Saturn Orbit

Titan Station

4 Months Post-USG Ishimura Outbreak

Curtis sat on the tram with one leg draped over the other, gazing out at space spread wide before him. Wonders lived in every direction. The sun, ten times smaller than it seemed from Earth, was still far too bright to look at directly as it loomed before him, casting its ghostly light upon the ringed gas giant at his back. To the right, the Government Sector shrank while the Sprawl grew to massive proportions on the left. Stars were all around, of course.

This great space station was a microcosm of humanity's power and decadence contrasted with the simpler glories of nature, all of which made him want to soak in their details no matter how many times he saw them. Spent a lot of time with his holo-projector like everyone else in the year of some dead god 2509, but he always returned to reality for this leg of the journey. However, one sight was new and very unwelcome.

Before he could fixate on that, though, a buzzing entered his head that quickly coalesced into the comforting blanket of another soul. Couldn't believe there had ever been a time when his mind wasn't occupied by another. How had he managed to stay sane?! Still, he admitted that it was good to have some alone time each day; the mines and Public Sector were far enough apart that the Bond couldn't reach between them. Happy to be back in touch with his girlfriend, though.

How was work? Nicole asked as the gondola rocked along through the maglev crossover tube.

Pretty good, he replied before showing her in pictures the day's events. Not that anything exciting happened. Almost never did. Good thing, too. He'd seen enough action in the span of one day to last a lifetime… even as he knew things wouldn't stay boring forever. Not with EarthGov researching the Markers around the clock. That was a worry for another time, even with the sight in front of him tickling memories he'd rather not dredge up.

And how was your day? he asked her to get his mind off it.

Same as always, she responded. That was good. Well, maybe not good, but it likely would have been worse if anything unexpected occurred. Watered the plant, worked on my commissions, tried my hand at more distinct styles. I'm playing Mass Effect: Triangulum – Part IV right now. He never cared for that entry, but she enjoyed it, and that was good enough for him! Good to know that EA (a subsidiary of Weyland-Yutani) could still entertain people centuries after they became the butt of many jokes. More importantly, all of this brought her joy. That was all he wanted. Held off on seeing images of her daily work, though. He always thought it was more impressive when he beheld such special thing in person.

What's got you down? she asked. This good news hardly blunted the sadness in his soul at the old nightmare before him.

He sighed, deciding to just show her. Better to get this out of the way now than explain it later. She stared through his eyes at the familiar terror. He currently propelled through Crossover Tube 3 (the lowest of three carbon nanotube bridges between the Public and Government Sectors), but docked several miles upspin at Tube 2 was none other than the USG Ishimura.

The news stations started reporting it'd been found shortly after he and Nicole arrived in Sol. Blasted to Hell from the "terrorist" attack, it apparently took EarthGov a long time to ensure it was safe to remove from the Vigilis Belt (and doubtlessly to look for other Marker fragments or evidence) to the Sprawl, the location for its intended decommissioning and the de facto hub of planet cracking since its inception – Titan had been the first world harvested, after all.

But everything was different now. A few months ago, it seemed planet cracking would continue until the heat death of the universe, even with the process becoming more controversial across the political spectrum, from environmentalists to anti-expansionist insulars. However, the "Ishimura Tragedy" turned out to be the straw that broke the camel's back. After several attacks and accidents over the years, most notably the Wanat Disaster 12 years prior, the flagship planet cracker being felled by a "ragtag group of rebels" and everyone aboard dying put the entire mining industry in freefall.

Now it was finally brought here to decay in drydock while the politicians decided what to do. Some ideas he'd heard were to retrofit it, strip it for parts or even turn it into a gigantic memorial or museum. The fact there was debate at all showed EarthGov leadership to be split on the issue.

He and Nicole stared at the ship while it subtly arced across the sky, both filled with creeping terror about what happened within. The Necromorphs were gone for the time being, but what now went on with their remains? No answers. The questions were scary enough. At last, Nicole implanted a thought into his brain.

I knew it was coming soon, but I didn't realize it would be today. Neither did he. Being on a tram made his palpitating heart worse; it took weeks to work up the courage to board public transportation, given the terror he'd endured on the Ishimura's own. Closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, the urge to start pounding the glass slowly subsiding. Nicole supported him every step of the way. Opened them again, opting to look at his fellow miners instead.

Thank you for that, he replied, still shaking slightly. Living through a traumatic, mind-breaking experience for 24 hours left him with PTSD, he was certain. Didn't affect him too much on the Ishimura with just him and his girlfriend. Being back in civilization made things much worse. Took him three days just to leave his apartment once they got there. Each new action, shallow as they were, brought new agony. Going shopping, walking around the apartment block, etc. needed to be slowly built up to. He never would have gotten it done without Nicole.

We can't see this from our apartment, can we? he asked. The view would get a lot uglier if so. She wound through their small space to the sole window fixed into the bulkhead. Peering through her eyes now, he was relieved to find their porthole slanted far enough to the right that it was just out of view. He could, however, see the very car he presently rode in as a speck above the horizon. Seeing the universe from miles away with two eyes in one body and four in another still gave him vertigo. Regardless, the panorama from their little apartment was the best he'd ever had, even better than his last one on the Sprawl. Saturn was beautiful, yet he found the cityscape of several thousand buildings (one of which they lived in) sealed against eternal vacuum jutting from a twisted array of metal a touch prettier.

Now he knew it would stay that way. It wasn't like she magically erased all his pain with their mental connection. Maybe she could if they both wanted her to, yet that wasn't the solution. He knew enough about trauma by now to understand that hiding wasn't the answer. Needed to confront this pain instead of fleeing like he'd always done. Didn't mean he had to face it alone.

