Dead Space: Ordination

by PyroFox117

AU. On the USG Ishimura, screams of the living have been supplanted by roars of the dead. Curtis, a miner, is one of the few still clinging to life within, and desperate to escape. The Marker, however, is not easy to elude. On his quest, he encounters survivors from the colony, a Unitology-hating engineer, and a Necromorph with her own agenda. Eventual OC X Fem!Stalker

23. Ghosts and Machines

16 Hours, 45 Minutes Post-Outbreak

On the tram again. Their paths always led back to that giant coffin. Curtis had rooted himself in the same spot near the front so many times that a distinct outline of his ironclad rear was impressed into dank fabric. It was part of the ship now, as was he. He'd never really leave, even if he escaped. That much he knew.

Nicole's presence helped. Kept him from falling into the abyss of insanity that yawned beneath him. Auras of love and acceptance permeated his soul more than words ever could.

Then there was that sensation's opposite, one of fear and depression. This came from Isaac, who lived in the back. He skulked in darkness, sitting straight as an arrow. He saw the engineer's mouth flap up and down, silently speaking to someone in his head. Nicole, most likely. Though he'd previously acknowledged their Stalker companion as Nicole (and even gave their relationship his blessing), that never could have lasted. Not with the plague of madness infesting the ship. He was no longer wholly responsible for his own actions.

Curtis was still pissed at him, though.

His actions nearly got them all killed. He recognized it was stupid, that there had been times he'd nearly done the same. Call it human hypocrisy. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like insincerity and fraud governed all mankind. He always knew lies were common, but now he was hard-pressed to recall a single institution that ever told him the truth. EarthGov, the CEC, other employers and his foster families all claimed he'd be taken care of. None ever did. Of course, he was also a liar. The greatest axiom he'd ever learned came from being mugged by a woman twice his age in a skeevy back alley: "if someone makes you an offer that's too good to be true, it probably is."

Must have been a truly universal mindset; even the Marker utilized deception. It was a greater weapon in its arsenal than zombies. Had anyone in his life ever been honest?

I like to think I have.

He turned to Nicole, who flashed a lovely smile at him. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder. Another cliché that turned out all too true. "The wisdom of the ancients" proved a better guide than anything else he'd encountered. But yeah, she'd proved truthful. Of course, part of that was being unable to lie to each other – the bridge between their mental worlds would tip the other off – but what few deceptions she had offered were for his own safety. Even then, they became more open. He wished more people had the Bond he'd been gifted with. It would help so many.

Weird things to dwell on amidst their predicament, but he'd cheated death yet again. He found himself being drawn toward life.

Isaac stared at them with a furrowed brow, somehow seeming to understand everything transpiring in their heads. It unsettled him, yet there was no malice behind his glassy eyes. Not much of anything. Curtis found himself being sucked into a staring contest against his will. Difficult to turn away from the battle for the man's soul. Very soon, the Marker would win. Their gazes drifted together a dozen times before Curtis "said" something.

We'll probably have to split up again, Curtis beamed to Nicole across their Bond. This was an era of relative asylum, but obscure dangers crouched in every corner. They couldn't afford to dawdle, especially with Isaac slipping by the minute. Kendra and Hammond (if he still lived) would soon follow. Do you want to go with me or Isaac?

He was ashamed to say the latter might have evoked envy an hour ago. Not so with their current connection, subsequent make-out session and Isaac's delirium.

With you. The answer surprised him, though perhaps it shouldn't have. It's not like that, she replied, only sounding the slightest bit defensive. Mostly, though, she was saddened by her former lover's condition. I think he's well enough to go alone one more time. I mean, he's unstable, but he hasn't been aggressive. True… but it wouldn't be long. There was the question of what to do with him afterward, but neither wanted to address that yet. Besides, we saw what happened after you being alone for under a minute. You're more dangerous to yourself than he is.

Curtis sighed, more air being pumped from his throat with every bump and kink in the magnetic tracks. Even now, he felt the Marker attepmting to remold his brain to its whims – it'd be moldy cheese if it got its wish. He only resisted because of Nicole. His Link with her was stronger. It drowned out the Marker's voice, reducing the commands of a god to that of fly buzzing around his head. Without her, he'd kill himself within minutes.

Thank you, he told her. He expressed gratitude often, for nothing he said or did would ever compensate her kindness (not that any reciprocation was wanted). Of course, Nicole felt the same way about him.

The journey was gentler than usual, for they soon arrived at the Mining Deck. It had been so long since he set foot there. The whole reason for his presence proved a minor footnote in the scheme of his tribulations. Now he returned and was unsurprised by the homecoming he faced. The usual – Corruption, bad smells, spooky noises. It grated on him, but he no longer found it that frightening. He'd been inundated with these varnishes for so long they barely fazed him. No scarier than a horror movie. Hell, the Clogger alarmed him more by this point!

Necromorphs themselves were another matter. His complacency with the trappings didn't mean he was dumb. The scenery just didn't have the potential to hurt him… most of the time. It was akin to fighting actual monsters in a cheap haunted house. And it took something on the level of the Leviathan or the Graverobber to really throw him off.

We haven't seen her for a while, Nicole thought as they stepped into the platform. No, and hopefully they wouldn't again. She doubtlessly still prowled the tunnels for them. A distant roar made the three quicken their strides deeper into the deck. So much for him not being scared…

But his confidence grew as they pressed on. Curtis didn't need a map to navigate these halls. The times he'd done it were enough, and the layout of mining vessels was second nature to him. They soon found themselves before the great door he admired of old. Almost seemed quaint compared with the other wonders he experienced. The only notable things about it were that he'd found his Line Gun and met Gabe in the room ahead.

God, I hope he and Lexine are all right. It had been so long since they left. Living or dead by Nathan's undead hands, he didn't know. He hoped they'd found hot meals and warm beds on the Sprawl by now and would never look back. Maybe he'd meet them again one day if he was lucky. Anyway, he opened the door.

Mining Ops was the same, only a lot uglier in all the standard ways. Nothing stood out except for a row of lockers to the left, which had been crushed by a large Corruption tentacle. Most of his awe evaporated with his fear; there was a time that this chamber impressed him more than any he'd ever been in.

Curtis drew his weapon in a half-hearted attempt to dissuade Necromorphs, but the only one there was the woman beside him. She stroked his mind, which coaxed loose his aching muscles and made him holster the gun. I don't feel anyone too close, but I sense a lot of minds deeper in. Too far to tell how many, though.

She shared the sensations of buzzing intellects with him, which reminded him of flies swarming steamy roadkill on a hot summer day. Though distant, they were little cold sparks. At least, that's how he perceived them. Still incredibly difficult to fathom the hive mind – his brain wasn't equipped to deal with it like Nicole's. She only allowed him to peer in, as she tore herself away from the collective. He was an outsider looking through the lens of an outcast, so his perspective was warped.

Isaac threw another uncanny look at them, which made Curtis flinch.

They reached the main lift before too long, the great engine to travel between the many subdecks. There were other ways, but this was the main one. Might as well use it. The three sat with their backs against the grate while Curtis called Kendra. Hopefully she'd put together a more complete version of her plan by now. She answered almost immediately, and Curtis noticed she wasn't at her usual spot in the shuttle. She now stalked the halls, Divet at the ready.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, painfully aware any slip-up on his part might be fatal. It took a few seconds, but she found a storage closet and slipped inside.

"Looking for a compatible shockpoint drive," she said with a shrug. "Might as well do something important while you're launching the beacon. Unlikely there are any around here, but maybe I'll stumble upon one." Curtis normally would have objected, but it was her choice. More power to her if she thought this would yield results.

"If you say so." She pulled up another holo-screen, this one on her wrist, and hammered at the keys. She licked her parched lips.

"Looks like there's an asteroid moored in one of the mining bays for smelting; most are gone. If you attach the SOS beacon to it, you can launch it out of the debris field for a clean broadcast." A generally hazy plan began to take shape in his head, an image forged by her words. The asteroid part may have been superfluous, but it would render the thing less susceptible to damage. "The beacon is on the Maintenance subdeck." Even in his shambling state, Isaac recognized this was a job for him.

"I'll take that one," he rasped, and Nicole's head shot around. The man sounded like he'd gargled glass. Pangs of grief stung her like wasps; what happened to him? How could she help? She was the best doctor he'd ever met, and not just for her skill. How many others would ask those questions right now?

"The ejection mechanism is above the bay," she continued before a scowl crossed her face at some scrap of data to grace her wrist-screen. "Damn, the control room's locked. It looks like there's an emergency access code on the Processing subdeck. I can't access it from here, though. Closed system." That didn't particularly surprise Curtis. The console to manipulate comets was always locked tight. Didn't want any jackass or disgruntled employee to launch it back into space or mess with the gravity tethers. The biggest shock was that the Ishimura incorporated that safety feature at all.

Kendra was right about it being a technological wonder and economic powerhouse, but Nicole was correct in claiming it was a death trap. Danger was an implicit part of being a spacer (minus the ghouls; those were new), but he expected more from the CEC. Foolish in hindsight. Life was much cheaper than gold or platinum.

"We'll get to it," Curtis replied. Then, for his sanity, he added, "After this, we can take the Marker and leave."

"Couldn't be easy, could it?" Kendra shook her head, almost wistful. "I don't know how much more of this I can take." A click, and she was gone.

"You heard all that, right?" A dozen tendons strained and popped in both legs as he stood from all the abuse he'd suffered. He didn't dare use more Somatic Gel except in dire need, lest he contract some debilitating illness. Isaac nodded, and Nicole didn't need to speak a word to confirm it. "Then let's go. The sooner we leave, the better."

