14 Hours, 15 Minutes Post-Outbreak
Another long-ass ride to Medical. Nicole hoped it would be the last. Her friends were sedated, catching relatively peaceful sleeps off the high of their victories. Both were perpetually exhausted by now, lapsing into slumber the moment their asses hit the seats. These 10 or 15-minute jaunts were the only chances Isaac and Curtis had to rest. She couldn't see into the former's head, but the latter dreamed.
The two of them (with her in her current form) promenaded through a garden like the ones of ancient Earth. Just the two of them, stopping to smell roses and thoughtlessly chatter. Eventually, they laid back on the soft grass and watched clouds float overhead. With their vastly different hands tucked into each other, he planted a soft kiss on her skull's bony plating. In turn, she pulled him into a deep embrace. Almost choked her up! Though he didn't realize it, he loved her for whom she was, not just her body. He admired her intelligence, which was frankly something he lacked, as she cherished his tenacity, dedication and love for his friends.
She pursed her mandibles and turned away. Even if she reciprocated such feelings… and she wasn't sure she did… Isaac was the man for her. He'd already said he was no longer interested, yet they'd gotten along fine. Eventually, she'd break through his delusions and make him believe she was the person she claimed to be. If he still rejected her, it would break her heart, but at least she'd know the sentiment came from him and not dementia. Until then, she remained faithful.
The joys of dreaming were lost to her, for she no longer slept. Like a machine, she now "turned off" to more easily be "recharged" by the Red God's carrier waves. What happened during these times, she had no clue. Maybe her unconscious intellect wandered the infinite web of the hive mind, or perhaps her creator brought her back to itself. She didn't particularly care; her nocturnal fantasies were rarely pleasant. Always worrying about future jobs and disasters, as Curtis saw. Now she did that well enough awake.
It made sense that she'd appear in his fancies, given their inextricable link. They were Bonded – capital "B". To her, it was part of her physiology, but Curtis found it worthy of a proper noun. They were tied together in a way two humans never could be. For better or worse, he'd never be alone. While that was natural for her – even now, the voices of her brothers and sisters hummed in her head – humans weren't made the same way. She dearly hoped he adapted, but their differences made that difficult. Still, she was dedicated to helping in any way she could.
The tram skidded to a halt as it thudded into Hydroponics. They'd be back soon enough. Curtis was utterly unfazed, continuing to bask in wonderful vision, but Isaac jolted awake. Stretching, he yawned wide, the action making his jaw pop.
"Ow," he whispered, not wanting to disturb his friend. Yeah, friend. Isaac was never a "people person", but these were incredible circumstances. She was glad two largely isolated individuals forged a connection after an initial rough patch. Sighing, he stood up and shot a glance at her. For once, it wasn't tainted with distrust or hatred.
"Uh, may I join you?" he asked. For a second, she thought her mind played tricks on her. Only when she looked again at his stoic face was it real.
"Of course," she replied, trying to mask her excitement. Their little journey through the Bridge together went well. He better understood her inability to kill Necromorphs once she explained her psychology, being able to feel their deaths, and how destroying sentient beings (no matter how feral they appeared to outsiders) would spit in the faces of all the oaths she'd taken. Still, she hadn't expected him to volitionally approach her again.
He plopped down beside her, a mirthless smile on his face. "This – this is fucked," he said, "but I'm happy to be alive. Amazing that I am." He furtively glanced at her. "I never thanked you for saving me. Not really."
"It's fine, Isaac," she purred, nearly touching his face but holding back at the last second. The scent of his musk mixed with that of oil and vapor, creating a scent both familiar and alien to her sensitive nose.
"No, it's not fine," he spat, lips quivering. "You've pulled my ass out of the fire multiple times, but I didn't realize until it was literal. You burned for me." He reached out, gently stroking a charred part of her face. It didn't hurt; nothing did anymore. She could slice off an arm and not really be pained. Therefore, all she experienced was immense gratitude, for she never thought he would touch her like this again.
She loved him. Her soul screamed as she wrestled inside, trying to reconcile these wildly disparate feelings. She was dead and living, a person and a monster, a predator yet wholly vulnerable in such moments. She remembered the slow, sensuous nights they used to have, looking back on them with nostalgia and nothing more. Being asexual now, she believed she could never truly love anyone again!
Curtis stirred from psychic waves battering the shores of his pleasant dreams, so she forced her attention away from angst. Why should he suffer for her own insecurities? A few seconds later, he drifted back to a world where all these contradictions made sense. She was hideous by all accounts, yet he found her beautiful. Living and dead made no real difference. A Necromorph had purpose beyond slaving for an evil god.
"I signed up for this mission to find Nicole," he continued, barely holding back tears. She didn't have to worry about that, though she placed a hand on his thigh. "The love of my life and my best friend. Thank you for giving me that chance." The pensive grin returned. He was so close to putting it together and breaking through his self-imposed denial. She knew he would before too long. "Thank you so much," he cried, "but I'm scared I'll never see her again."
"You're welcome, Isaac. I'd do it all over, and we'll find her together." They sat comforting each other the trolley skimmed along. Her only regret was that she couldn't Bond with him like she did with Curtis, couldn't protect or console him the same way.
She didn't notice the miner staring at them until just before they arrived. His mind was so stilled that he needed to wave to draw her attention. Her gaze snapped to him, and she felt like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar. She'd flirted with him, after all.
I'm happy for you, he thought, trying to force himself to mean it. I really hope you two can love each other again. Envy was buried deep inside his words, though it was largely drowned by impenetrable shame. The inner voice was distilled with guilt over wanted anything else. And I'm a terrible person for wanting otherwise.
You're not a terrible person, she chided him. This began to get annoying, yet she couldn't blame him after flashes of his past imprinted into her. She saw a man who beat himself up over perceived failures and needed validation (though at the same time, contact risked people not liking him). Decades of neglect left him emotionally vulnerable and confused. Nicole would learn more once fresh, complete memories reached her instead of these fragments, but he was complex. You're someone who needs a lot of help – now more than ever.
He sighed and shook his head. Fine. I'll trust what you're saying. You're smarter than I am. Intelligence versus wisdom. She didn't need to retread that, especially once they reached their terminal. "Terminal". Such an appropriate word. The gondola hemmed its way in before collapsing against the rails.
It had only been three hours since they last set foot in the station, but so much changed. The lights had been extinguished, for example. Even she would have had difficulty seeing were it not for artificial candles and emergency flares littering the ground. They burned various shades of red, so this wasn't much of a departure.
The crucified collagen had been cut down or escaped, but stringy residue still clung to the wall. Crusty as it was, it looked like the inside of some cursed mausoleum.
What disturbed her most of all was the message carved into the ground. The "have hope, all ye blah blah blah" had been amended with a scrawled footnote that plunged her into ice.
WELCOME HOME, NICOLE
"Looks like that Mercer guy is alive," Isaac muttered. Yeah… She looked up at a nearby security camera, somehow knowing he watched through it. Snarling, she put a talon to her throat and ran it back and forth.
She sniffed the air for signs of him. The pungent bouquet of bad cologne lingered, but it was overpowered by a new miasma that wafted from the vents. Must be what Kendra warned us about. Most was methanol, yes, but there were substantial amounts of other organic gaseous compounds, methane most prominently. It wasn't thick enough yet to pose a danger to her friends, and she said as much. Curtis' mind quickly contracted before he acknowledged they had time.
How much? he asked. Can you tell?
I don't know, she admitted. This was far afield from her expertise. But it shouldn't be fatal until it reaches concentrations great enough for you to smell. If you don't smell alcohol, you're fine. Curtis took a hesitant whiff of the air, which stirred as the trolley bumbled away. Mysterious mist carried forward, and the candles flickered.
"What's the plan?" Isaac asked. As the one most familiar with the deck's layout, the responsibility fell on her. She directed Curtis to pull up a map from his holo-projector and began to explain.
