his life with a drink.”

Thebes looked around him at the Sacred Band; they nodded. Thebes pointed at Kjartan. “That means you too - no exceptions.” Kjartan beamed, glad to be included. “Ale and song, I look forward to it!” Thebes looked back between the two Rothians. “Although no one outside the Sacred Band is ‘invited’, we won’t object if you decide to attend.”

Thebes spotted Captain Andersen approaching them, flanked by two aides. He instantly snapped a smart salute, and the Sacred Band quickly followed. Kjartan kneeled respectfully, as was traditional for the Varangian Guard (and practical when holding a massive hammer and shield). “At ease. I was sorry to hear about Memnon, he was an excellent soldier. On behalf of the whole ship, please accept my condolences.” Andersen said, standing up straight with her hands politely behind her back.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Andersen sniffed awkwardly, glancing at the Rothians as she considered how to phrase her next request. “I respect your Funeral Rites, as per our contract. But I saw the sim just now, and wanted to ask you to help train my marines. When you’re ready, and not on mission. I want them to be able to look to you for leadership, as a permanent fixture aboard this ship. Not only that, but there may come a time in the not so distant future you’ll need to work together, once again. I want us to be prepared.”

Thebes shook his head. “Ma’am, it’s an honour. But we couldn’t-...”

Andersen interrupted him with a wave of her hand. “I know you’re not contractually obligated. But contracts can change. Just think about it, Ok?”

And just like that, the Captain turned and smiled cordially up at Datius ‘Jharn. “Welcome aboard, Datius. I trust everything is to your satisfaction?”

The Cradle

“Your aim must have broken the sim, Vreta’Sori.” Saddam joked. He jumped out of the first floor apartment he’d been occupying, landing with a crunch. He jogged to catch up with them. “We’ll make sure to eliminate you first, next time.”

They kind of had to stop walking when Rareth blocked their way. “Thank you, but there’s no need. Any soldier would have done the same. We just hope Memnon didn’t die in vain. He was our friend.” Thebes answered the Datius.

“Please vacate the sim area, immediately.” The co-ordinator instructed over the loudspeaker, as Knossos and Athena joined them. Carthage had just respawned when the simulation ended, meaning she was already waiting patiently for them in the staging area with her arms crossed.

Thebes gestured for Rareth to go ahead of them as they moved toward the exit. “We're in mourning for fourteen earth days, then we look for a permanent replacement. Kjartan is on trial with our Captain’s blessing.” Kjartan took that as his cue to pipe up. “Anyone want to come gym? Sauna?” He looked round; Knossos shook his head.

The Cradle

The Agent glowered up at the command pod for spoiling her fun. There she saw the big Rothian from the earlier simulation, and Captain Andersen. She was standing among the technicians and some other officers, staring right at 595; she didn’t look pleased.

The Agent huffed. She turned around and headed quickly for the staging area and exit, pushing past a marine who was chatting with the soldier beside him.

“Move!”

As she navigated her way around the mounds of nondescript cover and thought it through, a little seed of dread germinated in her head. Even if the Rothians captured her little toy and had the nerve to disable the controls, they wouldn’t see the same thing she’d just seen. They couldn’t, not yet. She’d covered her tracks too, so diplomatically they couldn’t touch her.

But that wasn’t what was unnerving her. It was how connected she’d been to that virus in its final form. She’d been training for this over fifty years, but nothing could have prepared her for the raw power mainlining through her implants.

She’d gotten a partial map of the inside of Vreta’s head, but otherwise the controlled virus had obviously been outmatched, fighting with one hand tied. But the other one...she couldn’t help but wonder if it would’ve accomplished its mission and more…

“Everyone make your way carefully back to the staging area while we reboot.” The co-ordinator ordered.

595 checked her arsenal, making triple sure the Scrivener-Fujikawa controls were fully enabled again. It looked secure; although she couldn’t help but distrust the virus’ willingness to go back to its prison.

The Agent’s skin crawled; she suddenly wanted to feel the open air. She peeled back her visor but wasn’t satisfied. She opened the whole front of her suit and stepped out, clad in shorts and a vest. It remained open and walked confidently behind her, ready for re-entry at any moment. 595 snatched the assault weapon out of its hands and shoved it into the armoury-tech’s arms before stalking to the doors.

---

“Not yet, anyway!” Kjartan jokingly responded to Vreta. His blood rage faded away quicker than it had appeared. He offered a consolatory hand to Thebes, who was on his hands and knees preparing to get up. The Sacred Band leader took it and got to his feet, holstering the energy blade he’d hidden under his body. Kjartan seemed close to deprecating the team leader, but something stopped him. "I serious about joining Sacred Band." He admitted gruffly, nodding respectfully at Thebes as they made their way towards the exit with everyone else. "I know." Thebes replied.