Isaac grunted his assent… at least, Curtis hoped it was. We have to keep an eye on him.

I agree. He won't be able to hold out much longer.

Nothing else to do here. They had a game plan, loose and dangerous though it was (and it always was); he and Nicole would get the key from Processing, Isaac would snag the beacon from Maintenance and they'd all converge on the Extraction subdeck. Therefore, Curtis pushed the button to retrieve the lift. It groaned up the shaft – no big deal – but something sounded off about the noise. Mixed with grinding gears was a deathly moan and hacking cough. He reached for the Line Gun, yet Nicole detected none of her kith nearby.

Curtis only learned the truth once the elevator rolled into view. The scuffed, stained floor arrived, and the grill opened. His stomach dropped. It was a person. A living, breathing person.

But not for long.

Her legs twisted backward at the knees, and she lay in a puddle of dried blood from lacerations on her torso. He didn't know a thing about blood, but Nicole knew she'd been there for several hours from how congealed it was. A shredded uniform and basic gas mask were all that insulated her from the elements. Another barely conscious moan as her life slipped away, and her mangled hands pitifully clawed the air.

Curtis wanted to scream at Nicole to save her. She had to. But it didn't take a doctor to know nothing could be done. Not with what little they had. So, she died. A final spasm, and a loud flatline emanated from the fresh corpse. He imagined her soul forcing free of her discarded husk, letting out one final shriek on the way to whatever life came next. Took all of five seconds, yet the sound would haunt him the rest of his life. They all would.

He felt less awful this one, though. Unlike the guy in the BPC, there was nothing they – he – could have done to prevent this. At least, he hoped not. Part of him wondered all the same.

"Well," Nicole said to break the awful stillness that followed, "let's make sure she doesn't come back." The next minute or so was a blur. All Curtis comprehended was the rending of flesh, the tearing of tendons and the notion he did something of unspeakable evil. Funny how their perspectives had flipped since the last time. Nicole didn't hesitate to carve the body up to keep it away from her kith, while he struggled to detach a single finger. He didn't want to deal in death anymore! Was that too much to ask?!

All the while, Isaac hung back, seeming to stalk them like a predator. Curtis wasn't sure whether to feel anger or dread about the behavior. Regardless, it plucked a memory from the broken vault of his brain. He watched vids about and from centuries passed fairly often, which was why he cultivated all the pop culture. That just interested him. Anyway, he recalled that large carnivores inhabited the African Sector until their inevitable demise from massive urbanization and a withering climate. Among those, hyenas always ate scraps the lions left. That's what Isaac reminded him of, sans the laughter. Maybe he laughed inside.

We can trust him, she soothed as his boot came down a final time, turning a head to jelly. He's not in his right mind, but Isaac is the most stubborn person I've ever met. More than him? Impossible. The Marker might break him, but not now. Not so soon. Curtis couldn't hide his doubt, yet he kept his concerns private.

That led them to get onto the rusty, grinding elevator, surrounded by a body turned to pulp, a smattering of tools and a whole lot of blood. Much more than the woman could have produced on her own. Something was wrong – more than usual, he meant.

Are there any other Necromorphs around? he asked, surveying an array of holographic buttons that directed to a couple dozen subdecks. Three held primacy, though, and were the destinations they sought. Processing came first, so Curtis punched that in, and the thing slowly and painfully scooted down the shaft.

Yes. Quite a few, she replied while sharing echoes of their gibbering minds with him. They know we're here and want to kill us. Obviously, but Curtis glanced around their enclosure again. The place was a cage. One wall was the grate, but the others and the floor were foot-thick titanium and steel. Necromorphs were strong, but even they couldn't get in. It would be horrific if they could, though. Nowhere to run or hide.

That presented an unpleasant question: how was the woman killed if the enclosure had such tough containment? Nicole pricked up at the realization, baring her claws while her mandibles snapped at the slightest noise – and there was a lot. Isaac leapt back into a wall at the instinctive display of intimidation. Honestly, he found it fucking hot that his girlfriend was such a badass, but arousal came second to the threat of death.

Just then, a scrabbling sound started in the walls, mingling with ovations of creaking machinery. Whispers jumped from her mind to his, syllabations which warned of horrible agony. Bog standard stuff, but highly effective against a mere mortal such as himself. Living was all he had. Though he'd survived everything the Red Marker threw at him, there was no doubt that resulted from a perfect storm of tenacity, luck and potentially "divine" intervention. Those would run out sooner rather than later.

Nicole wasn't afraid to die – that fate already befell her. Her priority was him. Any harm that came to him also affected her, and she sure as Hell won't let my "father" lay a rotten finger on you! His mind reeled as their thoughts juxtaposed more fluidly than ever. Operating in lockstep was wonderful, though, especially when her spirit lashed at the darkness. Attack us and you'll find no quarter!

"What she said," he muttered, pulling the Line Gun from his back. He was ready to blast arms or legs off once the first of these freaks burst through the bulkheads. Twitchy as he was, Isaac also whipped out his Plasma Cutter, at which Curtis bristled. If one of his rounds so much as glanced Nicole, zombies would be the least of the engineer's problems.

The first wave of Necromorphs appeared as the elevator passed the third or so floor. Wasn't from anywhere he expected, however.

A wet plop made him whirl around and blow the arms off a Puker that had just splatted face-first like a frat boy who'd drank too much. The copious quantities of vomit that spewed from it only strengthened that simile, though Curtis had never seen anyone upchuck through their severed limbs at even the most raucous raves. It steamed on the ground, and Curtis' head shot up just in time to dodge the next plummeting pile of meat.

They fell from the sky, dropping through open vents. Dozens were lined up, waiting for their turn. Such aerial ambushes had happened before, like when he first encountered Leapers on the Engineering deck, but never en masse! The next couple were Stalkers, which was good (aside from making Nicole freak out); they needed space to operate well, so it wasn't too hard to blast one's arms off while it charged. Isaac nailed the other as it snuck up behind him; might have taken his head off if its didn't roll away first. He voiced his appreciation before continuing with the legs.

"Ambush!" Isaac preached to the choir. Indeed, it really did sound like part of a fire and brimstone Unitologist revival, which made sense. They were damned. More demons came to claim them. Curtis handed it to the Red Marker as he stumbled over the bodies that piled around him. This was its best plan yet.

Another shockwave made the deck wobble, and Curtis then found himself face-to-face with another creature from his nightmares. A Pregnant – only the second he'd ever seen. He immediately recognized it even in dim light; no other Necromorph had such stubby legs and a distended, hideous belly. Weren't many pregnant women aboard, thank God. It growled, rumbling forward, and he deftly ducked beneath its clumsy blade, giving it a firm kick to the stomach, which was jelly beneath his boot. He gritted him teeth at the action. One of Curtis' many foster fathers vented on his girlfriend in such a way… while she was pregnant. It made him feel filthy.

Whatever undead fetus lived within was aborted by his foot going through the sheer lining, and he leapt back as a sudden thought hit him. What if it was a Crawler?! He would've gotten himself and his friends killed! The fog of war clouded his head. Needed to be more careful, even as a force beyond reason used that mist to obfuscate its true intentions.

And the lumbering monster right in front of him, it seemed! It hit him with the broadside of its (or her – he didn't care about misgendering the undead like Nicole did, but it must have been a woman if pregnant) axe, which knocked the wind out of him. Liquid pain arced through his limbs, but the RIG's padding prevented serious damage. Then he fell on his back, landing amid a skirmish between Nicole and an Exploder. Well, it was more Nicole pinning it to the floor so it couldn't blow them all up.

Glad you're here! she exclaimed.

So am I. He peeled himself out of the slush and unloaded two rounds into the not-so-Pregnant's legs. That was enough to finish it off. At the same time, his girlfriend cleaved clean through the Exploder's arm and brushed the pustule though the hole the Puker's potent acid carved in the floor. A few seconds later, a distant boom rang out from the bottom of the shaft. Both hauled themselves up and stood back-to-back, while Isaac finally ran out of ammunition, his gun impotently clicking in his hands. Probably for the best.

It continued for what seemed like forever. Ghouls arrived in waves; their one advantage was that only two or three could drop in at a time. His skin stuck to the inside of his RIG, and he practically drowned in his own sweat. The floors were molasses trickling by: one, two, three. Numbers meant everything in this gauntlet. The only measure of time was the sound of Necromorphs breaking bones.

By the end, he was so addled that he nearly pressed the button to eject a power cell as a grenade. Fuck the fact it'd blow them all up – splash damage was a small price to pay for the obliteration of their foes! One Nicole stayed his hand, but another whispered, yelled and goaded for him to flip that switch. What was it with this damn elevator and things exploding?!

Splat! He turned and put a round in the torso of a Leaper. However, it was already gone. Blowing off the top part of its spine had no effect other than making its body do a jig across the paste of its relatives. His head shot up; no reinforcements came. The next wave hung their heads and upper bodies through their foxholes, roaring but not coming through. Why not?!

It's too far, Nicole replied while they shook their metaphorical fists. If they jump now, they'll destroy enough of themselves to die instantly. They know it's not worthwhile. Hard to believe the Necromorphs had a sense of self-preservation, but it made sense if they had no chance at all of success. They won… for the moment.

The Red Marker knew it, too. His brain fractured from its rage before Nicole absorbed the brunt of the damage. The pain was sucked from his head by a woman with far more composure than him. It didn't affect her too much because of her biology. Necromorphs were made to be dominated by it, so they bent but didn't break. She took it with a grunt and a few twitches before smothering it out. Even the howling above decreased as they sank into the Ishimura's guts. That left them with very little to speak of.