Also didn't mean he needed to expose himself to more of it than he had to, so he kept his eyes downcast as the tram passed through an aperture. His spirits lifted as skyscrapers zoomed by, throwing light into space, little stars in their own rights. Continued for 20 miles or more, forming a perfect semicircle around the Shard. Reminded him of a waning crescent moon… on the night before it lapsed into complete darkness. It was a spectacle, perhaps the greatest city in all of Sol.

The megalopolises of Earth were smog-filled slums, save a few particularly wealthy neighborhoods. Mars and Luna were even worse, as he and Nicole knew from collective experience. At least no air pollution existed without any air. Venus Waypoint and the Heliopause Observer were nice, but significantly smaller, so they lacked the amenities that came with bustling populations.

And where else was there? Mercury was too hot for permanent habitation. The Jovian moons only possessed a few tiny mining colonies – most of the good stuff had been taken when Io got planet cracked (only the second world after Titan to have that honor). Uranus had some gas extraction going on; the shallow gravity well was helpful, but Titan station's proximity to Saturn made mining it more profitable. Neptune was so uninteresting that its only residents were that of a scientific outpost on Triton. A couple semi-autonomous space stations drifted in the asteroid belt and Earth's L4 and L5 Lagrange points, but they were nothing to write home about.

It may have been the most impressive, glorious city that humanity offered, a symbol of everything his species aspired to be. Though it had flaws and decrepit areas (like the one he lived in), it was amazing for the most part.

He and Nicole wanted to enjoy it as much as they could before it all ended.

Because end it would. The Necromorphs were destined to cut a bloody swathe through the galaxy and bring humanity to its knees before lopping off its collective head. Now that EarthGov had the Marker, it was inevitable regardless of their intentions. He sighed and shook his head as they blasted along. Thinking about this never failed to get him down. Still, he hadn't succumbed to nihilism. Not yet. He had too much to live for to give up that easily. Well, really just Nicole, but she's worth fighting for.

AS I AM QUICK TO REMIND YOU.

Oh, hey, Curtis responded to the ancient entity booming in his head as casually as one talked to a cashier in the checkout line. The Black Marker occasionally bombed in on his or Nicole's thoughts to interject its own opinions, which he didn't mind… heh, mind. Rolled his eyes. Not like it had anything better to do, being at the bottom of the ocean and all. Look, I'm glad you're so optimistic, but I don't understand why. I'm your "champion", and I couldn't do a damn thing about the Red Marker in the end.

UNTRUE. ONLY A SMALL PIECE OF MY BROTHER SURVIVED. BESIDES, EVEN IF IT HAD BEEN UTTERLY ANNIHILATED, MY OTHER KIN WAIT IN THE DARK. ONE WOULD HAVE BEEN LOCATED EVENTUALLY, FOR THEY LONG TO BE FOUND.

Curtis huffed and grudgingly admitted that he made a dent in the Necromorphs' plans, though it was no more than a delay, a mere inconvenience to entities that already waited eons for their meal. Because of his and Nicole's deeds, it'd now take years to replicate a Marker instead of weeks. They were specifically designed to be easily cloned by any sentient species, even if one possessed only a portion. If not for that, more already would have rolled off the assembly line. As it was, they now had a little while longer to hope for the best and prepare for the worst. Pathetic as it was, the fate of humanity may well have rested in their hands.

Better than no hands at all, Nicole thought to him. Yeah, he agreed. He just wished they had more of them. Nobody should have to carry such a burden, but the load would be lighter if additional hands carried it.

The tram stopping jarred him from his suppositions. Didn't realize they halted until other passengers stood; a far smoother ride than the Ishimura's. Titan Station Transportation knew how to build 'em. And this, the Transport Hub, was also where he exited. Lurched out, along with most of the others, to the nexus of public transportation on the Sprawl, where all the crossover tubes and a dozen train lines converged under a glass ceiling. The sound of a thousand people jostling about was hardly new to him, so he just ignored the wonders of the place and shoved on. He'd seen them all before and would again… he hoped.

Still, one feature caught his eye as he pushed through the blissfully unaware crowd. The Transport Hub boasted many storefronts and attractions, of course, and one of the most major used to be the CEC Museum, a celebration of the megacorporation and space mining in general (but mostly them). Key term: used to be. The holo-sign above it proclaimed its closure for the foreseeable future, and shuttered windows couldn't quite hide holes in the glass.

Planet cracking had been the Sprawl's lifeblood. Now the company that brought them prosperity tanked all that goodwill in a single titanic disaster. Even the whitewashed version, not a tenth as visceral as the truth, was still Wanat all over again. That event threatened to kill the business, and perhaps the Sprawl with it. This one finally delivered, and people were pissed. Good, that's the least they deserve. Big words from somebody still working for them.

It's not like you have other options, Nicole told him to smooth over his annoyance. She was right, of course; "choice" tended to not be a factor in vertical monopolies. Had to work for the monsters or no one at all.

Yeah… He glanced at the building before hurrying to the correct train, which just rolled into the station. Wasn't in a huge rush, but he didn't want to wait for the next one. Scanned his RIG at the gate, which deducted a few credits from his pass. Standing room only on this one, for rush hour arrived. He sidled up to a person who was surgically and possibly genetically modified. The pointy ears and blue skin were dead giveaways, not to mention the cybernetic eyes. Curtis used to find such people bizarre, but he didn't care anymore. How could he after all he went through? If doing that made them happy and didn't hurt anybody, more power to them. Wouldn't get to enjoy their lives for much longer, anyway.

