Dead Space and their characters are property of Visceral Games (former EA Redwood Shores), Mirror´s Edge and their characters are property of Digital Illusions. I claim no economic benefit of this story.
Okay, i have neglected this story for a long time. Even if i have updated it sometimes, (and i got to the impressive mark of fourteen chapters for this story, wich is impressive because my stories don´t get that long).
Anyway... I´ve made a disservice by neglecting to mention the people leaving reviews in the past.
NOT ANYMORE...
Many thanks to Braze Rancor, Master of the Boot and OceanLord for reviewing, as well as Infected Vupine, LazyBlueGuy, Quianbashium, dogoffarsight, and Lazorman8, for placing an alert or favoring this story.
This is a Mirror´s Edge and Dead Space crossover. As unlikely as it can be, i´ve tried to include many elements of Mirror´s Edge in this story, even if it leans a lot on the plot of the Dead Space games. As a result, those elements far surpass the ones of Mirror´s Edge. Nonetheless, that game´s concepts are present and I´ll try and make use of them as much as possible. If you pay attention enough, you may find motives frequently used on the universe of Faith and company.
It´s such a bad thing that EA didn´t decide to support Mirror´s Edge as much as they did Dead Space...
Anyway... on to the fray!
Si quieres leer esta historia en español, buscala como "Redención", en la misma categoria (Dead Space-Mirror´s Edge crossovers, idioma español).
DEAD SPACE REDEMPTION
Prologue:
A trip back into the darkness
Isaac, it´s me. I wish I could talk to you...
A gloved and slightly trembling hand pressed the holoscreen of the control panel, avoiding that particular video fragment he had seen constantly, playing once more. The unhappy owner of that un-severed extremity, battling to contain a slight shaky felling, took a deep breath and stood there a few minutes, looking to the blackness of the void through the crysteel window of the bridge, trying to forget the nerve-wracking feeling of fear and vacuity that pressed him.
The brightness of the stars comforted him for a moment, allowing him to forget his situation: Being alone on an executive shuttle, with a hardly-functioning shock point drive, recently escaped from a chaotic planet in which humankind would never set their feet.
Ever.
Abandoned to the horrors lurking in every corner of the darkness. He didn´t want to close his eyes, to avoid recalling them.
His dead partners...
In the middle of the void, in the place where nothing should be heard, something made a sound. A slight touch of fabrics, the sound of textiles rubbing each other. The man repressed the need of turning back with all his might. Countless times he had done it in the last three days and every time he did, distinct surprises, each one more disturbing than the previous, plagued him like hauntings, as if to remind him a bitter lesson:
Don´t you dare looking back...
The sound that broke the tranquility of the place, of that vehicle where none could have entered, was still there. Inviting, suggestive... disconcerting. The trembling of his hand suddenly became notorious. His nerves were wracked. Each vision, each sound, each stimuli driving him a step closer to total madness. To filling his head completely with the nightmarish memories of that maelström of horror and chaos, that he had gotten away from.
He raised his hand and watched it. Grabbed her wrist with the other arm and suppressed the tremor as much as he could. But the feeling of nervousness didn´t mitigate. Maybe if he decided to ignore it, that sound would disappear eventually. Like those mind tricks that only require to be forgotten to stop bothering. Controlled his thoughts and waited. It was working, the sound of rubbing cloth had decayed, and it had been ten seconds since hearing it for the last time. His breathing, which had risen suddenly, began to regain its normal rhythm.
Then he discovered that there was another noise. One that made his heart about to pull itself out of her chest. It was as if fate conspired to make his life even more twisted and miserable.
An animal growl... undeniably pronounced by a human voice.
His body trembled uncontrollably. The chill that ran down his back was the indescribable feeling of thousands of needles of pure ice, moving under his skin, each one producing excruciating pain and reminding him the limits of its multiple times torn, battered and patched body. In his mind, Nicole's speech began to boil again:
I´m sorry ... I'm sorry for everything. I wish i could just talk to someone...
Struggled with his body to regain control. He didn´t yield to the temptation of turning his gaze back, recalling the misshapen and terrifying creatures that would always prowl on his mind. The grunts in his head became confused with the words of her companion:
It´s all falling apart here, I can´t believe what's happening...
The rumor was becoming stronger, more insistent, as if it was speaking to him. As if it encouraged, demanded and imperiously ordered him to turn back. Isaac was not sure he could stand the strain.
