Well, these chapters finally have names that will spell something in good old Dead Space fashion. Hopefully this one in particular caught your eyes. You'll have to read on to see just what it's about, though.
This is the chapter where I'm beginning to slowly feed more Alien elements. So far, it's just been acknowledging that Weyland-Yutani exists in this iteration of the Dead Space universe, but now those will begin to trickle in more. It's still always going to be Dead Space first and foremost, yet I'm happy to mix things up a little.
I don't have much beyond that. Thanks to Martin, CelfwrDderwydd, Kevin82, AmyWolf and Solace Hollow for reviewing since last chapter! Especially Celf; as I've mentioned before, he's been an enormous help to me, both on consulting for story ideas and making things. He did the cover art, in fact! Though you sadly can't get a good look at it, since this website condenses covers into a thumbnail. Also, Kevin, I don't reply to inquiries in A/Ns except during end-of-story AMAs (well, I did answer Amy's by coincidence), so please consider making an account so I can answer your questions in direct messages. Happy Thanksgiving, as well; I hope you all have something to celebrate in your lives!
Anyway, I really appreciate those contributions, along with any follows or favorites for this story or me as an author. Speaking of which, here's an invite to my Discord hangout, An Invisible Server, if you're interested. Just remove the spaces and asterisks:
www*.discord*.gg / HPcMTpxVsH
1 Year Post-USG Ishimura Outbreak
Number 57 (didn't know her actual name) snagged the ball, and the crowd went wild. At least Curtis assumed it did. He rarely went to games, so he didn't know how it compared. Urban brawl is way worse, though, he thought. Z-Ball hooligans had nothing on its fans.
57 "dashed" to the arena's center, friend and foe alike buzzing flies around her. Exciting stuff, though Curtis found more amusement in his friends' reactions. Gabe, who sat to Curtis' right, was on the edge of his seat, practically biting his nails at the next, game-defining shot. Lexine feigned interest for her husband's sake, yet she clearly couldn't have cared less. Snuck occasional peeks at the Transnet between plays, which Gabe was far too engrossed in to care about. Besides, her attendance was enough to bring him joy. This time, though, she was invested enough for her eyes to focus on the action. As for Curtis, he was happy to come when Gabe invited him. This was a nice break from the daily grind, especially with Lexine around.
Not that the woman said or did anything to distract him; her mere presence fogged his second sight, cleaving him from Nicole. No great loss, since she never cared for sports. This was one of the few things in the universe she wouldn't miss doing with him. Besides, she had her own plans for the evening.
The ball, ringed by holograms that made it look more like a massive atom or a miniature Saturn (appropriate, considering the planet next door) than a recreational tool, finally got tossed. It arced through the air to the left – from his perspective, for directions meant little with the entire arena surrounded on six sides – and the woman's teammates blocked the competition so none of them snagged it with their own kinesis modules.
Curtis leaned forward, one eye on the ball and one on the holographic countdown clock painting the glass wall/floor before them. It'd be tight! Though not super invested, his heart slightly quickened as he was engulfed in the primal urge to root for the home team. The people around him, sans Lexine, long ago succumbed to that.
The ball brushed against the hoop's edge, dangling in space for a moment… before inching into the goal. Cheers erupted around them, some of the bigger fans clapping like this was the most incredible play they'd ever seen. Maybe people on the Sprawl were just bigger fans that back home. That kind of thing depended on geography. Still, all things considered, it didn't deafen as much as it could have. The ones he grew up with in the Hubs were far louder.
Those had benefits such as being more than glorified sardine tins. Tight, sure, but people had a little room to get around. Seemed like everyone being closer should have made it louder, but each side of this cuboid arena was sealed off from the others both to make the artificial gravity safer (gravity panels pulling in more than one direction led to "messes") and to reduce casualties in the event of a catastrophic hull breach. There were a couple psychos every year who got their hands on high explosives and managed to take out a city block. Rare, but common enough that it was at least a passing thought whenever anybody went to such gathering.
Not for the moment, however. The cheering died down, and the ball was automatically ejected from the goal and deposited in the center with a kinesis beam.
The teams floated around for a couple moments more; doing anything would have been pointless with two seconds left on the clock! With that goal, the Delhi Tigers (lots of sports teams were named after extinct animals, he noticed) were surpassed by the Titan Station Hoops: the Hoops led 43 – 41. Great team they had here. Come to think of it, the home team's uniforms, which sported a logo of concentric circles meant to mimic Saturn and its series of rings (clever double entendre in the name "Hoops") reminded him very much of the outfits in that one ancient, silly "basketball" vid, Space Jam, that he loved so much.
They'd previously been called the "Planet Crackers" in honor of the great ships the Sprawl used to service that were the satellite's lifeblood, but after what happened to the Ishimura, that name suddenly became toxic, so it was hastily changed to its current incarnation. Didn't stop a few people from donning RIGs with the team's former moniker emblazed on them.
The buzzer blared, signifying the end of the game's first portion and the beginning of that illustrious period called halftime. A time to get overpriced food from the official vendors and use the bathroom while the players took well-deserved cooldowns. Since Curtis didn't need either, he stayed in his seat while crowds streamed past, all jostling about in the crowded arena. Included Lexine, who needed to pee. That left him, Gabe, and a smattering of others to hold down the fort. Also gave him space to chat with his friend without being overheard.