It was all the same. Seemed like it always had been. Death and silence, save the psychic screams of something that pounded at his mind with a sledgehammer, not quite able to break it. The shockwaves still hurt like a bitch, though. He squirmed in the gore of his fallen foes, waiting for what terror would come next. He was so lost in all this that the soft ping of the elevator arriving at Processing made him reel.

Please, calm down, Nicole told him. He certainly tried.

Curtis threw a glance over his shoulder at Isaac, who idly bade them farewell from his dark corner. "I'll be all right," he croaked. Curtis pressed a few precious power cells into the engineer's hands, very much doubting that claim. This was mining. Surely he could find some in a crate or storage room. "Thank you."

They stepped onto the deck proper, a sense of vertigo kicking in at the slightly higher pull these grav-panels emitted compared with others on the ship. Not enough to affect him, but it was noticeable. Probably just a calibration error. After this, we can't let Isaac be by himself again, she said. He's slipping. It'll be bad soon.

17 Hours Post-Outbreak

Nicole couldn't stop thinking of Isaac. After the battle on the lift, when they departed, her eyes stayed stuck to him until they turned a bend. Then he was gone, perhaps forever.

She feared it was perverse, coupled with her new relationship – certainly, it reeked of obsession – yet her daydreams inexorably drifted to him. He was her best friend for years, her anchor. They were engaged, and she was going to marry him once she returned home. Tying the knot was unusual in their day and age, so it proved how committed they were to each other. She spent months fantasizing about it.

Then she died and hooked up with another man within the span of hours. Sure, she'd known Curtis longer than that, but just barely. A week or so? It was a trivial span; the time she kept leftovers in the refrigerator for! Curtis was a great guy, she conceded, but this was too much too soon. Desperation got the better of her. Dead for not even half a day, and still clinging to things she wanted in life.

Curtis made a noise in his head akin to clearing his throat, which made her roll her eyes. They shared brainspace; he didn't have to knock.

It's not too late to end this, he thought, which made her cringe. Romping down desolate hallways packed with undead wasn't conducive to such musings. Plus, he couldn't hide his heartbreak. He'd been knocked down so many times in his life by people of all stripes, backstabbed and betrayed. That was how the world worked (she'd been burned her fair share by creeps and professionals alike), but he'd had it more than most. Part of growing up poor, she supposed. Not that she owed him anything, but she still felt bad for him. I love you, but I understand this is overwhelming.

I know you love me, she replied. Despite her relationship with Isaac, she could never be called a romantic. She loved him, and that was it. The dinners and sexy evenings and flirting were nice, but hardly the point. Curtis absolutely wanted those things, which made it all the more tragic. For someone like that to throw those desires away for her wellbeing… it proved they worked. The problems are mine. Great, this would turn into an "it's not you, it's me" thing, and those blew. She struggled to find words that coalesced her feelings into manifest ideas. I really want this to work. I want to be with you, but it's all gone so quickly. And that's leaving out how we can destroy the Red God without me dying. One problem at a time, though.

Curtis rubbed his armored neck with a mechanical gauntlet. She was flesh. He was steel. How could they ever pull this off? Yeah, it's been fast, but I don't think that's necessarily bad. I mean, it's been a good way to work off stress. No arguing with that. She didn't require the dalliance, yet she absolutely needed the intimacy. I know that doesn't translate to anything long term. Still, I think we're compatible. We solve problems together, make each other happy and have deep conversations like this one. To me, those sound like they'd be a lot more important outside of all this than in it.

Well… yeah. All that was true. She got along better with him than any of her coworkers, with whom cooperation was of the utmost import. She knew him on the deepest level because of their Bond, and that mattered a lot. It couldn't substitute for real time, though. They shared memories and thoughts as easily as breathing by now, yet nothing could compare with forging them together. I hope we do, as lovers or not.

Their conversation came to an abrupt end as something skittered ahead. The noise came from the hallway they were about to go through – long, dark and filled with asteroid dust, which sprinkled through the metal weave beneath their feet onto other subdecks, creating an eternal rain of sand below. Very little Corruption, too; maybe it was too dry to support its ecology, or maybe there wasn't enough biomass there to form sustainable tracts at all. The only way she could differentiate them was by the flickering holo-signs that extolled various values: safety with tools, traveling with a buddy and being punctual.

They checked all those boxes (the CEC's guidelines came in handy for once), so she felt pretty smug when trying to determine what made the sound. She picked up nearby thoughts, so the clang wasn't just something that fell over. Difficult to determine Necromorph phenotype with thoughts alone, unless they were particularly powerful and distinct, such as with the Leviathan and Graverobber, or more primitive. Fortunately, their quarry fell into the latter camp. None of them possessed true sapience, which meant they must've been tiny. Not much room for interpretation.

A pack of Swarmers and two Dividers rounded a bend from up ahead, moving as fast as ill-defined blobs and stitched-together flesh marionettes could, respectively. Nothing particularly threatening, though the hollow bellows the Dividers made always put Curtis on edge. Are you thinking what I am?

You just Linked it over, so yes.

Curtis lined up his shot with the first Divider, balancing his Line Gun on its side and letting loose a bolt of plasma that whizzed to her left. Unlike with Isaac, she had no doubt it would miss her. It bisected the thing, each half collapsing into separate piles of collagen as their constituents withered and died. As expected, none of the others noticed or cared, trampling their dead siblings while rudimentary intellects stewed vague notions of death that they didn't understand.

Nicole was happy to give them firsthand experience. It was her turn to get in on the action.

She pirouetted forward, taking out Swarmers with foot-long claws through their flaccid forms. The movements invigorated her, kindling something in her soul long forgotten. Her parents had her drilled in the liberal arts, including ballet and gymnastics – those were things young girls did in more civilized ages, or so her family reasoned. She hated it at the time, but she wouldn't have been nearly as effective in her razing if not for the moves, which always stayed with her. Now she pulled it off better than any human in history, twisting her form, lithe yet literally all muscle, in ways that would tear a normal person in two.

Thanks, Mom and Dad, she sarcastically thought as she put a talon through the last of the buggers. I finally got a use from the thousands of credits you spent on this stuff. God, what would they say if they saw her now? Actually, it might not be worse than if she still wore her old body. Hadn't seen them in years, having mutually split; they had nothing in common, as her childhood amply proved.

With that, she turned to the final Divider, which shambled forward with abandon. Smarter Necromorphs wouldn't have fled after that display, but they'd be pretty damn scared. Is this the best you can do? she asked. Maybe it is. There were thousands of people aboard, and we've already killed hundreds of your minions. Left unsaid was that they were also her kith. No longer family, but still sentient (mostly) beings they ended for playing the parts forced on them. It hurt less now, yet the pain would never fully fade. You're running out of bodies to throw at us.

She sidestepped as another vertical column of superheated matter whizzed past, this one going a little high. It decimated the head, arms and some of the ceiling, so she dispatched the legs when they tried to crawl away. And that was it… until she received an answer.

The Red God was breaking, for the deluge she brought down was more screaming than anything coherent or threatening. It sounded like radio static mixed with demonic chanting in a busted blender. No specific words. Just anger and frustration and pain. It was fun to poke the bear, but she decided not to do it again as she stumbled back. Made sure to not let the aftershocks reach her friend.

That wasn't too bad, Curtis said as they stepped across mounds of twitching meat. Our priorities are pretty fucked in that regard. He paused for a second. It's nice that you can find the time to appreciate your parents.

She would have thought he was kidding if not for their Bond. Then again, he didn't really have parents, so that must have seemed much more significant to him. She tried to not sound too entitled in her response. I guess they raised me right. I have nothing to complain about. We just… wanted different things.

They bantered back and forth about family for a minute as they approached their destination. Speaking of which, they had little more trouble with them. A lone Slasher popped up, which Curtis dispatched without so much as a glance. Either her creator was even more ineffectual than she expected… or something big was gearing up. Probably the latter. She didn't know what or how, but a dim presence grew on the threshold of her consciousness. It was then a distant murmur on the breeze, but whatever force it represented was already coming for them.

What about Isaac's family? he asked. She figured he'd wonder. Wasn't the weirdest thing for guys to compare. He'd always clammed up when it came to them, but she'd gleaned most of the story during all their years together.

Well, I know he doesn't have any extended relatives, and no siblings, either. Just the parents… well, one of them. Funny how none of them did. The traditional nuclear family no longer held the primacy it once did, but it seemed strange that all three of them were so isolated in similar ways. Curtis never had a family, most of Isaac's was dead, and she never got along with hers. They all drew together like outcasts did. Her boyfriend shifted in his greaves. That being his mother. Never met her, though she apparently lives somewhere on the Eastern Seaboard of the United States Sector, same as you. Isaac hasn't spoken to her in a long time.

Why not?

Because she's a Unitologist. It all made sense to Curtis; neurons fired, lighting up neural pathways and rewarding him with a dose of serotonin for solving the mystery. Plenty of people didn't like Unitologists because of their proselytizing or whatever, but the engineer's antipathy seemed more personal. She converted because of what happened to his father and became really involved – almost an addiction. In the religion, position was determined by how much money or power one delivered to the Church instead of piety or any sort of belief. It sounded incredibly shallow to her, yet it appealed to some. Everything else in the galaxy could be purchased for the right price: why not salvation? So much easier than actually trying.

She used family savings to buy a "Vested" title. The money included Isaac's college funds. Curtis cringed, wondering how somebody could do that to her own child. He had to go to some crappy technical institute, and that's why he hates Unitology.

I guess I can't blame him, Curtis thought back. The sand was thicker here, feeling alien under her bare feet. How long had it been since her soles touched genuine earth? It didn't happen often. But what happened to his dad? Oh, she forgot about that part.