It's strange... such a little thing. In the end, it all comes down to one little thing...
If he didn´t turn, his nerves would collapse and explosive cardiac arrest would kill him. If he flipped back however, and discovered that one of them had followed to the ship, to that last bastion of safety, he would also die... and in the most horrible way possible. His mind ordered his body to turn, even though, against all other rational opinion, his other faculties were telling him not to.
I didn´t want it to end like this. I really wanted to see you again, just once...
There she was.
Nestled between the passenger seat and the inner wall of the bridge. Her face deformed and bloody, with those eyes that he once reveled in, like a traveler that cherishes the stars that serve him as guide... once those shining, blue stars, now watching with unusual bitterness. Her hair still rested on her shoulders, dry, hard and greasy, with blood from her temple, changing it to a bit of a scarlet-death red, yet retaining a trace of that gold that always framed her face. Her expression was no longer human though. The most vicious animal might not have that gesture, so twisted and evil.
Something about her told him that things were not like before. He had a vague glimpse of the symbols displayed by the Red Marker, leaping from her body and being recorded on his mind instantaneously. Those symbols engraved in blood that permeated the walls of the gargantuan Ishimura, driving him mad because of what they represented, the despised jargon used by the Unitology Church.
She didn´t stop to talk. Soon, she was over him, struggling and trying to stab her long, dirty nails in his eyes, her body displaying an unusual force that threatened to subdue him and break every bone of his body. The piercing screams and screeching coming out of her lips showing the huge pain and suffering she had been through.
What she was at that moment, it was not whom he had sought with few, veiled and confused expectations.
He couldn´t stand it anymore. Those hands, that once had been soft and smooth, had released from their struggle and beat him without truce, tearing the skin and exposing the flesh of his face with each new assault. He could taste the warm, thick blood that filled his mouth, with dear red life escaping from his being. Strangely, his fear had been left behind. The pain gave him a good feeling that he was not about to miss.
They were finally reunited. Never again it would happen something like that. They wouldn´t be separated again.
At the moment she raised her sharpened hand to end his suffering, that last parliament from the video resounded in his head:
I loved you Isaac... I have always loved you...
Followed by the most broken and chilling cry he had ever heard...
Isaac Clarke let out a scream of pure terror, trying to ward off the feeling of horror that had caught him. Gasped, startled and rose from the chair of command of the ship with his forehead beaded with sweat. His eyes nervously acknowledged the ground, getting used to the cold darkness of space, and found himself clutching his hand unexpectedly tight to the plasma cutter, trying unsuccessfully to banish the fear from the nightmare that had taken his mind.
Calmed his agitated breath and dropped his body once more toward the couch, placing the makeshift weapon in a place near the control board. Three hours earlier, he had left behind the USG Ishimura and Aegis VII, with its unfortunate colony of miners (or what was left of it).
His mission had failed miserably (to say euphemistically that it was meant to go to hell). He had hampered the actions of a government agent. The United Earth Government was going to catch him and gut him!. That would be of course if the Unitology Church didn´t get to him first, for having destroyed their sacred Marker!.
His situation couldn´t be any worse. And if the C.E.C. tried to claim that he had destroyed millions of credits in facilities, not to mention the most famous ship in history, he might as well send them directly to the farthest star.
To hell with them and their expectations!.
He deeply regretted the fate of Captain Hammond. He had been a pawn in that ineffable chain of events. One of several, on a repair mission that hadn´t been like any other. He had never worked with him before, and wasn´t supposed to feel any particular regret for him. But his words roamed still fresh in his mind, like three days ago:
Isaac, if I can get to the bridge, I should be able to access the personal files. You fix the tram and I'll help you find Nicole...
His motives and reasons were not like those of Kendra Daniels, hidden under the guise of peaceful woman, confident of herself. Where Hammond was accurate and concerned about the welfare of his crew, however small it was, Kendra didn´t mind sacrificing the lives of others as to attain her goal.
No wonder they didn´t agree in many things.
And then there was Nicole ...
His sole and painful reason to stay alive, to explore the endless ducts, full of that indescribable smell of death. That nervous smile that besieged him countless times throughout the trip, showing some last-minute-found loyalty... even if it was only in a recording.
She turned out to be... he preferred not to think about it. So deeply affected he had been because of the experience.
