Cath

The Cradle

“The R’tk’tk, yes.” The Rothian nodded, squinting against the dying light. “That was one memory you stole from me.” Though this figure looked the same biological age as Vreta, the soul pouring into each word felt eons old. “That was near the beginning of an arms race that lasted two centuries by your measure. Looking back, we never stood a chance - it was what the Hegemon was created for.”

The Rothian reached down, stroked the petals of a small mountain flower. “Movement is life for us now, and it should be for you as well. If you stay put when it gets here, well…”

Suddenly, a blinding white pillar of light a mile wide reached through the cloud and connected the planet to the sky. The ground billowed up and exploded with superheated core material for as far as the eye could see. A crack that would’ve shattered any normal eardrum was accompanied by a thundering gale. Vreta and the other Rothian didn’t move. New mountain ranges appeared and disappeared in an instant. An impenetrable pyroclastic flow raced towards them, towering above even the hill they were on.

The Rothian turned to look at Vreta again as the death cloud crashed into them, and everything went black.

Gradually, the blackness of space filled with stars. They were floating in the ether, side by side. One by one, Rothian warships blinked into existence. An entire fleet, coming together in formation. “I’ve learned about this ‘terrible violence’ of which you speak. But the Hegemon is quite indestructible, I assure you.”

In a sight sure to give any Human goosebumps, a portion of the star canvas in front of the fleet went black. A baleful red eye blinked into being. The Rothian beside Vreta waved a hand and a helpful green border appeared. The Hegemon’s tetrahedral shape expanded to hundreds of miles across. Constituent parts hung like a cross section captured in the air, contained within the overall shield structure.

The Hegemon disappeared for a split second, then reappeared inside the Rothian fleet formation. It was so bafflingly large that the duo couldn’t see the whole thing from their viewpoint. The bottom vertex reappeared inside one of the larger craft, making it explode in a blinding corona. Dozens of beams caressed each warship, grouping together into larger columns that dwarfed the return fire. The craft began exploding. Some of the Rothian ships raced off, with the beams following like a leash. In a few minutes, it was done.

The Cradle

“There is really no difference from your ‘reality’, except prior cognition.” The Rothian reasoned, staring back out over the valley. It was silent for a time after Vreta finished talking, save the rustling of various weeds.

“First, I want to thank you - I’ve returned just in time. My home has been exploited for so long that it’s grown mistrustful; much longer and it may have rejected me entirely. My...reintegration has not been as smooth as I'd hoped.” The Rothian spoke eloquently in Vreta’s mother tongue, with an accent from his hometown.

“It will take some time to regain full control. Time I fear we don’t have.” The person turned to look at Vreta. “I think my cover is blown - I felt the Hegemon's presence before you extracted my shell. They will be coming for you, and for me.”

The Cradle

A Rothian figure sat on a rock with their back to Vreta, gazing down at the city lights in the valley. Sunset was approaching. They raised a hand to their eyes and studied the rays dappling mountain peaks on the opposite edge. A slight breeze ruffled sparse vegetation clinging to the stone around them.

From the back, the Rothian’s left side scales were jet black. The right side was pearly white. A thin, jagged purple bolt divided the two colours up their spine.

They looked around at Vreta when he got up, unnoticed at first. The pattern continued on their front, but with a fist-sized blue cluster of scales in the middle of their chest. “You’re awake. How are you feeling? Come sit with me, it’s a beautiful sunset.” Their voice was smooth and comforting. The Rothian leaned over and patted a rock next to them.

The Cradle

Freyr was having a really hard time seeing straight as they stumbled through the vast operations space. It seemed the only things that weren’t wobbling uncontrollably were memories or visions playing out all around them; they were becoming clearer by the second. The rest of the space felt like something out of a dream to her, blurred and intangible.

Freyr was vaguely aware of the team around her - they appeared to be struggling as well. Gene put a hand out for a desk to lean on, misjudged it and crashed over, knocking things onto the floor. He rolled over and looked at Freyr, and instantly she was back in the kitchen she’d seen earlier. She was on the opposite side of the table, beside the elegantly dressed woman. Across the table she recognised Connie, gesturing to a seat at the head of the table and nodding encouragingly.

“Okay.” This ‘Doctor Shearing’ sighed, moving to sit down. Gene followed her, gun balanced on his pinkie finger. Connie smiled down on the doctor when she got comfortable, then her smile faded. She nodded at Gene, and he moved forward. Quickly, they trapped Dr Shearing’s feet against the thin wooden legs of the chair and grabbed a wrist each. She shouted, confused.

“Get off! What is this?!”

Connie looked over at Gene above the struggling woman. “Ready?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

“Close.” Freyr heard, as the man prised open Dr Shearing’s hand and placed the gun in her palm, pointed straight up. “Set?” Connie asked.

“HEY, GET OFF ME!!”