"That room there is the Chemistry Lab," she said while pointing at a smaller area not near much of anything. It'd be a decent walk. The layout of this place still confounded her. After 62 years in service, the layout might have changed a dozen times, especially for decks like Crew and Medical where the important stuff was possible to move. "It stores samples of every chemical and compound aboard. Everything from toxic elements to pesticides to tranquilizers.
Nicole paused, suddenly curious and concerned. How did Kendra, a computer technician, formulate a Necromorph-killing serum? She always somehow seemed to be one step ahead of everyone else. From what Hammond and Isaac said, this was her first mission with the CEC – hadn't been with them long. The situation made her suspicious, though she didn't know of what.
She shook her head. Didn't matter. More pressing concerns were at hand, and not just her family.
"Mercer's been monitoring our communications. I suspected it before, but that's proof." She pointed at her name chiseled into the floor, which made her and Curtis both internally shiver. "I'm certain he'll have some surprises in store." Tricks, traps, whatever. Like Kyne, Nicole suspected the mad doctor still lived because of his usefulness to the Red God. With him creating immensely strong Necromorphs, sabotaging systems and nearly getting them killed, he was worth more alive than dead… for now. Of course, he seemed more than willing to shuffle off the mortal coil once called. "Be ready."
000
A smile grew on Curtis' face as he weaved through the night as bright as day. The streets shrieked with blaring cars blasting past at 100 miles per hour and thumping club music. His nose twitched as peddlers sold fried soy and scraps of real meat. Opulent skyscrapers towered over scrappy buildings, rich and poor mingling at just past midnight. The North Carolina Hubs never slept. Since New York and Washington were eaten by the ravenous Atlantic, his city supplanted them as the premiere center of art and culture in the eastern part of the United States Sector.
That was the nonsense he learned in school, at least. Didn't give a shit how the city came to be, only that it existed and that it was open… to all ages. Reaching up, he gave the moustache and beard he'd cultivated one final brush before deciding they were sufficient. The gel started to run in the hot, humid weather, but it would have to do.
Though he was only 15 years old, the platform shoes and groomed facial hair made him look old enough to be 21. And if the bouncers didn't believe it, he had a fake ID to convince them! So many options! His eyes scanned the dozens of bars, strip joints and flesh-peddling businesses that lined the main drag of the Hubs' red-light district. His "parents" didn't care where he went, so he could stay out as late as he wanted! The 100 credits he'd saved from doing odd jobs around his neighborhood would hopefully be enough for admission to any establishment.
Man, his friends at school would be so jealous when he told them about this! Well, he didn't have any friends, but this would be a springboard to make some. Maybe it'd also get him a booty call if one of the girls at wherever he went was really impressed. His mouth literally watered, not caring how unrealistic these things were, and his ego ballooned as he thought about all the great stuff awaiting him. This was his one night until he scraped together another 100 creds, which could take months!
He picked out a club at the very middle of the strip: a shining, opulent building that pumped golden light into the ashen smog. "Real girls!" the spinning holo-sign on the roof proclaimed. "We don't use Peng here!" Well, he'd never used that, either – restricted for "adult use" only. He never understood why. What was the problem with fucking women who weren't even real?
Confident, he saddled into the line, awash in alcohol and the tang of illicit substances, and shuffled up to the bouncer when it was his turn.
"ID," he demanded, and Curtis wordlessly slid it over. An amused smirk crossed the enormous man's thick face. "Come with me," he said, and pride surged in Curtis' chest. He was getting the VIP treatment! Others softly laughed behind him, probably jealous of the special conduct. Being scarcely half this guy's height, the giant crouched and pointed through opened doors. Curtis felt his jaw drop like a cartoon character at the sights.
Nearly nude women (and a couple of men) danced on poles while exotic drinks were ferried about to sumptuous guests. While he knew deep down there was nothing magical about it, it seemed a pocket of transcendent fantasy, a portal to another world. And it was all his!
"Want to go in?" the guard asked.
"Yeah," the boy said, trying to compose himself. Well, he wasn't a boy any longer. He was about to be a man!
"Then come back when you're 21." Curtis was so shocked that he couldn't fight back when the man lifted him up and plopped him down across the barriers. The people laughed again. He realized they were laughing at him. "The city gives us shit when we let underaged drinking and sex fly. Every place up and down the block can tell you're a kid. Why don't you go back to the arcades for a few more years?"
Throwing his hands up, Curtis fumed as he stormed into the zesty, living night. At least the guy was nice enough to not give him a boot to the ass like bouncers in vids. Still, he raged at the injustice! Age was just a number – who were they to call him a child after all he'd been through?! Did any of those "adults" have to deal with people he barely knew hitting him when he spoke out of turn, or the worst school in the city not even trying to give him an education?! It was stupid, but he was at the edge of crying.
"Hey, cutie," said a gorgeous woman who walked up to him through the smog-slicked pavement. She had shoulder-length black tresses and skin like ivory. Both were almost certainly artificial, but that didn't matter. In an instant, his disappointment and sadness turned to excitement again. "I saw what happened back there. Too much of a man for those boys?"
His jaw was on the floor, and little hearts flew around his vision. For the first time in his life, he was head over heels in love. Nothing like the silly crushes he had on girls in school. This was clearly a sophisticated adult woman, and if she praised him in such a way… well, he didn't have to worry ever again! Unable to form words, he nodded like a moron, suddenly fearful of embarrassing himself in front of this bombshell!
Instead, though, she laughed. Not from condescension, but something genuine and bubbly. Bending down, she said, "Come with me, hot stuff" in a voice like honey. He was an aroused teenager in the thrall of a gorgeous woman. Powerless to resist, she practically led him by the boner down an alley, which drew no concern at all. Who was he to judge where this fine lady of the night dwelled?
A couple more turns, and she stopped. He knew where this went. The stench of sewer and garbage may as well have been lilacs as he slicked back his hair and puckered his lips. He expected a heated make-out session, but those feelings (and his dick) withered as what he got instead was a blade in the gut. Tremoring, he slowly opened his eyes. The woman they fell upon looked the same but was somehow manifestly not.
"You're gonna give me all the money you have in that RIG or I'll gut you like a fish, you little perv." Oh. He was being mugged. So disheartened by this revelation was he that he didn't try to run or fight back, merely spinning the money she demanded to her account. He couldn't be the first guy she'd done this to…
"100 creds? Not bad. Word of advice, kid: if someone makes you an offer that's too good to be true…" His heart stopped and he peed a little as she bent over, sensually putting her teeth to his ear. Wasn't out of arousal this time, though. He feared the next sentence might be the last he ever heard. "…it probably is. No such thing as a free lunch."
With that, she threw her hair back and walked away with a final wink. Then she was gone, probably off to find another kid to con.
Curtis stood in the dank canyon, knowing it was a lesson he'd never forget.
14 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Outbreak
The trip to the Chemistry Lab was shockingly uneventful. No ambushes and no surprises except the vision she'd had of Curtis' childhood. Now she saw where his inferiority complex and awkwardness around attractive women came from. She normally would have abhorred such behavior, but he was a child and still taken advantage of. Wasn't always so street-smart. Honestly, it made her sad, though she kept those feelings to herself to not drag him down.
Everyone was on pins and needles despite the lack of action. It couldn't be so easy. Mercer must have cooked something. Was it the Hunter? Some new creation? They couldn't underestimate the jackal. Candles and flares were clues; they were sprinkled along the path like breadcrumbs. Whenever she thought they ended, more red eyes lit the way. Just a minute later, they arrived.
A holographic image of a begloved hand holding a vial of some blue liquid marked the entrance, along with dozens of warnings and hazard labels about the contents of said lab. Ravenous as he was, Curtis thought it looked like Blue Giant Berry Blast SUN Cola – a name so ridiculous she chuckled, which earned a feeling of happiness from her friend.
She ran a hand across the unassuming door. A long time ago, when she was human, she tried to deduce a cure for the pathogen here. It was noble work, but if only she knew how fruitless it was to thwart the will of a god, she might have spent her final hours not drowning in worry.