"Remember that time we played Z-Ball together on the Ishimura?" he mused, thinking back to more innocent times. Right before everything suddenly went to Hell… or maybe it'd headed that way for a long time, and he only now possessed the wisdom to realize it. Regardless, he enjoyed remembering a period that seemed less dangerous than the one they presently lived through.
"Yeah. That was special," replied Gabe, who reclined in his inflexible plastic seat to stretch his arms without having to worry about punching the person behind him. Definitely. He was very lucky that two of the people he played that game with were still around. Sam, however… Curtis hoped and prayed there was an afterlife for someone like him. Personally, he wouldn't mind being consumed by nothingness when he died, but better people than him deserved a good ending.
Gabe smacked his lips and stole a glance around, eyes narrowing as he whispered, "Curtis? Is it OK if I ask you something while Lex is gone?"
"Go ahead. What's bothering you?" A twinge of concern pinched his stomach. Wasn't like Gabe to be so furtive, and he always trusted his wife to hear whatever he had in mind. The man took a deep breath and tried to continue.
"Lex and I have been talking. About family stuff. Our future," he ventured, unsure whether or not to take the plunge.
"What do you mean?" If he had something to say, he should say it. Finally, he spat it out.
"Lex wants to have a baby." Curtis expected to recoil away from bad news, yet his spirit warmed. That was wonderful! Right? Gabe must have sensed the full picture wasn't being conveyed, so he continued, "Normally, I wouldn't be opposed to that; I've always wanted to be a family man, myself. But knowing what I do now about how awful everything is and how much worse it's set to get… I don't know anymore. How could I bring a kid into a universe that's about to spiral into oblivion?" Ah. He now perceived the dilemma. His heart sank as he considered the kinds of horrors children everywhere would face once it really hit the fan. "I know you're not an expert on child development, but you've seen the very worst of it. Plus, you're my friend, so I want to know what you think."
Curtis hoped he'd hit the bottom, but he suspected several more layers of Hell sat between him and bedrock. As he knew all too well, things could always get worse.
"Well, I should start by saying that this is a problem Nicole and I don't have," he began, trying to gingerly tap-dance across this minefield of an issue. Wanted to choose his words carefully, for this was one of the most important choices a person could make. Felt wrong to even field suggestions. That's what Gabe wanted, though, and Curtis grudgingly admitted that nobody else in the universe was as qualified to explain the dangers lurking ahead. A few seconds later, he developed a satisfactory answer.
"I don't think you should let fear compromise this if that's what you two want, though the fact you're considering it at all is good." Just pondering such questions made them better parents than any foster family he ever had was. Unlike his real mother and father, who abandoned him the moment he was born. Then again, that wasn't exactly a high bar to clear. "Things look bad right now. But I do believe they'll get better… or at least I really want them to."
Sure, things could always get worse, yet that didn't mean they would. In his darkest moments on the Ishimura, he always dusted himself off and kept going. There was danger that the child would become their sole reason to continue, however. An apocalyptic version of having a baby to avert a divorce. Gabe and Lexine wouldn't do that, though. They were far too good people to succumb to such a mentality. Curtis didn't know if he could say the same about himself. The only reason he had to persevere was Nicole. More of life's simple pleasures began to take root in his heart over the past year, but the woman he loved gave him most of the energy to get out of bed in the morning. He sighed and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder to try and get his point across while it remained unclouded.
"If you do decide to go down that path, you and Lexine will need to rededicate yourselves to what you're already doing. You'll have to try and make a universe your child can be proud of, despite everything already holding us back." He and Lexine already promised to help stop the Necromorphs in any way they could, but it went beyond that. Even if they somehow managed to defeat the greatest threat humanity had ever known, that didn't magically solve the other problems facing his species. It would be a struggle for as long as they lived. Curtis didn't know if he had it in him, but he'd take it one day at a time.
I completely agree, said a warm presence in the back of his mind. He'd been so busy thinking that he didn't notice Nicole's presence with Lexine away for the moment. That's fine. I tend to sneak up on people. He laughed a little, which made Gabe raise a brow. And I'm… not doing great with my tasks over here. That was likely an understatement, yet he resisted the urge to peer through her eyes to see what was up; he'd be home soon enough and didn't want to ruin any surprises she had in store.
I'm looking forward to it. Before she could reply, the Bond withered as an axe chopped it in half. Lexine was coming back. "Anyway, those are my words of wisdom," Curtis quickly said to wrap up their conversation.
Gabe pondered this for a few moments. "Thanks, Curtis. I'll think about them." That was all he could ask. The crowd trickled in soon after, some just having left to stretch their legs and empty their bladders, some bearing treasures of fried soy or hot dogs made with real (albeit cloned) meat. Lexine arrived with the flow, sliding in next to her husband.
"Did I miss anything? Any exciting halftime show or holographic fireworks display?" she asked.
"Nah. This is just a regular old middle-of-the-season match. They tend to only have those flashy ones for the playoffs or other special events." Yeah, and they were grateful to be here at all. Even in the nosebleeds, it was tough to get tickets. Apparently, the police department used to give its officers free season passes, but that was one of the first things cut with the economic crisis hitting the station, so Gabe had to save up for this.