Gene used her finger to activate the weapon. “Set!” He began bending her forearm down until the shivering gun pointed at her head. “Go!”

Freyr wanted to look away but couldn’t. Her field of view was glued to his. She tried to speak, to yell out, but couldn’t. All she could manage was a confused burble in the real world. Eventually, she fell to her knees, then face planted the ground and sank into blackness.

Halo: Aegis Team

Tar sat quietly through the phantom ride, listening to every rattle and hum of the hull as if it was talking to her. Her mind slowly calmed, uncoupling from the galaxy outside Brissekh to focus solely on the mission.

They all knew what they were doing, they’d seen the maps and force strength reports. Now all that was left was to walk those paths and eliminate anything that got in their way. Tar was loyal to Brissekh, but like any other Sangheili warrior, wouldn’t hesitate to kill her clanmates if they refused to stand aside.

She checked her loadout one more time, then stared into space again. Time passed, until suddenly it was time to go. Tar got up and stepped into the grav lift without hesitation.

The rain whipped about her as she levitated down to the ground, bringing the smell of wet vegetation with it. This instantly brought back memories from Tar’s childhood, foraging and hunting in woods like these. She scanned around as she flew, taking in the edge of the forest and the mountains in the background. It was good to be home; she could’ve warbled with delight had it not risked attracting attention.

Tar’s feet sank into the mud with a satisfying squelch. Thankfully as her armour had been crafted on Brissekh, her shoes came with small retractable studs to keep her steady on this kind of unstable ground. The Commando raised her carbine and fanned out, securing the perimeter as rain hammered the clearing and trickled into the cracks of her breastplate.

Once Vael gave the order to mount up, Tar moved quickly to the lead Spectre, stowed her carbine and hopped into the driver’s seat. The front hull closed in around her legs, leaving just her head and upper body exposed. She activated the vehicle, and it floated into a ready position. “The fog could get worse. Stay close.” Tar grunted, checking her instruments. She wasn’t as familiar with driving Spectres as she was with Phantoms and Banshees, but most of the principles were similar.

The Cradle

Freyr’s apprehension grew as they scaled another set of stairs towards the top floor. The whole building felt like it was raring to get up and move on its own; a low hum vibrated the inside of her head like they were underwater.

The stairwell was pitch black, so she relied heavily on her suit’s night vision to see where she was going. She could just make out scattered debris and bloodstains on the steps in front of her. Freyr focused on breathing in and out, trying to remain level-headed. They’d made it this far, hadn’t they? In no small part due to her armed escort. She was grateful to them, even if they scared her too sometimes.

The next floor was also full of operations workspace. They fanned out slightly. Freyr rushed over to one of the blood stained GCHQ staffers as soon as she spotted them. Their sallow complexion shone with sweat in the flickering light of the monitors in front of them. “Hey, can you hear me?” Freyr asked, peeling back her suit visor so they could see her face.

“It’s alright, we’re going to get you some help, we…”

Freyr’s voice tailed off when she noticed what was on screen. It looked like camera footage from someone’s eyes, looking at an angry but elegantly dressed woman shouting at them from across a wide kitchen table. Sound trickled out of the console’s speakers, which Freyr strained to hear.

“What are you doing? That’s my gun! What is this?” The woman pointed to something off screen. The camera panned until a man with white hair and olive skin appeared, holding a pistol upside down by the trigger guard with his pinkie.

“You’re a potential suicide risk.” the man said, apologetically.

“How did you find that?!” The woman shouted at him. She turned to the camera. “How did he find that?!”

“Selene.” another woman’s voice warned, from behind the camera.

“No! No! Okay! This meeting’s now over! I want you both out of here, right now!”

Freyr looked up, blinking to clear her rapidly blurring eyesight. The pressure in her head was getting really uncomfortable. Meeting rooms branched off from this wide street, and the usual conference tables were juxtaposed with strange scenes, all viewed as though eyes or imagined inside someone’s head. Lurid colours seemed to generate their own light in the darkness.

“Selene…”

“No! He has been snooping around my house!”

Doctor Shearing, I want to sign off here today! I want to let you get on that starship! But you have gotta help us out! I need to know that you are calm and safe before I leave here, and I need to know that you understand the rules before you go to Earth. Please, just…please, sit down. And let us get through our questions.”

The woman looked torn, for a moment. Freyr wiped her eyes, leaning in. Finally, they responded. “Okay.” The elegant woman headed to the chair at the head of the kitchen table, that the camera woman had gestured. The camera looked at Gene and nodded.

Connie reached over and grabbed the GCHQ staffer out of their chair with one arm. The monitors all went black. “Wait...moving them might-” Freyr mumbled.

Connie gave the unresponsive person a hard slap across the face. Instead of waking up, they crumpled to the floor.

The Cradle

“We need to go up one more level. Hello Miss.” Gene offered as he arrived on the same bridge as Freyr and Vreta. “Turn in a slow circle with your arms raised, please.”