Nobody knows, she said, racking her memories for what little she knew of the man. Isaac almost never spoke of him. Painful, she knew, and not in the same way as with his mom. A lot, she only got from dredging up old news stories on the Transnet, which only included cursory information. Working for the government meant getting black ink in your obituary.

What does EarthGov have to do with it? I thought you meant he just walked out one day! How to even begin with this tangle of conspiracy?

His father, Poul, was also an engineer. One of the best of the 2400s; won dozens of awards for his work in ship design, stasis and kinesics tech, and so on. I'm sure the Ishimura has been retrofitted with plenty of his designs. Curtis was impressed already. He didn't come home often; a lot of his work was on the colonies or in deep space. Then, when Isaac was a teenager, Poul never came back. Just… disappeared on the edge of the known galaxy along with a hundred others. That was in 2480, I think. Part of some scientific expedition for EarthGov; they contracted him to go as an independent advisor.

What was the team doing? By this point, he was on the edge of his seat. This sounded like something out of an adventure vid, and he needed a break from the horror story unfolding around them.

Again, nobody's sure. You know how it is with the government. They stonewall and the matter gets tied up in court for decades or centuries until everyone who cared is dead. He actually didn't know that. But I know Isaac is still trying to find him. I've caught him trying to get around the red tape a dozen times. It's just never been my place to intrude.

He remained quiet as their destination approached… as did their pursuer. She guessed it was about 10 subdecks up, tracking them like a bloodhound. Quite close, but she couldn't get a good read on it because of everything between them; barriers dampened their psychic abilities, and there were many thick ones in Mining. The only thing she knew was its size – big. Perhaps a Brute? She alerted Curtis.

Thanks for letting me know. He straightened up, a sign at the end of their current tunnel restoring some of his mental energy. He was already a lot healthier than an hour ago from scarfing down fruit on Hydroponics, so now he was in even better shape. We're finally here! It's about time. They rounded one last corner, and she caught fractured glimpses of their destination through the mesh on the walls. Heard it, too. She knew this was Processing and not much else. Could've dug more into Curtis' mind, but she would just let him explain it. Upon reaching the door, itself obscured by nearly a foot of dust, he spun around and retracted his helmet.

"Madame, welcome to Hotel D'Ishimura, the finest luxury resort this side of Aegis VII!"

The sound of crickets practically looped in her head. The goofy Pan-European accent and obsequious manner hit a wall. The grin on his face dropped, and he muttered an apology about "being weird".

Then she started to laugh. Sounded more like pebbles in a lawnmower than anything else, but Curtis loved it, and it peeled him right back up. Like, she had to laugh! It was too strange not to! What even was that?! "You're… funny," she said, her body instinctively gasping for air that she no longer needed. "I had no idea you had a sense of humor!" Not a particularly developed one, but it was still uniquely his.

"There hasn't been a good time to show it," he sheepishly replied. "This still isn't a good time." Images of the dead woman flooded his head before he pushed them away. He wanted to make her happy. "But I'm glad you like it." Nicole cleared her throat – difficult to attempt accents in the psychic plane – and joined the fun herself.

"Of course, sir. I have heard exquisite things about your spa and childcare services." The persona she donned of a snooty zombie made both of them crack up. She imagined the two of them in fancy clothes, wining and dining some distant resort world, sleeping under the stars. Quite a step up from the rose garden Curtis dreamed about them frolicking in. Either would have been amazing, though. As long as she was with him…

"They are incredible, yes. Allow me to show you, posthaste!" Snickering under his breath, he opened the door, which chugged away to reveal a sight unlike any other.

It was a big room. No surprise there, for Mining carved out a bigger chunk of the ship than any other deck by design. Hardly surprising that it was a large place. No, what shocked her was the technology at play. The extraction tech on humanity's greatest mining vessel escaped her – she merely focused on the medical side of things. Gazing into the chamber, though, she knew the CEC spent exponentially more money here than on healthcare.

A massive beam of gravitonic energy flowed across the room, corralled with hoops mounted on the walls (or ceilings or floor, for there was no gravity). Pieces of asteroids were sucked here to be sifted and smelted into ingots, which Curtis said were directed by machines attached to the hoops. They coax ore out of the rock in a way people can't, he declared. It was nice to hear him speak so strongly. He loved his job and helping her understand it, too.

They stood (technically, she floated) on a catwalk above an empty area. Not much of anything except that kinesis beam and a few small chunks of rock that must have been knocked out. No Corruption or dead bodies or anything. This was one of the few places they'd visited where it felt like nothing changed. She briefly considered the prospect of finding more survivors, but she quickly quashed the notion for Curtis' sake. Even with that woman they found earlier, the odds of coming across another were low. Best not to give him hope. The only other point of interest was another door on the opposite side.

That's where we're going. This is the Processing center that links to the Mining Bay we're going to. I don't know much about administrative matters, but I'm pretty sure there'll be an access code in there somewhere. That made sense. Her own station was built with redundancies. They'd be in trouble if it wasn't there, though. Speaking of trouble, their pursuer was closer. Not really, but with a higher ceiling, fewer floors separated them.

They crossed the deck hand in hand but ran into a problem with the door. Namely, it didn't open. They'd dealt with so much ill fortune that it didn't come as a twist anymore. Curtis browsed the little readout on the door hologram, which now flashed red.

OK, it's not that bad. He shivered and pointed at the roof. At least, it wouldn't be without something threatening to burst in and kill us. Sure enough, they heard a faint booming noise far above them, making her panic. They needed to run from anything that could rip through bulkheads! W-we have to clear out those little meteors! They need to go into the gravity beam! he internally stammered, gesturing at the rocks floating around. They were small, about the size of his head, but the place was luckily bright enough for them to be picked out.

Curtis might have been able to slice through with his Line Gun, but it would have been a tremendous waste of ammo when they needed it most. Therefore, they just decided to go with it and hope they had enough time to bail! They fanned out to satisfy the AI's arbitrary wishes.

She leapt into the air but didn't come down, grabbing a chunk on the way and tossing it into the glowing ray of energy. It bounced off the rim of one of the baskets before quickly falling into the steep gravity well. Much more powerful than she expected. In an instant, the material went from dense stone to a collection of shiny pebbles. Not quite strong enough to atomize, but anything going in wouldn't come out in one piece. Had to make sure to not get sucked in, herself. It'd be nice if I could change my direction, she internally grumbled. That was one of the few things Curtis had over on her.

Y-you know, this reminds me of the time we played Z-Ball, he said as she jumped to the next rock, this one approximately the shape of a potato but 10 times larger. Just you and me and Gabe and Irons. Those were the days. Indeed, the good old days of less than a week ago. It would have been laughable if not absolutely true. She shook her head before slamming her leg into the boulder, sending it spiraling to its demise. That and when we cleared those radioactive minerals from Ore Storage. She remembered that, too. Seemed they ended up moving a lot of things in zero-gravity.

Call it a metaphor for their current lives; pointlessly pushing shit back and forth in an effort to somehow fix it. Not the most exciting thing in the world, but hey, it was better than tumbling through fire or killing things. Speaking of the latter, it approached. Five floors away, then four. The smashing grew louder, shaking the very air as systems "above" overloaded or broke, setting the lights aflicker. Curtis cursed, but he had it easier, able to pick up the rocks with kinesis while she relied on her bare hands. She admitted that in the battle of machine versus flesh, the former had a few advantages.

It made her speed up, at the very least. Two floors. One. It – she – bellowed, and that's when Curtis realized, as well. Holy shit! We have to go! They sank the final ball, causing a small chime to ding.

And then there were none.

A single bone-tipped spear tore through the metal to their left like it was butter. Solid steel, not the paltry mesh, was gone in a blink. The metal bent, then broke, and an eldritch shape pulled through the portal. The Graverobber arrived.

It changed since they'd last met. Its right scythe was now long gone, blasted off by Curtis during their battle on the tram. A lot of its body was covered in burns and scars, remnants of accidents since passed. The halls and tunnels of the Ishimura didn't discriminate between living and dead. Anything that size would face serious trouble. Most notably, most of the flesh of the corpses on its back was gone, decayed into skeletons. Their deformed bones that composed its back waved in the wind, yet the skulls still stared in sync with the main maw, a collection of many heads wrenched open, their mouths fused together.

Nicole and the beast glared at each other for a small eternity while Curtis tried to figure out the best plan. Yeah, he came up with some clever ones on occasion. This time, though, the best solution was encapsulated by a one-word command.

Fly.

The single syllable jolted both her boyfriend and "sister" into action, the former scooping her up and the latter digging into the bulkhead with dagger-length claws, dragging herself inextricably toward them while roaring.

I will have your head! she screamed, every mouth on her body roaring in unison. Do you know what you have become to us?! Images of a horrible monster flooded her soul. It stalked the halls, chopping up innocents like a modern Jack the Ripper. An aura of doom egressed from it, and its eyes glowed like coals. That was how they saw her. She already knew that, but the vivid detail did no favors. We are life while you are death itself, a pitiful creature sulking in the dark! You will never see the glories of Convergence!

Curtis grasped his head with one hand as they drifted, his thrusters straining from overuse. It might not be enough. Acceleration was difficult with nothing to push off, and her added mass slowed it more. Nicole didn't need to turn around to know her sister gained ground. And him? she asked, feeling the miner's pulse pound as he zoomed toward their destination.

