Welcome back, excellent readers. You may not be able to leave your houses in body as society collapses, but you can still depart in spirit from this world to ones even more horrifying.

I wanted to explain a line in this chapter, because not everyone will understand. EA (publisher of Dead Space) exists in-universe, which is proven by the description for the N7 suit in DS 3 and one of the characters in Aftermath playing Dante's Inferno. I expanded that into saying the company is still around in 2508, having bought out every other video game corporation. And they still suck! I thought it'd be a fun joke, but I'm not going meta with it.

Also, what do you think of my portrayal of Isaac? In the first game, he has pretty much no personality, but I imagine him as being kind of a dick, which is how he acts in this chapter. Tell me if that's OK or if you think he's too much of a bastard. I'm not trying for character assassination. I just find it a more interesting dynamic than if he and Curtis were fast friends, though I tried to give him some soft spots.

Big thanks to RabidPanzer, Crimson An'Xileel, AncientOfDayz, derpysauce, That1rishb1oke and BlauOrange for reviewing. One more thing. I've decided to share my Discord and Xbox information. You're all wonderful people, so I'm completely fine if you want to connect (not that I expect it)! The former is AnInvisibleMan #8177 while the latter is InvisibleMan745 (I'm unseen in a lot of places).

10 Hours, 15 Minutes Post-Outbreak

"Isaac, wake up."

Curtis leaned over the unconscious engineer, his countenance roiling as he doubtlessly languished in nightmares. Dreams of molten insectoid eyes and teeth like broken knives, he suspected.

His gaze drifted to Nicole, who stared at Isaac with all the worry her mutilated face could convey. He didn't understand why she felt so upset. Sure, she scared him shitless, but they expected that, and it seemed no harm was done. Maybe the prospect of her breaking the only other human she'd ever met rubbed her the wrong way.

An ululating groan followed, and Curtis' head snapped back. Isaac stirred. His eyes whirled before settling on the two faces above him, as discordant as living and dead could be. Seeing the zombie meant no harm pacified him but did not mitigate his apprehension.

"What is that?" he whispered, voice warbling like violin strings.

"My friend. Uh, she's a Necromorph who decided to help me. Her name is – "

"Drone," she spat. "Call me Drone." Nicole's unease about her name being revealed piqued his curiosity. Well, it was a personal thing, the only shred of her mortal life that remained except tattered memories. Maybe she didn't want to reveal it until she knew him better.

She extended a hand, as much an olive branch of peace as an attempt to help him up. Isaac didn't reciprocate, scrambling back across the metal while panting.

"I know you're scared, but she's a good person." He strained the last word to highlight, despite appearances to the contrary, she was as kind and caring as many humans. More than most, actually. "She's saved my ass more than once. Please give her a chance; she's not like her family." He shut himself up after that, not wanting to start gushing about her and fan the embers of infatuation into a greater fire.

Acrimony melted into apathy as the helmet rose to cover his face. "Family?" Isaac scoffed, turning to Nicole. "They're your family, huh? Well, your 'family' killed dozens of my colleagues. I've been with the CEC for years, worked on this ship, and most of my friends were aboard, so you'll forgive me if I'm not in the mood to trust a shambling corpse that just clawed out of a meat grinder." He paused. "And why does it look different than the others I saw?"

"There's different species. The ones you saw earlier, I call 'Slashers'. Big blade arms that can cut nearly anything." Isaac guffawed, apparently unimpressed with the names he chose. "Drone's a 'Stalker'. Come to think of it, she's the only one of them I've seen…" Never considered that. I wonder if only really smart people become them. Despite being the most experienced human in the universe with Necromorphs, he knew so little about them. For example, what determined the phenotype a person became? Genetics? Situation? Mental state? Or was it random? That's something Nicole should try to figure out.

"Doesn't matter. They're all rancid meat."

Curtis clenched his teeth. A bit of rudeness was understandable. In fact, he'd be more concerned if Isaac trusted them implicitly. But to hear such vitriol pour from a man's lips about his friend (and maybe more) tore him up. He'd made the same mistake of assuming they were all alike at first, though, so he did his best to calm down. He'll come around after spending time with her.

He expected Nicole to vociferously defend herself and perhaps mockingly offer the man a chance to join "Convergence". Instead she wilted, sadly turning away and walking towards the far door. They didn't have much to say after that, and Curtis interposed himself between the two. Less likely Isaac would shoot the "monster" with another human in the way.

"You're an engineer," Curtis remarked to get onto a subject he might find more soothing as they plodded along the dim corridor. "Can you fix mining tools?"

"Yeah. Why do you…" Isaac trailed off when he noticed the broken Line Gun on his back. "Give me five minutes and it'll be good as new," he remarked, already emptying small tools from his pockets.

"Not now," Curtis replied. Tempting as the offer was, they didn't have five minutes; every wasted second reduced the likelihood of their survival. It was a race against time. Isaac put his tools away and hesitated before holding out the Plasma Cutter.

"I picked this up a few minutes ago and barely have any idea how to use it. You're a miner; that's as familiar in your hands as a screwdriver or wire cutters are in mine." True, but it took him aback that Isaac would give such a boon to him. As long as it wasn't to a demon, he supposed.

"I can teach you how to use it later," he said, thinking back to when he tutored Nicole with her own jury-rigged Plasma Cutter. Perhaps she recalled the experience, as well, for she cringed as he loaded the stopgap gun.

From there, they stepped into another red-lit hall. Nicole screened for psychic threats from the front, Curtis swept his weapon along the fleshy walls and Isaac navigated from the back with his holo-map; the Marker apparently didn't care about cutting off the Transnet and communications now that everyone was in the belly of the beast. Honestly, the party composition and arrangement made him think of a video game where every character had their own roles. Didn't play too many of those anymore. Not enough time, and EA sucked. Things just went downhill after NZA 2K505 and Mass Effect: Triangulum – Part IV.

Ah, the joys of living in a corporate-run galaxy, as the CEC proved by blundering out here.

They encountered nothing for the first couple minutes, which almost disappointed Curtis. He wanted to both test out this new weapon against his foes and have Isaac watch Nicole fight some. That'd prove she was on their side. Haven't seen her dispatch any yet, come to think of it. Well, he was the one with the gun.

"We're getting close," Isaac whispered as they approached a small door. Steam abundantly vented from the walls, indicating the tram tunnels were near. Nicole proudly placed her hand upon the hologram, not-so-subtly glancing back at the man. Her behavior perplexed him, for she'd become demurer than the confident predator she usually was. Maybe she really wanted to prove her own humanity? That didn't make any sense, considering her pride at being a Necromorph. Something strange was afoot.

