Merry Christmas and happy holidays, everyone! It's been a tough year, much like the last (then again, when is it not?). I don't expect all that hardship to go away in 2022. I've expressed my apprehension before about the future of the planet and society, and those things still weigh heavily on my mind, but I can't help being optimistic in this season. The promise of a new year always brings out the hope in me. Speaking of which, I hope my pontificating about the nature of mankind in this story isn't too distracting or depressing. It's my way of working through my own complicated feelings, and the Dead Space games tackle a lot of the same issues.
Perhaps it also helps that I recently got my first genuine job. Took me long enough, seeing as I graduated college last winter. Really enjoyed my year off. Don't want to give too many specifics, but I'm currently working on an online platform to teach English to non-native speakers. It's fun and rewarding to share my language with those who want to take it up. Good for my mental health to make some money and put my college education to use.
Anyway, thanks to CelfwrDderydd, Guest and StriderGunship for leaving reviews since the last update. That's always much appreciated, especially with such important developments happening now; I like knowing what you all think of these twists and turns.
I believe the next chapter of Ascetic will be the last, so another Q&A session is in order! Ask questions via PMs or comments, and I'll publicly answer them. I'll give updates on the franchise's status during the final chapter, of course. In the meantime, here's an invite to my Discord hangout, An Invisible Server, if you'd like to chat with me and my other friends. Just remove the spaces and asterisks:
www*.discord*.gg / HPcMTpxVsH
2 Years Post-USG Ishimura Outbreak
It had been a long time since the Ishimura. Two years almost to the day since the outbreak. Curtis now measured his life in the years and months and days before and after it. To most of the universe, it was 2510 years since the birth of some religious figure nobody cared about anymore, a measurement mostly used for convenience. The Unitologist calendar pegged it as 296 AA – that many years after the martyrdom of Michael Altman.
And to Curtis, the date was 2 Anno Ishimura. That marked the single worst day of his life, perhaps the worst day any human had ever lived through.
It had been that long since he last heard the noise that presently drilled into his brain, finally shattering the brittle illusion of safety he'd clung to since. He doubled over in pain and nearly dropped the RC-DS Ripper attached to his arm, but he managed to keep the diamond-coated tungsten sawblade spinning at 17,000 RPM pointed safely at the mineral load rather than him.
Pain and dismemberment would be the least of his worries in a moment, though. Curtis gritted his teeth as hazy runes flashed in his swimming vision, trying to break him as they had a thousand times before. He knew that wouldn't happen. Perhaps this new Marker did, too. This was just the proper etiquette between them. Happened as easily as pleasantries one coworker said to another. Still hated it… especially the part that came next.
Did you really think you'd get rid of me that easily, Curtis? a raspy voice spoke to fulfill that prophecy. His shoulder turned to ice as a hand fell upon it, passing through his RIG.
No, but I thought you'd get here sooner, he shot back, turning to see the rotting former face of the woman he loved. The phantom Nicole hadn't changed a bit since he last "saw" it. Same glowing otherworldly eyes, same hair falling out in clumps, same evil grin writ in moldering teeth. Behind it lurked another, darker shape that he still didn't know whether to pity or fear or loathe: a psychic manifestation of all the misery and loneliness he'd amassed over his life. The Markers induced madness in part by showing these warped reflections of loved ones doing and saying terrible things. But what happened when someone who didn't love anybody was exposed to that energy? Turned out it made a hole where a person should have been.
A Shadow Man. Now he had to deal with both. Took long enough to drag your sorry asses out of Hell.
The shade cackled, though its piercing eyes stayed locked on him. Couldn't help tremble in his armor, though that barely mattered. External protection did nothing against harm to his soul. Still as funny and charming as ever, it said, squeezing harder on his brain. Enjoy those things while you can. Very soon, this Marker will do what the last one could not. You and all your kind will be consumed.
Another flash of light and color snapped him back to reality, where he had enough wits about him to turn off the Ripper before falling to his knees and catching his breath. The nightmare left as quickly as it came, but it would be back. It always came back.
Worse, it confirmed one of his and Nicole's deepest fears. Not only were Markers being built, but one (or more) already existed on the Sprawl. Deep in GovSec's bowels, past the darkest mines, it waited. Amassing strength to break through whatever bound it. At least, that's what Curtis hypothesized.
The Marker's signal was vastly more powerful than his and Nicole's Bond, being able to travel through shockspace and across solar systems, but even machines able to raise the dead weren't invincible, as him almost killing the Red Marker proved. Not like his species couldn't perform amazing feats on its own, like disassembling planets and worldwide terraforming in less than a decade, should the Atmos live up to what Weyland-Yutani promised. Kendra claimed that EarthGov's scientists would be able to come up with some way to inhibit it so no harm would come from harvesting its knowledge and power. Seemed completely plausible, though of course the Marker wasn't going to take that lying down.
Really, his species was incredible, despite all the cruelty they were capable of. They'd emerged from a single world to colonize a vast swathe of the galaxy in less than 500 years, and there were rumblings that some wanted to move beyond even that and explore the far reaches of the universe. Perhaps the public will and technology was a thousand generations away, yet that was the blink of an eye compared to 66 million years since the Black Marker had arrived on Earth… and seemingly existed in stasis.
IT IS TRUE. MY KIN HAVE CHANGED LITTLE OVER THE EONS. WHATEVER CREATED US BELIEVES ITSELF PERFECT. ERGO, WE ARE NEARLY IMMUTABLE.
Ah, he hadn't heard from the Black Marker for a few weeks. Probably busy with whatever giant sedentary rock things it did. It could make time for this, though, as concerned as he'd ever heard it. Which wasn't very, yet he usually had a difficult time discerning tone through a booming mental voice alone. This time, it was unmistakable.
Is it hard for you? he wondered, shaking off the last of his terror. Being stoic by nature while humans are volatile, I mean. Must have been tough to want to help humanity with it being radically different from them in so many ways. Then again, the same went for Nicole. She tried to embrace humanity more than ever despite now being locked outside it. The Marker, too, must have mused on this seeming contradiction.
I SUPPOSE. IT HAS OFTEN BEEN DIFFICULT TO CONNECT WITH A PEOPLE SO UNLIKE MYSELF. HOWEVER, I DO NOT REGRET BEING HERE. BEING… "ALIVE", SO TO SPEAK.
You are alive, Curtis automatically replied, but after catching himself and considering it for a moment, he found that his answer hadn't altered. The Black Marker was a person and, in a strange fashion, a friend. In my opinion, change is what makes people alive, he explained; his wife being undead, he thought about this plenty. Everyone becomes different from what they started out as. Not necessarily physical changes (though growing up and growing older was certainly important), but mental ones. Was a person who did and thought the same things every day truly alive? From the time he'd spent in such a rut, he'd say no. His actions were practically predetermined. That wasn't a life.
You have changed, on the other hand. Curtis leaned against the crumbling wall and finally looked around to confirm that nobody witnessed his collapse and subsequent slacking off, fortunately finding it to be so. Just a dusty alcove drilled in the rock, lit by bare halogen bulbs with the sound of a Force Gun being fired in the distance. You're alive when whatever created you isn't. It's moldering in the same obsessive hate it has been for millions of years, but you've grown out of it. Dedicating its existence to fight against whatever threatened them all was the biggest change Curtis could think of, so Curtis gladly counted the Black Marker as part of Team Life. That pleased his friend, which expressed as a slowly-building rumble in the head.
MY THANKS. NOW, I SHALL ENDEAVOR TO LEARN WHAT I CAN OF THIS NOVEL DOPPELGANGER.