The game started shortly thereafter, and Curtis enjoyed the latter half a bit more than the first. Not sure why. Maybe it was because he sensed Gabe had a better time with his burning query answered. Perhaps hearing Nicole's voice for a moment lifted his spirits. Or maybe it was just because the Hoops performed better in the second half, easily soaring to victory over their earthbound rivals. The time flew by, and the final buzzer rang before he knew it. The score: 103 – 86.
One advantage to sitting near the back was that they beat the crush out, emerging near the Concourse. The sun hung in the massive windows, as it was wont to do, and the three admired it and the tableaux of space before planning their next move.
"Sure you don't want to grab a bite or a beer?" Gabe asked as the crowd pushed them along. He'd fielded the offer once before, since they often went to various taphouses and sampled the selection, but Curtis was firm in his present refusal.
"Sorry, but Nicole's trying to cook something for me tonight." "Try" being the operative word. Nicole had never been big on cooking before she died. Her specialties were that of the average college student: ramen and frozen pizza, supplemented with takeout (and fruits and vegetables, being a healthy eater). Isaac was a better chef than her. Now, having no need to eat, she hadn't touched a pot or pan since they arrived on the Sprawl. But she wanted to organize a romantic evening for them for a while, and this seemed the perfect night to do it. Neither began as starry-eyed lovers, but they developed such tendencies over the months.
Cuddling, kissing, deep confessions of love… even with their mental connection, Nicole had been confined to the same room for almost a year now. The only humans she ever saw in person were him and Lexine and Gabe when they came to visit. Anybody would be jittery after a year of that, and Necromorphs were a eusocial species. Drawing closer together was the only way to keep her sane. Sometimes that just felt like going through the motions, but nights like this… he knew it was real.
"Honestly, Gabe, I don't feel like eating out tonight, either," Lexine commented as they approached the closest tram station. "We have leftovers at home." Well, that killed any potential argument! Far be it from any man about to have a life-changing discussion with his wife to argue.
"All right. How about we shelve it until next week?" Gabe asked, which he heartily agreed to.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Aside from Nicole, it was always nice to have things to look forward to.
…
Nicole jittered as her hands floated over the cooking appliances, of which there were few. Had to make do with a toaster oven, one burner on a stove and a sink, essentially. A couple other gadgets assisted her culinary quest, but there weren't too many. Didn't stop her from working overtime, furiously trying to remember what to do next. Her two left eyes glanced at the computer monitor with the recipe on it while the right ones stayed affixed to the blue-plate special, as if it threatened to burst into flames! She wouldn't discount it with her cooking skills.
Why is this harder than brain surgery?! she wondered in exasperation, nearly breaking a dial on the burner as she cranked down the temperature to keep the sauce from smoldering.
She inhaled hot, dry air into atrophied lungs to center herself. The atmosphere would stay like that for a while thanks to subpar ventilation. It'd have to percolate out over the hours unless she shot out the window. Or I could prop open the door for better circulation like some of the neighbors do. That wasn't going to happen, but it amused her to imagine people walking by and seeing the "monster" blithely whip up a homecooked meal. She shook her head and got back to work, trying to think of it as anything but work.
"Come on, you're supposed to be having fun with this," she muttered. "No point doing this for Curtis if you don't enjoy it." After all, cooking a romantic dinner was her idea. He said she didn't need to do anything of the sort, yet she wanted to symbolize their commitment with a small token of affection. This was something new and different; not many activities confined to one room that she could call special. Might not do this again, though, since it wouldn't be as much of a surprise the second time around, regardless of how much she enjoyed baking. "And I am enjoying it," she mumbled, trying to make herself believe it.
Still, she managed to lock one thing away from her boyfriend. Difficult to keep anything secret, but there was a surprise she endeavored to maintain. Only allowed it to cross her mind when their Bond was broken, like when he went to work or hung out with Lexine. More than enough time to ponder it… and resolve to ask Curtis after their romantic evening.
The thought would have made her heart race if she still had one. Her eyes flew to the time on the monitor, and she knew she needed to hurry, for the Z-Ball game should have ended a few minutes prior. He already headed back. That their Bond had not yet activated meant he travelled with Lexine as she and Gabe returned to their own home; she wasn't sure beforehand whether they'd remain a group or if the other couple had plans for the night. The time it took them to return depended on which trains they were able to catch, for the stadium sat several miles upspin from their humble apartment block. Therefore, she wouldn't know his location until he was moments away!
Kept her on her toes as the minutes ticked along. Decoding the recipe became like poring through an ancient tome in search of forgotten secrets. Or raiding computer data on the Ishimura. Perhaps it was in poor taste to compare such a mundane activity to a place where thousands of people died, but the Ishimura was her frame of reference for a lot of things. How could it not be? The most important day of her life and death unfolded aboard it. Still, returning too often felt macabre.
Curtis' mind popped back into her own seconds before she finished. Should have been comforting, yet she still felt like she was on the clock! I can wait five minutes, you know, he said upon sensing her jitteriness.