The door didn't open the first time she tried it. Didn't recognize her as human. Perhaps her altered genetics placed her right at the threshold of what could be recognized as hominid, because it worked before. It frustrated her; she let out a grunt before slamming her palm into the hologram. The door popped open with a ding.

The ghost of a smile crept onto her face… right before the body came down.

It must have been attached to the ceiling or something, for the corpse splattered on steel. They all leapt back, and the cadaver slowly rolled down the ramp before coming to rest at the bottom. This was like a haunted house or the fucking Clogger. He would have laughed at his fear were it not a real body in front of him.

"Fuck," Isaac said, and Curtis didn't have the heart to tell him he'd see much, much worse before this was over. Well, Isaac couldn't see anything at the moment; he must have had his eyes closed from the way he slowly wobbled down the incline. Though this would have been a good time to antagonize him, Curtis kept his mouth shut. Somebody had to be the bigger person, after all. Many responsibilities fell to him over the past hours – soldier, researcher, councilor. Now diplomat could be added to the list.

The body looked too mangled to be "repurposed" into a useful Necromorph, so Curtis ignored it as they rounded the corner and entered the vast channel through a service hatch. Nicole, then Curtis, then Isaac. It was up a small ladder, so he consciously looked straight ahead, not wanting a glimpse of Nicole's pretty much non-existent ass while he climbed.

I am such a fucking degenerate. He hated using that word, but how else could he describe attraction to a corpse?! Hopefully the thousands of hours of therapy and counseling he'd receive upon returning would burn such abasement from his brain. His flesh crawled as he thought of it.

Sexual liberation crept slowly but surely forward across centuries. Gay, lesbian, polyamorous – nobody in their right mind would object if it was consensual. The only things illegal under EarthGov law (as far as he knew, for he wasn't a legal expert) were pedophilia and bestiality. Nicole was an adult, and though she looked more like some bizarre decaying animal than anything human, she still technically was, at least mostly. There were probably some freaks who'd gotten enough genetic modification to be more different on a purely DNA level.

Still, it was goddamn necrophilia! That was the domain of serial killers! He'd throw himself off a building before crossing that line. Even the Church of Unitology disavowed it (that was always a big topic on their apologetics Transnet, considering their reverence for death… something Mercer seemed to ignore). Though he had to wonder what happened on those rumored "mausoleum ships" of theirs…

They mercifully broke through into the tunnel, and he took a big whiff of the filtered air to snap him out of his funk. Same as ever: a massive canyon, seemingly carved through bedrock by some massive mythical worm. It made him shudder that such an entity might actually exist now, burrowing through the ravine and assimilating anything that still lived. If something like the Spider existed in space, perhaps equally large, freakish specimens prowled the interior. He'd only seen a fraction of the ship, after all. Then again, the Spider was in zero-gravity, so that might have let it grow more.

"I don't feel anyone nearby," Nicole whispered as if that could shift with the winds.

Curtis still didn't activate his helmet-mounted flashlight, afraid it would draw faraway monsters to them. Many RIGs lacked night vision capabilities, including this one. Stupid as it sounded, it mostly made sense – everything from starships to space stations to cities remained constantly illuminated. It was as if mankind tried to outshine the stars. People didn't need such technology until they did.

This retrospection drew his gaze to Nicole, whose four eyes met his. As always, they were like a tiger's, reflecting what little light remained back in xanthous chrome. She was, as she liked to point out, a highly evolved hunter. She certainly looked the part. Fortunately, his pitiful human optics adapted rather well over the past hours, so he could see rather far in the eternal twilight – more than Isaac, at least.

He pointed up the tunnel. A large metal prism rested about a hundred feet away, clearly the crippled trolley's husk. Looked to be in one piece, though he couldn't identify anything else. "Kendra said something about needing a data board?"

"Pretty much the brain of the system. The CPU." Ah, that made sense. "Let me get aboard. Hopefully I can fuse the old one into place. If not, we'll have to find another." Sounded good to him. They paced up the gorge in the same positions; still nothing to shoot.

The tram's details only became visible once he was very close. He almost felt bad for the inanimate hunk of metal and wire. It'd saved him so many times, been his loyal sanctuary and steed. Now it sadly listed to the side, covered in dents and scars. Two particularly grievous wounds marred the sides, clearly products of the Graverobber's massive scythes.

"What did that?" Isaac asked as he pointed to those furrows.

"You don't want to know."

They didn't speak for a while after climbing aboard through the half-closed door, its shutter bent and broken. This was even sadder, with the holo-signs advertising such corporate wonders as SUN cola, Lightspeed bars and Peng burned out and forgotten. I remember saying I'd never use Peng again if I got out of here… Well, he'd see if his "interest" in Nicole worsened. Sex with a virtual woman was leagues better than with a dead one.

Isaac walked to the front, which housed a panel between some fans on the wall. He took a small laser cutter from his pocket and drilled the thing off. The lid clattered down, and pitch smoke poured from the hole. That couldn't have been good! Growling, he yanked out the main piece, and even a layman like Curtis saw the scorched, smoldering board wasn't fit for salvage any more than roadkill was for a five-star restaurant.

"We'll need a new board. More than that, too." He looked around, noting all the gashes. "Even if we find one, there's no guarantee this frame can move again." Every second spent aboard brought insanity and outright death closer to touching them. No time could be wasted.

"I'll find the data board. You and Drone stay here and try to get this thing running. Hopefully I'll get back here as you're finishing." Nicole's eyes went wide while Isaac actually flinched at the suggestion.

"I'll be alone with this monster when Hell freezes over."

"You're already in Hell. You'll be dead before it gets much colder." His retort gave the both of them pause; that might have been the cleverest Curtis had ever been with words.

"Isaac," Nicole rasped, earning a look of disdain from behind the mask. "Err, Mr. Clarke," she stammered, "I promise to protect you no matter what. I don't expect my oaths to mean much, but they're all I can offer." They stared at each other before he resignedly sighed, which lifted a weight from Curtis' back.

"Fine. On two conditions." Both of them immediately consented, but it was really up to Nicole because she was the one who'd put up with the guy. "First, if your friend does anything – anything at all – to break that promise, I'll try to kill her. Probably won't work, but I'll try." She cringed at this but nevertheless nodded. "Second, I want your Line Gun. I'll patch it up if there's time." This, on the other hand, was a completely reasonable request, so Curtis handed the thing right over. Felt like he parted with an old friend.

"Any idea where I should start?"