Curtis appreciated it, but he didn't know what the Black Marker could really do against this new threat. They all knew this was coming. Now it was here, coming less as a surprise and more as the realization of a creeping fear that dogged him for the past two years. He wished he and Nicole had more time. Still, he was grateful for what little they did get to spend together. He'd rather die tomorrow after having spent over a year in the bliss of true love than live a full lifetime in the sorrow and anger he felt before meeting her. Still, he wasn't about to turn down the offer.
Appreciate it. Let me and Nicole know if you find out anything. Speaking of Nicole, she still needed to learn about this ASAP, and he wouldn't be able to tell her for several hours. Wanted to inform her himself, but on the off chance that something bad happened before the end of his shift, he requested that the Marker ferry this information for him, which it agreed to. It departed, leaving Curtis to his own devices. Punch-out time can't come soon enough.
After a minute more of thinking, he shakily raised the Ripper and again began carving the mineral deposit, the pieces of which he loaded with his kinesis module into a cart to be sorted and smelted at the end of his shift. His body was braced against any more psychic attacks, yet none came for the rest of the day. Regardless, every noise and flicker of the lights made him cringe in preparation for the next salvo. His jittering fear returned with a vengeance, and he knew he'd never feel true calm again until he saw this evil slain.
Neither he nor the Black Marker knew whether that was because this new entity didn't have the strength to rally another attack or if it wanted to let him stew in his own fear for a while. The old Red Marker loved to throw itself against his brain, but there was no guarantee the new specimen engineered from it behaved the same way. The apple could fall far from the tree, as proven by the differences between the Black Marker and its "son", so its "grandson" might prove distinct.
Probably very evil, yet distinct. Though there is a chance it'll see the errors of its ways and be swayed to my side via the power of love, he thought, only mostly sarcastic. Sure, it could happen, just like how he could suddenly grow wings and fly. He'd give one idea credence when the other happened.
The hours trickled by as molasses moving through a sieve. At long last, that day's eight-hour shift ended, and he couldn't get out quickly enough. Grabbed his cart with kinesis and lugged it back to the main hub of that area. GovSec measured many miles in any given direction (it must have been at least as large as PubSec), so it sported several subdivisions rather than a single core. Also meant that he rarely saw the same people every day, since he and his fellow miners got assigned to different regions based on availability and luck.
Which he felt grateful for that day, since it meant most of them wouldn't be around to rib him the next day for his pathetic haul, which looked dinky compared to those of his fellows thanks to being more focused on survival than mining. Actually, that probably won't be an issue, since not everyone knows what I look like. They were required to keep their RIGs' helmets engaged while on duty, so the only times they saw each other face-to-face were in the locker room and at lunch. At least I was able to do more before my lunch break, he thought, getting his paltry haul weighed to determine his wages, for this job was paid by the ton. Didn't even bother looking at the number that'd be sent to his bank account come payday. Just wanted to get out.
Speaking of lunch, though, there was one person he sat with while eating that he needed to talk to about all this: Gabe. This could almost certainly keep until they were all back home, but he saw no reason to risk it. His friend was assigned to the area by Titan Station Security that day, and there were no rules about officers fraternizing with civilians, so the two had a grand time of eating things from the cafeteria and chatting about what they and their significant others did. His thoughts wandered away from doom and fixed for a moment on family. He was happy that all of them, their blood relatives nonextant or distant or dead, managed to find love.
That happy moment ended when he arrived at the locker room and had to strip off the mining RIG. He sighed, unsealing the suit. Cold, clammy air rushed against his sweaty, hot skin. His teeth chattered at the sudden chill, and he molted from his metal cocoon. One arm out, then the other, followed by his torso and legs.
He remembered the first time getting out of his RIG after defeating the Marker every time this happened. That was one of the most painful experiences of his life – metal and frayed fiber passing over every cut, gash, scrape and bruise he accrued. Nicole practically cut him out of the thing, and he passed out only to awaken days later. These motions always conjured a semblance of the pain he felt that day. Now that the interregnum ended, it was fiercer than ever.
The chatter of the other miners mixed into a murmuring miasma as he shoved his work RIG into its stand and pulled out his work clothes, laying them out before limping to the shower. Warm, steamy water dropping eternally from the ceiling took his pain away for a moment as he started to lather. Had to get this over with quickly to go find Gabe, though the siren song of rain soothing his muscles was difficult to resist. Fortunately, the pull of other bodies, both male and female, had less influence on him since all his energy was spent.
Plus, that kind of thing didn't entice him much anymore. He had eyes for only one person these days. Not that Nicole cared if he found other people attractive. She'd even given him full permission to look for other sexual partners if banging a corpse ever stopped doing it for him! That didn't appeal, though. It would have reminded him of the hollow, hedonistic world he lived before he loved her. Surely he could exercise some moderation now, but he really didn't want to bother, especially with the danger of accidentally letting his many secrets slip to a one-night standee. No reason to risk it, especially since he was already happy.
Let's just say it would make me nostalgic, he thought, quickly getting out and drying off. Then he put on his casual RIG and hoped Gabe hadn't left already. Walked down the tunnel to the maglev tram that'd take him home, stumbling onto the platform where both miners and workers from deeper within GovSec mingled. He let out a sigh of relief as he saw that included his friend, who stood at the far end, idly watching the clock above the platform that counted down the time until the next train arrived. Still had a couple minutes, so Curtis went over.
The perfect storm of Gabe running patrol on whatever segment of the mine he worked happened once every few months by random chance, and they always made sure to have some fun with it. Shooting the shit on breaks, watching the other at work, things of that nature. Nothing too crazy. It'd be cool if they could do more, but Gabe was far too good a Sergeant to pull rank and make his underlings do all the work while he hung out with a civvie pal.
"Hey, 'Lance'," Gabe called as he approached, and the tone reassured him that all was well. Wasn't the voice of a man who'd experienced existential terror earlier in the day.
I can't believe Lance Spedding is the best I could do, he thought with a subtle shake of the head. That was the problem with needing to create a fake moniker ASAP – he came up with ones he liked more in his sleep. The lack of abject terror really was a nice surprise, though. Wonder why. Like, he was happy that his friend seemed to have emerged unscathed for the day, but the cause made him curious. "Nice to see you." The Marker had a possible answer to his question, though.
I BELIEVE YOUR PREVIOUS EXPOSURE AND CONNECTION WITH MYSELF AND NICOLE MAKES YOU MORE SENSITIVE TO THIS OTHER MARKER'S ATTACKS.
That made a lot of sense. It took a while for a Marker's influence to reach critical mass in the brain, and the last one already metastasized in him, so it wouldn't take more than the obelisk breathing on him to knock him down. Same for Gabe, though his wife being a sponge for psychic energy may have gotten rid of that priming. With whatever blocked the Marker's signals still mostly holding, it might take days or weeks to start affecting other people in the district. Even longer to reach across the yawning gap of space to the Public Sector. Still didn't want him to be taken by surprise whenever it did start for him.
"I need to talk to you about something in private," Curtis breathed into his ear, which made him glance again at the time. A few minutes until the next shuttle arrived, so he nodded, and the two sauntered to the back of the room as nonchalantly as they could before his friend nodded. Curtis hurriedly whispered what transpired, making Gabe turn deathly pale. One of the bravest people he knew, yet the truth bore down in full force upon them both.
"I had no idea," he replied, trying to keep it together. Of course not; he and Nicole would've heard about it within hours if Gabe stumbled upon the tiniest crumb of information. Some of Titan Station Security Enforcement Guard had to know, but he guessed that was limited to commissioned officers rather than enlisted people and NCOs. He didn't know a ton about the military beyond the propaganda, but he understood the former position required much more training, where people not loyal enough to the EarthGov cause could be weeded out.