The human's actions are heinous but understandable, the Graverobber answered. It knows nothing of the wonders we offer, the power we wield. Fear of change is in their nature. That was true. Her life before this had nearly always been in flux, which wasn't pleasant. Hopping from job to job, waking up knowing there were some people she couldn't save… She saw the world differently now. Even this deep in the shit, things didn't pack the same punch they once would have; their threshing maw mere feet from them elicited more disappointment than terror. Most of her fear was for him. If you really loved it, you would put your claws through its chest!

They weren't going to make it in time. The cold stench of death wafted from many mouths. Many eyes ogled them, always in more detail. Many arms reached for them, demanding they embrace the "peace" the Marker offered. Both she and Curtis knew it, though neither wanted to admit it. They needed a plan – a good one! They might not be able to kill her, but they needed to slow her down! Stasis alone might not do the trick, though. If only they had some insurance.

A random sputter from his thrusters shifted them slightly toward the gravity beam and also rocked the Line Gun on his back. It sparked both their imaginations, hers toward the former and his toward the latter. Fortunately, it was easy to marry the concepts. I fucking hope this works! he thought while she handed him the tool, still clinging to his back. The "sky" danced above and below and to their sides.

She was feet away; her tongues lashed out like whips, and one nearly caught Curtis in the arm, making him yelp in fright. The fear of death around him was chum in the water for this shark. That strengthened Nicole's resolve. Nothing would take him away from her, let alone this foul beast. Family by blood or spirit or not, her Bond with Curtis was tougher.

Tachyons blasted from his open hand, weaving her body into a bubble of slowed time. They seemed to triple in speed, though that was merely an illusion from her becoming so much slower. A second later, they landed on the catwalk with the opposite door perhaps 50 feet to their left. Her "sister" hung in the air, all eyes still locked on her with abject hatred. Nicole hoped hers had the intensity to match, but she knew they didn't.

Curtis hoisted up his Line Gun in what little time remained. His hands trembled as he lined up the shot. She knew he really wanted to snap a quippy one-liner like "eat this" for affirmation, but his throat was frozen solid. Probably best that he didn't, because it would have fallen flat. I heard that.

He fired the overheated power cell itself out of the barrel. In a few moments, it would go up in a small conflagration of plasma, hopefully inside her sister's stomach. She still grieved that the idea of killing (the fact they didn't possess heartbeats was a mere technicality, for they were sapient beings) began to appeal to her.

The Graverobber learned from last time, however, or maybe the Marker had. Regardless, she became wise to Curtis' "shoot explosives down the mouth" trick. Though strangled by time itself, she managed to shut her primary jaws just in time. The mine bounced off the array of jagged, needly teeth, making him silently curse. The improvised explosive could still do some damage, but not enough to finish her off. Something else in the room might, though.

The blue hue began to fade as Curtis reached out with kinesis and maneuvered the bomb to the Graverobber's left flank. This would hurt even less. The shove it gave would be the genuine prize. Somehow, she knew their cobbled-together plan would work. They always did.

Their hands intertwined like their minds while the temporal field faded and the bomb went off – flashes of blue and white. Though powerful, the IED wasn't strong enough to puncture the Graverobber's necrotic, bone-studded hide. It didn't need to, though. Not with the gravity beam so close by. The shockwave propelled her to their right, hitting them an instant later, knocking them back. The discombobulation was worthwhile, though.

The beast slammed into one of the massive hoops – not quite inside the beam, but still captured in its gravity well. She screamed as her back-right foot was sucked inside; calcified ossifications splintered off, followed by cartilage. It fascinated her to see the Necromorph form being stripped away layer by layer. Despite being one, she had little knowledge of her own inner biology, and the ones she and Curtis killed usually ended up being little more than a mess on the floor when they were through.

Very homogenous. Alternating layers of muscles and bone were exposed, but not much else besides some bits of sinew and gristle. There might have been more variety in the torso, but she doubted it. They didn't need anything else. Not a heart nor a brain nor a stomach. Their intended purpose was to kill: nothing more. Maybe Convergence would bring some greater purpose, but Nicole couldn't see it from her ant-like perspective.

This normally would have been the part of the vid where Curtis reassured her of her own self-worth and the two kissed. May not have been an expert, but she was culturally savvy enough to reference where and when these story beats usually happened. Not this time, though. The miner was far too enthralled by watching her sister being shredded one cell at a time.

Fall, Curtis thought, his fists clenched in heavy anticipation. She restrained herself from doing the same. As Curtis cared for the living, she cared for the dead. Not so much anymore – she would destroy them without hesitation if necessary – yet she was one of them. With every one of them lost, a piece of herself disappeared, as well. Yet he continued to cheer, and perhaps the universe took umbrage that.

For once, their scheme failed.

The Graverobber, howling with both mouth and mind, wrapped its sabre around the rim of the hoop it clung to, tearing free of the gravity well. Curtis' elation suddenly turned to horror, yet Nicole almost felt gratification. Even in the best of circumstances, no Necromorph should be taken lightly.

Panicking, Curtis fumbled with his Line Gun while she pushed it down. We should run. She won't fall for that again, and we're wasting time.

Curtis looked from her to his weapon to the Graverobber, getting ready for another flying leap toward them. Rage clutched at his heart, but he had enough self-control to ignore it and flee. She was right behind him, and her "sister" rapidly brought up the rear.

The two of them were normally faster, but running in zero-gravity wasn't the simple exercise it appeared at first glance. With each step, Curtis' grav-boots needed to turn on and off while her toes needed to gouge the floor to gain traction. The Graverobber would have been on top of them if half a leg hadn't been devoured by the Ishimura.

They jostled forward. The door called a siren song while her "sister" screamed a funereal dirge in shades of scarlet. How differently they perceived reality…

Curtis slammed his hand against the metal so hard it would have broken if not for his gauntlet. Her own arm went numb as a result, but it got the job done. The door slid open not a moment too late. Another two seconds, and they would have found themselves skewered on the end of a massive blade. As a matter of fact, it was the Graverobber who found herself stuck in something.

They fell through the open doorframe onto their stomachs, and the lance shot over their heads. And then the threshold, being as shoddy as it was, slammed down.

…

Curtis scrambled up, dodging the flailing appendage and retreating to a safe distance before observing what happened.

The gate smashed shut on the Graverobber's scythe-arm, and he caught his breath as the limb thrashed, taking out electronics left and right. He recalled the first Necromorph he'd ever encountered: a Slasher he fought on the way to informing Captain Mathius of the power outage. After a knock down, drag out brawl, he won by dropping a door on it. Bisected the thing down the middle. History repeated itself. He'd never complain about the CEC's safety record again.

Dead, brittle bone crunched as pneumatic pressure bore down. Both ends strained under the pressure; the dented door smoked and shuddered, but there was never any doubt about the outcome. Some things were just inevitable.

Black blood and bone shards dropped from the wound, which widened and widened. He held Nicole's hand as she recoiled from the pain (or pain analogue) it went through. Body and soul were synonymous for Necromorphs. Every cell vibrated in tandem, soaking up "life" giving energy from the Marker. Every limb severed made them weaker and more desperate – and he now felt the smallest twinge of that agony through her. It flickered, a candle about to fade.

A terrible cracking snap shot through the room, that of a house being eaten by fire. The door wrenched completely shut, leaving a 10-foot piece of blade that wobbled around before going silent. The Graverobber did not.

Its shriek threatened to knock him over, and it smashed the wall a few times before shrinking back into the hole it crawled out of. Curtis was disappointed the thing didn't die outright, but the scythes weren't all that meaty. Plenty of flesh left to carve from the frame. Let's get started with that, he thought while patting his trusty Line Gun.

Let it go. Nicole stepped in front of him, for a simple hand on his back wouldn't have the same stopping power. We have other things to worry about. He locked eyes with her and sighed. They burned with conviction, and more importantly, she was right. He wanted to hunt this monster down, but they were needed elsewhere. No way this was the end, though. They'd find it or it would find them, and that's when everyone would find out which was predator and which was prey.

Sighing, he turned to the room at large, now half wrecked because of all the pounding. Old magazines and general items such as plastic cups and snack wrappers were spread across the floor. This was all evidence that people used to live and work there; people who did neither of those things anymore. Even so, the place was a paradise compared with slog after slog through darkened halls choked with living walls and Marker-spawn. He wondered if that woman was employed here. Her gear was generic enough to not have been involved in anything especially heavy, so an office job like this seemed about right.

What if I knew her? he wondered as he began to poke around. I could have run into her before and not known it. Now that the shock had worn off, he knew there was nothing they could have done. That didn't lessen the difficulty of swallowing it.

Where would this code be? Nicole asked, which brought his mind back to something actually important.

One of these consoles. Hang on, let me see if I can get it… He was no computer whiz, but everyone could sort information simply by data being omnipresent. This wasn't particularly sensitive, secret information, either, so all he needed to do was open a couple folders and click on the one titled Mining Bay Access Codes. Kendra could have done it with her eyes closed if the mining networks were connected to the rest of the Ishimura.

Got it, Nicole. She leafed through an issue of Interstellar Sports, quickly tossing it aside. Honestly, it amazed him that some publications thought it prudent to still print things on actual paper. Had to cut into the bottom line, and the market was limited when digital versions could be accessed with the press of a button. Probably to look classy; anybody who purchased physical books could put them on shelves to show off. He rang up Kendra, who quickly answered.

"Hello," she said, thankfully back at the shuttle. That didn't do much for her health, unfortunately. Difficult to be certain with the dull blue and gray hues that RIG-mounted holo-screens projected, but she looked very pale. She was disheveled and distraught for certain.

"Hey, Kendra? I think I've got the right thing," he said, spinning her the cipher to her and mulling whether he should ask what the matter was. Was that an appropriate thing to do? He had his own griefs, but Nicole shared them. Should he be a shoulder for Kendra to lean on, or was doing his job and getting them the Hell out of there enough?