"I looked through Kendra's schematics. There are emergency supply rooms studding the entire tram system. Should be spare data boards inside. It'll look like this except not, well, broken." He held out the circuit board for him to see. Yeah, simple enough. "I have all the other materials I need here – scrap metal and solder are the heavy-duty version of duct tape. They can hold nearly anything together."

Curtis nodded and shimmied out through the hatch, dropping to the ground below and hoping he'd made the right choice. Nicole held his full confidence, but he wasn't sure whether Isaac would try something. The guy seemed like a dick… though he didn't know whether his hostility was genuine or merely bluster and hot air.

Regardless, he set off in search of salvation.

10 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Outbreak

Nicole fidgeted as she watched Isaac work with two eyes and the door with the other two. Her tapetum lucidum allowed her to see light and dark equally. Her boyfriend didn't dare turn his back, perpetually keeping one eye on the work and another on her. All their attention was divided. She was a skilled hunter, she reminded herself, an apex predator who tirelessly dogged her prey. That was the essence of her being. A raptor. Stalker.

Now she felt like a baby chicken, helpless before this man. She tried to justify his behavior. He'd understand if he knew who I really was. He still loves me. She was tempted to reveal her identity right then and there, but that would've been irresponsible. Whether he took it well or poorly, it'd distract from his vital work. Still, she couldn't bear to pass the minutes in silence and uselessness. She didn't have the skills to help, and even if she did, there was no way Isaac would let her touch his stuff.

"Mr. Clarke, may I ask you something?" she whispered, already quivering like a leaf.

"No." The word was filled with a worse sentiment than enmity: lassitude. He regarded her no more than a human would a rabid dog – dangerous and cunning, but unquestionably beneath them. It broke her heart, the metaphorical joining with the physical in that moment.

She pushed through the pain. "Why did you come here? As I understand, you specifically requested to be transferred for this mission."

There was a long pause, the silence broken by small plasma arcs humming as they bound one piece of metal to another. Just when she resigned herself to quiet, he answered. "I'm looking for someone. My girlfriend." Her spirits leapt, but she kept her excitement bottled. Still, she vibrated with energy, which only heightened his disdain. "Freak," he muttered under his breath.

"Who was she? What was she like?" Her pestering began to break down his inhibitions. He cracked without much more encouragement.

"Her name is Nicole." Of course. She'd have to let him think that. "The most amazing person I know." A sheen of wistfulness coated his voice, and he lapsed into memories she once possessed while his hands darted about with minds of their own.

"We met three years ago. It was my last tour working for the Merchant Marines, and she just so happened to be the ship's doctor. We patrolled shipping lanes near Borealis – some tiny colony between Shalanx III and Uxor – and I was smitten the moment I saw her." The words were lightning in her mind, reanimating sensations and memories with every bolt. Zeus couldn't have aimed them so well.

"Wasn't mutual. I had to do some stupid shit to prove I loved her. I think it was the two of us singing karaoke in the ship's abandoned mess hall that really sealed the deal. I'm pretty sure she met the guy who'd later become her assistant on the same trip."

Perry… A worse recollection flooded back, one she didn't want to.

"We got out of there and became friends. Travelled together, worked together. Vacationed together to a planet called Kreemar in the Gliese 581 system. That's where things got serious. Lived together in the Alberta Hubs for a couple years, where I joined the CEC. Nice, quiet life. Until Nicole got invited to be SMO on the Ishimura, anyway. Like I said, I worked here myself about a year back. We were going to get married after she returned. We will."

Throughout his monologue, Isaac grew more and more emotional. He wasn't the kind of man who opened up to those he didn't know, but talking about her proved to be an exception. She was both flattered and horrified. She didn't want to do this to him! Without even thinking, she slunk over and put her arms around him like she always did when he felt – the punch in the face was a natural response. Coming so soon after Curtis did the same gave her a profound sense of vertigo.

"I've said too much," he sneered. "I don't need or want whatever pity you're giving me. Just leave me alone." It was as he wished. She said nothing, again happy she was no longer able to cry.

"OK, a storage room. There has to be one around here."

Curtis pressed down the abandoned, smoky tunnel, hoping it stayed that way. He hazarded to be cavalier earlier when he had companions and hope. The numbers were on their side. Now that he was alone…

You're not alone, Nicole whispered to him. She walked beside him as a blanched blur, the exact opposite of the Shadow Man. He – or it – was dark and brooding. She – it – was pale and charming. Besides her pallor, she appeared exactly as she had in life with lively eyes and gentle smile. We'll always be together Curtis. You found me in death, after all. Rescued me from the Red Marker.

At this, she morphed into the Necromorph form he knew her as now. The only difference here was that her eyes were milky white rather than the saffron hue he knew. It wasn't enough. You could have saved me. You didn't. Why did you live while I died?

"You can't trick me," he said, doubt already seeping into his mind. If he stayed with Nicole instead of striking out with Nathan, Gabe and all the rest, she might still live. Perhaps she could have joined them; her skill and knowledge might have let them all escape on that shuttle. There's no way to know that. I can't dwell on the past. The past had a way of dwelling on him if the hallucinations were any hint, though.

I forgive you. I know you tried, even if it wasn't hard enough. You love me. She licked him through the helmet, sandpaper tongue scraping across his face. Disturbingly, it didn't feel too bad. He'd had worse kisses.

"You're with someone," he whispered. "And you're also dead." Her only objections to these were a wink and a smile.

He lowered his head, an exercise in futility. Necromorphs died with plasma, bullets or his own hands and feet if necessary! These hallucinations lived inside his head; the only thing that could permanently defeat them was removing his brain from his skull… and that'd kill more than just illusions. His feet turned to lead as he sank deeper into despair. He would die alone. Not alone, she reminded him.

"God, I wish the Shadow Man was still here." Just as the mental torment was about to make him collapse, he spotted an entry embedded in the tunnel's side. "Maintenance," the small sign read. Not even a holo-sign but print on corrugated metal illuminated by a flickering bulb. It was times like this when the Ishimura really showed its age of 62 years.

Curtis shook his head, and Nicole sadly faded away. He huffed and hobbled over to the door. Again, ancient; it didn't have a genetic scanner, just a handle! Fascinated, he took precious seconds to open and close the door. He'd pretty much only seen these in museums. Scanners, whether coded for a specific individual or people in general, were the standard in egress design since before he was born. I think Mercer's office also had one.

He brought himself under control and flung the door open, not accounting for the strength boost his RIG provided. Metal met metal under centrifugal pressure, making the hatch vibrate like a tuning fork as the clang rattled into eternity. Shit!