Rumbling began far away, dragging them back to the platform with feet of lead. Curtis didn't like to share the misery, yet he admitted that it brought him a spark of comfort to have a confidant before he was able to tell Nicole. Nobody should have confronted such circumstances alone. "It'll be a long ride back," Gabe choked out, doubtlessly wondering how he'd tell his own wife. Curtis' heart went out to him. He and Lexine may not have been around during the very worst of what happened, but they knew well enough to dread this day and steel themselves for it. However, one could never really prepare for something like this even with the best intentions.
He and Gabe walked on and sat beside each other in silence while surrounded by people blissfully unaware of what happened. Not that it was their fault. Ignorance may have been a virtue, yet only the mad could have imagined something like what he'd been through without experiencing it firsthand. The doors sealed against vacuum with a hiss, for they would soon traverse the void. Curtis' eyes fixed straight ahead on the window opposite them. Lights and struts accelerated past in a display of shapes and colors.
Then they ended, passing through a blue-tinged sealant grid into a field of stars. He appreciated and enumerated the sights every time he went to and from work. Now, though, the Ishimura was the sole object of his focus, and probably Gabe's. In the same position as always, hanging limply from Crossover Tube 2, unchanging as the starry background forever shifted. Surely it was being renovated within, yet its exterior remained the same. Always presented the same scarred face to the galaxy. How appropriate for the nightmare ship that this all began on; it seemed like the horror would never end. It has to one day.
Relief washed through him as a tingle began in the back of his skull, growing stronger by the second until he was once again safe from potential madness in the mental caress of his wife.
The Black Marker told me everything, she said, not as scared as he had been. The fear pulsing through her diffused brain proved subdued, though it was probably stronger earlier. Oh, I nearly lost my mind. Hardly made him feel better that she was on the cusp of a breakdown. We're Bonded again, though, so that helps. Yeah, that already made a difference. They didn't have to alter each other's thoughts to feel better; just being together did wonders. That was part of being alive.
His fist clenched as he stared into the nothing and wondered, What are we going to do? It was supposed to be more rhetorical than anything, but Nicole already had an answer.
I thought setting up a meeting with him to find out whether he knows anything would be a good idea, but I wanted to check with you first. Ah, that guy. Curtis considered it for a second and saw no downsides. While he wasn't sure he'd exactly call their contact a friend, it'd be nice to see him again, for they might not have many more chances. Maybe he'd have information. Even if not, trying was a lot better than sitting down and waiting for everything to end.
Do it, he told her, and saw through her eyes as claws clacked out a text long to spin his way. What about you, though? I'm not sure I want to come home quite yet if he's coming. Something told him that if he went to see her, he wouldn't have the strength to go out in a few hours. Better to be out rather than go home and lapse into complacency, even if that sounded really good.
If you're not coming back, I might invite Gabe and Lexine up once he gets back, just so they don't have to deal with this alone, she said, since they all knew the importance of leaning on each other. I haven't told her anything, since I figured he'd want to be the bearer of bad news to her. That may not have been a bad idea, though they shouldn't impose until after the couple had enough time to process their own feelings. Of course.
Curtis took a deep breath, and stale air weighed heavily in his tired lungs. Darkness. That was all.
…
Nicole paced the same five or six steps around the room in an infinite loop. The same views presented themselves for the thousandth time: sink, computer, window, plant, bathroom, bed, door, repeat. Her four eyes knew the place better than herself, for she hadn't left in nearly two years. These walls consumed her entire physical existence, though her spirit transcended her own flesh, which allowed her to experience the role of Curtis Mason, Class 5 Miner. Better than nothing.
As were her ongoing aerobics and calisthenics exercises. She dropped to the floor and did a set of five push-ups, followed by a coequal number of crunches and a few other moves that used the mass of her body against her. That was how she celebrated every 50th lap. They lacked the space for a set of weights or any equipment, save a good pull-up bar bolted above the window, which she presently sprang to for a set of those. Come on, feel that burn, she thought as her arms trembled. She glanced down and saw her lungs rapidly pumping air as part of a semblance of muscle memory that never quite went away. Gave her pleasure to be so tuned into her form.
As she knew well, Necromorphs could get tired, though not in the same way as humans. People burned fats and sugars that they ate to make energy, while she received her energy from the Marker. The former was limited, but the latter was infinite, hence why EarthGov wanted it so badly. Tuckered out her muscle since it was still vulnerable to the stresses inherent to workouts. What it did mean was that she had the power to exert herself for weeks or months or even years straight if she ignored the unpleasantness – until her body literally fell apart. Hopefully I'll never need to do that, but it's nice to know I can carry Curtis nonstop across an entire planet. However, it also meant she was able to build that muscle if she exercised right.
She dropped from the bar and gave a shake of the head, imagining sweat dripping from hair that she no longer had. Didn't have any sweat, either, and she'd thankfully long since dried out enough that blood and ooze no longer came out of her, so that was nice. Felt stronger than ever, too, and she was damn strong to begin with. That was why she did this to begin with. Curtis stayed fit with his physically demanding job, so she had to up the ante for when that muscle would be useful. Couldn't let her boyfriend get stronger than her! At the very least, it was good for her mental health to go through motions healthy to regular humans.
Then the knock at the door came before she resumed her laps, and she opened it in less than a second. Didn't bother to check the peephole, for she already knew who waited. Not Curtis, but the only other two people likely to enter her lair.
Gabe and Lexine ducked inside, looking the most haggard he'd seen them since… well, it was obvious the last place she saw them would've been. Just sad, mostly; they couldn't devolve into disheveled Neanderthals in an hour. And I don't have any right to criticize cave-dwellers, considering how I live. Though she and Curtis tried to keep things clean, there was only so much they could maintain their hovel when she stayed in it 24/7, and they didn't really like to call the supervisor up to fix anything for obvious reasons (though she could cram into a cabinet if she needed to).
"Thanks for coming," she said as she gingerly closed the threshold behind them. They didn't respond, Gabe instead flopping on the bed and Lexine taking the chair. A puddle of amusement welled within her despite it all. The two became so comfortable in her home that they commandeered the furniture without asking permission. That wasn't an indictment, just a reminder of what good friends they became. After all, they didn't need to come just because she asked if they'd like to. There were other places to seek solace. She knew the couple had other friends (not many, but a few) in ways she and Curtis simply couldn't.
Nicole leaned against the wall and slowly slid to the floor, waiting until somebody was ready to say something. I hope Curtis does all right without me for the next few hours, she thought, unable to reach beyond her shell with Lexine present. He should have been fine so far away from the Marker's source (for the time being), yet she feared for him. He was her husband: how could she not? Well, he's "Kelly Rose's" husband, anyway. Couldn't put their real names on the certificate Curtis filed with the government registry. Good enough for her. Eventually, Lexine broke the silence.
"There's no point sittin' around and being glum," she said, her face wanting to believe that. "Been a little while, Nicole."
"I guess so," she lightly chuckled. "At least for us." It'd been a little over a week since they'd seen each other (in person, anyway), which was significant for them. Other friends might meet only a few times every year, but that surely wasn't them. All parties had just been busy for mundane reasons completely detached from Markers. So went life.
Curtis had to pull a few more hours in the mines every week with the CEC hemorrhaging workers, despite paying less. There had been some civil unrest with the bad economy, so same deal for Gabe (though that should hopefully lessen with construction on the Atmos ramping up in full). Nicole wanted to pick up some of the financial slack by getting more into commission work. And Lexine… well, she didn't know what Lexine had going on, but she surely there was something.