No, no, come in, she replied. I don't know why I'm so nervous… That was, in fact, a lie, one of the few she'd ever told him. She knew exactly why longing for perfection this night weighed upon her soul. However, she hoped he could overlook that sin. Her legs twitched, four long toes gently tapping the ground as she finished up and Curtis arrived. There was no knock at the door, for he knew she had her hands full. Quite literally, as she sprinkled garnish and the sauce across the main course.
"Smells delicious," he commented, mouth already watering. Sniffed the burbling dish through Nicole's nostrils on his way back home, so he already hungered for it. That was one of the most fascinating aspects of their Link, in her opinion. Both experienced the same objective sensation when one saw or smelled or heard or thought anything, yet each interpreted it in their own subjective way. She'd been inundated with such scents for the past hour or two while barely paying them any heed. Without a reason to eat or breathe at all, she no longer had any physical reaction to odors.
But introduce Curtis to the same thing, and he reacted in a human way. Like right now, when he longed to scarf down the dish she popped out of the makeshift toaster oven, holding the pan aloft on her claws. His reaction gave her the first hint that preparing this meal didn't turn out disastrous. Her foot-long talons were unwieldly at times, such as when trying to add sage to the sauce. Had to basically learn how to draw all over again with new hands. The problem with Necromorphs being designed exclusively for killing was that, despite their numerous physical advantages over humans, they were disadvantaged when it came to doing "human" things.
And she was one of the lucky ones! At least she had arms and legs and wasn't fused to a wall. Couldn't imagine ever becoming friends with Curtis in her afterlife if she transmuted into a Guardian or Exploder or Leaper. Despite the struggles she faced, she therefore couldn't complain too much.
"I barely remember what it's like to eat," Nicole said as she turned off the various kitchen devices used to make this (hopefully) delicious dish, "so I hope you enjoy."
"Do you miss it? Along with breathing and drinking and having to sleep?" She could still approximate the latter when she desired, though it wasn't quite the same. After carefully scooping the meal onto a plate, she leaned against the small counter and pondered that question with a claw on her mandibles. Her boyfriend inquired about that several times over the past year, and rightfully so. Bodily functions were perceived as just as integral to humanity as more philosophical qualities. However, her answer remained the same.
"Not particularly," she shrugged. "What I do miss are the experiences that go along with them. Not physical sensations, since I can get all that from you, but the social ones." Her social life wasn't great to begin with, looking the way she did, yet not partaking in activities all humans took for granted split her even further from them. If she didn't even need to breathe, how much of a person was she?
Only she could answer that. Took her long enough to figure that out. Curtis nodded, saying he understood. With that in mind, Nicole turned back to the food, still piping hot and moist despite the dry air. "It's supposed to be seasoned with salt and pepper to taste, but I can't really tell how much is too much anymore, so you'll have to decide."
He got to be part of the cooking process in this small way, too, which amused her. Even after all her preparation, the final flavor could be enhanced or ruined by a single speck. Should have been irrelevant compared to the whole course, but each could do a lot. But it was as good as she could possibly make it, so she handed the plate, a fork and a knife to Curtis, who now sat at the desk with a placemat over the holographic keyboard and a napkin on his lap. It'd be even fancier if they had a table, but beggars couldn't be choosers. A far cry from the relatively privileged life she and Isaac once enjoyed. Doubted Curtis would ever get to try Cherries Jubilee…
"You know I don't need any fancy desserts to make me happy," he replied with a smile. That was nothing compared to the love that flowed across their Bond, which warmed her even more than the piping hot entrée before them. It was soup for the soul. "The only thing I need is you. You make me feel joy in a way nothing and nobody has given me before."
His words may have been cheesy, but the sentiment behind them was real and beautiful. Her mouthparts split and fluttered in a grin of their own.
Curtis looked down and finally saw the meal with his own two eyes: marinated chicken with creamy garlic sauce and garnished with diced tomatoes. Real chicken, too, not cloned or artificial or made of flavored vegetables (which also likely would have been cloned or artificial). Not that it came as a surprise, since he purchased all the ingredients for her, but it still made him gasp to see the first homecooked meal of he'd ever received. None of his foster families were big on cooking or cared enough to do so, and none of his one-night flings stayed long enough to whip anything up for themselves or him.
He'd lived such a sad life, and that broke her heart, but she was also joyous she got to share these experiences with him. After all, Nicole never got along the best with her own family, yet they still ate meals together. So lost was she in thought that it came as a shock when Curtis stood and wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her into a hug. His mind quivered as a few tears dripped onto her shoulder and soaked into her muscle. She stroked his back with her claws, just holding him for a moment in their tiny, crappy apartment. A few streaks of sunlight fell through the window and across the snake plant on the sill, which basked in light as she basked in love.
She didn't mind his tears, though they surprised her. He cried often after nightmares of the Ishimura, thoughts of his friends who were slaughtered and so on (though all these symptoms of post-traumatic stress would have been much worse, if not crippling, were she not there to help), yet these drops were signs of joy and gratitude. The last time she saw those was after he found out Gabe and Lexine were still alive. Thank you so much, he thought, letting his emotions flow free. Never kept those bottled up, yet the spigot had been loosed even more. I love you.