At least you tried, even if it didn't work, Curtis thought. You did your best. You're a hero in my book. Her response was a cat-like purr. She'd produced it a few times before, and even she couldn't explain it. It was like… an expression of pure happiness, something that only came from their connection. Her link with the rest of the hive mind was beautiful, but she was "born" with that. No exertion was required.
What she had with Curtis, as she'd discerned from tapping into her ancestral memories, was exceedingly isolated – one-in-a-billion or so. Both fought tooth and nail for their Link. Toil brought greater understanding. This was a battle, and, as Nathan said, it left them more meshed than vast majority of Necromorphs were to each other. That Bond would deepen as they grew closer. It'd only been a few hours, unbelievable as that seemed. Who knew what months or years brought? Hopefully it wouldn't hurt him.
You never will, he assured her. It's scary for me, too, but we're going to make it.
She wasn't sure she believed it, but he did. With that encouragement, they entered.
It was unremarkable: a small room with sealed containers of various liquids and gasses, as well as the standard suite of NoonTech microscopes and diagnostic tools. Besides the pervasive Corruption and poor lighting, it looked untouched by the madness… except for the candles. They sat on every table and across the floor. At first, it unnerved her, but then she saw the fiery words they spelled. No longer was she unsettled. She was disgusted.
HELLO, LOVELY
Mercer watched them. The mind of another Necromorph, though it tried to hide from her, was near. She knew it. He knew she knew it. Curtis was deeply unsettled by her rage and confusion while Isaac grabbed the compounds they needed. They were nicely labelled, after all!
"We need to leave," she said the moment he grabbed the last of them. "We have to get out."
Whirling around, she was disheartened but not surprised to see the door locked down, its normally cyan ring turned magenta.
"Your struggle for survival is admirable, but pointless and misguided. It almost makes me think we had hope as a species." A thudding sound emerged from behind, and she whirled around. Mercer stood behind a thick pane of glass previously encased with a steel shutter. It was the observation area, sealed from the rest of the room. A smug, sadistic smile adorned his ugly mug while layers of blood and dirt sullied his smock.
"Am I the only one who sees we died out a long time ago? We just haven't accepted it yet. Stop running. Stop fighting. It ends here." Given their past, it took a great deal of effort to remain calm, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of losing her cool. Curtis and Isaac were put-off but not terrified of the man, considering it wasn't obvious to them how he'd hurt them. He seemed to look right through her and squarely at her friends, though.
"Nothing's ending," she stated. "Actually, you will." Witticisms didn't help their situation, though she hoped they might perturb their enemy. No dice. Mercer instead turned his iron eyes to her, and the gaze tightened her like a vice.
"Dr. Brennan. Or Nicole, whichever you prefer. I'd like to think we're on a first-name basis by now, considering how well we know each other. You look lovely today." She steamed inside, giving Curtis a glimpse into a side of her he'd never quite seen. It thrilled him – he'd be that livid if confronted by a bigoted creep. "Such a pity. You of all people, a physician, should realize the blessings you've been given!"
"I do. That doesn't make it right to force this on people who don't want it." Both made it abundantly clear they coveted no such thing, even if she knew they'd be happier under the thrall of something greater. Evil or not, was it any eviler than corporations and the government running roughshod over the galaxy, blighting the lives of all but the richest?
"They are fools: children who won't take their medicine. And if you don't make them, I will." He smiled a final time before bowing out. "When I see you two gentlemen again, I expect you'll see things my way. As for you, Nicole… perhaps it is improper to praise your beauty in front of your fiancée, but you are stunning. We might be able to reach an arrangement." Her body froze and burned at once – sex with him to avoid horrible fates for her friends. Before she could get an edgewise word in, he was gone, which dazed her a moment.
A clanging screech snapped her out of it. It came from an opaque metal cylinder on the far wall: a storage cabinet. Oh no. Another rang out as steel was ruptured, this one catching her friends' attention. The gunmetal bent and strained from the attacks of a massively powerful Necromorph. Curtis shook like a leaf, knowing through her who it was.
Two blunt sickles carved through the container, releasing clouds of noxious gas from the split chemicals the Hunter had been locked beside.
You're stronger than I am, sister, he thought with the standard array of pheromones and images. That was another difference between her and Curtis' Link; being unable to detect her subtle scents and sounds, they communicated more through cogent words. I envy your willpower, for I've lost mine. I'm sorry, Nicole, especially since you tried to save me. He'll hurt me if I refuse. I can't take any more pain.
"Isaac, can you hack the door?" Curtis squeaked as the towering form plodded toward them.
"I'm an engineer, not a programmer like Kendra, but I'll try."
Harris broke into a sprint, roaring and jabbing his blades wildly. They were screwed. The whole floor was coated in Corruption, allowing a nearly infinite amount of biomass to be absorbed. Unless somehow completely blasted apart, escape was their only hope, something Isaac slaved away at while their battle began. Not before tossing Curtis his Plasma Cutter, though. "You might need this!"
An arm fell to the ground as he wielded this smaller precision weapon with a finesse that could only be gained with years of first-hand experience. Though he didn't consider himself a soldier, Curtis was exactly the kind of warrior they needed. Harris was "disarmed" for the moment, but the headbutt to his chest was nothing to scoff at!
As he called for help, Nicole ran over, stepped on the backs of his knees, and used her paring knife claws to pop them off like a fishmonger slicing off the heads of his catch! Curtis promptly applied stasis to the throbbing torso. Isaac did the same, allowing nearly 30 seconds of uninterrupted work at the door. Klaxons blared because of the escaping chemical fumes from now-shattered containers, which didn't help the mood. Still, the weight of that was stifled by their teamwork.
It was actually beautiful. Their Bond progressed so far beyond what they expected, at least on the surface level. They communicated effortlessly, sharing suggestions and strategies in the blink of an eye. Their own strengths and weaknesses, her intelligence and his gut instincts… they were a perfect team.
But it wasn't enough. Perfection couldn't overcome indomitable, unwavering devotion.
The blue aura faded, and the Hunter's blackened stumps burst anew, shooting gore as infant appendages quickly grew to fill the void. Reminded her of the mythic Hydra – chop off one head, more would supplant it. Then he was back on his feet.
"I'm almost done!" Isaac screamed.
Nicole charged, lowering her head and driving it into her foe's chest. At the last second, her feet left the floor, allowing Curtis to chop off new legs with the Line Gun. His torso caved in before refilling with flesh, as both tumbled down, and she wiped the blood from her anvil-like cranium. That was sloppy. He could've lopped her head off if he wanted to.
Mercer wants you… "alive". I can't imagine the things he'll do to you. No, but she could. Out of all the things trying to stop them, he was the most monstrous, even more than the Red God. Insane as it was, being an ancient, inhuman being gave it a degree of ownership to flaunt its evil. Mercer was a man who behaved the same way.
She knew Curtis compared his attraction to her with Mercer's lust. Wasn't the same by a mile; he loved her for more than her looks. Much more. A twinge of sadness came from Harris, followed by crippling agony as the torture system Mercer wired to him activated at the slightest hint of recalcitrance. Her own thoughts sparked some minor rebellion.
Screaming rang in both their heads, and Curtis fell over in a twitching pile from her malaise. Curtis! She tried to run for him, but Harris' meaty arms stopped her as they enveloped in a crushing hug. She squirmed and struggled. Probably could have slipped out, but the Corruption worked to seize her. I can't save you, but I can end this! I won't let him hurt you! I WON'T!
What a gentleman. Would've been impressed by his misguided "favor" if it didn't destroy her! She slashed and brayed, but his wounds healed the moment she inflicted them.
Isaac worked at fixing the door while Kendra screamed instructions at him. Alarms about "hazardous materials" continued to blast. The ground around her screamed for her flesh to be returned! Even for her, it was deafening: a cavalcade of meaning claptrap.
Curtis picked himself up. His thoughts calmed her own, and his intention was clear even if the words were not. He was going to help. With her ribs on the verge of cratering, she couldn't decline the offer.
Rising, he primed the gun and fired low. She swung her legs up, and Harris lost his. He hauled her from his grasp while she clawed the eyes, making him shriek. I'm trying to help you!