I think you should offer support, Nicole suggested. None of us are leaving without helping each other. That was true, and it made him regret doubting Kendra. They were in this together, and it wasn't helpful for him to doubt his comrades.

Her face perked up when she examined the data he sent, and she wiped away an idle tear. "That's the key, Curtis. This code will get you into the control room." She bucked up and threw a nervous glance over her shoulder. "I'm back at the shuttle now, of course. Looking for a shockpoint drive didn't pan out."

"Are you doing all right? You seem pretty down," he said. Nicole sensed a swathe of regret as soon as the words left his mouth. God, why did I ask that?! Of course she's not doing well! Contrition leapt the gap between them. Curtis was a great guy, but he sometimes lacked tact. It's not like that was a huge faux pas, but it could have been phrased better.

"No, I'm… I'm really not," she coughed, burying her head in her hands. They'd never seen her so broken before, and it left Nicole stunned. Kendra always struck her as the most emotionally strong of the group, despite an attitude Curtis thought of as "bitchy". Now, though, he seriously reassessed that adjective. "T-the madness… it's starting to affect me, too. I just s-saw my brother on one of the monitors, and that's obviously not possible."

Nicole sighed, tracing a claw along the contours of her body. He knew this was going to happen eventually, yet it still came as a surprise. Kendra always seemed unassailable by the distempers which blighted everyone the Marker touched. How long had she concealed her suffering?

"But there he was, just smiling and waving at me," she began. "He – he said he was happy to see me. That it had been so long. He told me he knew a way for me to get out of here, and he wanted to show me. Then… then…" The programmer burst into tears, which punched Curtis in the gut. He could save people from dying (if he was lucky), but nothing could halt the inevitable rot once it took hold. Only he got lucky enough to Bond with Nicole, and the odds of that were nearly as slim as winning the EarthGov-sponsored Galactic Lottery.

Nicole stepped forward, probably to try and patch things up, but Curtis stopped her. He wanted to fix this. He didn't know why or how, but he understood it was the right thing to do.

"I'm sorry, Kendra. I shouldn't have asked. That's terrible." She sniffled and tried to clean herself up with a dirty rag. Hopefully the ship's bathroom operated. "I've been through the same before. It's awful for the Marker to show you someone you love doing terrible things." All the memories of the false Nicole and the Shadow Man flooded back. "But we can beat it. You can. We're so close."

He was silent for a moment, taking in the idle sounds of dying machinery. Nicole stroked his brain, telling him that he did well. Honestly, he'd gotten most of the pep talk acumen from listening to Hammond. Kendra brushed some blood-streaked hair out of her face as she sat straighter. "Thank you, Curtis. I really needed that."

He felt himself smile. Making Nicole happy was special because they could share each other's joy. However, doing the same for other people was its own reward. "You're welcome. Anyway, I'm glad you're staying safe." He swallowed before asking another question. "Speaking of which, have you heard from Isaac?"

Nicole stepped up to the screen, mind ablaze with hope and fear. She was dying to know, because they hadn't heard anything. Kendra's face darkened.

"No. I was just about to ask you that. Haven't been getting anything from him at all, just like Hammond." His friend's mind fell, lapsing into blackness. The worst possibilities rushed in: stabbed, broken, mauled, maimed or sucked into space. Curtis couldn't say any of these terrible possibilities were unlikely. "Keep in touch, you two. And good luck." Kendra looked at them a second more before pulling the plug. The screen turned to pixels, then static before blipping into oblivion. That left them in the dark, windowless chamber, with faded lights and holographic computer screens as their only sources of illumination. How he envied Nicole, able to see in the dark. Sometimes, when he tried very hard, he could see through those four eyes, now glimmering in the gloam.

Can you call him just in case? Nicole asked, a modicum of forced hope in her mental "voice". He didn't understand how he comprehended tone and pitch like that, but he didn't question it.

Sure, I'll do it right now, he replied, already have queued up the call before she asked. He opted for a vid-log, because Isaac didn't actually say anything the last time he was spun an audio one. Still nothing. The holo-screen buzzed a few times before cutting out. M-maybe he's just busy, Curtis offered. Possible… but given everything on the ship wanting to kill them, preoccupation was on the lower end of the likelihood spectrum.

Nicole took this with as much grace as always, but she was being beaten so much inside that her spirit would soon be a bloody tumor. It'll match my body then, she joked, trying to poke fun at the fact that she was breaking. It made him wince, too – it would have even if no metaphysical Link tied them together. Her fear was palpable and very human. Isaac was special to her. Not in a romantic sense anymore, but he was still a friend, someone she'd shared so many years with.

Curtis never had anyone like that. Sure, he loved Nicole, but even their connection was no substitute for time. It would almost be like if he had real parents. He'd want to protect them no matter what. In other words, he felt her pain, but it wasn't something he truly grasped. Sympathy, not empathy, would have to guide him now.

He took her hand in his, feeling his five tiny, pathetic fingers interlace with her three enormous meat hooks. She shivered, and he brushed her mind with delicate words. I know you're scared, but this won't help him, he thought while running a hand across her bumpy, chitin-covered scalp. Maybe he's already gotten the beacon and is waiting in the Mining Bay.

She sniffled – a sound that was both wet and dry – and nodded. You always know what to say. No, he really didn't. He'd never interacted with anyone in this way before. He still wasn't accustomed to giving a shit.

Let's go find him. They took an alternate exit this time, for both knew the Graverobber was still onto them…

17 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Outbreak

Nicole and Curtis stepped off the great lift, their feet wet with the bodies of five or six more of her former (or so she claimed) family, all pulverized to pulp by falling several stories out of air vents. The distance they fell was too great to survive – they broke every bone in their bodies. Her only consolation was that they died upon impact… but that meant little with so many fatalities in such a short time. They clawed her soul from beyond the grave, mocking her even in true death. She often chastised Curtis for being so affected by events beyond his control, yet she now succumbed to self-loathing.

It wants you off your game, he reminded her. Didn't dent the impact of her hypocrisy. It did all that on purpose just to make you upset. And he was correct. Nicole had a difficult time comprehending something so despicable, especially from a self-proclaimed deity. It sent them to their deaths solely so she could feel their pain.

Especially twisted her after it confirmed it was indeed running out of bodies to throw at them. The fact its limited pawns lives were less important than angering her meant it didn't care about spreading Convergence so much as enacting petty revenge. It wasn't fit to be called a god, even if its powers made it akin to one. She'd no longer acquiesce to acknowledging it as such.

At this point, she really didn't know whether Convergence was the best path for humanity. It brought her great joy and pain at the same time. She used to think mutual understand and acceptance would unite them all in death. The problem was the utter malice of the Markers. With them at the lead (sans the Black), humanity would instead by shepherded into an eternity of darkness and suffering. Bleak worlds without end, complete with burning red skies. Exactly what she saw standing upon the cusp of death and instead being forced down a different path.

I wasn't sure what I wanted before, she told Curtis. Her guts still roiled with anguish, but one thing became clear through this experience. If – no, when – we find a way to destroy it, I want to be the one who pulls the trigger.

I have a pretty strong claim on that, too, he thought back. How about we both do it.

Agreed. Probably wouldn't be as simple as pressing a button to blow the thing up, though.

A couple minor skirmishes cropped up as they swept through the halls. The back of her mind was tickled by the Graverobber's distant presence. It followed farther behind than before, though it still pursued. They needed to remain cautious while planting the beacon. If it and its courier were here, anyway. Please let Isaac be here, she pleaded to the universe at large.

She wanted to be an atheist again, but being attached to the hive mind of a galaxy-spanning (and perhaps beyond) intellect changed her views on matters she once thought concrete, like life, death, time and space. For a brief moment, she was part of a godhead of a trillion, trillion souls. Therefore, she had to go out on a limb and hope someone was out there who could hear her desperate prayers and be kind enough to answer them.

There's nothing wrong with wanting to believe in something, Curtis thought while poking his head around a corner. People have always looked to things bigger than themselves.

Sounds like you speak from experience.

Kind of. He ducked back in, and they kept going. I looked at a lot of different religions. There used to be hundreds. Symbols, images, words and even sounds flashed in his brain like a grainy vid. Some were prominent enough for her to recognize – a cross, a star and crescent moon, etc. – but there were many more she was unfamiliar with. He was more invested in this search for meaning than she realized.

She understood, of course. Modern life was impersonal, boring and empty. Consumerism and state-sanctioned drugs got many people through their days. Most people were adept at dealing with that after years of social conditioning, but some never swallowed that pill. Though she wasn't a psychologist, she saw the results fairly often. She had patched up hundreds of attempted suicides over the years. In that sense, the aura of anguish and death pervading the Ishimura in the previous days was familiar territory.

The trouble is, Unitology is the last one. I didn't like it much to begin with, but it's the only option. They were close now. She knew that because he did. Funny how she had such faith in something she'd never seen with her own eyes. I feel like I was born thousands of years too late. Sometimes I dream that I'm a farmer in the ancient past. He shared some fragments with her, though they were badly distorted simply from being fantasies. The idea of swinging a backhoe, eating slop every meal and dealing with a lifespan a fraction of the 26th Century's wasn't her idea of a fulfilling life. Nobody cares about anyone else nowadays.

Well, that was easily debunked, at least.

I care about you. You care about me. The sensation of their hands clasped together grew stronger, and she invoked them kissing on that bench. These words and memories soothed him, she knew, but the feeling that affection wouldn't be enough remained.