I love you, too, Curtis, she thought, tilting his head up to hers with a claw. They saw two eyes to four, seemingly forever as she peered through all six simultaneously. But you should eat before it gets cold. I don't think it'll be very good reheated. That was also why she chose to make just one small portion; no need for leftovers that way. He chuckled as he pulled away and dug in as she set the last preparations. This time, it had nothing to do with food, but ambiance.
She fished a couple candles out of a cabinet as the tang of chicken and sauce hit Curtis' tongue, and therefore her own. Still had the mental capacity to interpret the taste, just without the ability to discern whether she liked it or not. Be it a pristine steak or broccoli or sawdust, anything she put in her mouth would be equally unpleasant. Like a lot of things, Curtis' own living biases colored her subjective experiences. His gustatory cortex activated, and he eagerly dug in for more. He liked it.
That relieved her as she ignited the wicks with a lighter and turned off the garish LEDs which normally illuminated the room. The candles might warm the already parched air, but they'd also provide much-needed romantic mood. Tell me if you get too hot, though, she informed him. His comfort was what mattered most of all, for any temperature not cold enough to freeze her solid or singe her flesh suited her.
All right, he replied, though I do like the pretty flame colors. As did she! One burned an eerie green, the other, vibrant blue. Perhaps they were novelties, though using candles at all in the modern day proved anachronistic, so why not? She wanted him to get a red one before realizing it might look too akin to the scarlet flames Dr. Mercer used several times to taunt them on the Ishimura. That left only three sources of light: the candles, the window and the computer monitor he sat in front of.
They spent a few minutes chatting internally while Curtis chowed down on one of the best meals he'd had in his life. Food was subjective, of course. Taste was important, but even the humblest dishes got far better when made with love – it wasn't just some silly adage. Therefore, he was over the moon eating it, and that warmth and love filled her, too. She wished the moment could last forever, that the night winds they both knew would come somehow hesitated. But it was not to be.
Want to turn on the TV? Curtis asked as he'd gotten down to the last quarter, slowly pecking away at what remained. Such a question on date night normally would've been seen as boorish. Nicole didn't care, though. In fact, she agreed with him, for it occurred to them that something interesting was about to be broadcast in a few minutes. Curtis put down the fork, wiped his hands with the napkin and started typing on the holographic keyboard interface.
Perhaps it killed the romantic mood, but they already knew each other inside and out. After a year of near-constant contact, there was nothing else they could learn. Each comprehended the other just as well as they did themselves. Besides, there was a more utilitarian reason for their media consumption while Curtis also consumed food. It'd been in the news all week that a big announcement was going to happen that night between three major forces: EarthGov, the CEC and Weyland-Yutani. Such a joint conference was unprecedented. Neither could remember anything similar happening before, so both wondered what it entailed.
Probably nothing good. Maybe it had nothing to do with Necromorphs or the Marker, yet she was nearly certain whatever the whole government-industrial complex colluded to share would bear rotten fruit. How were they supposed to trust any of them (or, indeed, any large entity) after all they'd been through. Not to mention everything happening lately was bad news. After what happened with the Ishimura, it all seemed to go wrong. Probably had for a while, even if they just now recognized that.
There were a few news channels to peruse… all with EarthGov's stamp of approval, barring the one propped up with Unitologist money, so all presented the same information and spin, just with different backdrops and anchors. That said, Curtis opted for Sprawl News Network, which she had no problem with. It was possibly the most well-regarded outlet offered, enough that, despite the name, it was broadcast all over human space, not just Titan Station.
A commercial for Triggerlink 710 wound down before returning to the news, being hosted by Maria Regan. I remember her coverage of the Wanat Disaster, too, thought Curtis. Both were briefly pulled back to his somehow even worse apartment in Mars Capita, lacking light and heat during the worst days of the Independence Riots. Not sure she's a comforting presence, but it was good reporting, at least.
We can change the channel if this is too much, Nicole replied while resting a claw on his knee. The last thing she wanted was for uncomfortable memories to intrude on an announcement that'd likely be bad by itself.
Thanks, but I'll be all right. If he said so. Though they shared the same sensations, she trusted his judgement about himself more than hers. Faith was the cornerstone of their relationship, after all. They couldn't trust anyone if they couldn't even trust each other.
Regan introduced a preview of the events and announcements to be covered over that hour, such as record unemployment, a shooting not too far from their home and a travelling collection of Unitologist artifacts that had just been earmarked to be put on display at the local Church.
"But first, a very special update from our leadership here on Titan Station. We'll return to our regularly scheduled program afterwards." Her tone sent Curtis' spine shivering. Maybe it was nothing more than anticipation, yet he was suddenly very worried. Honestly, she felt similar dread. Was a black hole headed for Earth? They always assumed the worst, but she figured pessimism was all right if it meant being pleasantly surprised occasionally.
The screen cut to black before fading into an official-looking conference room. Based on the white and chrome color palette, it was safe to guess it was in GovSec… and that no journalists were allowed anywhere close. Whatever they had to say, they were going to say it with no fuss or questions asked. That didn't assuage her. The main objects of focus were a podium and a large screen behind it, both bearing the government's insignia: the word "EarthGov" in bold white lettering over one of the planet's hemispheres.