“What’s the meaning-”

“We have to make sure you aren’t being tracked, Miss. Please.” Gene continued. His gun looked different to all the others. It didn’t look like it produced energy bolts like the others. It actually looked quite mechanical. The man studied Freyr closely as she did a turn with her hands up, pulling at a couple of parts of her armour quizzically. Connie appeared from the stairwell with her gun arm taut and her other arm straight by her side. “Let's move quickly. We don’t want to get caught in this place.”

“Hold on a minute.” 595 rasped, putting her feet back on the floor. “Why are you really here? Cut the bullcrap with me for two seconds alright? It’s been a super shitty day.”

Gene looked at Connie, who gave him a subtle eyebrow nod. He also glanced at Vreta before walking over to 595 and looking right into her eyes. “We have to make sure the asset leaves the Cradle safely. But we also need to bring you in for a debrief.” It looked as though there was more Gene wanted to say, but with comms fried, there was no safe way to do it.

He didn’t need to say another word though - 595 understood immediately. The Institute was indeed going to confront her about the data she pulled from the rig in those last seconds of their Navigator expedition. The data she had so far not supplied for analysis.

The timing was intriguing though. She’d just received long range messaging about an attack on an Institute. How much trouble were they all in?

“Understood. I’ll RTB as soon as these two get to safety.” 595 grunted, pulling the assault gun off her back and turning it on. The power level was already at 60%. “We don’t have long until our guns are useless. Lets get tactical. Upstairs; move!” 595 barked, as another thundering boom rattled the GCHQ building. A pressure in the back of the Agent’s head at the same moment made her gasp. Something was watching them.

The Cradle

“Where is she? We heard you were attacked. We’re here to help.” Connie continued, scanning the area. Her voice was quite gruff, like she’d been shouting. “Right here.” 595’s suit opened a panel in the crook of her arm. She moved into a crouch for her shot with her arm raised, gun laid out in front of her.

She turned her attention to her novitiates. “Just you two? Where is the cavalry?”

Connie and Gene were fanning out either side of 595 and Vreta, checking the surroundings. “Currently indisposed - we took a beating just to get here. Where is Doctor Lang? We need to make sure she’s safe.” Gene replied, turning to look at the Agent.

“I’m safe. Who are you?” Freyr answered, revealing herself on the higher gantry. Both of the novitiates looked up and identified the VIP. Connie waved, teeth gritted against the wound on her opposite arm. “Hi. I’m Connie, and this is Gene. Glad to see you’re still alive.” Gene identified a stairwell a little way down one of the halls, and headed for it while Connie stayed put. “So what’s the plan here? Go and speak with the entity?” Connie continued, looking round at everyone.

Freyr nodded meekly, just as a thunderous boom echoed around the area. The superstructure of GCHQ rattled. “That must be our friend outside.” Gene remarked, before disappearing up the stairs to the first level. “We should get you to safety.” Connie continued, pointing to Dr Lang.

The Cradle

“Step away from her!” The man named Gene bellowed, knuckles white on the grip on his SMG. Twin blue lights blinked on through his eyes, looking squarely at the Rothian. They were dimmer than what Freyr had seen from the Agent, but still disconcerting.

As he came closer, Freyr made out that the man had olive skin and a stocky build. He was wearing a formal dress shirt and tie under the tactical vest, with rolled up sleeves that exposed muscular arms. Dark patches of what looked like blood stained the white material. His face was all cut up, like broken glass had sprayed in his face.

The second figure stood up and immediately raised their pistol. Freyr saw she was a woman, with nut brown hair pulled back and down in a ponytail. She was also wearing a tactical vest over her blue formal shirt but under a black business jacket. Blood dripped from a gash in her left arm.

“It’s ok, it’s…” 595 coughed, raising one hand to stop them from her hunched position. She spat out more phlegm, then instructed her suit to send diagnostics over.

“Where is Dr Lang? Is she here?” Gene asked, lowering his gun slightly as they both moved towards them.

The Cradle

“I’ve been poisoned.” 595 slurred. She was feeling decidedly light-headed all of a sudden. It was hard to delineate whether this was because of the wound, or the heady environment they were in. “Use of foreign nanites is against protocol - it has to be the infirmary.” The Agent looked about again, her suit compensating for her unsteady footing and blurring vision. “Give me overwatch, we’ll sweep both floors at once.”

“Agent!” A male voice called from the entrance. Freyr rushed to the gantry and leaned over as far as she could go to look at the exterior doors. Through the gloom, she could just about see a white-haired man in a tactical vest standing up after crawling through the hole.

He brought his gun up to his eye as 595 slowly turned around to face him. Freyr spotted another person crawling through the gap behind him as he stepped forward.

595 paused for a second before answering. When she responded she sounded drunk. “Gene? That you?” Then the Agent’s visor slithered off her face, she doubled over and threw up on the ground.