Curtis drummed his fingers on his leg, wanting to change the topic. Apocalyptic musings became common to the point of mundanity, so he set them aside for something more interesting: mining. Yeah, yeah, he didn't have many hobbies outside his job, but he tried to branch out! Mostly, he was happy there was still part of Titan left to excavate after a couple hundred years of habitation. Several causes for it taking so long.

One reason they couldn't do it faster was EarthGov's presence. They'd colonized most of Titan Shard almost a century back to make it the outer solar system's capital, constructing facilities deep into the rock and jutting out into space. They meticulously instructed the CEC where it could excavate on any given day, the amount of equipment and explosives they could use, the exact size of each digging team, everything. Obviously, they had to be harsh masters to their subject, especially when it failed so catastrophically (and was full of Unitologists). Still, the CEC's bungling accidentally gave the government something it lusted after for 200 years.

Another cause was that Titan had (well, used to have) a highly unusual composition, sporting abundances of organic hydrocarbons like methane, propane and octane, so many that ancient scientists believed the moon may have possessed primitive life, throughout the crust and mantle. Those were important with the oil derricks and coal mines of Earth long since tapped out. The chemicals used to be burned to make energy, though they were long since obsolete for such tasks; now their main purposes were in manufacturing industrial chemicals, plastics and synthetic fabrics – the vast majority of clothing, nowadays. Most people on the station, perhaps in the galaxy, wore little pieces of Titan in their RIGs!

Had to stockpile those resources for generations, and it worked well. Several bases on similar worlds were being constructed to pick up the slack, he knew, but the mining industry itself being beaten to death with a shovel slowed that process, so Titan needed to stretch its depleted resources out a little longer. That meant venturing deeper into the rock than ever before… deeper, perhaps than was safe. Not that that ever mattered to the megacorps.

Finally, GovSec was home to dozens of secretive R&D laboratories used by EarthGov and its two largest corporate partners: the Concordance Extraction Corporation and Weyland-Yutani (themselves bitter rivals for the affection of a strict parent). Regardless of politics, they wanted to ensure that load-bearing segments of strata remained intact, and no idiot miner blasted into a room where some potent chemical weapon was being tested that killed everyone, and that required working slowly. Hell, he wouldn't have been surprised if preliminary Marker testing happened in a few of them. Idly wondered what other experiments went on there. Probably nothing else a fraction so horrific.

In short, there were a couple very good reasons why the mines still operated despite humanity having the ability to have tapped them out long ago.

His stop didn't come as a surprise like last time. Despite its size, there wasn't much indication one came up on the Transport Hub. Very sterile, as space environments were wont to be. Not here, though. Despite being a shoddier part of the station, where he lived felt more real. More alive. Smelled that way, too – the scent of fried soy reminded him of home in the North Carolina Hubs, where barkers sold such treasures by the block. He was tempted to purchase something from a neon-lit bodega his nose led him toward as he exited the tram… unless his girlfriend had other plans.

I've never cooked for you before, and I don't think I have the skill to start now, she joked. That's what he expected, but he just wanted to check. With his conscience clear, he went to buy a bit of comfort food before returning home, which was right around the corner.

…

Nicole knew Curtis was at the door without him having to knock. Of course she did; their Bond wouldn't have been nearly as impressive if they couldn't discern such a trivial fact.

But he did it, anyway, because he thought it the polite thing to do. Not to mention that he wanted to maintain some semblance of normal behavior after meeting Malyech made him realize that being able to communicate with spirit alone was sort of inhuman and creepy. She begged to differ, though she acknowledged that pantomiming a normal relationship helped him interact more naturally with others. Therefore, they tried to use their voices and minds to speak with each other nowadays. Made for a more holistic rapport.

She stood from her work, kicking one of his shirts out of the way before heading for the door. Even with a bit of debris (they needed to clean this place up), it took two seconds to get there. The place was tiny, probably smaller than her dorm room in medical school, which she needed to pay for without her family's money. Ironically, space cost an arm and a leg on a space station. Both had jobs, yet they could barely afford this little hovel. Only reason Curtis had such a nice place here last time was EarthGov footing the bill for an experienced miner... and he could no longer show his résumé.

Turned back to survey it, though. May have been cramped and unimpressive, yet it was enough. They were used to far worse. Still, the place was positively tiny. A double bed, the universe's smallest kitchenette (a sink, minifridge and a small device that functioned as both microwave and toaster oven), a desk with a monitor, serving as her workspace and gaming station, one window and the bathroom. No closet, but a few cabinets, and they could store things under the bed. Had to be less than 200 square feet… and the ventilation left much to be desired. Would've been uninhabitable for him if she still rotted and reeked like she used to.

She opened the hatch, allowing him to stumble in and flop onto their unmade bed. Didn't need to be a mind reader to see how tired he was.

"Hi, honey. Work was kind of killer," he said, words muffled by the blankets. She sat beside him, idly rubbing his back to put some life in him.

"Sorry to hear that, 'Lance Spedding'." An involuntary groan forced its way from the pillow, which made her snicker. He hadn't quite acclimated to the pseudonym. Stefan really came through on that front, though; called in a favor from some counterfeiting buddies, who whipped up a new identity, RIG number and other things for him, gratis. Also for her – Kelly Rose – though she only used it to conduct online business. She didn't think a fake ID would make people on the street comfortable seeing her. It'd have to be a really good one.