Regardless, they trudged into the final stretch. This was an ancient part of the ship: darker and wetter, like some ancient tomb. She even heard water sloshing nearby. There must have been a sluice grate to the labyrinthine water treatment system nearby – the place they met. Wouldn't want to go there again, though. The moisture pooled beneath her feet. Though ominous, she only detected one other Necromorph's consciousness nearby, and it definitely wasn't the Graverobber's. She still stalked them from a great distance, biding her time.

They reached the threshold very soon. It was a big, thick door. Nothing they hadn't seen before, although this one was made of a darker, nearly black metal, as opposed to more modern, grayer alloys. It also made Curtis freeze, nearly tripping as his limbic system reeled. What's wrong? Is this the right Mining Bay?

Yeah, he replied. A little too right. Memories of death, chaos and the Shadow Man made Curtis bite down on his tongue. She tasted the blood with her own, but then again, that was always the flavor. But that's when it hit her.

He was here, Mining Bay 10, when the shuttle from the colony crashed. The power went out. The sealant grid failed. People died. He left to bring the bad news to Captain Mathius, cheating death in a way. Probably wouldn't be alive if he stayed.

Nicole tore herself away from the ghastly half-recollections and focused on the door again. The mind she detected earlier was in there. Unlike many of their problems, this one would be easily solved. Might make Curtis feel better to kill a Necromorph in this specific room.

He put a hand on the door, which quickly laced its holographic interface over it, before slowly whirring open from the center to the edges. A very strange design, but also hypnotic. Shuffling came from beyond; Curtis methodically primed the tool, turned off the safety and fired where she directed as soon as the aperture open wide enough. Her sibling's pain analogue transferred to Nicole as his or her legs were blasted off.

"Ow! What did you do that for?!" a voice from beyond rasped. Nicole slapped her face with her palm, claws encompassing the rest of her skull. She was at once mortified and relieved beyond measure. She vaulted over the retracting metal before Curtis asked what this was about, and her dead heart leapt at the sight.

Elizabeth!

The woman was flush to the ground, her legs halfway across the room. The very big room. She already knew the layout from Curtis, but there was something special about seeing what the Ishimura was made for in person.

Tool racks were scattered around, as were a few crates. A whirlwind whipped around during the sealant grid collapse, but maybe Curtis could find a few power cells. Every surface was notched with gouges and grooves; these looked like work accidents that should have been fixed, but they were actually design features. Easy to grip and climb in Zero-G. The real object of interest was at the far end, though. An asteroid, pockmarked with pits from heavy mining before everything went to shit. Glimmers of mineral veins shone from within, testaments to the wealth of Aegis VII. A gravity beam trained on it occasionally sucked up loose pebbles. It might have been the same one they encountered earlier.

This was all thrilling, but someone else stole Nicole's attention. Isaac!

He stood a few feet away from Elizabeth, not shaken from the blast at all. No, he was… talking! About her! She only caught snippets because her attention was focused elsewhere. Relief permeated every infected cell and made her feel "alive" again. It was so good to have him active instead of withdrawn. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and tell him that she was there and wouldn't leave him again.

First, though, she had to apologize. She suppressed her joy for a moment and turned to her friend, who lay face-first on metal. Curtis crouched beside her, already profusely begging her pardon.

"I'm so, so sorry, Elizabeth! I had no idea it was you!"

"I am sorry, as well," she interjected. "We were… overzealous." Elizabeth shook her head as if this was a mere inconvenience akin to forgetting something at the store.

"It's all right. No harm done." They all looked at the steaming stumps where her legs used to be. "Um, give me a moment."

Very little Corruption around, but this particular room had a couple small patches that she could exploit. She hauled herself over with thick, crab-like claws and plopped her stumps on it. The substance gave a small display of resistance, pitifully trying to creep away like a slug from salt. Ultimately, though, her biology proved more resilient than even the Marker's willpower. It was inextricably drawn toward her, ceasing its struggle as it morphed into the sinew and bone of new limbs. She felt Curtis' inherent disgust, though he recognized he was in no position to judge. Also discomforting for Elizabeth herself, but the results couldn't be argued with. A moment later, and she stood up on two new legs.

"I'm surprised you can reconstitute yourself with the Marker angry at you," Curtis commented. Yeah, she wondered about that, too. The Marker couldn't "deactivate" rogue Necromorphs. However, from her understanding, it should have been able to tell the Corruption "don't get assimilated" or the like.

"Only because it's far away," she answered. "It could cancel out that ability if closer." That made sense… at least as much as the concept of instantly regenerating limbs possibly could. The obelisk had a greater degree of control over their physiologies at close range, as Nicole painfully learned. With that out of the way, she turned her focus back where it belonged.

"Anyway, Nicole's such a great person," Isaac babbled. Their entrance hadn't detracted from his monologue. "Kind, supportive, caring. I was so relieved when I found her again!"

It was heartwarming to hear Isaac speak so fondly of her; he was rarely jovial. His words sounded semi-romantic at times, but that couldn't have been right. He firmly established that they weren't together anymore. Well, he's probably just happy to be alive.

"I'm happy to find you, too," she said while walking toward him. He turned toward her, allowing her to see his face. Though bruised, bloodied and swollen, he still smiled. His resilience was incredible.

Wait, you don't – Elizabeth tried to tell her something, but it had to wait. The fact he was here, alive, brought her such peace. But then his grin faltered as the reverie faded.

"Oh, it's you," he said, suddenly downcast. "Nicole said not to trust you. That you're lying about being her." Venomous words hit her like bullets. Much harder, in fact. More like she was the one who got her appendages chopped off. She nearly teetered over.

"W-what?" she gasped. Hadn't they gotten past this?! Didn't he already know?! What a fucking shithead! She wanted it to be that – more than anything! It had to be his fault that he acted this way! Because if it wasn't his fault, it meant the Marker won. It broke him. Before she could say or do anything she regretted, Curtis hauled her away. He had no happy place to bring her to. Good. She needed to stew in this. Isaac stared blankly at her for a moment before he again burst into chatter at the empty air. It made her growl.

"What the fuck happened to him?!" Curtis asked Elizabeth once they were a good distance away. "And how are you even here?!" In the confusion and heartbreak, Nicole hadn't thought to ask. Elizabeth looked shiftily around like this was a drug deal before squatting a little to be on their eye level; her demeanor obscured it, but she was nearly seven feet tall. Then she cleared her decaying throat and stroked the small tentacles before her mouth.

"After being frozen, the transport system brought me and Harris to one of those cryo-tubes. It was mostly him, though – I just hung from one of his arms." Elizabeth narrated via memories and images as she spoke; the words were for Curtis' benefit alone. Nicole forwarding him the recollections would be a game of telephone, so it was easier for her to simply narrate. "The system loaded him, but I fell off. If I hadn't… well, I can't imagine what Mercer would have done to me." All three of them shivered in a positive feedback loop.

"I thawed before too long and went to Hydroponics to look for you." Right, they mentioned that was their destination after whipping up that poison. "I arrived too late, though, so I started wandering like I used to. It's pure luck I ran into Isaac. He'd lost it, babbling about seeing you deep in the ship, but alive again." She shook her head, and Nicole tried to block out these images of him reduced to such a level. Not from the strong, confident man he used to be. "Seemed adamant in coming back here, so I gave him an escort. Honestly, I thought you two were dead."

"Well, we're not," she shot back (though she was very much dead, technically), still burning within from what happened to him. Though remiss to admit it, the Marker won. It tore his spirit and mind apart. Soon, he'd end up a gibbering animal or kill himself because "Nicole" demanded it.

How did they all fall prey to the same specter? Her ghost haunted two men and, through them, her. Her duplicitous alter-ego drove them to harmful, dangerous acts. It was her opposite in many ways, but the one that affected her most was its role as a butcher. As a doctor, she found it abhorrent that the Marker used her visage as a symbol of destruction. "And we're going to keep living."

She cocked her head. "You have something in mind, I take it?"

Nicole beamed their plan into Elizabeth's head, who had it deciphered in a matter of seconds: the beacon, signaling the military, grabbing the Marker and getting out. To her, it seemed like one Hell of a gamble. That much was clear from the expression on her mangled face. Still, she didn't question it. It's not like they had many other choices available.

"What about you? What will you do?" Curtis asked. Farther afield, Isaac started shouting nonsense about her. Despite not having blood, she felt her face burn, and the secondhand embarrassment was unlike anything she'd ever felt.

"You're my friends, believe it or not. I want to help you all. I want nothing more for you to escape and kill a god on the way out." She expected as much from a Necromorph whose antipathy for her own existence surpassed Nicole's own. Then her gaze fell, her mind softened, and she became something unlike the stoic warrior she needed to be over the past hours. "After that, I want to die and be with Jacob. There's nothing left for me here." Nicole didn't know what to say. How could she reply to something like that? The reasoning was clear enough, but what was the proper retort?

"I understand. I hope you find him, wherever he is," Curtis said. Nicole expected a repeat of what happened with Kendra, but was so distracted by Isaac that she hardly cared. Instead, though, a hint of a smile pushed its way onto Elizabeth's jagged, ill-defined mouth.

"Thank you. I hope so, too." Well, he could be articulate at times.

Even though hours remained until Elizabeth left them and they left everything else, that time seemed years away. Each second possessed the length of an hour aboard this vessel of nightmares. Mercifully, the next steps were straightforward enough – board the space rock, attach the device and jettison it. Curtis assured her that he could do it in his sleep. Would have been easier with Isaac helping, but asking for his assistance now was out of the question.

"All right, then. I'll get started."