"But I'm doing all right, recent events aside." Gabe sat up as Nicole began to talk about her current dealings with the art world, for she thought they deserved to hear about things of (subjective) beauty. Both were fans of her work, at least casually. They had seen the Necromorphs with their own eyes – Hell, they looked at one right then – so they comprehended the symbolism of her techno-organic imagery better than almost anyone. She tried to sneak bits of those patterns even into her most mundane paid commissions, which gave her a fun game to play on even the pictures she found uninteresting.
"Any museum offers yet?" asked Gabe. She thought he joked for a moment, only to realize he was completely earnest.
"Afraid not," she replied while getting up to water the snake plant. It, at least, had a cheery disposition while the rest of them were blue. Leaves reached out toward the sun, a simple hope that it would have all it needed. Light, water, dirt. That easy life was what Necromorphs embraced. They needed and generally wanted little. She wished human existence was so simple. You need a name, Nicole thought at the closest thing she had to a pet. Some isolated women became stereotypical "crazy cat ladies", so at least that hadn't happened to her. A pet with a brain would probably hate her on instinct. How about "Larry"? It looked like a Larry. Larry the snake plant, it is. "I've fancied reaching out to the Titan Station Art Museum about doing a piece for them, but I'm not sure. It would be a lot of work."
Gabe and Lexine didn't understand quite how much. Nicole had been tutored by some of the greatest painters and sculptors of the modern age, for the Brennan line had been rooted in the arts for time immemorial. She heard about the grueling process of getting into an institution, especially the best. Though fine arts fell out of favor over the centuries, the galaxy teemed with hundreds of billions of people. Even if a smaller fraction of those were artists, the actual number remained similar to the days of old. However, she grudgingly admitted it would be cool.
Then they transitioned away from work to talk about other things. Much as she enjoyed discussing her job, Nicole admitted it got old after a while. The topic bounced from current events to what they'd recently eaten (for her: nothing). The only subject consciously avoided was that of the returned Marker. It weighed on all of them, but they'd discussed it before. They always knew this day would come. Now that it had, all needed a couple days before they came together to figure out what the Hell to do about it. Perhaps an hour passed as their talk wound down. Seemed all too brief. Many things did. We'll see each other again soon.
Gabe stood up a minute later. "It's been good talking to you, but I think I'm gonna head home now. Get to sleep early. Hell, maybe I'll take a sick day tomorrow." Then he stretched his arms up and took a big yawn. "Coming, honey?"
"I'd like to stay a minute more, dear. I'll be down soon." That somewhat surprised Nicole, but Gabe didn't seem to think twice about it. Shrugged his shoulders before looking out the peephole. Finding it clear, he opened the door and slipped out. That left her with Lexine, who nervously bit her lip. Nicole felt a bony brow arch. Wasn't like the woman to go behind her husband's back. The duo wasn't joined at the hip like her and Curtis, and they bore the luxury and curse of privacy, but it still struck her as odd.
"What's eating you?" Nicole asked as she moved from the floor to the bed, now empty except stale sheets and crumbs. Lexine scooted the swiveling chair nearer.
"I've been thinking about getting back into the workplace," she cautiously began, struggling to maintain eye contact. Then again, that was always difficult. Should one look at the top or bottom set of eyes? Beat her. Anyway, Lexine took the last two years off to recuperate from the trauma of the Ishimura, becoming a stay-at-home wife while Gabe was off soldiering. Nicole did the same, though she obviously didn't have much choice in the matter. A toothy smile spread across her maw, regardless. She was glad her friend wanted to keep occupied.
"That's great! What field do you want to get into?" Her mind racked the possibilities. Lexine used to be a Class 2 Surveyor on Aegis VII, but Nicole couldn't imagine she'd want to go back into mining. Still, there were plenty of other options. Teaching or art or –
"Back into mining, believe it or not." Her face contorted into a grim smile, which left Nicole confused. Why return to the CEC, a business now understaffed and underpaid? Curtis, she understood, since he didn't have a higher education. Plus, mining was his entire life. Maybe Lexine couldn't get any job she wanted, but there had to be something better than that! She'd rather work for Weyland-Yutani than go crawling back to the CEC!
"We've all known this would happen eventually. Another Marker cropping up here, I mean." She stood up and paced the room like how Nicole did before she got here. Then Lexine spun around to look at her, face determined. "Now that it has, I can't just lie around and let people get hurt!" Began to dawn on her where this went. "It sounds crazy, but my… 'powers' could keep people safe over in the Government Sector. Not everyone and not all the time. No guarantee I'd be at the same time and place as Curtis, for example." Some of the fire in her eyes died, and she looked at the floor. "But if I can stop one person from killing themselves or their families just by being there and stopping the Marker from driving them mad, I have a responsibility to do that."
Nicole took a minute to absorb all this. A noble goal, she quickly concluded. Made complete sense why she'd want to do it. Her only confusion was why Lexine felt compelled to ask her instead of her husband or Curtis, who also worked in the mines and could put in a good word for her. "It sounds like your mind is already made up. Why get my permission?" Lexine's face turned bright red. At first, Nicole thought it to be from anger, only to realize she blushed.
"I'm not sure if I've ever said this before, but I really admire you. Not just as a friend, but as a person. When you were, well, alive, you stayed to help us – me – when I was in quarantine. Worked around the clock to keep everyone safe." A few tears began to well up in Lexine's eyes, and her voice warbled as she continued. "And when we came up with an escape plan and invited you along… you refused. Instead, you stayed behind to comfort perfect strangers in their final hour. If you hadn't, you might be alive right now." This was too much for her to take. Lexine sat next to Nicole and began to cry in earnest. What could she do? Nicole was used to comforting Curtis in his times of need because of her mental connection to him.
It had been too long since she practiced bedside manner. She sat locked in this tower, the galaxy's problems pushing down on her without her being able to fight back. That changed for this one moment; there was someone she could intimately help. Her spirit warmed at being able to comfort and empathize with another person instead of "all humanity". Couldn't connect with "humanity" in all its teeming billions. Too impersonal. Lexine, though, or any individual person was different. She could relate to and heal and comfort this one woman who wanted to follow in her footsteps. She thought it was beautiful. Nicole hugged her, and she hugged back. The woman pulled away when she was ready, continuing their conversation while wiping away tears.
"What I'm trying to say is that you gave up your life to help people. Hopefully I won't die on this job, but it could be dangerous if the Marker is nearby and out to get me. That's why I wanted to talk to you before anyone else." She never knew Lexine thought that way about her. Honestly, Nicole rarely felt like a hero, probably because nobody knew she saved humanity (there was that abstract term again), if only for a little while. Not that she needed validation, but being looked up to by her friend made her soul swell with pride.
"If that's what you want, I can't think of a nobler thing to do." Nicole was proud of her friend, too, but that really didn't matter. As long as she was happy with her choice. Lexine folded her fingers together and thought for herself about all this, whether it was the path she really wanted to tread. In the end, though, Nicole already knew she would go with it. Lexine's built-in advantage may have enabled all of them to escape the Ishimura, yet biology was far from the only thing she brought to the table. Her kindness, empathy and courage bound them all together.
It looked like she got ready to leave after that, but before she did, she said with a smile, "If we're talking about opportunities, I remember what you said about contacting local exhibits to showcase your art. I think you should go for it." Hmm, good point. She'd be a hypocrite if she encouraged Lexine to follow her heart yet refused to capture her own dreams. Submitting pieces and answering questions (if it was all done remotely) held much less danger than going into the heart of the maelstrom, special powers or not.
Speaking of which… Nicole hated to impose, yet it had been a while since the last electroencephalogram. This was the perfect time, so she asked Lexine if she'd be willing to spend half an hour more there. Must have been boring to do this every month or so, but she was a good sport.