"I got it!" Isaac excitedly shouted while pushing himself up. She moaned while Curtis pushed her forward, Harris slashing at their heels. The door opened; she hardly believed it. Freedom! Relatively speaking, of course. Squelching came from behind as Harris already regrew his legs. A final lunge, and he was on Curtis.
I'll make sure he's too mangled to become one of us! Harris internally screeched, his mind melting from hours of constant torture.
No! He meleed the Hunter, though it did no good. Everyone and everything screamed. A beryl orb impacted their enemy in the chest. Isaac unloaded everything into the Hunter. Pinned under its great bulk, human and Necromorph worked together to haul Curtis away… but it was too late. Though slow and dull, the Hunter's blades were still immensely powerful. A sickening rip, and the right one tore through a soft joint on his RIG and into Curtis' thigh.
He screamed as they finally got him out of reach. Dark blood spurted from the ripped fabric and metal like a miniature geyser. Even without seeing the specifics, she knew it was very, very bad. So bad he passed out. May as well have been already dead, for unconsciousness put an end to all thoughts, eliminating their Link.
"Need a hand?" someone rasped from the door. The fighting was so intense that she didn't notice her sister approaching. Normally, any help would have brought joy, but Nicole felt only rage as Curtis' life slipped away!
"You couldn't get here a minute earlier?!" she howled at Elizabeth, pointing to the bleeding form. There was something special about expressing anger that couldn't be done with thoughts alone. Rage flew from her like gale-force winds, cowing the invincible Necromorph. She knew the problem now and was ashamed. "He's probably going to die!" Her hand shot back to Harris. "Keep him back!"
Enraged and saddened, Elizabeth charged in. A moment later, the ground was a mess of limbs as the two dismembered each other in an endless, writhing orgy.
"Is anyone there?! Kendra, Isaac, Curtis, Nicole? You hear me?" Hammond coughed into his microphone, which came out of Isaac's RIG.
"Where the Hell have you been?" Kendra replied, not yet realizing the extent of Curtis' damage.
"In Hydroponics. It's bad here. Real bad. I can… barely breathe. There's more of this organic shit here than anywhere… my eyes are stinging… I'm seeing things." She wanted to scream at them to go away, but her boyfriend got on it first.
"You know what's worse?! Curtis dying! We'll get there when we can, Hammond!" Then he slammed the log closed while they continued their mad rush.
Curtis' life slipped away along with his blood. It splashed across the ground, quickly slurped up by Corruption. She quickly coached Isaac in how to deal with such a perilous injury, her mind still flying; felt like she'd throw up. She held up his legs in the air while he crouched carrying his shoulders, essentially holding him upside-down. That was the only way to keep him from bleeding out before they reached surgery!
The only good thing about this was the location. Anywhere other than Medical and Curtis would have no chance. Winding into a random room with surgery equipment, she plopped him on a table while he groaned. Broaching into consciousness and pain, a thought slipped through the cracks.
Not like this… nothing mattered.
Nicole shook her head, trying to rid herself of sadness. Doctors didn't have the luxury of emotion in navigating life and death… but she'd never operated on a personal friend before. That made it different. Curtis, I'll do everything I can. Just like when trying to find a cure, what if everything wasn't enough?
Ichor gushed while she prepped for surgery. Howls echoed down the hall, and unspeakable flashes of emotion buffered her mind as wind. Didn't detect any other Necromorphs in the immediate area. She spied a medical centrifuge on the counter, which she poured the requisite chemicals into to form the desired product.
Either the pipes had burst, or something clogged them, for no water came out when she tried to wash her hands. Enraged, she plunged her hands into a canister of hand sanitizer. The alcohol promptly culled the moisture from her flesh. Already anhydrous from the fire, she felt it crack. She commanded Isaac to do the same through gritted teeth.
"Use your knife to cut open his RIG from thigh to groin! Then press hard on each end to staunch the bleeding!" Death hadn't stopped her from being able to bark orders with the best of them, and he did exactly as she asked while she raced to collect equipment. "And keep your helmet on since you don't have a mask."
Curtis' mind fluctuated with every heartbeat with agony as the sole constant. The organ most associated with life now killed him, pumping red-black blood out the angry wound in waves. Her friend did as commanded, sawing the supple fabric with his multipurpose blade. Blood was smeared across his hip, though it didn't obscure the fresh scars, pockmarks, bruises and so on. It looked like he'd ordealed a death march, which was essentially accurate. It was all a horrible dream, yet somehow actual. Her pinpoint focus narrowed more as she got to the real work.
She didn't bother with gloves, for they were ridiculous and ineffective on her talons. Bizarre viruses and bacteria may have thrived on her decaying flesh, but she needed to take that risk!
Isaac began to panic as he held down Curtis like an old-time surgeon; he was a strong man, but seeing a friend bleed to death on an operating table, wheezing and incoherently sputtering, made him hyperventilate. She didn't have time to deal with this. "If you don't do exactly as I say, he's going to die! Hold the wound open and don't let go!"
Finally, she got a good look at what she faced: a ragged tear in his hip that nearly severed his femoral artery. Even with modern medicine, it was the kind of thing that usually led to amputation, if not worse. Most doctors wouldn't have stood a chance with such limited resources, but she was no ordinary physician. In her mind, it was a 50/50 shot he'd leave the room alive.
He'd lost a lot of blood in the past minutes: 20 percent, she guessed. Usually took about 40 percent blood loss to kill an adult, but he'd been so beat-up in the preceding hours that it would likely take much less. Her only chance was to clamp the femoral artery shut and apply Somatic Gel; hopefully his body could process the dab it took to seal the wound!
A quick shot of opiate cocktail muddled his thoughts and pain. Shapes and colors drifted through their Bond like an abstract painting, which was surprisingly pleasant. Grabbing the hemostat, she maneuvered it into the wound, poking around for the shorn vessel. Despite her terror, she kept a steady hand and consciously stopped her vestigial lungs from pumping; no reason to wear a mask for her, as she didn't need to breath. With a few more pokes, she closed the forceps around the artery, making the blood flow peter out.
She scooped a small glob of Somatic Gel from one of their final tubes on her middle claw. It glimmered like silver ribbon in the red flame. "Press his flesh together as much as you can," she said to Isaac, who nodded. The two halves of the artery closed together, and Nicole brushed her talon along the fracture. With bated breath they waited, and she heaved a sigh of relief as the miracle drug very slowly mended the Hunter's mark. Far slower than normal, but it worked.
She threw a glance at the centrifuge: about half done.
"You did it," Isaac said with disbelief. That was what mattered.
But they weren't out of the woods yet, and she admitted as much. Curtis may have been stabilized, but there was no way he could move with how little hemoglobin remained in him. Somatic Gel stitched tissue back together, but it couldn't conjure cells from thin air! He needed a transfusion, but everything in the blood bank was surely assimilated by now. Maybe some synthetic substitutes were around, but they lacked the time to locate any. The only option was a direct transfusion, but nobody was around to…
Her eyes drifted to Isaac and then back to Curtis. He no longer moved. He barely breathed. What few thoughts he had were hazy and disjointed. She remembered those medical records she dug up when learning her own identity; he was her patient, so she had everything on him, including his exceptionally rare blood type.
AB positive.
A universal receiver.
"Isaac," her voice trembled, "I need to ask you for one more thing." With the wound sealed, he was able to retract the mask, revealing a haggard face. It was her imagination, but he looked years older than he did a few hours ago.
"What? Tell me, I'll do anything." Wouldn't be so gung-ho once he discovered what.
"Your life. Your blood. If you don't donate to Curtis, he is going to die." His ragged face turned pale as he realized what she demanded of him. "Please. He and you are all I have left." Stood still for a moment, and his eyes locked into a thousand-yard stare. When it ended, he finally knew.
A look of both joy and horror lining his face. "You… you're really her. You're Nicole." Him finally swallowing that bitter pill should have been cause for celebration. Instead, her head hung in shame that she might not save him.
"I am," she rasped. The words pushed him over the edge. Falling to his knees in the slime, Isaac bawled like a baby.