He ducked inside and closed the door behind him for all the good that would do. Not much, he realized as he saw the landscape before him: dusty and with poorly labelled crates that sat for who-knew how long. There were even a few ancient cobwebs from spiders that'd found their way aboard decades ago! All long-dead now, thank God. Necromorph spiders… The thought nearly made him faint.

All in all, it looked like the room had never been touched. Almost.

A sessile mass of bloated flesh clung to a Corruption patch against the far wall. It looked like a massive cocoon for an undead butterfly, an image only broken by the face. It yowled before pathetically thrashing around, a sight that made Curtis giggle. That stopped when he saw the footprints of whoever this used to be imprinted in the dust along with drops of ichor. Whoever this used to be died alone and in pain before becoming one with the ship.

This must have been one of those "Guardians" Nicole talked about – an important Necromorph caste, apparently. He liked the moniker. Sure enough, he spotted a coiled tentacle of muscle and bone in what used to be the rib cage. Dangerous up-close, certainly, but it could do nothing but howl and scream at this distance. Should still take it out both to put it out of its misery and so it doesn't psychically alert its friends.

He had half a mind to just throw stuff at it with kinesis to conserve ammunition, but that plan went out the window when it let out another yowl, this time expelling something from a hole in its abdomen. Curtis moved out of the way, thinking it an organic explosive akin to Exploders and Crawlers, but it merely hit the ground halfway between them with a wet thwap.

Maybe it's the Necromorph version of taking a dump. Before he could continue that wonderful train of thought, the blob sprouted a stalk. It was like a beefy potato plant, with the spud-shaped base on the ground and a little limb in the air. He would have been rather amused were it not for the grotesque eyeball on the reed's head. It swiveled over to him and blinked, making Curtis throw up in his mouth a little. It whipped back a second later and fired a bone quill like a Lurker.

He flowed around it like water; despite his enervation, his body learned how to dodge without even thinking. The arrow harmlessly dinked off the wall behind him while the Guardian screamed and launched another pod. Now Curtis was frustrated.

Enough of this. He turned the Plasma Cutter on its side like a gangster holding a gun (could have flipped the barrel with the press of a button, but this was more satisfying) and fired twice. The blasts sheared through the vines like a weedwhacker through grass, and they flopped around before going still. Powerful against these pathetic globs, but his weapon felt like a pea shooter against the wall-bound monstrosity.

He turned to the Guardian and unloaded the clip, slicing off the appendages that bound it to the bulkhead. It screamed even louder through tearing lungs, but he kept going. Shot after shot after shot. One of the perks of being a miner was that he knew how to aim at stationary objects like rocks. Or stagnant monsters, apparently. His aim never faltered down to the final burst.

The Guardian roared as its six or so steaming tentacles writhed about. Made him want some calamari, but only the richest of the rich could afford such luxurious food. I'll buy some when I get out. Without its anchors, the creature peeled away from the wall like tape slowly losing its adhesion. An ultimate gurgle, and it fell forward, spasmed and died, released from its limbo. That left a shapeless mound of dead flesh.

Sighing, Curtis shook his head and holstered the tool. Time to find what he came for.

This proved more difficult than he expected. A circuit board was a circuit board – just plug it into whatever machine needed, right? Oh, how wrong he was. All the components in their myriad containers made his head spin. Telling one from another was like discerning eggshell from cream. Only then did he realize how little he understood about his own field. He liked to jabber about mining's intricacies, yet the science of how his own equipment functioned escaped him. He knew how to operate a Plasma Cutter, but how a cartridge of gas got turned into a superheated soup of ions and electrons was far beyond him.

That's why I need Isaac. He seems smart. I know Nicole's smart. With their heads together, we can think our way out of nearly anything. Well, he may have been rather dull by his own assessment, but he still had a purpose – keeping these two alive. "Hopefully they still are," he muttered.

At last, he popped open a crate that seemed to have the kind he needed. Just to be safe, he took several duplicates, putting each in a different pocket. This was delicate technology prone to breaking. Might as well be redundant. He also found some power cells that might be compatible with their weapons (Plasma Cutters and Line Guns were both plasma-based tools, so they accepted most of the same cartridges), though he didn't know how well they'd function after the creeping decades.

With a final look around, he adjusted the hem of his RIG and struck out again, Nicole whispering in his ear all the way.

Voices pounded in Nicole's head as her siblings bore down. They'd been coming for a while now, but she said nothing. Isaac couldn't sense them and would think her a liar if she told him. All she could hope was that Curtis returned soon. Her boyfriend already managed to patch up Curtis' Line Gun and seal the larger holes. It wouldn't be long before physical screams joined the mental. Their own, if they weren't careful. The only upside to the dozens approaching was that their words drowned each other out. Not enough, though.

We shall string up the infidel by her entrails and parade her through this sacred vessel in celebration before adding her biomass to our own! Convergence is nigh!

The tone and sheer hatred of this voice, flanged and comprised of many tones, was eminently familiar. The Graverobber cometh. No ranks existed among her kin. Castes and particularly respected members (like Mercer's creations), but no official leaders. Her brothers and sisters answered only to the Red God itself. The Graverobber was one of those reputable "individuals", attracting Necromorphs to itself like groupies might hang around a celebrity. Maybe they were more human than she thought. They were each a nation, yet nations still had politics.

Please, Curtis. Get here soon. She again debated whether or not to inform Isaac about the terror they faced. They couldn't hope to fight so many; doing so would be struggling against the tide. Maybe it would be better to let death come quickly for him… Her claws splayed. He let his guard down enough that his back was to her, its turquoise rod pulsing with light and life. A single swift maneuver could turn it black.

God, she didn't want to. At least she wanted not to want to. Not so soon after her crisis with the Hippocratic Oath. However, the situation hardly leant itself to an inflexible maxim, she'd come to realize. At first, she thought the only important thing was survival. Not now. They needed to be realistic. The simple fact was that Isaac wasn't like Curtis. The latter acted bull-headed and stubborn and knew what he wanted while the former… was actually very similar. Where was I going with this? Oh, right. Differences. The thing was that Isaac knew when he fought a battle that he could not possibly win. Though she acknowledged they possessed a chance of escape, the odds still seemed slim.

Curtis slogged through pain and despair, fighting tooth and nail for his life, despite really having nothing to live for. It worked so far. Call it brave or foolish or downright insane, but it was him – and he didn't want to become a Necromorph. That was self-evident, considering he still lived. She respected that choice.

