Cath

The Cradle

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.

The Cradle

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.

The Cradle

“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?”

The Cradle

“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.

The Cradle

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.

The Cradle

“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.”

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.

Halo: Aegis Team

The trolley Tar had kicked spun in transit, shedding some of its load before trapping one of the armour-clad rebels against more crates. The Sangheili pilot then traded a bruising fusillade of pistol fire with the rest of the small group until an EMP blast from somewhere overhead shattered her shields. Instantaneously, a pistol round pinged off Tar's left elbow and right knee armour, sending pain rippling through her body.

Tar leapt back behind cover and released her spent magazine. She fumbled for a new one and clumsily clipped it in. Her leg felt strange. She shakily levelled her pistol at the space where the riot-gear rebels were surely rushing through to kill her, but they didn’t come. Instead, she heard the trapped rebel shout “Don’t you fucking leave me here!” She poked her head around the side of the crates she had taken refuge behind and saw them running for the transports parked further along the platform.

Tar looked behind her, and could hear a Human voice she didn’t recognise calling to them. It sounded like their quarry was threatening to kill himself. Unacceptable. They didn’t get the luxury of killing themselves; that was her job.

Tar quickly crossed to where the lone rebel soldier had been squashed between the trolley and other packing crates. They tried to level their pistol at her, but Tar quickly swatted it away and ripped the riot shield out of her other hand. She jabbed fiercely at their visored helmet, and heard a yelp from within. Tar pulled at the visor and the whole thing came free, revealing a Human female with a bloody nose and mouth. They looked groggy from the impact, but still managed to spit a bloody wad of saliva onto Tar’s armour and grin.

Tar pushed away the equipment trolley pinning the soldier into place with one hand, and grabbed her with the other. The soldier could barely stand up, so Tar half carried and half dragged her into clear view of their quarry, and most of Aegis Team. She forced her to kneel, and then pushed her pistol against the back of the woman’s head. Tar looked up threateningly at the commander.

The Cradle

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.

The Cradle

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.”