Then three figures entered the frame, one taking the stand while the others flanked him. She didn't recognize the latter two, though patches on their RIGs designated one as with Wey-Yu and the other property of the CEC. Probably local corporate spokespeople. Both businesses liked to keep their leaders out of the spotlight. Perhaps to not tie the brand to specific faces, who came and went as often as the seasons even as the company endured eternal. The central man, however, needed no introduction for her, Curtis or anyone in the outer solar system not living under a rock.
"Ladies and gentlemen of Titan Station, thank you for joining me for this very special announcement," said Hans Tiedemann, the uncontested lord and master of Saturn, as his family had been for generations. She should have expected their illustrious Director of Operations to host, yet she didn't take it for granted. The Sprawl's reclusive leader rarely deigned to greet his subjects, though all knew him from the omnipresent posters featuring his face cast slightly skyward with various traits, such as courage, compassion, and stability that he and his regime supposedly brought to the table.
Perhaps she shouldn't have been so cynical, considering nearly all the elite stayed in their enclaves and ivory towers away from the masses. Their caste generally only appeared before common folk on the vids for the annual State of the Union address. Besides, he didn't seem as transparently corrupt as many government leaders… not that she'd know. Hadn't attacked and tried to capture them, something she couldn't say about others. Guess that counts for something, Curtis internally grumbled as he continued to peck at the food. His appetite was nearly faded from butterflies now filling his stomach.
You don't need to eat more, she told him, now feeling sort of nauseous herself. Wonderful as their Bond was, she could do without some of the less pleasant aspects of humanity. How ironic that she, a doctor, came to transcend many weaknesses of the flesh while embodying it more than when she was human.
"The events of the last several months have been trying for all of humanity, though nowhere greater than our fair city," he said, running a hand across the top of his bald, shiny head. In the bright lights trained on him, it looked like a disco ball. Despite her snarky observation, the man was probably right. The CEC got into a flaming wreck, and Titan Station was collateral damage. As the former hub of planet cracking, the fiscal and logistical woes hitting everyone were worse here than anywhere else. "However, I'm pleased to announce, to you before the rest of our species, that our partners have devised a novel solution to the crises facing us."
A solution, eh? she thought, curiosity suddenly piqued. Perhaps this wouldn't be as bad as she thought… or Tiedemann tried to cushion the blow. Wouldn't know until they spat out their message, so Nicole shut herself up as he took a step back.
"Thank you, Director Tiedemann," said the woman with Wey-Yu, taking his place. Meanwhile, Curtis just noticed that the CEC guy looked distressed. Sweatier than the other two, even under the hot lights. "While Weyland-Yutani Corporation is not headquartered on Titan Station, we understand the citizenry's struggle better than most. To be located on the edge of the frontier, constantly pushing the limits of humanity forward… that's always been this station's noble mission. A mission our syndicate shares." She struggled not to roll her eyes at the faux corporate relatability. Maybe it was true, but the grandstanding was almost more than she could bear. Curtis agreed, but he was more inoculated to this kind of thing.
"In fact, we like to believe we cultivate a closer connection to planet cracking than our competitors," she maliciously said, gesturing to the CEC representative. Already sweating, his face turned red as a tomato. Nicole recoiled, and she and Curtis couldn't help but look at each other. Did that just happen?! There was always animosity between the two megacorps as they constantly wrestled for dominance, but they never expected an open insult during a live presentation before the universe. "One of our presidents, Nobuhiro Yutani, had a close relationship with Hideki Ishimura himself, both hailing from Neo-Tokyo in what would become the East Asian Sector before EarthGov coalesced."
Huh. Nicole never thought about it, but yeah, Wey-Yu predated EarthGov by quite a bit. The former was founded in the late 21st Century… 2099, if she recalled correctly. The latter didn't come to be until almost a century later, born from a merger of the United Americas, Union of Progressive Peoples and Three-World Empire, the three global superpowers of the 2100s, in response to the growing costs and potential dangers inherent to space travel. No country could bear the risks and burdens alone. Not according to them, anyway. With her more cynical viewpoint, Nicole suspected it was more about the most powerful oligarchs of each wanting to further consolidate their own influence. Yeah, you're probably right, replied Curtis, taking another bite of savory chicken as he regained a bit of his appetite.
"And the Ishimura is really what this conference is about, as many viewers may have already guessed," sighed the speaker as Tiedemann approvingly looked on. This left Nicole vexed. Shouldn't he be the one talking about this? "Indeed, not a day goes by when we do not experience crippling repercussions from that calamity. The mining industry has truly failed us." Another slap in the face to the rep. It became clear that his role was as a punching bag.
This was Wey-Yu's show, and EarthGov made the CEC show up to be humiliated because of them breaking Aegis' quarantine and losing the Ishimura in one boneheaded venture. That they ended up getting the Marker made no difference, seeing as it was entirely accidental. "Fear not, though; as always, Weyland-Yutani has devised a solution, one that will lead us into a brighter, more sustainable future. Our slogan since inception has been 'Building Better Worlds'. We believe it is time to finally honor that commitment in its fullest sense."
OK, this isn't so bad, Curtis thought, his hunger largely restored. Both were pretty sure by now that the presentation had nothing to do with the Marker, as they feared it would. Why would Weyland-Yutani, a company that, to the best of their knowledge, had no connections to Unitology, be the keynote speaker if it was? Didn't mean that whatever this announcement about was good, but it did mean that it wasn't their problem. For now. And it was so satisfying, if petty, to see the CEC getting grilled on live television.