All those terrible memories beset his head for ten minutes after awakening, and, being still fearful of looking to the shadows, afraid of finding himself face to face with one of those horrible things that haunted his dreams, decided not to sleep again. When he escaped away from that planet, weariness had won over. Now with renewed strength, he decided that he would only truly rest when he saw the sunlight from his home planet.
While the ship took him close to the stellar routes of the C.E.C., made a quick mental calculation about how long he would be stranded. The prospect was not encouraging. The shuttle and its systems were not half as efficient as those of the Kellion, the ship that brought him. And with the shockpoint engine's poor performance, it might take several weeks before he arrived or was somewhere near any intermediate space station, to find something in the limited range of the communication equipment. To make matters worse, someone else had come up with the brilliant idea of launching the distress beacon of that specific vehicle, so there was no hope of sub-space rescue messages.
He let out a breath, reflecting his fatigue and rose from his seat, looking in the crew compartment for any ration that would allow him to face the prospect of a long and tedious journey home. Luck favored him, to find a good supply of canned food rations, and enough energy drinks to keep him alive for a couple of months. That was certainly the work of Kendra. Grabbed a dry ration and breaking the food packaging, he eagerly devoured it. Said to himself he would have to ration his food more carefully, and hopefully it would last to reach a point where he could launch a distress message. Then he would have to live on air...
He was about to disable his RIG, when the comm equipment on the ship jumped to life, conveying a message that the man listened carefully:
- Hello... hello?, can anyone hear me? - Said an anxious voice that the distorted radio transmission couldn´t disguise:
- I´m Ribbel Connors broadcasting from the bridge of the USG Ishimura... If there is anyone out there listening, please!... we need help! - The increasing panic in her voice rising like a tsunami, unabated.
- The ship was attacked by a kind of plague and there are no emergency vehicles to escape!... - panting - ...we have little ammo and supplies!... for the love of God... if anyone hears me, there are three survivors!... please, we need help!, send someone!, whatever... but for heaven's sake get us out of here!...
Isaac raised his hand to answer the call, the frantic woman's voice pleading still on the radio. Suddenly he stopped.
Why would he have to respond?, because of what unusual reason he should return to that accursed ship and risk his neck?, wasn´t it still fresh in his mind what happened the last time he responded to a distress call?...
He stopped and turned off the radio, letting his body lie down on the soft command chair. He had already lost everything, even Nicole. The eternal nightmares that haunted him, would last a lifetime.
Why should he be disturbed even more?, had fate perhaps not had enough, snatching what he wanted most in the world?, did he needed to go on and pay with his own existence?...
And then something happened:
The complete recording of the last transmission of Nicole started running again, threatening to end with what little sanity he had left. He stretched a hand to stop that recording too, and suddenly found he couldn´t. That horrible sense of deja-vu grappled him once more. Turned quickly to his right, but there was no monster waiting to skin him alive and rip his eyes out of their sockets. The cold sweat ran from his forehead down his cheeks.
And then, seeing the pleading look of the blonde, tired from the long hours of anxiety and sleeplessness he had been through, considering there was nothing left inside him, that could move him to compassion, discovered he was wrong. A few heartstrings that still had intact, stirred. Mixed emotions invaded his mind. Intense feelings he thought he never again would experience.
The engineer felt dejected, drawn by a whirlwind. Emotions that his mind told him, should be banished, seized him. Sighed deeply and thought about her. Wherever she would be now, wouldn´t forgive him if he fled from this situation as he had done earlier. He turned off the recording, about the time the body of his love was collapsing from the poison of "that little thing", capable of ending her suffering. Dropping a furtive tear, which mixed itself with cold sweat, tretched a hand and turned on the radio. A frantic Ribbel Connors still sobbed on the open channel. Tapping his head against the dashboard, and knowing full well that he should be completely crazy to do what he was about to, adjusted the correct frequency and inhaled deeply, preparing to speak directly to environmental microphone, ignoring the frantic screams of the voice of reason:
Don´t look back. What you find, you may not like...
The lesson the previous dreams had given him buzzed around his head like a hive of angry bees, yet he chose to ignore it. Sighing heavily, he replied, trying to contain all the anxiety and horror that, at that very moment threatened to destroy him:
- I am Isaac Clarke, C.E.C. level-five engineer, survivor of the destroyed ship USG Kellion. Miss Connors... I am in possession of an executive shuttle and I´m about... - his left hand moved quickly to check the star charts - ...three hours from the ship. If you can survive until then...
I will get you out of there.