"Sure, I'm fine with another brain probe," she chuckled, leaning back in the chair and looking quite snug in her jacket, "but if you haven't found what you're looking for after this long, I don't think you will." That remained to be seen. She singlehandedly discovered what the Marker's glyphs meant and what its signals did in the span of a few days. This time, though, the question was not what Lexine's abilities were or how they worked, for those had been well established. The question was why they existed at all, which proved far trickier to answer. Nicole went to a cabinet and fished out the delicate EEG equipment, careful not to damage any of the fine wires with her gigantic claws.
She and Curtis asked the Black Marker before, and it claimed to be just as vexed by Lexine's powers, which left them all baffled. She didn't think the Marker lied to them, but there had to be some connection… right? The neural oscillations her brain produced were the exact inverse of a Marker signal. That didn't happen through coincidence. Something must have caused it. Lexine was kind enough to go over her entire life with Nicole multiple times to try and find the answer, yet she found no links. She wasn't a Unitologist, never got into any strange accidents or hit on the head hard enough to scramble her brain, nothing of the sort. Sounded like she had a mundane existence.
The closest link Nicole could find was that Lexine was born and lived most of her life on Earth, in the Pan-European Sector's "Scotland", to be specific. The Black Marker was also on Earth in the Gulf of Mexico. Even that connection felt incredibly tenuous. Billions of people came from the homeworld! Curtis himself was born and raised in the North Carolina Hubs, much closer to the Marker's location than Scotland, and he didn't have such powers. She'd need to keep digging. On that topic, she finished excavating the machine from its case and set it up, plugging it into the computer and booting up the software she often used to examine the Marker signal and Lexine's previous data.
Too bad this is all I have, thought Nicole while hooking the electrodes to Lexine's scalp, pressing her short hair flat to get most of them. An EEG recorded brainwaves and electrical activity, which was most of what she needed, but couldn't capture images of the brain itself. Though advances in medical science made MRI, CAT and PET machines smaller and cheaper, they were still well outside her and Curtis' budget and would take up half the apartment. She still had images of those scans taken on the Ishimura, at least, and her brain structure likely hadn't changed if the EEG remained static (which it had so far), so she considered it an acceptable loss.
"Ready?" she asked as the last electrode was anchored to Lexine's forehead, and the woman gave a thumbs up. With that, the device hummed to life. Quite dramatic! Lexine had been intimidated the first time she was subjected to this, but the process' bark was worse than its bite. Unlike common misconception, it didn't give the subject an electric shock. Mostly, it was just boring, since you had to sit still for at least 30 minutes to get a decent sample.
The first results began to be charted on the computer screen, waves spiking and twirling in all their weird glory instead of resembling any usual form of alpha, beta, theta or REM activity. Remained constant when she was asleep, as Nicole once got the opportunity to test. Anyone else would have a massive seizure with results like this. Completely normal for Lexine. Indeed, Nicole would have been very concerned if her results began to look more usual at this point! Still, she tried to keep that sense of wonderment about her. Couldn't lose sight that this was incredible and unprecedented stuff. Stuff that must have come from somewhere…
"You're thinking about my family again, aren't you?" Lexine asked after a few minutes. Nicole supposed it was obvious with all the times she'd asked about them.
If her powers were genetic, then perhaps her family members had similar abilities. Only trouble was that, with her father dead on Aegis VII, she didn't seem to have any. Her mother died a while back, and she was an only child. Her parents and all her grandparents were only children, as well, so they found no cousins to possibly study (though getting to them would be a massive undertaking if there were any). It therefore remained a mere hypothesis – one that might never be resolved. Genetic records reached back hundreds of years in the current day and age, so looking through a dozen generations of relations would take forever. Assuming she could even get her claws on them.
"Them and Eckhardt," she muttered. The Oracles added another layer to the mystery. A profile, people knowing about her or her family well before the Ishimura, having some connection to Unitologist beliefs. The few details Curtis and Gabe milked out of him before he died were little help. She again recalled Dante and the circles of Hell he devised, one within another. It felt like she walked through all of them, discovering new twists just when she thought she got to the bottom of it. She'd solve it one day, though. She had to.
"If I ever somehow find out anything about them, you'll be the first one to know," Lexine replied. They remained silent until their time was up. Nicole's eyes remained fixed on the pattern before her, which seemed to be the same as ever. Looks could be deceiving, so she'd analyze in detail after her friend left – a time fast approaching. Lexine leaned back in the chair and let the electrodes do their thing, displaying the activity in her brain on the screen. Thousands of backwards glyphs tracing themselves out before looping back around. Nicole got so lost in them that 30 minutes seemed to pass in the blink of an eye.
"Thanks for staying, but that should be all I need," Nicole said while unplugging the dots from her face and scalp. I wonder if there's a RIG attachment for something like this. Maybe as part of a VR or Transnet interface? It'd be interesting to see, but this primitive model did just fine.
"You're welcome." Lexine brushed herself off, tussled her hair and stood up with quite the bedhead. "Now, I'm going home. Gabe'll wonder what I've been up to… and I've got a job to apply to," she said with a smirk. Oh, she'd get it in no time flat! She had plenty of surveying experience. Even if she didn't, Curtis said the CEC here hired anybody who wanted a job at this point; that's how bad things were for the company. They bade each other farewell, and the woman departed.
Hmm… I wonder what Curtis is doing. Her husband was usually literally at the front of her mind, but Lexine changed that. A meeting with their contact came up soon. Tried to call out to him, yet Lexine was still near enough that she couldn't quite reach. Eh, I've got other things to do, she thought, eyes again darting to the stream of data gracing the monitor. Like that. She cracked her neck, ready to throw herself back into the unknown and figure something out.
…
At first, Curtis didn't know how to pass time before the meeting, for Gabe rushed home to be with Lexine (and the latter must have been with Nicole, since he couldn't contact her). Should he shop at the Concourse? Go to an observation deck and stare into space? Plug into VR and escape reality entirely? None of those appealed to him, but he had to do something besides worry or wallow for several hours.
Then he recalled something that had been in the news much of late. Had been for a while, in fact; he first learned about it several months prior, right before the announcement of the Atmos. It had been the headline in the paper less than a week ago! A collection of Unitologist artifacts, usually kept in high-security facilities on Earth, had just been loaned to Titan Station for upwards of a year. Ostensibly, it was charity work; get believers with deep pockets to make pilgrimage to the struggling station and drop some credits to stimulate the economy.
An ulterior motive he suspected was to take heat off the CEC, which started being grilled about its connections to Unitology not too long after the Ishimura Tragedy. Mostly for theatrics, but that was what really made it clear that EarthGov was intent on taking as much power as possible from it and into the arms of Weyland-Yutani. Over a year too late if that was the issue, but this kind of thing surely took a long time to organize.
Regardless of the reason and his own opinion on religion, it sounded interesting. He and Nicole had plenty of history with the organization, and he was curious about the items they chose to present to the universe. Just as importantly, he'd exhausted all the Sprawl's museums thanks to Nicole's ravenous appetite for knowledge. Hey, he appreciated that! She was infinitely more cultured than him, and he learned so much from their time together. Though primarily a woman of science, her soft spot for the masters of fine art, literature, the humanities and so on remained.
Which was how Curtis presently found himself inside the Sprawl's Church of Unitology, a place he never vowed to avoid but also saw no reason to visit. The vaulted ceilings hung high overhead, yet claustrophobia poked at him with throngs of people on all sides. That only constituted a fraction of his hesitation, for most misgivings emerged from the fact that he used to be one of them. He registered, for God's sake! His real name was not entered in the pan-galactic database with the Ishimura being destroyed, yet the hair on his arms prickled as if he trespassed in a home no longer his.