The Cradle

The virus reported back instantaneously upon release. 595 stopped firing and dedicated most of her processing power to understanding the request. She was still vaguely away of the battle unfolding in front of her, but it seemed to slow down. ”Quick - release me; this one requires full control.” The virus whispered in her mind. The Agent’s HUD helpfully painted a dozen thin black helixes winding between her helmet and nodes out in the field, which then wrapped around Vreta. These connections all gyrated impatiently in the air. “SCRIVENER-FUJIKAWA CONTROLS MUST NOT BE RELINQUISHED.” a synthetic warning blared.

595 quickly analysed some of the data the virus was feeding back. Vreta’s internal defences were already going up, and she only had a vanishingly small amount of time to upgrade her attack. The Agent could see Vreta, and he was just standing in place. That wasn’t enough for her; she wanted to see him flat on the floor. Normally she wouldn’t even consider an action like this, but she’d felt an odd affinity with the viruses in her arsenal recently that hadn’t been there before. She felt more comfortable with controlling it personally, and even relished the challenge.

“Alright. But just remember you belong to me.”The Agent overrode the lab controls, and instead assumed direct control. A new, totally alien strand surged through the slaved network, fully intent on Vreta. 595 drew in a sharp breath as some of the readings washed over her. She instantly felt a pull on all her personal control over the virus, like it was straining at the leash, dragging her along. It was a hundred times more complex, yet somehow felt familiar.

However, it never reached Vreta. A deafeningly loud klaxon sounded inside the simulation room; red lights flashed. The black helix lines in 595’s HUD went taut, then whipped back towards her as every piece of Human hardware inside the room, apart from her, powered down. Every detail of the simulation bled away, leaving clear white contours that’d raised from the floor to form the cover and buildings. Some of these too began lowering back into the floor, leaving the participants staring about, confused.

595 gasped as the virus rushed back into its box in the back of her head and hid.

“Stand down! Simulation ends.” A human coordinator shouted from the control pod.

The Cradle

595 directed her sensory suite to find and mark key members of the opposing team in her HUD. She found Vreta near the centre, cloaked in a corona of fire from an explosive charge. The Varangian she’d seen on the bridge before was rushing Thebes. Athena had just respawned and Knossos was close to doing the same.

So far, the Agent had spent most of the battle on defence. She’d abused her state of the art and highly classified set of tools to corrode the other team’s capability to fight effectively. A series of malfunctioning weapons, IFF tags and communications pathways had insidiously tilted the balance in favour of the cornered Red Team.

Her carefully applied active camouflage hadn’t worked as well as she’d hope, though. This was when 595 had come to suspect that the Barb’s Rothian guest was providing some kind of force multiplier; the other team was too accurate as to be natural.

So, 595 had made her way hastily forward once her work had been done in the smoke. She didn’t harass the retreating Blue Team - she was focused on just a single target. It was time to go on offense.

Looking downrange, and piggybacking as many combat suit nodes as she could, the Agent assaulted Vreta’s implants with a Grade 5 Cradle-Scrivener-Fujikawa virus. If left unattended, it would shut down all implants and paralyse him until recalled. It was an incredibly dangerous virus, normally reserved for dismantling entire battalions, but 595 was a competitive individual.

She was confident Vreta wouldn’t be able to resist a black site cyber attack and co-ordinate his troops at the same time. Biting her bottom lip with a gleeful grin, 595 began shooting at the retreating Blue Team vanguard. They were getting close to falling on top of Thebes, who had enough to worry about.

---

Thebes scrambled away from the grenade like a Human cockroach, but couldn’t avoid being flattened against the rubble beneath him by the concussive blast. He flipped onto his back, just as Kjartan vaulted over the barricade Thebes had been hiding behind. The Norse absorbed a few shots from the Team Leader’s rapid-fire pistol before savagely bringing his hammer down towards his chest. Thebes rolled away and tried to get up. Kjartan was quick to retrieve his hammer from where it was buried in the ground and jab him in the ribs, sending Thebes flying into the side of a flier. Kjartan stalked forward, laughing maniacally.

The Cradle

Thebes crouched behind a barricade and peeked over. “They’re moving! Saddam, drone the Rothian. I’ll handle out the Norse.” Right now, Thebes was sitting in the middle of a storm. Energy was fizzing around his location from behind, above and now, in front too. Thanks to his impeccable choice of cover, they wouldn’t be able to focus him as long as he stayed low. But that wouldn’t last long, with soldiers advancing on his position behind.

Thebes unclipped a drone bomb, like the one Knossos and Saddam both carried too. It was flat and square, larger than a regular grenade. He identified Kjartan’s silhouette and locked that in. He then chucked the drone up into the air, and it sprouted appendages before flying at the towering figure making his way towards him.

Saddam did the same from behind cover up in the apartment block. He locked in Vreta’s distinctive shape before chucking his drone out of the window. He wanted to address the Blue Team soldiers above him, but also couldn’t leave Thebes out there by himself. Saddam emerged from cover. Free from Vreta’s accurate DMR fire, he began devastating the shields of the three marines suppressing his position with laser-focused bursts.