Isaac, on the other hand… He wouldn't want it at first. No sane person would. But almost everyone caved eventually; their bodies failed, supplanted with stronger, faster, superior flesh, not to mention a genuine family so lacking in society. A place to belong. They almost invariably enjoyed the gifts they'd been given. Some of that was the Red God's machinations, yet most was genuine. However, she was torn. While she relished the physical boons her new form provided, it separated her from Isaac. If only there was a way to satiate his aesthetic desires while maintaining her newfound vigor!

That was impossible for now, of course. If he became like her, though…

Well, he was the primary reason she wanted to leave the Ishimura. With him at her side, she would be content. If Convergence came, they would be together forever. If it didn't, they'd still have time. There might have been some way to get down to Aegis VII, at least. From there, they could hold each other as they watched the ship crash from a safe distance or go nuclear hundreds of miles above.

Then again, if Isaac did go with her, he'd be hated, despised and persecuted by association. Was that really what she wanted for him? He'd never really had a family, she remembered (though she couldn't recall the specifics); this was his chance to belong somewhere. For all its malice, the Red God could provide that better than she ever hoped to.

A distant roar split the air, mercifully making the choice for her. She sheathed her claws right before his gaze crossed her.

"What was that?"

"They're coming," she whispered back.

A pounding began on the door, making Isaac yelp. "Wait, don't shoot! It's me!" Curtis popped up a second later, panting. Nicole felt and smelled the feeble adrenaline coursing through his veins. No doubt about it now. There was a bond forming, at least on her end. Tenuous feelers reached out, probing his emotions. Dread and anguish tainted with his characteristic hope. It may have been misplaced, but it was completely genuine.

Now that she explored deeper, there was also something directed at her that she couldn't quite place. It made sense that he'd feel strongly about her, given all they'd been through, but these emotions weren't what she expected. A tenderness was present, something she would have given a more thorough examination if they had the time.

"Thought you were dead, Mason."

"Yeah, so did I," he muttered, fishing the data board from his pocket. It was broken. "Gimme a second." After a couple more tries, he located one with all the circuits and wires attached, shoving it into his hands. Another howl, and Curtis' neural patterns spiked.

His thoughts were comparable to those of her siblings, surprisingly. There were differences, of course. The Red God influenced Necromorph psychology as much as their physiology; its energy melded with their very beings, consequently coloring their minds. Coloring them crimson. They didn't even have brains anymore – that tissue went towards muscle mass and other useful adaptations. Thought took place throughout their whole bodies.

Still, some things remained the same. Spikes of various chemicals, different areas activating as situations shifted. Not analogous, but not the most alien thing in the world, either.

"Can you get this thing moving before they arrive?" Curtis asked, his vision roving over all the other systems that had been patched up.

"It'll be close." His hands already flew across the chip, soldering it back into place. A single wrong move would doom them all, but Isaac hands were as steady as her own. That was one thing doctors and engineers had in common. She and Curtis looked at each other. They didn't need a psychic bond to know what the other was thinking now.

"We'll hold them off," they said simultaneously, making each other flinch. Well, she didn't think they were that synced!

"Your Line Gun's as fixed as it can be. May not look pretty, but it'll work. Probably." That was all the encouragement he needed.

Roars and howls echoed closer as Curtis slid out the door and straddled the tram's exterior. The graviton emitters in his boots glowed, allowing him to navigate more easily up the largely smooth metal while still snagging whatever handholds he could. A couple moments later and he was on the roof. She followed, though she didn't need his fancy technology to keep up! Simply digging her claws into the steel, she acrobatically swung up in half the time.

"Hey! Watch it!" Isaac shouted from within. "I just fixed that wall!"

"Sorry," she sheepishly replied. However, they had bigger things to worry about than a couple dents in the hull, such as the avalanche of flesh sweeping toward them.

They were legion. The dull, sickly light blotted out their numbers, but it was more than she ever anticipated. Dozens of her kin swarmed down the tunnel, some comprised of multiple humans. Her mind flexed mathematical muscles familiar to her as a human but unfamiliar to the creature she now was. She calculated that hundreds of people were bound within this advancing phalanx. That was a significant portion of the ship's biomass – probably four or five percent, but maybe closer to ten!

It made sense. They'd been hunting her and Curtis all that time. Until Convergence came (which it might now that this crew was here), there was nothing left to do. And like hounds giving chase to rabbits, these predators finally cornered them.

Curtis stood petrified by the sight. Bad as it was to her, nothing compared to the terror he felt. Because of that, she felt it, too. "Isaac, hurry up!" he wailed, as pathetic as she'd ever heard him.

"I'm trying, damn it!"

The crest flooded forward, about to break. It was 50 feet away now: close enough for escaped Lurkers from the BPC to fire an opening volley of quills while their siblings continued the charge. Out from the carnage emerged a misshapen figure unlike any other – the Graverobber. I will feast on your bones! her sister screamed.

Curtis screamed. Her siblings roared. The sound she made was more of an effervescent plashing as her diaphragm spasmed. Would have been embarrassed if anyone heard it over the din, but that was improbable. Her friend raised the Line Gun and fired, the blazing bolt arcing through the air and nailing an Infector in the proboscis. Its scorched tongue flailed while wings ignited.

"Fuck you!" A makeshift mine was then launched from the barrel, magnetically clinging to the floor before going up in superheated plasmatic fire. Strobing light illuminated the Graverobber's massive maw for half a moment. It smiled at her. That snapped her mind back awake, and she awkwardly raised her own weapon. The clunky tool was unfamiliar and uncomfortable; her own claws were longer than it! Would have been more comfortable discarding the amalgamation of metal and wire, instead running into glorious combat!

She resisted that urge and instead raised the weapon. The memory of Curtis teaching her how to effectively use this tool drifted to the forefront of her mind. Her hands in his, the warm feeling of him talking in her ear. Warm… It was nice. She cocked the thing up a little to compensate for the arc and fired.

Energy crackled from the barrel, whirling and tumbling before nailing a Leaper in the tail. She sighed in relief. Perfect; it could do them no harm without the ability to jump up to meet them. Didn't make her feel much better as her sister thrashed , another shot from Curtis nailed an Exploder in the arm. Organic liquid volatiles gushed from the pustule a moment before her brother went up in flame. He laughed, the neurochemicals flooding his brain making him thirst for blood.

If only she was deaf to their thoughts as he. Maybe that'd allow her to laugh with him.

And then death was upon them.

Their fortress was stormed; this was the last stand. Leapers bounded onto the deck, some skittering across the smooth metal but most anchoring into the metal. Lurkers clung to the tunnel walls as they fired their bony shards. Even a couple of Slashers managed to board over the sides by putting their blades through the steel.