Well, it's not too bad, he thought while moving through a gaggle of tourists here. This was opening weekend! If it was, I already would have left. He felt the Black Marker at the back of his mind, casually looking through his eyes. I hope this isn't too awkward for you. Unitology was built on the premise of the Marker's divinity, something it vehemently rejected.
IT IS… DIFFERENT.
Curtis expected the Marker to leave it at that, for it was never chatty, but its vocabulary had expanded quite a bit over the last year. Must have been nice to have somebody to talk to after millions of years, and it grew more comfortable "speaking" as a result.
SO MUCH PRAISE AND ADORATION FOR ME – THE THING SENT TO DESTROY YOU ALL. YET THERE IS MUCH LOVE, ALSO. I KNOW NOT HOW TO FEEL.
I guess it would be strange, thought Curtis, suddenly seeing things from a different point of view. Most of the people here longed for Convergence. None were aware of the visceral form that would take, yet they still awaited the end of all that was or ever would be. All of humanity molded into a single mind. Nirvana. Better or worse than the callous, despotic society in which they all lived? Tough call. Still, he'd be on the Markers' side if they didn't want to kill. Some people, though, even non-Unitologists, would join them even if they knew the truth. People like Mercer. Society was really that sick.
BUT YOU CAN IMPROVE. BECOME BETTER THAN YOU WERE IN WAYS WE – I – CANNOT. AS I HAVE SAID, WE ARE STATIC.
Curtis sniffled while he examined a painting of the Black Marker among a field of devout worshippers singing its praises. He wanted to believe that. Wanted to imagine that humans could be more than what they were, could pull themselves out of the sorry state in which they lived. It wasn't all bad, he admitted. He had a wife, love, a profession he enjoyed. That was why he fought against the Necromorphs instead of rolling over and dying. Still, a lot was wrong. Necromorphs or not, he wanted to build a better tomorrow… but could he? He only felt comfortable asking these questions because Nicole wasn't in his head.
They never needed to hide anything from each other, so why did this question of whether he was enough bother him? Maybe because the only person who could answer that was himself… and he didn't always know. Perhaps we are better than I think, Curtis grudgingly admitted. Even with all the problems the galaxy had, it took incredible displays of cooperation and trust to build up those systems in the first place. None of that was fast, though.
CHANGE TAKES TIME. YEARS. GENERATIONS. THAT IS STILL RAPID FOR ME, SO TAKE IT FROM SOMEONE WHO HAS SEEN THE LONG VIEW. YOU HAVE ADVANCED GREATLY OVER THE MILENNIA.
So even if things got better, Curtis likely wouldn't be alive to see it. He hesitated, then shrugged. Hey, it could have been worse. Despite everything he'd thought about, all the pain and chaos in the universe… he was happy. And, in his opinion, a better person than before. If he could change, so could other people. That was all the self-reflection he could stomach for the time being, so his attention turned outward again.
He already looked at and learned about many pieces of Unitologist "history" (for he had doubts about much of it), from relics belonging to early martyrs to images of the very first meeting places of believers to many different sculptures representing Markers in varying degrees of abstractness. The one thing lacking were corpses or body parts, like mummies at the history museum or preserved organs at science centers; the faith venerated the human body as a divine vessel and considered putting human remains of any sort on display sacrilegious. Good. Seeing dead people in a Unitologist cathedral was the last thing he needed.
He pressed deeper into the church and crowds, enamored with the architecture despite himself. Visited a few cathedrals over the years, even before he got interested in religion, for reasons ranging from a free meal to getting out of the rain. Whatever his petty reasons, he always appreciated the artistic flair the buildings had, drawing from different ancient faiths and corners of the Earth. None held a candle to this place, though, and that almost made him sorry he never came earlier. He'd heard before that the church here was among the most luxurious and decadent in the entire galaxy, and he absolutely believed it. So many ornate reliefs and hand-carved statuary. Nicole might enjoy this if she could see.
For example, the stained-glass window before him (doubtlessly backed by omnipresent transparent alloy). It was the largest he'd ever seen, and it didn't take long to figure out what it represented. A man, one whose likeness he'd already observed a dozen times around this holy house, kneeled at the base of the Black Marker, looking up in stunned reverence while the clouds parted, and sacred knowledge was revealed. Some artistic license taken (shouldn't have been a sky at all, since the Marker had been stored in a submarine facility), yet he knew what it was, or was supposed to be.
Something told him that Michael Altman would roll in his grave if he saw everything his research begot. The Church couldn't even depict him correctly, making him look like an older Caucasian man to make him seem more "prophetic" than a Native American guy about the same age as him (though by present day, the ethnicities of Earth had become much more homogenous). Still, for a lie, it was an awfully pretty one.
OUR INTERACTIONS WERE NOT NEARLY THIS DRAMATIC.
That was all the Marker had to say. It sounded weary, so Curtis pressed on, feeling a twinge of guilt in his gut. Seeing all this wasn't easy. Could always just leave him for a while, yet there might have been something important to tell him about. Speaking of "important", I haven't seen any of those Enigma masks, he thought. Along with being one of the fanciest Unitologist buildings in the galaxy, this was where the annual Enigma Symposium often took place, so he thought some of their secret iconography might have been integrated into the architecture. No dice, though.
He almost reached the back of the exhibit hall. A sea of heads bobbed up and down, obscuring something in the middle cordoned off by guards and glass. Curtis already knew what it was, for it had been the highlight of all the advertising: Michael Altman's personal journal, where he chronicled the Marker and the revelations he'd received from it. Normally kept in a veritable fortress on Earth, it was now being loaned to Titan Station for one of the few times it had ever been displayed to the public. He wouldn't have been surprised if there were snipers with Seeker Rifles and rubber bullets waiting in the rafters for anyone foolish enough to steal it.
Even though Curtis no longer believed, anticipation built in his gut as he pressed closer. The only religion in the modern universe got its start from the knowledge in this book. Allegedly. None save the Enigmas could read the very few transcribed copies, which they distilled and abridged into the Tome of Unitology, Unitologist Hymnal and Teachings of Altman series that formed the backbone of the faith. If only Curtis could get his hands on it! He knew Altman saw things, things even the Marker itself was unaware of or forgot, as millions of years of solitude poured into one man's head. Secrets and clues to stopping the Necromorphs might have sat feet away yet utterly unreachable.
Hopefully we don't need it to win, he thought as he neared the front. Almost saw it now through heads and hair. For its part, the Marker stayed characteristically quiet as the ocean parted and Curtis glimpsed the most sacred object in the universe… only to be somewhat disappointed.
For all the love it received, he didn't see much to write home about. He expected an ancient tome bound in cracked vellum or a scroll with a long-forgotten language scrawled across its length or a series of golden plates all bound together with rings. Thought it would be something to match the grandeur of the sanctum in which it was held. However, it was none of these things.
It was a typical notebook. Old-fashioned, being made of paper instead of a holographic or digital interface, and well-preserved for being 300 years old. Then again, it must have been pristine with the immaculate conditions in which it was held: behind a foot-thick cube of transparent alloy and patrolled by 20 Unitologists with the largest guns they could own. Even hung in a combination statis/kinesis field to loft for everyone to see and protect it from time's ravages. A bit on the small side (he estimated five by seven inches) compared to stereotypical marbled black and white composition journals, yet otherwise similar. Hard to believe the teachings of a billions-strong religion came from something that wouldn't look odd in his apartment.