"Oh, it's OK," he replied, rolling onto his back and resting his head against her hip. "Just tiring. I'll be ready to go tomorrow." She smelled fried soy on his breath and tasted it on her tongue. Must have been tasty. "It was. Still, that was it for this week. You know I'm trying to stay healthy and not have too much junk." Good to hear it! She may have been his girlfriend, but she was also his doctor. Disaster could strike any day, and they both needed to be in the best possible shape. Physically, at least – they couldn't be fiscally.

The government seized the bulk of her and Isaac's assets (including their small house in the Alberta Hubs, much to her chagrin… not that the place suited her anymore, but she could have sold it), as well as Curtis' old apartment at Cassini Towers. The only reason they began with more than his RIG and Line Gun was because she managed to access a private account with a few thousand credits Isaac set up in case some major economic crisis hit. One had, though not in the way she expected. Still, it proved prescient and at least let them survive their first week on the station while Curtis applied for a job in the mines.

It made her laugh to think what a stereotypical old-fashioned couple they became despite their unorthodox relationship! Him as the working-class husband, bringing home the bacon after a long day and her as the stay-at-home wife, doing errands and odd jobs. Wasn't as simple as that, but she thought it funny how old tropes played out hundreds of years in the future. All they needed was a child; baby would make three.

Of course, the last thing they needed was a kid. Many obvious reasons for that, yet even a cat or dog would have been too much. Using limited life support capacity on animals cost a pretty penny. For them, the role of offspring was played by a small potted snake plant on the windowsill, where it could catch the few rays of sunlight that made it this far out into the system. Robotic companions and vegetables (the latter of which also helped to purify the air) were all most residents of space stations could afford.

"Hey, I like the plant. It's very nice," he assured her. "Doesn't bark all day; it just needs water, light and a little love." Ah, her boyfriend became such a cheesy romantic over the last few months. Despite his apocalyptic dread, he was so grateful to just be alive.

"I'm gonna shower, but why don't you show me what you're working on first?" Oh, she almost forgot. His arrival tore her attention from the project she just put the finishing touches on, literally the last couple of brushstrokes. The piece was already open, so they didn't have to budge from their spots on the bed.

She gestured to the monitor, proclaiming, "I call it The Human Condition." Curtis leaned in for a better view. Withheld her thoughts, for she wanted his interpretation to be unique. Wouldn't hit hard if he already knew what she desired his opinion to be, eh?

The central figure was a gray man, face downcast and shadowed under an orange sky. He sat on a rock in a barren metallic landscape, legs partially melded with steel in an amalgam of flesh and iron.

Curtis found it awe-inspiring, confusing, disturbing, and perhaps a little scary. Good. That's exactly what she wanted. "Was this a commission, or did you do it for yourself?"

"For myself." He nodded, figuring as much. Most people favored the straightforward over the symbolic. The art she got paid to do was all pretty people or pretty things… or pornography, which was still "pretty" to whoever paid. Nothing wrong with that, but none of it spoke to her. The conventionally ugly did; as she established to Curtis time and again, Necromorph standards of beauty were very different than humanity's. Stuff like this inspired her, and if it appealed to others just browsing her Transnet gallery, then that made the rest worthwhile.

"I like it… I think," he said, still trying to get his head around the art. "Is it supposed to be about how humans are so dependent on machines that we may as well be cyborgs?"

"Spot on," she replied, surprised he gauged her intention with such accuracy. Art was what the viewer made of it – she believed in the death of the author – so Curtis could interpret it how he wanted, yet she was impressed his initial interpretation aligned so closely with her own. Yes, it was about how much humans relied on technology, along with a bit of loathing. She hadn't gotten over how the Marker made its own artificial enhancements when the situation called for it… and how better to express that than on a canvas?

"Still can't believe you're an artist, though." Neither could she. Her family pushed her to become a great poet or playwriter or director or composer or actor or singer for so long against her wishes that all art took on a toxic aura for her. She watched the latest vids along with everyone else – didn't completely disengage from popular culture – yet she never desired to create anything besides objective reports.

Now, though, she had few other options to make money. Even online, jobs like telehealth required too much face-to-face interaction. Getting an AI to make her digital image look normal to others would still be risky. Other possibilities were even less satisfying. Like it or not, she was confident in her digital painting skills after being drilled in it for so many years by the best tutors money could buy. So she tried her hand at it. Curtis saved up a little money from his first few paychecks and bought her a cheap drawing tablet, which she put her rusty abilities to the test on. Then she started to tentatively post commission information on a few choice artist forums, and the money started coming in.

It increased from dripping to a trickle over the months. Nothing major, but supplementing Curtis' income with a few hundred credits from drawing would be a productive use of her time. They shared the money, but it was mostly his. She didn't require human essentials like food and clothing, and she never valued frivolities. She doubted she'd ever be invited to an art museum or get any serious recognition, but that was OK. Her lot was enough, and her that trickle of credits would become a steady stream at some point.

The attention was admittedly nice, too; made her feel warm and content in a way she hadn't for a long time. Being able to communicate with others in faceless forums about her work was a lot of fun, and she bonded with her few fans about it. Her confidants never suspecting they casually spoke with a zombie also gave the whole thing an illicit thrill.

With that out of the way, Curtis kicked off his shoes and asked, "Is there anything you'd like to do tonight?" Their normal evenings consisted of such wondrous activities as playing video games together, watching a vid or… actually, that was about all they could get away with in this single room. When they wanted to spice things up, Curtis went by himself to some restaurant to eat, and she talked and tasted the food he ate. Or to a gallery, or wherever they decided. Some people must have thought it sad that this man did everything by himself. If only they knew…

Still, she admitted that being confined to a single glorified coffin for the last few months started to get to her. Obviously, though, going outside was far too dangerous. The way she got to the room at all: Curtis smuggled her to the apartment by having her ball up in a suitcase while he went through customs. That was more nerve-wracking than most of what they went through on the Ishimura!