They were surrounded, her brothers and sisters slowly bearing down from the far end a dozen feet away. Finally, the Graverobber. She was so large that she simply sauntered up and placed her massive forepaws on the roof. The construct jolted, tilting towards her massive maw, which was nearly as wide as the tram itself! Rows upon rows of needlelike teeth greeted her like spikes, and she shivered.

One of her sisters couldn't adjust her footing in time and plummeted in, ground to pulp like fruit in a blender. A necessary sacrifice, the rest agreed.

"Your kind just invites me to do this!" Curtis shouted before launching another grenade, this one at the giant mouth. A mouth that smirked as one of its scythes batted it back at him. The explosive was magnetic, which actually made the fact it nailed him in the synthetic polymer chest piece was their saving grace; anywhere else and the mine would have bound itself to the hull and destroyed the tram.

As it was, it hit Curtis hard enough to knock him on his ass. His head spun; he wouldn't get it off in time. "Curtis!" She swept over and snatched the hot piece of metal from his stomach. Henceforth, an idea presented itself. She could throw this grenade into the Graverobber's mouth as he intended.

You disgust me. Her maw hung open in contempt. It would be easy. I will bring you to the Red God personally; its presence will burn your mind clean.

She couldn't do it, though. Killing her family was out of the question. Dismembering them was bad enough. The burning mass in her hand whirred as the plasma within neared critical mass. She tossed it over her shoulder, where it shook the air with its immolation. And that was the end. The horde advanced. More shots arced from her Plasma Cutter. Her body did all the work as she fought to remain in control. She needed to be the one doing this, not only so she bore responsibility for her actions but also because such disassociation might provide the Red God an opportunity to influence her body for evil.

They were close now. Mere feet away. She and Curtis would die before her siblings went for Isaac. I'm so sorry. You deserved better.

Then they were away.

It took Nicole a moment to recognize the grinding of gears and the low hum of bone against metal. They also shook Curtis from his daze and many Necromorphs off. He leapt up, suddenly finding himself with a lot more breathing room. Both knew what they needed to do.

Voltaic fire streamed from their weapons, painting the air yellow and cobalt with the sheen of different temperatures. Her skin crackled from the excess electricity, but that was nothing compared to what the Graverobber received: dozens of bolts to the left scythe. It was far tougher than conventional Necromorph tissue, perhaps reinforced with excess sinew. Once burned to the decaying bone, though, it creaked and finally snapped off, allowing the tram to barrel into the night.

The vehicle slammed back down onto the tracks, sending her remaining siblings splatting to the ground below. It took all her strength to not succumb to the same fate, but she held on, as did Curtis. Below, she heard Isaac whooping and hollering from within.

10 Hours, 45 Minutes Post-Outbreak

Curtis sat on the tram's roof, feeling rushing wind buffer his helmet. The ubiquitous smoke was less dense up here, which allowed him to see farther than ever… though there wasn't anything to see. Just black for as far as his vision carried. The view was studded only by occasional lights, illuminating nothing.

It reminded him of his childhood in the North Carolina Hubs. Some nights, he took an elevator to the top of the tallest apartment building he could find and just sit there. Above the smog and pollution, he occasionally saw stars – the only times ever before he left Earth. What magic they held then! Almost as much as the terror they represented now.

"The stars are ours", he thought. That was the USM's motto – a rallying cry displayed next to soldiers planting a flag on another world claimed for humanity. Not exactly tough when there weren't any aliens to fight off. Funny. He wanted to be a marine when he was a kid; figured it'd be a good way to get away from his shitty situation, maybe even contribute to human greatness!

Now he saw the stars were never for humanity. They belonged to forces much, much darker. Just as the pitiful lights in here shone upon foul beasts, who knew what horrors writhed in the orbits of other suns. Maybe Mercer had a point about humanity being locusts. If they travelled too far and took too much, something was bound to notice and exterminate them like pests.

The gondola skidded to a stop. Curtis instinctively shot up, though he knew nothing was wrong. It's normal, he told himself. He stole a final glance back. Neither sight nor noise broke the fog. Some Necromorphs doubtlessly pursued, but it'd be several minutes before they caught up. Everyone would be long gone by that time.

"Curtis," Nicole whispered. "What's wrong?" He ignored her, as he had a few times before. There was nothing he wanted to say. Voices stirred below. Isaac and Kendra and Hammond. Nicole needed to be explained to them (Isaac probably did just that), so they might as well deal with this problem right now.

"Was Isaac right about you?" he inquired, his voice cracking. It hurt to ask, a knife in her gut and his, but he needed to know. "You could have thrown that explosive into the Graverobber's mouth, but you didn't. Just tossed it aside. It would have killed me if Isaac didn't get us out of there." Her mandibles drooped. They had no right to evoke such pity. Suffice it to say, he feelings about her were more complicated than ever. His gut whirled like he'd been on a roller coaster for an hour straight.

"I know you are an only child, but say you had a brother or sister. If they were about to kill you, would you use lethal force to stop them?" The poser was a good one, but it didn't take him long to answer.

"I would." It took Nicole aback. "Brother, sister, father, mother: if they tried to murder me, I'd respond in kind." At least, that's what he thought. He couldn't say for sure, considering he'd never had any of those people.

"Not me," she replied. "I know they are monsters to you, but they are my family. No, more than that. They are closer to me than you can imagine. Remember what you said about helping you feeling like tearing off my own arm? You were right. I sense every life you snuff out, feel it scream in my mind before being silenced. I understand why you do it, but it's not something I can do myself."

He expected an "I'm sorry," but none came. Meanwhile, Isaac called for them to get down so the others could see the "abattoir incarnate". Better than what he'd called her before, at least.

"I'll think about your reasoning," he said. Her eyes lit up. "I don't agree with you, but I'll try to think about it from your perspective." He saw her point, after all, but it'd be a pain to not have her fighting at full capacity. Huh. That was empathy – something he thought he lacked. Again, this nightmare at least turned out to be a reservoir of self-discovery. With that, Curtis slid down the metal and found himself in front of the other two. Looked even more haggard than they did over the holo-screen.

"Mason," Kendra curtly said, extending a hand, which he took. Her temper seemed to have faded, though, again, he completely understood why she had it to begin with. This process was repeated with Hammond, and both of them wiped their hands on their slacks.

"Our engineer says you have a 'pet zombie'. Is that true?" Honestly, Curtis admired his tone. While that was an unbelievable thing to say (then again, the whole situation was outlandish), he sounded genuinely curious instead of incredulous or mocking.