"Until now, exploiting the wealth of worlds has required either tearing them apart from on high or constructing domed habitats and outposts. A rare few have had very specific conditions amenable to terraforming, yet those are perceived as too unique to be anything but playgrounds for the fabulously wealthy." Very true. The only reason she and Isaac were able to visit Kreemar was because of their substantial salaries – and they still had to save up for it. She couldn't imagine the riches of those who lived there all the time, the only slices of paradise in the universe. Wey-Yu was part of that problem, of course.
"The question we at Weyland-Yutani have asked ourselves in recent years, especially in the wake of the Ishimura Tragedy, is this: how can humanity support a growing population and economy while transitioning to a more sustainable way of life?" Nicole hoped those two things weren't mutually exclusive, but she really didn't know. Could they stop wrecking stuff without going back to the Dark Ages? "The answer was obvious: terraform more planets into habitable environments. How to get from imagination to reality proved to be the larger hurdle. With enough ingenuity, however, nothing is impossible."
Before she could react to that improbable statement, the massive monitor behind them, previously awash in the EarthGov logo, changed into something else. Some sort of building, shaped like a funnel with the thicker end resting on the ground. It was neither a finished version nor even an artist's interpretation, but blueprints. Blueprints that, if she saw the scale correctly, stated the structure to be over a mile tall and five miles wide! That was nearly the size of a planet cracker!
With a proud grin, the spokeswoman said, "We are proud to introduce the last word in Building Better Worlds – the Atmospheric Processing Plant. 'Atmos', for short. It is a massive machine, bigger than all but the largest starships, that will transform dead space into something alien and lush to our sensibilities."
Despite being dead, Nicole got chills… or maybe Curtis got them. Didn't really matter, for the effect remained the same. It was wonderful. Miraculous, even. It had barely been announced, but the fact something good happened – life being given instead of taken away – amazed her. They'd so expected the announcement to be about the doom of man that the opposite information knocked her socks off. Wey-Yu obviously didn't do this out of the goodness of their hearts, but that barely mattered. For most people in the universe, the idea of living with a sky over their head was a fantasy. This could change the lives of billions if it really did come to pass. She and Curtis sat in rapture as they learned more.
"Based on proprietary technology dating back to the 2100s, that model never proved feasible at large scale. Each as expensive as a planet cracker, and they took 40 or 50 years to make most worlds suitable for widespread human habitation. Our scientists have spent several decades developing this newer iteration with modern technology." Yeah, she and Curtis remembered learning something like that in school, though neither recalled much beyond that. By now, the woman had a pointer out and directed viewers to different statistics. Very cursory stuff, but what numbers she saw made her head spin.
"This configuration will scrub a wider range of toxic compounds from the air far faster, reducing the overall time to create an amicable atmosphere to a decade at most. It is also able to split nitrogen and oxygen from virtually any substance containing them, be that the preexisting atmosphere or the planet's crust. AI systems can introduce precisely controlled quantities of greenhouse gasses or sulfates to make minute adjustments to the world's mean temperature. And, most importantly, each is 25 percent cheaper when adjusted for inflation." Of course that was the primary reason. The technology may have been there for centuries, yet only now were economics in the favor of such miraculous machines after the CEC shot itself in the head.
She didn't dwell on that long, though, for her mandibles were still dropped in wonder. "Combined with traditional terraforming efforts such as water introduction via redirection of comets and the dumping of cyanobacteria, we believe that the number of so-called 'resort worlds' will increase by a factor of 10 in a coequal number of years."
That was the sentence that quantified all this math, and the one that set their minds ablaze. Presently, there were only four or five of them in the galaxy. Earth, obviously, Kreemar, Shalanx III and a couple others. The idea of, a decade hence, there being 50 such planets boggled her mind. A universe filled with life again after what the Necromorphs did to it. Curtis was stunned beyond word or thought. In effect, that left her alone.
Tiedemann took the stand again, looking pretty damn smug. "The Earth Government, in conjunction with Weyland-Yutani… and also Concordance Extraction Corporation… is pleased to announce that Titan Station, always the vanguard of space travel, will be where the first Atmospheric Processing Plant is constructed before being transported to a suitable planet, the selection of which is pending."
Oh, so that's why he was there. EarthGov probably wanted to throw the Sprawl a bone with the place's ongoing economic woes. They already had infrastructure used to build planet crackers mothballed, too. Speaking of which, the CEC spokesman finally took the helm, practically being dragged with invisible shackles. Turned out he wasn't just for show. Teeth gritted, he looked about ready to have a breakdown. Fun as it was to see the company's face get dragged through the metaphorical mud, she began to feel bad for this particular guy. Must have been despised by local leadership to be the one tarred and feathered in front of the entire galaxy.
"The CEC is proud to share its resources with Weyland-Yutani in the manufacturing of the Atmos systems. Our resources and expertise are theirs," the man choked, face red from rage and shame. Appropriate responses, considering what this circus portended. Their stocks were due for an enormous dive while Wey-Yu reaped rewards. Almost made the CEC a vassal or division of their new overlords. Maybe that'd change, but for now, it seemed Wey-Yu won the centuries-long pissing contest between the two companies, or at least scored the biggest PR coup in a generation. Really, though, that didn't matter for the moment. Not with everything else.