Out of everything he'd seen, this was the one he doubted most was real. It made sense that the diary of a scientist was humble instead of the extravagant wonders he built up in his head. However, if it really was so plain, they easily could have put in an empty book while the real one remained safely in storage.
I… REMEMBER THIS.
Well, that resolved its authenticity! He felt his face heat up for rejecting something and the Marker telling him otherwise the next second. Sometimes reality was exactly what it appeared to be. In this case, what he saw was what he got. Hey, he appreciated the lack of decadence. With that, he slipped away and let others have their turn with the holy. Little do they know I'm the one with a "god" in my head. Other times, there was more to people than met the eye!
He wandered around a little more, realizing he saw only a portion of the blocks-long building. Most was off-limits to the public, housing areas like wedding chapels, study centers, a crypt (so there were bodies in storage, but not displayed) and other things he couldn't imagine. Didn't stop him from trying. Eventually, though, he checked the time and saw that his "appointment" approached. Admission was cheap and the exhibit remained for several months, so he could return if the fancy ever struck him.
I'm happy you got to see all this, and I hope it brought you some closure, he thought to the Marker as he walked out the massive doors and onto the covered street. Quite the line now; glad he got in when he did.
"The building amazes me every time I walk past. They don't make 'em like this anymore." Curtis' head shot around, trying to find who spoke. "Over here." His attention was drawn to the line, which he stood next to. A tall woman with red-brown hair spoke to him. Not anyone else.
I think. "I'm sorry, but do I know you?" Curtis asked, immediately fearing he sounded rude. He just wasn't used to being spoken to out of the blue.
"My name's Karrie. Karrie Norton," she casually said, seeming to think nothing of it. "Don't blame you for not knowing, since I don't think we've ever talked before. If we have, it's been brief 'hey, how you doing?' kind of stuff." Uh huh.
He pondered for a moment, finding that name vaguely rang a bell. Someone from his job, maybe? Admittedly, that was the only place he hung out with anyone he didn't intimately know. "You're from work, right?" he ventured, hoping that she wasn't a neighbor or something whom he'd completely forgotten about.
I have no idea whom this is, said Nicole. Lexine must have just left. If she's a neighbor, I'd remember you meeting her. Unless she lives next to Lexine. Gah, maddening!
"Yeah, I'm an engineer in the mines. Fixing equipment and vehicles, all that good stuff." He silently sighed, glad his guess was right. "I just recognized you from the locker room today, so I wanted to say hello." Small galaxy. Then again, maybe he shouldn't have been surprised to run into people during a major even like this.
"Cool. I'm Cur… um…". Nope, had to use his dumb fake name here! "Uh, Lance. I'm Lance. Hi." They shook hands, then awkwardly stumbled forward as the line lurched along.
"Are you a Unitologist?" she asked.
"I'm not," he succinctly replied. It wouldn't have been appropriate to discuss his relationship with the religion. "Just seemed like a neat exhibit to visit, especially on one of the opening days. Are you?" A personal inquiry, but, well, she asked him first.
Karrie rapidly nodded. "Yeah. I am."
She looked like she wanted to say something more, but he was really on the clock here. Didn't want to keep his contact waiting. "Hey, I have a, um, meeting I need to get to. But I hope to see you again at work sometime." Not that I'd be able to tell. The RIGs they wore on the job were bulky armored shells that entirely concealed a person. The only way to discern sex was guessing via height, and that could be misleading with shorter men or taller women, like Karrie here.
"Oh, OK. See you later, Lance!"
…
Smoke invaded Curtis' nostrils as he sat on a cheap plastic chair in the corner of the dive bar/drug den. A lowball glass of Kirkwall's whiskey rocked in his hand, and he swore he wouldn't order another. Needed to be clear of mind for the words about to be exchanged. Not that he was too good for this kind of place anymore, as not challenging that request proved. In fact, this might have been a good thing; it was one of the last places on the station any universe-altering talks would be suspected of taking place. Lessened the chances of anyone listening.
His eyes darted around the room, looking for anyone or anything out of place. Nothing particularly interesting, though. A couple of customers at another table who were seriously strung out on Colony Blue if the teal tint to their skins was more than cosmetic surgery. Plus the bartender, of course. No eavesdroppers this time. If there are any at all. Even if Curtis didn't have any, he might, which was why they met at places like this rather than his apartment. Why risk a potential tail stumbling onto Nicole, no matter how slim a possibility? Maybe I'm too paranoid and jump to too many conclusions.
Hey, it happened occasionally. He and Nicole sometimes had notions that didn't end up panning out, like Nicole suspecting a while back they'd manifest a few other mental powers that never ended up happening. Just because they were Linked to each other didn't make them omniscient, and he'd rather err on the side of belief. Better to keep an open mind to these things than be blinded by them.
Eventually, though, the man arrived. The door swung open, and in he stepped. For all his vices, the guy knew how to enter a place unnoticed. Not a single other eye in the joint fixed on him as he scraped across the metal floor and slid in across from him.
"Curtis. It's been too long." Hey, the guy could use his real name in public. If they really were being watched, the people who pursued him surely already knew who Curtis was. They ran in the same circles around Oracular heads. He hoped all of them had been immortalized among the organization's lore as people who killed two of them with a bluff.
Stefan Schneider, thief and hacker extraordinaire. The former Magpie whom he and Nicole met on the Ishimura built up quite the reputation over the past year. Gone from two-bit illegal miner to criminal mastermind, if "EarthGov's Ten Most Wanted Fugitives" was to be believed. Stole state secrets and pilfered money from the bank accounts of the richest. Normally, someone like him would be caught quickly, but there was a prototype stealth craft he stole from the Ishimura…
It's not like Schneider killed anyone. At least, he claimed not to. No, he probably hasn't. If he did, the news bulletins surely would have reported that. Therefore, Curtis didn't have a problem leaning on him for some of that information. Normally, he sold such secrets to the highest bidder (probably mostly bigwigs at the megacorps) for small fortunes, but secrets about the Markers were given to Curtis for free. After all, he'd experienced a fraction of the terror the Necromorphs had in store for the rest of humanity and knew that Curtis was the only one doing anything to try and stop them. Quite a bargain, all things considered.
"It has," he replied, just then getting something from his wife. "And Nicole says hi, too." Schneider looked at him in confusion before remembering he was psychic.
"I always forget you can do that," the guy said while shaking his head… and stealing a couple glances at the whiskey on the table. Curtis pushed the glass to him, for he suddenly lost his appetite. "Nice to talk to the, um, two of you. And congratulations on tying the knot, again." Curtis' eyes rolled at the oiliness. He knew Schneider to be sincere, but there was always this smug aura about him.
Then again, he's successful. "I hate to cut the niceties short, but let's get down to business," Curtis said in a low tone. His gut dropped even lower. In the last couple years, they met several times to discuss what Schneider learned about EarthGov's Marker research and reconstruction. Not much. Now, things were different. "You wouldn't have come if there was nothing to discuss this time. What have you heard about the Markers?"
"There have been… well, let's say 'rumblings'." Schneider paused to down a sip of secondhand alcohol before straightening up. "Started pretty recently. Maybe four or five months ago. Definitely after that whole Atmos news dropped." All right. Clearly this was one of the state's most classified projects, so not a lot of leaks sprang up until they neared the endgame. "First I heard of it was from a contact on Arcturus II. One who's pretty easy on the eyes, at that." Curtis suppressed a groan. Yes, Schneider thought the Arcturians were hot. So did a lot of people. An entire colony of people into heavy gene mods and looking like aliens turned people on. Not surprising with what people were into. "Still, just hearsay at that point."