He laughed a little at the memory, which was admittedly sort of funny in hindsight. They had the benefit of time to look back on that and laugh; she was horrified she'd be discovered in the moment, trapped in that fabric vault for hours. As for the question of what to do, she was stumped as him. No great ideas came to mind. "Maybe we should ask the Marker," Curtis only half-joked. They lacked vision, but something far more ancient than themselves might be inspired. Him saying that gave her an idea, though.

"We should experiment with our Bond sometime. I really think we're on the cusp of unlocking something," she idly said. Didn't have to be that night, yet it was something to consider. Their connection already advanced far beyond what the normal Necromorph hive mind allowed during their 24 hours of Hell, slowly progressing even beyond that! They could now influence the other's mind and body, share sensations and sights from miles away and much more. However, she suspected there was an even deeper level of their unique Link that they had yet to discover. The Marker had no idea what it might be, the odds of such a connection forming being so rare.

"Good idea, but I'm not really feeling it tonight," he replied. All right, then it looked like the default of playing some games would take the cake until another idea jumped into her head. There was one specific thing they could do that night.

She received a text log from Titan Heights management alerting them that new residents moved into the third floor (the two of them lived on the seventh out of eight). Wasn't sure if Curtis read it, but now he knew about it through her. "Might be nice if you introduced yourself."

They weren't really neighbors when four thick floors separated them, but the degrees of separation were few. Also got the impression that new folks entering Titan Heights was uncommon. This was the first such notification they'd gotten since moving in. To put it nicely, Titan Heights was a long-term residence. People tended not to move in unless they couldn't afford anywhere nicer… or if they wanted to lay low. Few people came, and few left. Even if she and Curtis saved a bit more, both were comfortable staying. Anyway, perhaps stopping by to say hello would be kind. Nobody ever came by when they moved in. Not the friendliest bunch.

He mulled it over. "Maybe I'll do that. Just not smelling like this." Good point. She didn't differentiate between "good" and "bad" smells anymore, but Curtis was ripe. Well, she wouldn't delay his shower any longer. He planted a kiss on her scalp before going into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Nicole returned to her work. Put a few final touches on, and she finished in under a minute while water hissed behind her. Seemed like getting water should've been problematic in the middle of space, but like the Ishimura, space stations possessed robust recycling infrastructure. If more was needed, it could easily be harvested from nearby comets or the moon Enceladus, which had a whole ocean beneath its icy crust. Stared at the subject of her painting a second longer before closing the program.

With her daily duties done, she could kick back and return to petty distractions. Maybe she'd return to the Mass Effect game she started, or perhaps retreat into a book. Only considered these options for a few seconds before another desire solidified in her mind. May not have been as glamorous, yet it was the true focus that held her attention nowadays. All right, then. She took a furtive glance around, as if spies lurked in the shadows, before disconnecting the computer from the Transnet.

Didn't know if EarthGov censors could see what she did while her computer was connected, but she'd take no chances. Not with this. Then she booted up the appropriate software and opened the files she'd wrestled with for months on end. They quickly opened, revealing a series of peaks and dips which lodged as a splinter in her mind, irritating it like nothing ever had before.

They originally intended to destroy the set of Marker data they got from Kendra's RIG like she was supposed to, but the revelation that EarthGov already had it (or at least could easily replicate it with the fragment they now possessed) changed their minds. If their enemies already had it, also keeping it was smarter. If destruction was assured, it may as well have been mutual. She put a claw to her chin and stared at the pattern for the thousandth time.

She'd already deduced during her last moments of life what it represented: an altered version of the human genome as represented by tens of thousands of glyphs and projected as energy similar to brain waves. Over days or weeks, this "signal" drove people mad and, when they died, altered their tissue until they returned different than before. The Marker was able to tweak this signal and pattern on the fly for any species it encountered, but since humans were the dominant species in this galactic day and age, they were the default setting. Complicated enough on its own, but there was another factor to consider… one the government didn't have access to.

Her eyes turned to the other set of data, this one consisting of actual brain waves: the brain of one Lexine Murdoch, to be specific. They encountered the Class 2 Surveyor by chance shortly before the Ishimura fully fell, and Nicole had the opportunity to study her highly unusual physiology. Through Curtis, she knew that an agent of the Oracles (believing he worked for the Church of Unitology) named Warren Eckhardt tried to extract her for their own nefarious goals, whatever those were. However they knew about her, the reason for wanting her was clear.

Lexine's nervous system radiated signals at an inverse frequency, which quashed the worst effects of the Marker for those in her immediate vicinity. But how? Why? When? Perhaps these questions didn't matter with the woman likely dead, yet she'd give the remainder of her afterlife trying to find the answers. Not like she had much else to do.

Despite the monumentally long odds of unraveling a centuries-old mystery, she was convinced she could crack this with enough time. More than physics or chemistry, the Marker and its powers were based around biology. Not to brag, but she was one of the most esteemed physicians alive. Not that there was an official ranking, but she'd guess top five, perhaps top three. Graduated top of her class, plenty of awards to her name. The CEC may have been incompetent, but they'd hire only the best of the best as the USG Ishimura's Senior Medical Officer. If any sole person could figure it out, she could.

Besides, she wasn't completely alone in this. The Black Marker offered its expertise whenever she asked. Though ignorant of its own origins, having forgotten them over the vast gulfs of time on which it operated, it still mostly knew how it worked. That helped. As for Curtis… um… well, she always needed a shoulder to lean on.