17 Hours, 45 Minutes Post-Outbreak

The procedure was a cakewalk for Curtis. He'd spent years navigating the surface of stellar accretion debris. The addition of drilling into it to deposit something was hardly a factor. He deactivated the gravity, flew to the rock, avoided the plasma rakes (one of which came precipitously close to beheading him, for it was off its track) and then made it to the opposite side, breaching the sealant grid and floating in the vacuum of space. That used to be scary to him, but he barely thought anything of it anymore.

As he prepped the site, he spun a quick audio log to Kendra and pretty much told her that they'd found Elizabeth and Isaac, but that the latter was out of his goddamn mind. Though disappointed, she seemed understanding. Couldn't judge when the same monumental (and from a literal monument) force conspired against them all. He still felt the Marker hammer at his mind – stronger with Nicole not being here. Just strong enough to let the facsimile poke the edges of his brain. Oh, he understood how easily this thing was able to madden Isaac. It would have happened to him long ago if not for providence and luck.

He used the Line Gun to excavate a hole in which to stow the beacon. It made him laugh to use the tool for its intended purpose again. He closed his eyes and happily tore into the rock, all thoughts of the same implement slicing off limbs gone as he created the gap like the expert he was. Before his air was even a quarter gone, he made a hole large enough for the machine (which wasn't that big) and planted it within the softer substrate.

He gave the vacuum another look. Red suns, black void and a brown field of rocks occasionally shot at by the ADS. Most prominent of all, a gray planet with a crater 100 miles deep staring at him like a great, unblinking eye. Streaks of orange light shone within – reams of magma from the mantle bursting through the thick crust. It was apocalyptic and glorious in a way he never imagined. It humbled him to know humanity could end a world. At least as well as the Marker can. He didn't know whether to be comforted or disturbed by that thought.

Anyway, he edged between the asteroid and the Ishimura's hull, through the blue forcefield and back inside. The three others sort of aimlessly floated while Isaac still wouldn't shut the Hell up. It was both funny and fucking sad to see him brought so low. Difficult to explain what was even wrong with him or why. Even from Curtis' five or so minutes of layman observation, he seemed completely unlike anyone else under the Marker's thrall. Instead of being depressed and withdraw, he acted downright manic. Everything was great and beautiful and all that. The window dressing joy concealed something even darker, though.

The only person that came close to him was Kyne, which actually made Curtis wish Isaac was on the angrier side of the spectrum. Since Isaac hadn't expressed interest in killing anybody, Curtis was forced to conclude that the Marker wanted him – and, by extension, them – alive, or at least not completely dead. Necromorphs continued to attack them, but with this…

Do you know why? he asked Nicole while reactivating the gravity at a local console. He made sure the pull increased gradually over a few seconds so their descent was a pleasant one rather than aggressively slamming into the floor.

No idea, she replied, a quiver in her step as she landed. Though I agree with you; it can't be anything good. Curtis sighed and shook his head. It sucked, but they just needed to power through and reach the finish line.

All they needed to do was launch the thing. The door to the control room was right there, so they just walked over (Isaac was more dragged) while Curtis spun the codes he retrieved on the Processing subdeck into the system. A couple of beeps, and the thing sprang open. They stepped inside, Curtis for once relieved. This was it.

The space was fine. Nothing wanted to murder them. That was all he cared about by now. Being a hero was for suckers. He was hungry, thirsty, scared and so very, very tired. Curtis stumbled to the main console by a wide window overlooking the bay and somehow managed to disconnect the thing.

A hiss was audible through the thick, glass-like substance as the plasma rakes wobbled to a halt and fell limply to the sides. A burst of air rushed from the chamber as the sealant grid deactivated for a few seconds, taking the rest of the room's debris with it and bringing the asteroid itself for a ride. In lieu of rockets, a more natural method of propulsion could jettison ballast. They didn't have to worry about running out of air, either; oxides within the very planet they mined could be used to synthesize more. Truly, the universe provided for all their needs. Where did the Marker fit into that?

"Payload 8772 launched," the AI announced. This time the glitch was more subtle – no way they'd processed over 8,000 loads when this happened. That would take a couple hours, probably.

The comet lazily drifted into the void, shrinking to the size of an orange as they all watched. There was a sense of awe that came with it; Nicole thought it beautiful. Isaac also stopped yammering to watch to stare.

Kendra called up a few seconds later. He was glad he'd contacted her ahead. The sudden appearance of a crazed Isaac and two Necromorphs popping onto her screen might have freaked her out. She barely noticed them, though, instead jubilating in the fact it was almost finally over.

"Beacon's on its way!" she proclaimed. "All functions normal and broadcasting wideband. Now we just have to hope somebody's listening. I'll position the array receiver." Good, they needed that. Their connection to the greater Transnet was severed, but the giant radio dish atop the vessel was powerful enough to let them communicate with any ship in the system. The shockspace beacon was merely a cry for help; it couldn't communicate anything other than an SOS. Her fingers flew across her keyboard.

"I thought I saw my brother again. He waved to me. Like nothing was wrong." Her voice strained. Curtis kept his mouth shut this time. He was in no position to do this right now. Fortunately, she didn't break down. It was coming, but not yet. "OK, I should be able to… hmm. The comms array isn't responding."

Fuck! He wanted to scream and stomp around, then punch a wall until he broke his hands! Again?! Again?! That's not what he did, though, instead sucking down a sharp breath. He may not have had the energy to care at the moment, but lethargy also meant he was disinclined to have a tantrum about this new problem. Just like the dozens of disasters they'd needed to slap bandages on before. "What does that mean?" he asked, trying to get a read on the issue exactly.

"That we won't be able to receive any hails a military vessel sends us. One should shock into the system any minute now."

A red flag popped up. He capped it at one, because he didn't want to heap doubt upon doubt. But why the fuck did this matter? The ship was nearly there, and it was now able to locate them in the storm of debris. Curtis and company would get the Marker and dump it into the sun while the military salvaged the Ishimura to halt an economic downturn. That part he got… mostly.

So what if they couldn't communicate? In fact, didn't they want the government to believe there had been no survivors? He was suspicious now more than ever. But at the same time, maybe that doubt itself was artificial. What if the Marker wanted him to distrust those around him? That fit its modus operandi of sowing division perfectly. Kendra's brow furrowed as she recognized his apprehension.

"It's easy for me to say 'do this' when I'm in relative safety. But I promise, this'll be simpler than anything else you've done. Go to the Bridge, then up to the Comm Array's level and hit a few buttons." Sure, that sounded simple, but then they were invariably jumped by zombies and dragged through the shit. Still, they had Elizabeth with them now, which tilted the odds heavily in their favor. It'd also be a huge middle finger to the Marker. That in itself was a big factor in his decision. Of course, it wasn't his alone to make.

"And it is important. You know how I used to be in the USM? I can use my old clearance to access back channels if the comms are up. For example, this system is quarantined. What if they've set up a blockade around the border or have issued kill-on-sight orders for any vessel leaving? We need to know that, or we'll never make it out." He began to see her point. The entire star system might be on lockdown from the most prestigious mining vessel in history breaking quarantine – and the CEC doing so for years under their noses.

EarthGov might also know about the Marker. That thought had been at the back of his mind for a long time. As he'd wondered before, why was the system off-limits to begin with? It might have been something unrelated or completely arbitrary, but the possibility was real. Another reason they needed to destroy it.

Do you want to do this? he asked Nicole while Kendra watched. For the first time, they had multiple options. An extra mission might make them safer in the long run, but the time it took would also shed their sanity even more. This was a big choice. Far too big for him to make alone. Even two seemed too few, but they were the only ones who could make it. Elizabeth never intended to leave the ship, so she had no opinion on the matter, and Isaac would be lucky to order food at a restaurant with how coherent he was.

I don't know, she replied. I would, but not with him like this. Yeah. They couldn't do much with Isaac, though. The only option besides having him tag along was dropping him off with Kendra and having her do it… and being an engineer, "Nicole" might encourage him to wreck the shuttle. It was horrible to think of the man as a potential enemy, but they couldn't be complacent where the Marker was concerned.

Nicole sighed through her nostrils. After a few seconds of internal debate, they were decided.

"We'll do it."

…

Hi, everybody. This took longer than I wanted. I was just swamped this summer, but I've given enough excuses about that. My classes start on Monday, and most are in-person (for now), which I appreciate. I'm a Super Senior, and either this or next semester will be my last – I'll be sure to wax poetic about my college days in future A/Ns.

We're entering the final act of the story, too. Everything is coming to a head, and the universe hangs in the balance. After this, I only expect there to be around six more chapters. Long chapters, mind you, but still. I'm excited to write them, and even more excited to turn my eyes to different projects!

Dead Space left a lot of hanging plot threads I'm attempting to integrate (the Oracles, primarily, but also elements from DS 2 that I haven't reached yet), and one of those is the fate of Isaac's father, who is alluded to in all of one log in DS 1. There was clearly a hook there that got buried and forgotten. It should go without saying that he'll eventually appear in my canon ;)

One last thing. At the time of this writing, Ordination is the longest Dead Space story ever. Out of the 400-ish Dead Space tales on FanFiction and 100-ish on AO3, this one has eclipsed them all, even full series. I haven't found any crossovers of comparable length, either. There're probably some mega-crossover fics with a few elements of the series, but those don't count. I never imagined I'd be able to create something so big in any fandom, let alone my favorite ever. And there are many, many more words left to go, so strap in!

Thanks to TheRocketeurE, Accelerator7460, RabidPanzer, CelfwrDderwydd, derpysauce, JasonVUK, Crimson An'Xileel and AncientOfDayz for reviewing! As I sometimes say, my Ko-Fi is AnInvisibleMan (most of my other online names are… I should change this one sometime) in case you want to kick a little change my way.