Rumor was how it always started with EarthGov stuff. Zach Hammond spent decades in the military and referred to the Oracles and such as more legend than fact. Gabe knew nothing about scientific experiments happening practically next door to TSSEG headquarters. Didn't need anything concrete, though. That this sort of thing was being whispered about at all implied that at least a kernel of truth was buried within.
"She didn't believe it. I had a hunch otherwise, so I started digging. Took some effort, but I stumbled upon a massive information trove. Biggest I've ever seen." He stole another glance around, but nobody seemed to be watching. The blue-skinned patrons continued their drinks across the room, and the bartender wiped down the place with a rag. Curtis sat on the edge of his seat as Schneider licked his lips.
"EarthGov's working on Markers, all right. Working overtime. They're banking hard on being able to control them and reap limitless energy as a reward. From what I heard, none are finished… yet. But their scientists are close to putting the last pieces together. A couple weeks, maybe a month." All right. Curtis nodded, all of that being roughly what he expected. What he didn't see coming was the number. "Full production is already being ramped up in dozens of locations, including Titan Station. This is Marker Site 12."
He'd been clocked in the jaw. Never thought there would be that many Markers. Not so quickly, anyway. But he couldn't let that get him down. "OK. What else?"
"EarthGov is also trying to keep this entirely in-house. The key scientists are staying at various facilities as much as possible, and those places are nearly completely cut off from the Transnet, operating on local grids. Still, I found evidence that Weyland-Yutani is being contracted to pick up some slack in R&D." This was where things got interesting. Made sense that EarthGov kept this close to the vest, but Weyland-Yutani might well be asked to handle bugs. Certainly weren't going to trust the CEC.
"The hoard I found also implied that Wey-Yu is doing some bioweapon testing in its Sprawl labs, so maybe that's related. Most of that report was redacted, though." Possible, but they got up to a lot. Wouldn't assume anything they did was tied to the Marker; the Atmos wasn't. In any case, it was good to know all this. Sparse though it was, this meeting gave him and Nicole more concrete knowledge then they'd obtained in a year.
Then he fiddled with the glass, watching what little liquid remained at the bottom slosh. "There is one more thing. I debated whether to tell you, since I didn't want to give you false hope…"
"Get our hopes up about what?" Nicole's interest in particular was piqued. Did the guy hold out on them? Schneider sighed and bit the bullet. Leaning in even closer, he began to whisper.
"We thought that EarthGov being able to make Markers stemmed from old data from the Black Marker they already had combined with the chunk of the Red Marker from the Ishimura. That's true, but there's another factor we didn't know about. Apparently, a few other people survived the Ishimura, too. EarthGov is studying some of them. Extracting visions out of their heads or something." Curtis didn't know what to think of that. Nicole, on the other hand, was suddenly ecstatic. Not about the people being tortured, but whom one might be. The man they all thought dead. A tenuous, desperate hope… but it was more than she'd had for a long time.
"C-could one be Isaac?" Nicole asked through him. They'd told Schneider their story in full, so he was acquainted with the man and what became of him; trapped in a broken escape shuttle while running out of food and water. He contacted them once about a week after everything went down in a moment of sanity. After that, they never heard from him again.
"There weren't any names given, just a couple of patient numbers. Besides, that point was older than the rest of the info I managed to get, maybe up to a year. If Isaac was alive, he could easily be dead now, since they wouldn't need him with the Marker pretty much done. There were six numbers: zero through five. RIG numbers and personal info expunged on all of them. All I got was that four and five were held somewhere on the station while zero, one, two and three are under house arrest or something."
Schneider made a good point about maybe not getting excited over the prospect of Isaac being alive. He might have been dead by now. Perhaps it was never him at all. Nicole just didn't care, and because of that, neither did he. The sweet allure of hope was too strong, overpowering everything else they learned that day. Otherwise, all of this was for nothing. Throughout Nicole's high, though, all he could think about was how fortuitous that all of those test subjects were in the same place.
It made a sort of sense. Easier to monitor if they were together, for one thing. Close enough to Earth to be easily available, yet far enough away that a Necromorph outbreak there wouldn't threaten the homeworld. Already a scientific hub. And the Ishimura itself was also there. Curtis didn't know whether that last point mattered, but it seemed symbolically important. I doubt we'll ever find those people, but it'll be nice to help them if we do, he thought, and his wife concurred.
That was everything Schneider learned. Less than he hoped, but more than he feared. It would have to be enough to give them an edge once this war ran hot with blood and blades. Good to talk to him again, though, and their conversation shifted to lighter topics soon enough. Eventually, though, Curtis wanted to go home. He wanted to go to bed and be catatonic with Nicole by his side before getting back to the daily grind. What would happen after… maybe he'd think about the future, hard as that might be.
I'll be with you every step of the way, Nicole said. The tingling in his brain ebbed as she descended from the high of hope back into a sense of dread and fear. Maybe Isaac was still alive in EarthGov prison… or maybe not.
"It's been great, Stefan, but I should get going," Curtis said while making sure he had everything. Not that much was on him to start.
"Of course," he replied, leaning back to imply he'd stay a little longer. Probably order another drink, too. "Hope to see you a few more times before it all goes to Hell. Though if you were smart like me, you'd flee to some backwater planet in the far reaches of the galaxy and hope that whatever's coming doesn't find you."
He'd said this before, and Curtis saw his point. They all knew that they couldn't fight the Necromorphs by themselves. The Ishimura only had a few thousand people on it, and Curtis and Nicole barely got through. A station of millions like the Sprawl, or the whole galaxy? It couldn't be won. Not conventionally, at least. Running away and hoping they lived would be the smart thing to do.
Didn't mean it was the right one. Humanity never gave him anything, yet Curtis had to try and do something, no matter how small or pointless it proved in the end. Already did that by slowing down Marker reconstruction efforts; otherwise, the apocalypse might well have already started in full. Nicole agreed. They may not have been her people anymore, but she still swore to protect them. Hey, it's part of the job, she joked.
For all his thoughts, though, Curtis couldn't refute Stefan's point. Just wanted to live. Who could argue with that? Still, he hoped that the man would stand and fight if worst came to worst. He'd already helped more than most. "Take care," was all he could say as he got up and departed. Artificial wind hit his face as he strode back toward home. There was a train station nearby… but he wanted to walk. For a little while, at least.
You're upset, Nicole commented as Curtis kicked a soda can down the road. Too many people around for his liking. Back on Earth, there was a time to sleep. Here, with no star to guide them, people acclimated to resting based solely on need. Crowds formed around the clock. Nearly impossible to be alone.
None of this is fair, he thought, hoping he didn't sound too immature. A lot about life wasn't fair. It never had been for him. What really ate at him now was time. Not a lack of, but too much. He and Nicole were as prepared as they'd ever be for this Marker's attack. Wished it would happen right then just so they could get it over with. The coming months would feel like a lifetime as disaster glacially crept toward them. Sometimes I think that Schneider's right. Maybe we should just run.
I know, his wife replied, understanding more deeply than anyone else ever could. But if we don't fight, who will? There aren't a lot of options. No, there weren't. The Black Marker insisted that they were humanity's best hope. Based on what they'd already survived, he couldn't say it was wrong. And maybe the galaxy will be a fairer place once it's all said and done. He hoped so.
I AM TRULY SORRY THIS BURDEN HAS FALLEN TO YOU.
Hey, it wasn't the thing's fault stuff turned out this way. Well, the Marker did choose him to be its "champion", but only because Curtis was already one of the last people standing. Not like he inherited some epic destiny or anything. He was just a guy uncannily good at saving his hide.
Could be worse, Curtis thought as he made his way through well-trod metal streets toward warmth and love. I could be alone.