"Glad you think so highly of me!" her boyfriend shouted, voice nearly lost in the steamy air.

You're great moral support, she joked. Seriously, though, I couldn't do this without you.

I couldn't without you, either. The water turned off, and she returned to her analysis. How much longer will you be at that?

Maybe another hour. There are some hypotheses I'd like to test… Before she knew it, she was already lost in a world of numbers, symbols and patterns.

…

Curtis strode down the hallway, humming a tune to himself, as much out of boredom as fear, which he knew well. No other human alive was so familiar with terror. That was a curse in many ways, yet he considered it a blessing in others. Mostly the former; he was burdened with knowledge most of all.

He'd never been good at making friends or interacting with people in general. Maybe that was because of the abusive environment he'd been raised in, or perhaps just his temperament. Regardless, he tried to be more outgoing on the Ishimura, wanting a fresh start. What did that tabula rasa bring to his friends, like Sam and Elizabeth and Gabe? Agonizing death. It broke his heart. Why bother anymore? The same fate would befall everyone else all too soon. Still, he wanted to make Nicole happy, and what was the worst that could happen by introducing himself to the neighbors (to use that term loosely)?

Reaching the elevator, he sighed, leaned over the guardrail, and peered into the complex's grubby plaza. It was ringed by rooms on three sides, while the last featured an eight-story tall glass window that must have been multiple feet thick; this place was a slum, yet management wouldn't let a puncture kill hundreds. That'd cost too much money. The lift arrived a few minutes later, floor covered in a juice stain, and he boarded.

It's not like I have to become best friends with these people, just a cordial acquaintance, he thought as the elevator lurched downward. As did his stomach. Right?

No response.

Uh, Nicole? Nothing. Nothing at all, not the faintest hint of her. He was no stranger to isolation, of course – it happened every day when he went to work – but never while they were so close. Did she somehow die?!

The moment he reached the destination, he hammered the "up" button to return to his beloved! "Come on, come on," he whispered, thankful nobody else was around. About halfway up, noise flooded into his skull. It wasn't like when he went to work and Nicole's mind slowly faded away because of the distance. This time, she suddenly popped into his head, like restoring sound to a muted television.

Did that happen to you, too?! she frantically asked, which he affirmed. Arrived at the top and caught his breath. Let's hope that was just a one-time blip, she said as he reversed course, heading down the chute again. She disappeared at the same spot, leaving him baffled.

It disturbed him that he couldn't begin to fathom the issue. He offhandedly tried to ask the Black Marker, but the connection was choppy. Only static and a few bits of emotion penetrated the veil. Absolutely perplexing. Was the Bond failing for some reason?! Overuse, maybe?!

Calm down, Curtis. Go see the neighbors. It seemed laughably trivial in this situation, but maybe it'd calm him down. Besides, he felt there was more to this situation than met the eye. He'd talk to them for five minutes, then return to Nicole and see if she could discern what ailment befell them.

All right. Room number 392. So strange to be on the Sprawl and not have another mind overlap his own. Whatever, it'd be an adventure. That's what he wanted to believe. He passed rows of wooden doors, some of which children had drawn on with crayon. The apartment complex was miffed about that, but Curtis found it cute. He got up to worse than graffiti when he was young. Finally, he arrived at the door, same as all the others: wood with a scanner mounted to the front that would unlock it for whomever wore a RIG with an approved ID. Only reason he announced himself for Nicole was that he thought it the polite thing to do.

He tapped thrice on the threshold, hearing rustling inside as somebody came for the door. Footfalls, then the portal opened, revealing – no. Impossible. Must have been a coincidence or a trick! The figure took a moment to lock onto his face, instead being distracted by some wall-doodles behind him.

"Hello. Is there something we can…" He trailed off as he looked at Curtis' face. His jaw dropped, and a cup of water slipped from his grasp. Took forever to fall; eternity passed in instants.

The glass hit the floor, bouncing harmlessly off the thin carpet instead of shattering. Didn't stop liquid from soaking into the ground.

"Is something the matter, dear?" a familiar accented voice called from inside. No response from her… boyfriend? Husband? She called him "dear", after all. That they were together shocked him more than seeing them at all. No response from him, though his mouth flapped. Her head poked around the corner, face becoming an expression of equal shock. They all gawked at each other for what seemed like hours. It took too long for his throat to expel two words.

"G-Gabe? Lexine?"

No doubt about it. The grizzled, olive-skinned man and petite young lady were exactly as he remembered. The only difference was that they had less blood and more scars on them. Curtis dimly remembered putting the autopilot of the shuttle they left on for the Sprawl. That was the first place he thought of, him living there and all. Finally, he got closure… and more.

Wordlessly, Gabe beckoned him in, tongue not quite loosened yet. He stumbled in, barely paying attention to the room itself. All the units in this place were homogenous, so the layout was identical. Only difference was that several boxes sat on the floor here, currently being unpacked. They just moved in, of course.

"Curtis? Is it really you?" The jaded soldier rubbed his eyes in disbelief. He wouldn't be the type to believe in miracles. His significant other, though… she did, if the glimmer in her eye meant anything.

"It's me. I'm alive." The tense atmosphere slackened by an inch, allowing them all to breathe again. Also let him throw propriety to the wind and give them the biggest hugs he could muster with quivering arms and tears streaming down his cheeks. He suspected that the two were alive somewhere out there, but not that he'd ever see them again!