"I'm sorry," he cried, trying to both express his repentance and maintain some level of composure. "I'm sorry for the things I said about you. I'm sorry I pushed you away." He sobbed again. "I'm sorry I hit you! Why did I do that?!"
"I forgive you, Isaac, but you can't break down yet. I need you." Using her claws, she tore a hole in his RIG by his wrist while rewidening the incisions on Curtis' and creating a new one by his elbow – RIG self-repair was highly advanced, consisting of nanites rebuilding damaged areas by laying down various sealants. Unfortunately, there was no way to turn it off, so she needed to scrape off the thin sheen of metal and fiber protruding from the scaffolding. Hopefully this didn't wreck the suit; he was doomed without it. Damned if she did, damned if she didn't.
She took a clean piece of surgical tubing and quickly attached a syringe to each end. One side of the anastomosis went into Isaac's radial artery, just below the wrist, while the other she threaded into Curtis' medial cephalic vein on the outer side of his forearm. Curtis discerned only two things now: warmth and light.
Her studies of near-death experiences spoke about such phenomena. They clinically speculated these feelings came from a failing brain trying to ease its own suffering. Her patients occasionally mentioned perceiving similar sentiments on the operating table during particularly grueling procedures, but she never gave them much thought until now.
She saw it – a circle of radiance spiraling toward him, seeming to call him away. It wasn't her place to speculate whether this was merely biological or actual proof of an afterlife. All she knew was that it was beautiful.
The same thing might have happened to her when, for a brief moment, she was truly at rest. She didn't regret existing again, but she wondered where she'd be if never resurrected. Heaven? Hell? The void of nonexistence? The last seemed most likely, but who knew?
A moment later, high-pressure blood from the artery began flowing to the vein: a friend giving life to another. It reminded her and Curtis' Bond in a way. This was in no sense ideal – one or both of them could be infected by outside pathogens, or maybe one of them have allergic reactions to the components – but it was the only way.
Trying her best to smile, she placed a hand over his while he cried. He somberly took it, and they sat for a little while as Curtis recovered. His shallow breaths deepened, and his dreams of darkness and light gained more coherence. The light drifted away. He was going to make it.
"What about us?" she asked at last. Wanted to get this conversation over with before he awoke.
A stuttering gasp came from Isaac, who wiped the tears from his eyes. "I meant what I said. I can't love you like this." It didn't come as a surprise, but she resented the decision after the years they'd spent together. "Part of that's me being selfish… but I also can't give you the life you deserve. That's not in me. It'll sound like such a condescending insult, but I'll always be your friend." Difficult to swallow those words, but at least he tried. Huh, maybe that did matter. "What about you and Curtis?"
The words punched her in the face; she literally recoiled from the blow. "I – I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't play coy. I might not be a romantic, but I've seen the way you look at each other. Not that you need my permission, but if you think you can make this work… go for it." Her face burned with shame. This was her fault. Should've told Isaac about that earlier. "It's fucking strange, I admit, but I've seen stranger." Still, she was glad to air this stuff out.
"Thank you, Isaac. For everything you've done for me." Isaac gave a half smile before leaning in. Before she understood his intentions, he gave her a tender kiss on the cheek, not quite brave enough to go for her mess of a mouth. Then it was over. That, she knew, would be the last bit of romantic love between the two. It was a nice note to go out on. Nothing dramatic, just a quiet end to the most important chapter of her life so far. This one would be even more crucial. Isaac coughed a little and wiped his lips on the cleanest surface he could find.
"There's one more thing," he said. "I can… feel myself slipping. Those hallucinations are getting worse. At first, I saw and heard things, but now it's like it's trying to take over my body or something. Soon, I might not remember you're you." His eyes widened at the prospect of his own leaking insanity. There was nothing she could do about it, though. Happened to everyone eventually, and the only cure was escape.
Loud, wet footsteps plodded toward them, which spooked Isaac. "It's Elizabeth," she assured him, for he might not be able to tell the difference; she was a little shorter than Harris and that was about all. Indeed, she rounded the corner, slumped over and weary. The last of her injuries finished mending as she looked at them, then at Curtis.
"Is he…"
"He'll live," she replied, no longer angry. Elizabeth would have found an incinerator or vat of acid if Curtis died because of her lateness, and she didn't need to lose anyone else. Curtis may have been beat up, but he wasn't dead or paralyzed. "It'll probably take him a few minutes to regain consciousness." For now, though, his mind was lost.
"I'm glad." She stole a backward glance, making absolutely sure she wasn't followed. "We chopped each other limb from limb again and again. Wasn't a matter of winning but getting him to blink from pain. He had enough and ran back to his master." As she said that, Nicole noticed Elizabeth's skin smoked. Whatever Mercer implanted roasted her from the inside out. She was mentally the strongest person Nicole had ever met – anyone else would have surrendered immediately.
Would you like me to help? She'd mulled it over before, but now they had a little time and proper equipment. The biggest gift she could give Elizabeth was removing what tormented her.
I've tried clawing myself open, but it's very tightly bound to my body. I can't get it out.
You forget that I'm a surgeon. I'm sure I can help. That's just what she did.
Wasn't difficult. Well, it would've been for most people, but Nicole's skill and Elizabeth's healing factor made it a cinch. Since she operated on another Necromorph, she didn't need to adhere to safety procedures, instead sawing into the woman with her claws and performing the more delicate work with a scalpel and a medical tissue laser.
With a grunt, Nicole pulled the contraption from Elizabeth's back while Isaac looked away; couldn't stand the ubiquitous gore. She shuddered and twitched as control shifted back to herself instead of being fed through a machine. There she stood – possibly the only other Necromorph to break through the Red God's control. Mercer was to thank for that, actually; without so much pain, she couldn't have developed so much resentment for being "born".
The thing itself wasn't impressive, merely a mess of wires and spikes attached to a battery. It sickened her, apparently a device meant to specifically control Necromorphs; couldn't get it into a regular person without killing them. That implied he had plans divergent with the Red God's in spite of how much lip service he paid it. Why would he need it if the Hunter was "on loan"? Horrifically, it was fused with the spine, darting in and out of the bone like minnows in a stream. He must have shoved it in while Elizabeth was still alive, and the process completed when she transfigured. Considering he'd hacked that door, Mercer was a competent engineer himself.
I'm… free, she thought in disbelief. Slowly, the hulking form began to bounce on her heels like an excited child. Thank you so much! A quick stomp, and the machine fizzled, smoked and died. It brought her pride to help so many people. She never thought she would again.
"W-what's going on?" Nicole's head shot over. Curtis sat groaning, very confused. Before he knew it, she swept in and wrapped her arms around Curtis in a tight hug.
"You almost died," she croaked. "Isaac saved you." She used their Link to convey the events of the past minutes – nearly dying, the surgery and Elizabeth going berserk on Harris.
"What are you talking about? You're the one who did all the work," her (former) boyfriend joked as he approached. Amazing how much the oppressive atmosphere had lifted. Curtis sat for a few minutes as he tried to process the fact that, for a few minutes, he stood on the borders of this life and something else. It both terrified and awed him.
"Can you walk?" Curtis leaned off the table, wiggling his previously maimed leg. Well, it was really still crippled. Like his shoulder, it was serious enough damage that it would hurt when used. Nicole prepared to catch him should he fall, but he managed to shakily stand.
The centrifuge dinged, and she fished out the new capsule. Everyone looked at everyone else, and all were as ready to move as they'd ever be.
000
Curtis sat shrouded in darkness as he wept. Not just in physical pitch (though there was plenty of that to go around), but also the gloom that choked his heart and filled his lungs with tar. He had no hope left. Though he took to the stars with big goals after a semester of community college, those dreams died hard. That's how he found himself in the crappiest apartment in the crappiest city in Sol, except maybe New Horizons: Mars Capita.
Mars never had much in the way of resources; it was colonized because humanity ran out of space on Earth, same as the Moon – a place to shovel trash. Seemed it ended up one of those places. Well, the people finally had enough. Tensions simmered for months between insurrectionists and EarthGov. The flashpoint came when a Martian native raped a member of the Mars Capita Security Force… or was it the other way around? Each side blamed the other, of course. The results were less debatable.
