Cath

The Cradle

The Rothian nodded along sagely to Vreta’s train of thought. The blackness around them gradually billowed out into a maelstrom of mauve clouds. “Oh.” They thought back when the discussion turned again to the Hegemon.

“We hit it hard. But our biggest inroads came not from off its shields, but inside its mind.” The Rothian smiled again and tapped the side of its head with one claw. “I’m no Tactician, but I know that if we keep the Hegemon busy on the outside, it is more vulnerable elsewhere. That is how we beat it, once and for all.”

The Cradle

The creature studied Vreta for a long while, quietly bobbing up and down in the ether. “Very well, let me see…” They murmured eventually.

The stars in the background completely faded, leaving just a model of the Hegemon hanging over them. An exquisite map of a familiar spiral galaxy appeared to one side of them both. “This is the galaxy you call home.” The Rothian explained, turning and casting an arm as if to say ‘look at it’.

The Milky Way, as the Humans called it, then got smaller as the Rothian zoomed out. Another, slightly bigger spiral appeared next to it. “And this is the galaxy you’d call Ari’Etis, where we first had problems with the Hegemon.”

Next, two dozen smaller clusters were highlighted. The Milky Way disappeared, and the hologram zoomed in on the target galaxy. The Rothian marked one particularly diffused section in red. “This is the satellite galaxy where I believe the R’tk’tk civilisation was born. My Human hosts have named it Andromeda VIII. I am...having trouble being more specific. Navigational data was taken from me during your second visit on Rothia, I am investigating now.”

Despite apparently being busy, the Rothian had no problem answering Vreta’s next question. “A couple of reasons: firstly, we have learned a great deal about how the Hegemon thinks from before. It is not inventive. We can outmaneuver it with rigorous planning.” They relished the next bit, smiling warmly. “Secondly, we won’t be alone this time. We have friends and allies around to help us. This galaxy is rich with life - you must help us convince them to stand and fight together, or they will die alone.”

The Cradle

“Even if they were still alive, it’s too far for you to reach in time. That memory took place in another galaxy.” The other Rothian sighed too. “But there is another way - one which means you don’t have to run.” They floated in closer to Vreta, fixing him with a serious look. Both figures were adequately illuminated despite the blackness all around them. “Find my companions, make us whole again. We can fight the Hegemon together. Do it fast, and we might just stand a chance.”

Song Reference time

And you smell like
How angels oughta smell
And you look like
You're ready to go

So hold my hand
I'll take you everywhere
Anywhere
You wanna go

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.