"Should've known the end of the world couldn't put a crazy bastard like you down," Gabe said after they finished their heartfelt welcome, now having regained his senses. Knew he meant "crazy bastard" in the best possible way.

"I also live here – seventh floor." God, if only Nicole was here to see this. If only their Link hadn't been broken…

Realization sparked in his head while his eyes flew to Lexine. Suddenly, it all made sense. Psychic aspects of the Marker and Necromorphs failed in her presence, like hallucinations… and the Bond. He chuckled, glad that this was a momentary issue and not a crippling blow. Speaking of Nicole, he needed to tell them that she was still alive, too! Not in the way they expected, but still. Hell, they all needed to talk.

Shouldn't harm Nicole. Necromorphs approached Lexine to try and murder her like they did everyone else, so this wasn't like getting too close to a Marker, where the excess power burrowing into their cells fried them. She was the opposite: a psychic vacuum. Curtis guessed that the frequencies keeping Necromorphs functional weren't hindered as much as those involved in mental processes. "And Nicole… Dr. Brennan, you may remember her as, is living with me. I'm sure she'd be overjoyed to see you."

This was a lot to learn in 60 seconds, which dazed faces expressed. Hopefully their constitutions remained strong enough to learn what she became. His mind brimmed with questions, yet they would remain unasked for the time being; she deserved to hear them all at the same time, which must also have been their reasoning to not start bombarding him with any.

"It – it might come as a shock if we go without any warning," Lexine stammered. "Would you like to call her first to tell her about this before we do?"

"I appreciate your concern, but I think she'll be fine." The question was whether they would be, which he intended to find out. Nicole deserved to tell them herself, but they'd die of fright if he didn't inform them. "Speaking of warnings, there's something I need to tell you first. Nicole… isn't how she used to be." His face fell as they stared at him. No way to tactfully put this. "She's a Necromorph now."

The silence that followed didn't linger long. Their allotment had already been used up.

"You're joking, right?" Gabe asked. No reason for him to pull a prank on them now, of all times, but this time, he didn't want to believe it.

"I know it sounds insane, but it's true," he said, looking back at them. Despite his utter joy seeing them again, he felt bad dropping all this on them at once. "I shouldn't explain it to you, though; Nicole deserves that."

…

Nicole slumped at the table, terrified that Curtis perished. Was he poisoned?! Did he have a heart attack?! If death was sudden enough, it was possible she wouldn't feel his spirit depart for the light she saw when he stood at death's door once before.

Suddenly, a knock at her door! Fear was immediately swept away in a great flood of relief. As she thought earlier, their Bond wasn't nearly as impressive when she couldn't even discern such a trivial fact before it happened. Must have been him, though… right? Nobody else that she could remember had knocked the entire time they lived there, though it must have happened one time or another. Their Link still failed, so he needed to get in here so they could discuss this disaster! Didn't bother to check the peephole – he was smart enough not to greet her like this if others were around.

That's where she turned out to be wrong. Two people were with him, though she immediately recognized their faces, which quelled every ounce of resurgent horror. However, they didn't remember her, so her terror shifted to them.

"Hey, don't be scared. I'm still, uh, me," she said, hiding her massive, clawed hands behind her back. Maybe that would make her a fraction less "monstrous". Admittedly, not being covered in a bucket of blood helped.

"Holy fuck, Curtis, you weren't kidding," Gabe stammered, primal fear writ in his eyes. Made her sad, but she obviously couldn't blame him. For their parts, the two had barely changed. In terms of their bodies, anyway. It took more than a glance to learn about the soul.

"Come inside. We have a lot to talk about." She assumed Curtis told them very little, if anything. This was something all of them had to hash out together. Gabe and Lexine staggered inside, knees already weak. Messy in there, but at least it wasn't the fleshy hive they may have expected. Though it would be nice…

With that, the couples exchanged stories about how they survived and came to live on the Sprawl, mere floors apart. Both were epics, but she and Curtis told their tale first, for they knew it would be massive. Though they had been together only a relatively short time, what their departed friend Nathan McNeill said proved truer than anything – people who fought alongside each other shared a connection unlike any other. Lexine and Gabe were practically Bonded to them, too. Not psychically connected (in fact, Lexine killed any such communication), but emotionally. Neither considered keeping anything secret.

So they told their story in as much detail as they could muster. Nicole dying and being brought back, Curtis aimlessly wandering the ship, finding each other, becoming reluctant allies and then friends… then more. Everything they did, the Kellion arriving. Kendra. Zach. Isaac. Betrayal. Death. The Oracles. Markers, Black and Red. They tried to get it all in order, but all these events mushed and flowed together. The details of each were distinct (one benefit of sharing a mind was that they rarely forgot anything), though the order sometimes got hazy. Also details about their Bond and subsequent romance.

Their guests' expressions fluctuated wildly over the hours-long tale. Occasionally interjected with questions, and Gabe once got up to use the bathroom (where she was pretty sure he cried a little), but it was straightforward enough. Oh, and then they relayed the events with Schneider that happened significantly later. And… yeah, that was about all they could think to say, except why they chose to live here in the first place.

The Sprawl was the best choice for them to settle down they could think of for several reasons, she explained. It was in the same solar system as the bulk of humanity, but also far enough out that they could escape if they ever needed to skip town. Not a happy thought, which was where the social aspect came into focus.

From a Z-Ball team to fine dining to even a small zoo, the place had luxuries available to even the blue-collar that many couldn't afford elsewhere. Available to Curtis – she couldn't just don a trench coat and step outside – yet that was good enough for both! Looking through his eyes, hearing through his ears and feeling with his hands enabled her to be there, too.