Distant gunfire and shrieks were his answer. He whimpered and curled into a ball in his recliner, the one big piece of furniture he owned.
He didn't know what to fucking do! He'd been there less than two weeks, yet the violence eclipsed anything recent. The Resource Wars were just about done and had been for years, though maybe one or two skirmishes still petered out on distant colonies. Hopefully this didn't turn out to be like the Secession War, when a good number of the colonies went rogue and tried to overthrow EarthGov. At least, that's what he learned in school. By this point, he didn't know what to believe. It was strange. Though he tried to shirk authority as a child, who else was he supposed to trust if not his superiors? He couldn't trust himself.
The lights went out earlier when a rocket hit his apartment block. That's the reason he was a person sitting in darkness, though it worked thematically well with his crippling sadness. Killed a few families on the other side – the lucky ones were vaporized. The less fortunate suffocated in the thin atmosphere. Clenching his fist and teeth, he pulled up the holo-screen on the wall to dive into mindless entertainment.
"…and now we take you to the Wanat System, where the Planet Cracker USG Castle, the colony of Eisen and three supply ships have been lost." Not this again! He would've flipped the screen off, but just about every public channel covered it. That, and something about death on such a grand scale was impossible to look away from.
"Strange energy readings were detected emanating from the planet in advance of the crack. Whether these are related to the 'Wanat Disaster' is as yet unknown. Earth Government Defense Secretary David Chang has declared a quarantine of the system's remnants while USM forces investigate. This is Maria Regan signing off. We now go to Sachiko Seo to cover business…"
The nightmarish footage rehashed again and again: a speck of sable against the star Wanat, growing as everything around it was consumed. The planet crumbled; the Castle was stripped layer by layer. The feed mercifully went dead. In the wrong hands, gravity tethers were nightmarish. They might have been the most regulated piece of machinery made by man, considering their potential for sheer kinetic destruction. With the blackness of his room, it felt like he was in space about to be eaten, too.
With a soft cry, Curtis tore himself away. Death was everywhere, it seemed, from next door to distant worlds. He couldn't make it better (that was something he learned in childhood), but he could do his best to ignore it. Probably an awful idea, but he needed to cope. Everyone else did, and he couldn't be weak. Needed to tighten his belt and keep working like a productive citizen. That's what the anchors said, at least.
Another distant shell sent tremors through his body as he prepared for what he needed to do: find a job. Too bad he was fit only for menial labor. Besides one semester of college paid with tenuous grants and by pawning his few valuables, he had nothing under his belt except a high school diploma. He could try food service or janitorial work, but his dreams were more unusual. Not bigger, but beautiful.
He wanted to be a miner.
This was a new desire. He'd never been sure what he wanted from life. He could enlist; the military took anyone who could be whipped and molded. That's the future he dreamed of as a child, being able to explore strange worlds and be a hero! Adult cynicism set in, though, and the events unfolding around him were another nail in the coffin for his faith in EarthGov. Didn't matter whether they or the insurrectionists started the violence – they should have stopped it.
This recent passion was born more from practicality than a desire for adventure. He needed money for rent, mortgages and food and water beyond the barebones basics the welfare state. Getting to help humanity, if only meagerly, also sounded better than life on an assembly line. There was a number he had to call for a job – got it from a guy who made it sound legally dubious, but he didn't care. Operating in gray areas was part of life.
He punched in the RIG number and spun the person on the opposite end a vid-log. Hopefully this was a good time. Tilting the screen up so the person couldn't see his shabby dress, he also applied some filters to try and look less hungover. It would have to do.
After a couple rings, someone picked up. It was a strange man who likewise sat in darkness, so Curtis couldn't get a good read on him. The only details he discerned were a close-cropped haircut and many, many bags under his eyes. Looked like he hadn't slept in days, though that didn't dull the visage of skepticism.
"You're interested in a job?" he asked after a moment.
"Yes."
"Any experience?" Gingerly, he picked up a stick of gum and began to chew. Not the most professional interview he'd had. Also not the least. It suited the grungy business he tried to break into.
"Not in mining, no." Was about to quickly add some positive qualities to balance the obvious negative, but the man cut him off.
"Let's cut the shit, then. I'm not in the mood to do this. You're a greenhorn, an FNG. You need to learn fast or you'll die: get your arm chopped off in a drill, be sucked into space or pulverized or electrocuted or irradiated. Part of being a Magpie." Ow! He'd heard these were all possibilities, but the man being so honest about it took him aback. Everyone else he'd ever worked for tried to play down the omnipresent hazards of manual labor. And Magpie, right. That was the informal designation for illegal miners. Sounded kind of dumb, but he'd probably come up with something worse.
"Once knew a pilot who flew a little too close to a shockring collapse and ended up as a cubic millimeter of carbon inside an ore ball the size of a fruit basket." Was he kidding, because that sounded like something from a bad horror vid? His potential employer (though that now seemed unlikely) shook his head.
"What I'm trying to say is that I don't think you can do it. I've been in this vocation a long time. Worked as a CEC supervisor 'till they fired me. The mission I'm recruiting for is two weeks long. I doubt you'll make it past day one." A challenge, eh? Curtis overcame low expectations in the past – though not by much – and two weeks wasn't long. He may not have been too bright, but he was confident in his survival abilities; he'd endured the slums of Earth.
"I'll prove you wrong." The man ruminated for a few moments; his fingers interlaced under his chin. Curtis did his best to not look desperate.
"Benedyct Malyech," he eventually said. It took Curtis a moment to process that as the guy's name. Odd, but he'd heard stranger.
"Curtis Mason," he replied, which made the man crack a smile for the first time.
"'Mason'. Fortuitous name for this business. A stonecutter, right?" He'd never considered before, but that was correct. One of his distant ancestors must have been a carver of rock, a cognomen now passed down to him. Interesting.
"I don't believe things like that are coincidences. You're hired. Your salary will be about…"
15 Hours Post-Outbreak
Though Curtis' legs were still wobbly and his breathing punctuated with earthy gasps, his mind was sharp. He realized how close he came to death. How his survival hinged on two people, to whom he would gladly return the favor. That was a point of comfort as they traversed the corridors, crowded with gristle and bone. She made sure both the humans remained hydrated, too – they needed to replenish their fluids. Far away, she heard the mental chatter of her kin, speaking about the "surprise" in store. Again, they were led into a trap.
Medical was unique in that it had two tram stations: the primary one and an emergency entrance/exit to transport critically wounded people into cryogenic stasis, or simply "cryo". It was technology based on old theories of being able to halt bodily processes by freezing people in extremely low temperatures, combined with relatively new stasis technology. It wasn't that common, considering the speed of FTL travel. Used to be prevalent before Hideki Ishimura invented the shockpoint drive in 2244. She knew that Weyland-Yutani used it quite a bit back then. Regardless, this was the one they needed to go to – no time to hike all the way back to their original entrance.
How goes your penance, sister? she asked Elizabeth as they walked, trying to take her mind off deceit and backstabbing. Her pain was significantly lessened now. Some residual discomfort remained from nerve damage, likely permanent, but she bore no qualms about that. Better than she had been. A little irritation meant nothing.
Well. In the past hours, I've wandered, pondering my existence and trying to sway others to our cause. It… hasn't worked well. The dried ichor coating her crabbish claws proved it. She fancied herself a space-age undead knight errant, steeped in contemplation and righting wrongs where she could and slaying foes where she couldn't. It was juvenile, yet they both recognized that pretending to be heroes made their terrible work a little less burdensome. At least I have friends. Though they barely knew each other, shared memories formed enough of a connection for that term to not be a misnomer. Besides, they needed all the help they could get.
Are you planning on coming with us? Nicole continued as they passed a knotted tendril of Corruption as big around as a tree trunk. We're going to Hydroponics.
Hydroponics? Really?