Kjartan saw the danger coming this time. He levelled his square shield at the last moment; it expanded to arch over the top of his head and down to the floor. Kjartan dug his heels in and roared in defiance and the explosive pad connected with the front of his shield and emitted a massive explosion. A billowing cloudfront of fire burst out in all directions, connecting with another fireball from Saddam’s drone.

Kjartan emerged from the explosion with blackened shields, otherwise unharmed. He broke into a run toward Thebes, shield reverting back to its regular form. Thebes started shooting, which in turn put him in the firing line, particularly from behind and up top. However the Blue Team’s forward line had just been broken, forcing the soldiers pursuing Thebes to turn and fight a tactical retreat or risk being overrun.

“Agent, report.” Thebes grunted, trying to burst Kjartan’s shields in the last few seconds before he’d need to face him. “They’re falling back.” She huffed, bursting through the smoke covering the Red Team’s third. She’d taken one of the Blue team’s assault weapons, as hers had been lost upon her first death. “Most of us are down to our last life.” 595 ducked behind cover when energy splattered across her shield.

Halo: Aegis Team

The Brute Chieftain recoiled under the barrage of shotgun shells, but possessed the presence of mind to raise the bulky armour plate attached to his left arm. It absorbed some of the impact, shattering to pieces.

The Chieftain issued a guttural, gurgling roar. He raised his hammer off the floor, jabbing it straight out in front of him at Aviza before lurching round and swinging it in a wide, brutal arc at Yalu as he rushed in from behind. The Elite’s battlecry had obviously alerted the Chieftain to the danger.

Tar sprung to her feet with Aviza’s interrupted help. She dodged the Chieftain’s savage jab, aided by the fact she wasn’t the principal target. As soon as the Brute turned his back to pound Yalu, Tar jumped forward and clambered up his back. She reached for her holstered energy sword, intent on ramming it through a chink in the Brute’s neck armour.

Before she could, the Chieftain’s head jerked backwards in a panicked motion; his helmet smashed into her face. One of Tar’s feet slipped, and she was forced to quickly put both hands back on the Brute’s armour to avoid falling off and being trampled. She tried to grab her sword again.

The Cradle

A few of the Red Team soldiers hanging back from the melee unfolding around the Blue Team spawn pivoted to fire on the silhouette of Thebes as he broke through their line. He zig zagged through the urban hellscape, taking a couple of hits but continuing on at top speed. The Marines were all committed to extracting the enemy flag, but the corporal closest to the rearguard ordered a few soldiers to follow her after the Sacred Band leader.

“Copy.” Athena confirmed, emerging from behind the car she’d been sheltering behind. She shouldered her railgun; it shortened in her hands to increase maneuverability at shorter range. Carthage dropped her shield and broke into a run when she spotted Athena looking at her, but she couldn’t prevent the sniper from putting a round right through her. Athena took multiple hits from Saddam before he hid from Vreta’s DMR. Unfortunately, this was enough to allow the last marine on the ground floor to pop up and finish her shields and kill her off.

Fire from the drop troops taking up positions around the spawn forced them back into cover, but more Blue Team fighters began shooting down from the top accessible floor; they must have concluded their firefight up there.

Carthage’s last grenade went off among a cluster of the troopers, spraying masonry everywhere.

“Red Team flag dropped.” The announcer intoned. The Marine chatter at the other end of the arena reached a crescendo.

“She was mine!” Carthage yelled groggily, as Carthage floated away. He staggered through the field, energy bouncing off his shield. “THEBES!” He bellowed, levelling his hammer at the operator when he spotted Thebes advancing towards them.

The Cradle

Carthage dived back inside the apartment building, taking a DMR hit. The bus exploded in a huge fireball that swept the spawn, setting everything ablaze. Kjartan was propelled into the air on a shockwave of superheated air. Saddam briefly ducked down when the rest of the window panes in his room shattered, then got back up and resumed suppressing Athena and Vreta as best he could.

Kjartan landed on his head and immediately struggled to his feet, using his hammer as a crutch. His vision was blurry and the sounds and movements around him were flourishing at a languid, sluggish pace. He saw Carthage emerge from the apartment building in slow motion, smoke curling around her armour from the corridor. She tore the heavy metal fire door off its hinges and advanced with it held in front of her. She chucked a lethal grenade over the top, followed by a smoke grenade.

“The Blue Team have picked up the Red Team flag.” An androgynous announcer confirmed over comms. The baseline of team comms on the Blue Team erupted into excited, stressed chattering. Half a dozen voices began shouting at once, one of which was Knossos. “I can’t contain him, RTB.” Just then, Thebes completed his armlock and simulated breaking Knossos’ neck. The shield wrapped around the veteran soldier prevented any damage, but acknowledged him as KIA.

Thebes got up and glanced urgently between both ends of the arena. At one end, the bulk of his team were engaged in bitter close quarters battle around their spawn, shrouded in smoke. At the opposite end, they were close to taking the objective. It didn’t take long to make his decision - Thebes stuck to the plan and ran toward the Blue Team end, weaving through cover and shooting with calm precision.