The other big reason was that Curtis could make a living here. Mining was his life; even as the entire avocation circled a black hole, he'd much rather work in it than switch to menial labor. Titan Station hemorrhaged workers like every other mine in the galaxy, yet that was more from people preemptively moving away than the CEC downsizing. Couldn't afford to shutter one of their most important sites. Hell, they were taking anybody who could shoot a Plasma Cutter.

She also fit in here… well, "fit in" was far too liberal a term. But there was no other manmade habitat in the galaxy more suited to her. Earth was too painful to go back to, as were the few terraformed worlds; actual biospheres unsettled her now as she was. Even domed colonies like those on planets and moons offered too much space for her liking. As she learned from the Ishimura, her kind was designed for tight, cramped spaces much more than open sky. Space stations fit that role best.

After collecting themselves, Gabe and Lexine began their story. Their account was smaller in scope, though still more impressive than it had any right to be. After disposing of their old friend Nathan McNeill's reanimated corpse with bullets and good fortune, their beat-up escape shuttle arrived at the Sprawl. They had enough wits about them to realize EarthGov wouldn't be pleased about anybody escaping that, so they went underground. Lived in the belly of the station, scraping by through the announcement of the Ishimura's destruction, subsequent economic crash, sham trial of Isabel Cho and shortages aplenty.

In hindsight, Curtis felt bad about leaving them stranded on Titan Station without usable RIG numbers or the like. If they had to live in the gutter, it should have been on Earth. They didn't mind too much, though, just happy to be alive. Not everyone they knew could say the same. Anyway, once they scraped together enough money from off-record jobs (a cheap kitchen needing a new dishwasher willing to work for less-than-legal wages, for instance), they visited a forger who cooked up new RIG numbers and backgrounds like they did with Schneider. Opted to keep their original names, though, for neither feared being recognized on the station… and both planned to stay.

Neither had much in the way of family to get back to. Gabe hadn't for a long time, and Lexine lost what little she had on Aegis VII; her father was part of the mining crew, too. Might as well remain since they'd forged some ties. And hey, it hadn't been all bad. They finally managed to afford a tiny apartment instead of being homeless, and Gabe got a position on the Titan Station Security Force with his military training. Oh, and they were also married.

…wait, what?! Nicole thought after that declaration's weight sank in. She turned out to be more shocked than they were when she revealed she was dating Curtis. Didn't question the couple's intelligence, yet she still found it odd. Lexine and Gabe didn't get along at all on the Ishimura, and the age gap was considerable – Lexine was around 25 while Gabe must have been in his 40s. That was more than the gulf between her and Isaac.

"Honestly, it was mostly for the benefits at first," Gabe explained, pausing once he realized that could have been phrased better. "Fiscal benefits, not, um, other things. Reduced tax rates, if we got run in for vagrancy, we couldn't legally be separated, and so on." Sure, that made sense; it tied them closer together and kept Lexine safer for just a small fee at the registration office. Weddings were by and large a thing of the past, so marriage took little effort. She wanted to break that mold with Isaac, but it was never meant to be.

"But as the months went on, we really started to care for each other," Lexine explained, turning to her husband and rubbing his arm. "Gabe was a sweetheart once I got to know him." He smiled.

They spoke for a few more minutes, but their tales wound down. They ran out of questions to ask, for sleep tugged at the humans' eyes; Curtis yawned a lot. Nicole could stay up just short of forever, yet she still liked to sleep, if only to provide her boyfriend company in bed. It was late now… well, day and night didn't really exist on a space station, but many businesses here shuttered for several arbitrary hours to simulate that effect.

"Well, I'm glad we came over," Lexine said, significantly more nonchalant after talking for six or seven hours straight. Or perhaps all were so tired that this seemed more mundane. "But I think we should go. Have a good night, you two."

"You, as well," Curtis slurred, already drifting off in the chair. "We should talk more tomorrow."

"Definitely," Gabe echoed. That was it. They made sure they had their stuff and left, Curtis putting on his nightclothes as soon as they were out the door. Had a shift in another few hours, after all. Dragged himself into bed, and Nicole collapsed beside him. Before their Bond was restored, Curtis began snoring.

Oh, well, Nicole thought before she snuffed her own consciousness out. We'll be together in our dreams, like always.

…

Happy Halloween! Spooky time is here again, and I hope this time of year brings all of you joy. At the very least, it's always been a source of inspiration for my writing, which I appreciate more than candy or scares. I'm also happy I was able to get two chapters out in a single month; that's something I haven't done for a while.

I'm surprised I managed to obscure the fates of Nathan and Lexine for as long as I did. Still, I'm happy to bring them back into the fold. I've always thought both were awesome characters, and it really is a shame their story never gets resolved. Perhaps that will be fixed in the Dead Space reboot, but they'll also be much more prominent here.

Speaking of the reboot, I forgot to mention it in last chapter's A/N! If you didn't hear, Dead Space 1 is getting remade, possibly in the style of the Resident Evil 2 remake. That really excited me, especially since it was announced so shortly after I finished Ordination. Supposed to release in late 2022. I should add that, even if minor tweaks to the lore are made, I don't expect to acknowledge them. I'm already quite far into the series, and (God willing) it will be even more developed by the time the reboot releases.

Thanks to Notsae, Solace Hollow, CelfwrDderwydd, Accelerator7460, BlauOrange and Kevin82 for dropping reviews! I'm glad everyone's enjoying it so far. As always, you're free to join my Discord server, An Invisible Server. Here's an invite link (just remove the spaces and asterisks):

www*.discord*.gg / HPcMTpxVsH