Tiedemann took the stage one final time and looked out at the universe, a satisfied grin writ large on his face. There wasn't much he could say to ruin the hope snug in Nicole's chest.
He managed to, regardless.
"This is not the only project being undertaken here, however," he said, folding one hand over the other. "Titan Station is home to much of the advanced research and development driving our species into the future. While I'm not liable to provide specifics on these classified ventures, you can sleep soundly knowing things are getting better every day." Curtis' soul dropped like a rock, and hers along with it. Must have been talking about the Marker, right? Even if that didn't occur on Titan Station, it happened somewhere. She appreciated the reminder. "Thank you all for joining us tonight."
The EarthGov logo overtook the screen as the camera turned off. With that, the feed unceremoniously went black before cutting to Maria Regan again, her face as shocked as theirs surely were. Before she could say anything, Curtis flipped off the monitor. No doubt the Transnet was already inundated with hot takes of all stripes, but she couldn't imagine EarthGov needed to clamp down much on the discourse.
Planet cracking had been seen as a necessary evil for decades. Groups of all sorts grumbled against it, yet nobody had a better idea on how to stay afloat. Now a new way presented itself. Of course there would be some dissent – there always was – but they expected the vast majority of responses would be positive. Nicole's lungs whistled as they released a "breath" she didn't know she held throughout the conference as she turned to Curtis.
"That's crazy," her boyfriend whispered, mind shaking like a leaf. So much to hope for. So much to fear. For the first time in a while, they felt both in equal measure. It was easy to surrender to sorrow and terror, but not that night. Hey, it gave them something to look forward to. If humanity wasn't exterminated in the next few years, it'd have a better chance at survival with more places to live than ever.
More than that, some of her hope came from the question she'd finally worked up the courage to ask – and now was the perfect time for it. Needed to spring it as a surprise to have the impact she desired, and this made for a great mental smokescreen. He was too busy pondering to notice the emotions churning in her own head. Go on, ask, she prodded herself, willing her flanged mouth to form the words. Even if he says no, there's no harm trying. With a final push, she finally spat out the question she'd imagined asking for months.
"Curtis… will you marry me?"
This was the bombshell she dropped upon her boyfriend as they recovered from hearing about new technology that may as well have been science fiction five minutes ago. He turned to her with a look so stunned and feelings so faint she thought he might pass out. Instead, he sat in a daze, and she felt compelled to run her mouth and justify herself.
"This is something I've wanted to ask about for a long time. I love you, and you love me. I – I just want to make it official, if that makes sense," she stammered. Not even "official", since it wouldn't be their real names on any certificate, but more than what they presently had. It was a ritual she never got to do with Isaac… or in life. Now, after both those things, she had the chance to have that relationship. Something, in her opinion, a little bigger than what she and Curtis presently had.
If he agreed, of course.
She kept out of his head while he decided. The choice was his alone, and she didn't want to subconsciously push him into accepting. For someone who'd never been in a committed relationship until her, it was certain to be a difficult choice. Therefore, she sat and fidgeted for a small eternity while resisting the urge to peek.
Minutes passed, punctuated by cheers from the neighbors about the news. Must have been loud. For all of Titan Heights' faults, the soundproofing was impressive. Eventually, a small smile spread across Curtis' face, and her body clenched in tension. She knew that his answer wouldn't change the love between them, yet she couldn't help being on the edge of her seat.
"Nicole, there's no one else in the universe I'd rather have as my wife. I'll marry you." If she were human, her muscles would have given out. Didn't have to worry about that long, though, for Curtis scooted over to her and offered a hug in both body and mind. "It wasn't a hard choice… it's just a big commitment," he said. Didn't take a psychic to know he felt inadequate.
That's why she pulled back and stared him in the face. "You don't have to prove yourself to me, Curtis. We're good enough to be together." She felt herself crack a smile, or her version of one. The memories of what once was played in her head, yet she felt content in the present. "For once, we don't have to save the world."
He let out a laugh tinged with melancholy. "I just didn't think the idea of marriage would be so scary after all we've been through." Maybe not, but she understood. People apprehended what the new, even something so mundane. "But I really do want this. I think. At least, I can't think of a good reason not to. We do love each other. We've been together a long time. It doesn't jeopardize anything. Why not?"
She agreed wholeheartedly. But that could keep. Right now, it was getting late. Surely people all over the station – all over the cosmos – went clubbing or partying to celebrate a piece of good news for everyone. Excluded her, obviously. However, she had another way they could rejoice prepared. Curtis caught wind of this and began eyeing her up as she flopped on the bed, striking the sexiest pose she could muster.
One leg cocked up, a massive claw beneath her chin and churring. It turned him on something fierce, as did her exposed ribcage and keratinous scalp. Beauty was subjective, and there was just something about her that made her the most beautiful person of all time to Curtis. "Can't think of a better way to finish off a romantic evening," she purred as her (for now) boyfriend practically ripped off his RIG.
She may not have particularly cared about sex, but that night was the best she'd had in a long time.