"Ni – I mean, Drone is her own person," he stammered, congratulating himself for not revealing his friend's name. "It's OK! You can come out," he said to the top of the gondola, hoping the two wouldn't shoot the second she popped her head out.

The hands came first, though, eliciting sharp gasps from both of them. Then came the top of the head, eyes included. She didn't seem so scared around these people, just cautious; perhaps dealing with Isaac accustomed her to introductions. Kendra and Hammond both shivered slightly but showed no signs of aggression. Satisfied, she jumped off, landing gracefully as a cat.

"It's a pleasure."

There was no time for niceties, even though everyone would have liked them. The tram was still on a schedule – not much time before its designated minute was up. Therefore, soldier and computer specialist muttered some halfhearted introductions before embarking. The time for questions came later, and they'd take all the help they could get! "Remember, we're going to the Bridge to get the data. Prep the shuttle for launch. As for what to do with Drone when we leave…"

Curtis couldn't tell whether Hammond drifted into contemplation or continued speaking, for the gondola departed. That left the three together in silence… mostly. As the trolley sped away, new noises became audible in the far distance: wailing and gnashing of teeth.

"We should leave," said Isaac, who gave voice to all their thoughts. They did just that, cutting through subdecks and systems for the quickest route back. The more Curtis thought about it, the more it made sense the engineer was such a good cartographer. He'd been on the Ishimura before, and his job entailed him knowing every system and room.

They crawled in the decks between decks, the space between spaces. A tight fit, and he couldn't even remember how they got in. Dangerous, though. Exposed wires everywhere, blades sharp enough to puncture his RIG and who knew what else. Only Isaac's mastery of disarming these devious traps made him confident enough to wiggle through them; far worse than the vents in his opinion. Not something he'd ever brave on his own.

Eventually, they reached a small grate in the floor. Nicole signaled that there weren't any Necromorphs in the vicinity, so Isaac fished the laser cutter from his pocket and burned through the chiffon metal. Curtis hauled himself out of the little crawlspace. From there, it was only a short walk back to the hangar the Kellion "docked" in.

That's when his stomach churned. There must be some in there. The Red Marker realized where their escape vector was and what they planned to do; would've been foolish not to order a battalion of Necromorphs to converge there.

"You sense anything?" he whispered. He'd already explained the hive mind as best as he could to Isaac. Her mandibles formed a frown, and she stalked forward. Guess that means it's safe.

Nicole felt her siblings simultaneously near and far away as she strode down the runway with Isaac and Curtis. Just a few. Their minds were… quiet. Simple. Though her brothers and sisters could be denigrated as animals with their single-mindedness, they did ultimately have their own thoughts and feelings, even if those paled before the greater good of spreading Convergence.

These consciousnesses were more akin to lucid ghosts than full-fledged intellects. Nerves coiled. Muscles tensed. She was ready for anything. The ship's fires largely ran their courses, merely smoldering now that they'd consumed most of the room's oxygen. The brightest spot was its slightly luminous CEC logo: a planet being crushed between a clamp. Such power humanity thought it wielded…

Shockingly, they reached the entrance without incident. No attacks or ambushes or even accidents. Still, the petty minds ceaselessly scrutinized her own. It unsettled her. Normal Necromorph minds, she was used to, but this was like interfacing with amoebae. Not unnatural, but it made her skin crawl.

"There may be some inside," she whispered to her comrades, who raised their weapons and nodded. At least they wouldn't back down from a fight.

The interior actually didn't look that bad; some systems appeared broken, but the lights still worked, and air still flowed. The exterior blast shields had lowered, which doubtlessly saved the vessel. The damage would have been much worse without layers of ablative metal across the front end. The place still evoked as much tackiness as a spacecraft could with plaid shag carpeting and ersatz leather seating. Even the undead had a better sense of interior design! Can't believe the CEC lets its property look so ugly.

"Anyone hear that?" Curtis whispered. Her ears took a moment to adjust. Skittering… like rats. She vaguely remembered the fuzzy little creatures from some of her seedier dwellings; they followed in the wake of humanity wherever it travelled, even across stars. None here, though – she could have smelled them. Crepitating embers and her mind deceived her. Nobody was here.

"All right," Isaac said as he rolled his shoulders, "I know this looks bad, but there shouldn't be many internal problems. I just have to take care of the hull. Won't be pretty, but it'll hold together long enough to get us to the nearest colony." He walked to the front and began to open what appeared to be the primary control panel. The scurrying sound in her head drove her wild. A hand on her shoulder made her leap a foot in the air.

"You're tense," Curtis remarked.

"Something's wrong," she replied, the sounds increasing within and without. "We're not safe here."

Isaac's fingers grasped the rectangle's edges. Felt like she'd been shot in the head. The sensation was emptiness. Convergence was to hunger, and this was an exemplary illustration of such. Something within her knew her boyfriend faced terrible danger.

She lunged forward to yank him away. Isaac struggled and shouted for half a moment before his knees went weak. Flesh cascaded from the opening. All Necromorphs were meat, yet these were little more than animate blobs of flesh. Hands. Feet. Fingers. Toes. Ears. Tongues.

She wondered what happened to those fragile appendages so easily hacked off by her kin. Some were assimilated into the Corruption. It seemed others served different purposes.

They couldn't scream; no vocal cords. That should have comforted, but the splorching sounds they produced as they slithered forward like snakes were actually worse. Curtis screamed something about moving out of the way, but she couldn't. Not enough space to aim. Most ships crammed the crew as tightly as possible. The Ishimura and planet crackers generally were exceptions. Isaac was in front as she hauled him, however, so he fired at the meaty dollops with reckless abandon. A few were vaporized in the hail of plasma, but more streamed from every opening… including the ones behind them. A quick glance back confirmed they were surrounded.

In close quarters, these imps would have been dangerous enough alone. Mosquitos could kill a man with a thousand bites, and both these men had already been beaten to pulp. Would have been a simple matter of smothering them, worming into their RIGs and tearing their bodies apart. They'd do far worse to her.

Curtis and Isaac stood back-to-back. "Stasis?" the former asked the latter.

"You read my mind."

Of course, it wasn't so simple.

Something dropped from the ceiling behind her. Another impossibly thin shape stepped from behind an auburn curtain while a third rolled from beneath the plaid rug. These weren't her brothers. No, they were legions unto themselves, comprised of severed arms, legs, heads: meatier chunks that had been shorn off.