Only then did Nicole realize they'd never filled Elizabeth in. To amend this, she beamed all relevant information into her mind in the span of a few heartbeats – the air being toxified, the giant creature causing the problem and how they planned to poison it back.
I saw it. The tone of her mental voice felt like worms shivering down her spine. I worked there in life, you see: a horticulturalist. While trying to escape and find Jacob, I stumbled across it. I only remember its mass. Glimpses of a being the size of an entire room came to her, but that was all. This poison needed to work, because there wasn't enough ammunition on the ship to take it down conventionally. It's… leviathan.
"Leviathan", Curtis repeated; Nicole let him in on their conversation. I'm usually the nickname guy, but that's pretty good.
The whispers in her skull grew louder, closer and more numerous. They waited. She, Elizabeth and Curtis all knew, and they made sure Isaac did, too. What could be done about it, though? That was her thought until they reached a door. Beyond was the cryo prep room… and so was Mercer. The station was the room after that if they survived him and his Necromorph posse.
"What now?" Curtis whispered. The obvious answer was to walk in, shoot anything that moved and hope for the best. That wouldn't cut it for the odds they faced.
She was a Stalker. That's what Curtis called her, and it was apt. Her instincts were to hide in shadow before mowing her prey down in a surprise attack. Brash head-on confrontations were all she'd been thrust into recently, but she'd had enough. Where Mercer was concerned, they needed every advantage. They needed to level the playing field for any chance. Fortunately, she had some ideas. She quickly outlined her proposal, aided by a diagram from Curtis' holoprojector.
Elizabeth would go in first. She was an invincible tank, so naturally she'd want to take as much damage as possible. Curtis and Isaac would flank, hanging back and picking off whatever Necromorphs they could. This would work until Harris came. At that point, Elizabeth would engage him specifically, and they'd hopefully have thinned the herd enough to have a chance. Meanwhile, Nicole would actually be a stalker – she'd climb into a vent out here and take her brethren by surprise. Of course, she wouldn't kill them, but she'd soften them up enough for others to dispatch.
Admittedly, she drew much of her tactical knowledge from the RPGs Curtis played in his spare time, with different attack archetypes for each character. Kind of embarrassing, but the logic was solid. They needed some diversity in their strategy.
"It's a good plan, but you're overlooking something," Curtis said after she'd finished her presentation.
"What?" He pointed at some bumps on the hologram's walls.
"Environmental hazards. Are those filled with liquid nitrogen or something?" No, it was some kind of near absolute-zero superfluid that assisted with freezing people. But yeah, it was a really, really cold liquid. Close enough for him. "You slash them open, that stuff gets on the ground, and Mercer's army is indisposed."
That was good. Curtis knew his stuff… or had at least seen enough vids to think so. With that, they sprang into action.
Crawling into a vent was easy as pie; she was born to do it. Though she couldn't directly survey the battlefield, that would be no problem by looking through Curtis' eyes. This felt so wrong, though. Him and Isaac were so weak from bloodletting and general circumstance, even if they had Elizabeth to protect them. Ambush predator or not, she should have been by their sides!
It's OK. We're weakened, but we're together, and this time we're prepared. It may be a trap, but at least we know it. And your plan is really good, Curtis assured her.
Mercer might nominally be the one in charge, but there's no way he's working well with the Red God… if they're really together at all, Elizabeth added. With that, her friends – her family – went to their potential doom.
The room was unfamiliar to her. A mess of tubes, piping and intricate machinery, it looked familiar yet starkly out of place on such a rickety vessel. Perhaps it was because most surfaces were covered in a layer of chromed frost, though that didn't stop Corruption from occurring. The other unusual occurrence were the Necromorphs. More than a dozen of them, examples of many bipedal phenotypes, were squirreled away in transparent tubes, coated in the same rime.
Mercer immediately launched into his villainous monologue. Again, he hid behind a thick pane of "glass" in the back, brave man that he was.
"Perhaps now you will understand," he raved. "The Marker has selected me for its missionary work, and I will continue regardless of children who spurn God's blessing. I, Challus Mercer, shall serve as the catalyst for humanity's transcendence! These specimens will return to Earth with me. Their glory will spread across the planet and beyond! Embrace the inevitable!"
What a delusional moron. There was no way he'd get them back to Earth – not with the ship in this shape. Well, unless the EarthGov crew sent to find them decided to… which they might.
After all that, though, Mercer grimaced and quickly walked away while his "pawns" did the work. He was afraid of being trounced. Absolutely delicious, and it made her lick her chops as the battle began. She dearly hoped she would have the privilege of killing him to rub it in his face. There wasn't anything for a moment, though. Nothing but yelping and skittering while all eyes darted around.
Alarms warning of quarantine and imminent demise blared as the main horde of Necromorphs swept in to face her friends. It was so sudden that she flinched, bashing her head on the roof of the vent! A couple dozen minds: not the largest battle they'd yet faced, though in such a small room, Curtis felt like it was. She viewed them from many angles, all deadly. So were they!
Elizabeth charged, immediately wrecking everything in her path. Even her siblings, normally blindly single-minded, were given pause by the sight of someone taller than most of them plunging her arms into their chests and ripping them in half. They were afraid, too. It made sense. The four were legendary across the Ishimura – agents of evil and chaos, slaughtering everything in their paths. Not like the nascent Necromorphs had much frame of reference or were allowed critical thought. To them, they were demons.
Some tried charging Curtis and Isaac, but these were promptly mown down by quick, efficient crossfire. It brought her no joy, but at least their ends were relatively peaceful. Their psychic screams as life faded from them seemed less intense, anyway.
All the while, the Red God pounded in all their heads, powerful enough that even Isaac staggered.
YOU ARE GOING TO DIE! IF NOT NOW, THEN IN ANOTHER MINUTE, ANOTHER HOUR. EVEN IF YOU DO ESCAPE, YOU WILL PERISH ONE DAY! JOINING ME IS LOGICAL! WHY WASTE YOUR DEATH? WHY LET IT BE THE END?!
Made her shiver in her iron cage. It seemed genuinely distressed they didn't accept its reality. In its world, it was truly omnipotent, and defiance was as insulting as it was baffling. Why should people not heed a being infinitely their greater? Even she couldn't answer that.
Altogether, things looked up, though. Elizabeth was covered in Swarmers, though they did no real damage, while the two humans managed to take out whatever approached them before getting too close. For a moment, she felt a spark of hope that they had a chance.
That's when Harris arrived. Her ancient Hunter was among the last, pushing up from beneath the ground like a zombie… which he was. Frustration and shame hung around his body like shackles, but that didn't stop him from running to Elizabeth, distracted with the last of the animate collagen, and running her through with a blade.
Shit! Her time was now. She threw herself through the grate, rolling to her feet as she hit the floor. Then she leapt up like Curtis suggested, slashing through the thick wall mounted jugs of supercooled particles, which gushed out; others were blown open with weapons fire. The few Necromorphs remaining were either stuck to the ground or wholly encased in glaciers as Bose-Einstein condensate virtually stopped the atoms of anything it touches dead in their tracks.
Elizabeth tried getting out of the way, but it was a futile effort when skewered, so she froze with the rest. Ice wound up her legs like an infection, and she slowly stopped twitching. Not a big deal, though it looked very dramatic. She wasn't in particular pain (aside from the impalement). Necromorph tissue and cells were far more elastic than humans', so all they had to do was thaw her out. It was rather amusing, actually. Like in cartoons, the eyes of her family members still roved about, and their mind still operated, as well.
Th-thank you, Harris commented. I don't hurt anymore. His "apology" was pathetic, but she saw into his head. He hurt so much, and his nerves being icebound interrupted the dolor. Despite nearly killing Curtis, she couldn't bring herself to completely hate him. Empathy reigned when you could peer into another's mind.
This was also a chance. She had enough time to remove the torture implement from his back like with Elizabeth. Please, I'd like that very much, he added while Elizabeth fumed. I don't want to be part of this, but what else can I do?!
"F-fffffffffreezing cycle successful. –ansporting patients," a flat voice blared over the intercoms.