Eight feet tall they stood, yet no wider than a normal person's leg. Impossibly long, thin arms dangling so low their knuckles scraped the floor. Their heads were shriveled and dried like those of mummies. Every inch of their exposed, craggy muscle shivered and writhed. She recalled a curious animal she studied on the way to becoming a physician – the Portuguese man o' war. While it resembled a jellyfish, it was actually a colony of separate hydrozoans so closely interconnected they operated as one organism.

Many other Necromorphs were comprised of multiple humans, yet those incorporated all their constituents together into a singular entity. Not so with this creature. Its parts were imperfectly bound, individual morphons squished together with no more intelligence than their smaller cousins. These were animals, plain and simple. She would feel no guilt for ripping them apart even as they claimed her flesh. Well, she would drag them with her to –

Isaac broke away from the group, dashing nearly as fast as her! He slammed his helmeted head into one of the creatures' chest before plowing through the mass of meat.

"Just keep them off me!" he yelled before being engulfed by the necrotic tide. "Have to activate…" Time was molasses as she turned between Isaac and Curtis, the latter slowly priming his gun. Both were surrounded by, from their perspectives, demons. She couldn't help both.

Her body reacted before her mind, and its movements shocked her.

Curtis fired the Line Gun, which chopped one of the highly stressed skeletons in two. That proved to be exactly the wrong choice. The beast released a woodwind moan before disintegrating into a pile of limbs, all of which promptly sprouted little extensions of their own and swept over him. Another of these creatures shambled over as he squirmed, swinging its arm back and readying it to smash through Curtis' skull!

"No!" Her right hand's claws went through its shoulder like butter, and she easily wrenched it off with her left, crushing the life from it before it could animate. Her best friend and boyfriend were overwhelmed by these animals! Even if they were the Red God's progeny like her, she couldn't acknowledge these as siblings. More like mangy dogs that needed to be euthanized.

She plunged her fangs into its neck, her mouthparts crushing and tearing like a chainsaw. Bits of meat flew through the air as she tore into anything and everything that threatened her adopted family. Much as she loved her siblings and "father", she would never forsake the humans who cared about her. As they didn't give up on her, she wouldn't abandon them. Curtis had now run out of ammunition; he flailed as she did, throwing himself against the wall to crush the parasites scuttling over his exoskeleton. More came, biting, stinging and scratching her eyes.

Isaac emerged from his own morass, clawing every inch of the way as they began to burrow through his suit. "Run! Get out of here!" he yelled before unloading the rest of his clip into the ship's dashboard and slamming a series of buttons.

"Shockpoint drive overloading," the Kellion's AI stated over the orgy of flesh. "Evacuate the vessel." Blue sparks poured from exposed circuits as they rushed out. Well, not exactly rushed. More of a slow saunter; the noise and light and heat made it difficult for them, sapient beings. The sensations overwhelmed these animals more. Their petty minds blazed with primitive passion, akin to insects drawn toward a bug zapper.

That's exactly what happened, too. The sea of flesh parted as they all dragged themselves, blooded, beaten and rather humiliated, out of the wreck. The humans applied some stasis for good measure. Limbs and blobs flocked towards the pretty colors that would herald their doom. She felt their feeble intellects one last time. For all their rage, they were also so innocent.

"Uh, Curtis? You've got a little something on your neck," Isaac said. Nicole looked over. No kidding. Curtis reached behind him and pulled a head with tentacles sprouting from the base trying to squeeze his own skull off. Might have been a threat were it not burned to Hell, half its brains dangling out. Curtis looked at the thing a moment. Its shriveled eyes met his veiled ones… right before shooting out as he crushed it in his hands. Brains and congealed blood dripped on the floor, and he tossed the pancake-shaped husk over his shoulder. Hey, she didn't blame him.

They were trapped now. Perversely, that part somewhat enticed Nicole. She didn't have to choose between her adopted family and her biological one. She could have her cake and eat it, too. Still, this giddiness came part and parcel with shame. Some friend I am, wanting them to die here.

"What did you do?" Curtis whispered to Isaac, on the verge of breaking down. All his hopes were bound up in this vessel.

"They completely destroyed the inside. No way I could've fixed it."

The Kellion went up in smoke. Not fire, for that required oxygen that no longer existed. It creaked, cracked… and imploded. They could do nothing but stare as their salvation collapsed into a pile of rubble, burying a thousand tiny corpses in a single charred grave. It would have taken much longer for their eyes to stop wandering across the withered husk were it not for the static that blasted from Isaac's RIG.

"What the Hell is going on? What happened to the shuttle?" Hammond shouted. From the background, she could tell they actually made it to the Captain's Nest; the yellow hologram of Aegis VII still dutifully wobbled on its axis. He only needed to see their slumped postures to tell, but Isaac rotated the screen to face the smoldering hulk.

"That was our way out," Kendra said. She saw the ship's fire reflected in her eyes… and maybe something deeper. Couldn't tell over this paltry screen.

"Kendra…" Hammond tried to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she pushed him away.

"No, Hammond. This changes everything." Really? From her perspective, it changed very little.

"Can you access the command computer? The captain's private channels?" Isaac interjected. He seemed to have recovered and now forged a new plan. Always seemed to have something up his sleeve. "It's a longshot, but maybe there's something that'll give us another way out."

Kendra hastily typed something into the console. "No, there's an executive lockdown on it. I can't access it without authorization from Mathius or one of the executive officers. They're all dead, probably." Her boyfriend cringed in her eyes' corners. She squeezed them shut, but it was as if she could see through the sheer, wrinkled lids. "I'm sorry, Isaac. I didn't mean – "

"Well, where are they?"

"Don't know. That information's part of the private channels themselves. We're flying blind."

Curtis looked at Nicole, his expression clear from body language alone. She could solve this problem herself; the codes were probably in her office somewhere.

"Mathius is in the morgue. Was, at least. He might have gotten up and wandered away," she said. Getting the codes from the captain was her first choice. Explaining herself to Isaac was turning out to be anything but easy. Curtis cocked his head but nonetheless acquiesced. It touched her how much trust he put in her. How little of it was deserved. Some of that strange feeling again flowed from him to her.

Hammond sighed. "The tram's coming back to the Flight Deck. Take it over to Medical; find the captain, get his RIG, send the codes."

"What was that?" Kendra asked. The camera again flew around like a drunk pigeon until it lit upon a Leaper burst fresh from a vent.

"Move!" The Leaper lunged through the screen like a bad horror movie scare. It exploded in a blast of static; the last she heard was gunshots before the feed went dead. They'd already broke into a run before that happened, though.