What? The AI must have broken again. That's what she interpreted it as until mechanical claws descended from the ceiling. Not a speck of frost was on her, but she benumbed. How could she have forgotten what this room was for?!
"Get her!" she yelled, jumping onto the combined frozen forms of Elizabeth and Harris as a robotic clamp closed around them. Her friends joined in a moment later, though both seemed very confused. Of course automated parts would activate whenever someone was prepped! It was difficult and dangerous to put people into cryotubes manually, so machines did the work!
They held Elizabeth down as long as they could. More arms snatched statuesque forms, jailing them in the tubes lining the walls. These would be nearly impossible to break, she knew, and they lacked the time to find the override codes!
Gritting her teeth, she adjusted her grip, and Elizabeth slowly began to descend. That's right. Come down. Her arm creaked and shuddered… and then it snapped off. They were thrown to the floor while the arm recoiled up. The rest of her kept going until it was sealed into one of the coffin-like stasis units along the walls. A tight fit with Harris, and the sight of them eternally locked in combat was a memorial fit for titans.
It took a moment to process it. They won and lost. They'd survived, but their friend was trapped again! Curtis tried to comfort her with thoughts, but it didn't quite work.
I'll get out of here, she thought, not believing it in the slightest. Please, go.
Roiling with sadness, they left her behind. Mercer would come back to collect his slaves, her included. Gone was the composed, professional doctor. She expelled a bloodcurdling shriek and slashed the walls in rage. Maybe the monster would "settle" for Elizabeth instead of her.
"Nicole… I'm sorry," Curtis whispered, her thoughts of rage and hatred rushing between them as tumultuous water. It was directed at both of them: him for suggesting the idea and her for acting upon it. She knew his mind, at least the surface level of thoughts and feelings. He didn't mean for this to happen, and he saw it. Besides, she was complicit, too. Should've known her own deck better. In the end, there was nobody to blame but everyone. Circumstance conspired against them.
She also knew he loved her… and she showed him the memory of Isaac from when he was still unconscious. Perhaps it was irresponsible, but she wanted the both of them to be happy. Joy was hard to come across. A spark of unbridled joy kindled in his chest, though tempered by genuine sadness.
I'm sorry you two didn't work out, he sheepishly thought.
So am I.
As they walked behind Isaac, Curtis silently took her hand and snuggled his head into her shoulder. Slowly blinking, she reciprocated and softly churred in his ear. They didn't need words or even thoughts to enjoy the company as they reached the station. They just needed each other. As they sat, another of his memories wormed its way into her mind.
000
When he woke, she was gone. Her identity didn't matter. Only that she departed and didn't steal anything on the way out; made sure of that with a sweep of his apartment. He never even learned her name. With a moan, he grabbed some lab-grown bacon from the fridge (an upgrade from the usual soy substitutes, as he wanted some variety) and plopped it on the griddle. Another night, another round of empty hedonism.
He acted responsibly, of course. He wasn't a sleazy pickup artist, nor did he prey on drunk women, offering to take them home and then molesting them. Such behaviors were despicable.
Instead, he was honest. Near the end of a night, he'd sit down next to a woman (or man, if he felt adventurous) and strike up a conversation. Didn't matter what about, just that they got to know each other on a basic level. Then he'd candidly ask if they wanted to fuck.
Most of the time, they refused. He got slapped in the face pretty often, which made him steam until he reminded himself this wasn't the normal way to get tail. He didn't know what else to do, though! He craved connection, but mindless gyrating was the only way he knew how to get it. He didn't have the energy to pursue friendships or romance, and even if he did, nobody would like him. Nobody liked anybody. That's why everyone pretended to be interesting or charismatic. Never worked for him. He thought back to half a lifetime ago on the night he tried getting into that bar. How could life be so empty?
Worthless. Good only to dig. He pressed a button on the wall, which raised the window shutters, revealing the world outside – Saturn. Growing up on Earth, it used to scare him how only a few inches of glass protected him from violent death. Every so often (more frequently than he would have liked) a psycho with explosives blew a hole in the hull and took out a city block. Well, he'd adjusted to society better than some people.
Maybe it's time to get religion. Those Unitologists seem pretty happy. He knew a few converts, and they were satisfied with their choice. The whole premise of alien rock gods seemed pretty loony, but the universe was a mysterious place. Maybe it was all true. It'd give him hope for the future instead of making him wallow in this foul present.
The timer on his Weyland-Yutani stove dinged, breaking through the daydreams.
What'll I do? he asked, as if it was even a question. He'd do the same thing he'd done for the last decade – mine. The asteroid belt, the Jovian moons, a job or two gas extracting on Uranus. Titan was his favorite, though. Had to be, as it birthed the Sprawl – the most sumptuous city in Sol off Earth. Though it had been nearly tapped out with the "moon harvest" decades ago, Titan's unique composition made it viable to mine the shard that remained. From what he'd heard, it sounded like a very unusual world, with only a few similar planets and moons located, none of them nearby. Its supplies of natural hydrocarbons were essential in making polymers across the galaxy. The government itself even paid for his housing so he could work.
He'd performed the same song and dance for so long – looking back on it, he could hardly believe he was 31 years old. What kind of life had he lived?! Hadn't done a damn thing in the last 10 years besides hit rocks, have sex, get wasted and consume mindless popular culture. He needed a change. A big one.
Not much variety with mining, though. It was one of the most monotonous professions he knew. Better than working an assembly line, but hardly more complex. He had an idea, though, one bolstered by his view of Saturn and the great city outside. The moon harvest gave birth to planet cracking. Maybe he could be part of that? He'd heard through the grapevine of his mining associates that the CEC geared up for a big expedition with the Ishimura! Surprisingly hush-hush for a megacorp recruiting drive. Maybe it was on the far side of the law – wouldn't be surprised – or for a very exclusive group.
The chances he could procure a spot on the first planet cracker, most famous spaceship in history and arguable savior of the human race was slim to none, but what did he have to lose? If rejected, it was no skin off his back. The opportunity to step beyond Sol also tantalized. Most people had been out for either pleasure or business, and he'd been presented several opportunities to embark on missions to strip mines extrasolar moons and planets, but he'd never taken the leap. Wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just too different.
With a sigh, he typed on a holographic keyboard and prepared to spin a log to the local CEC recruiters and see if this job was even real. Pretty exciting if it is.
...
I'm pleased I was able to get another chapter out this month; wasn't sure I could with the previous one being so long. This is going to be similar to the last chapter in format but with Nicole getting all the action and flashbacks with Curtis. I think I'll go back to my standard approach of switching between the two, but this was a fun way to mix things up.
This might be a bit of a strange thing to bring up, but I've alluded to Curtis' sex life a couple times by now, so I'll just flat-out say he's bisexual, though with a definite lean toward women. I decided for that to be the case because it gives him wider standards of beauty than most people. Wanted to say that in case it needed clearing up, though it's probably not important.
Since I've brought it up a few times, I want to explain "resort worlds"; it's me piecing together several bits of canon. So, there are some habitable worlds beyond Earth which are seen in ads and stuff, even though it's well-established in DS that no aliens have ever been found (except the Tau Volantians by SCAF). My idea is that there are a few planets that EarthGov has extensively terraformed as paradises for the rich and powerful: probably around five. The two we know of are Shalanx III and Kreemar, the latter housing another Red Marker. These will be important, considering they have biospheres comparable to Earth's – feasts for the Moons.
Finally, I really didn't expect Elizabeth to become such a prominent recurring character. Just sort of happened, but I'm glad it did. I find her really interesting.
To JasonVUK, CelfwrDderwydd, AlexanderMugetsu, Crimson An'Xileel, RabidPanzer and AncientOfDayz, thanks for reviewing! I'd especially like to thank the last for helping me with the surgery scene, considering he's a biologist. I don't usually do stuff like this, but THANK YOU HEALTHCARE/ESSENTIAL WORKERS, as well! I should have said this earlier, since both my parents are doctors and Nicole is, too. Thank you so much for putting your lives on the line. You don't get half the credit you deserve. A belated Memorial Day/Eid, as well.