2 Years, 6 Months Post-USG Ishimura Outbreak

It all came together. The nightmares, the madness. Something would soon break. It consumed Curtis day in and day out. Days blended into absinthe everywhen. Nights became maddening ennui for most of the station. Curtis was blessed to remain one of the few free from the throes of insanity by a gift given to him by his wife. Who was, at the moment, absent in the howling gale.

The Marker couldn't quite manifest, yet he saw its shadow through gaps in dark clouds. Storms roared. Thunder cracked. The dead wailed. Worlds perished. It came for him. It came for them all. The faintest whisper came over the whipping wind, and with it, walloped his brain.

YOUR END DRAWS NEAR. I WILL GRIND YOUR RACE INTO DUST.

He gave this Marker some credit. The red one would threaten to save him for last. The Golden Marker, as he decided to call it (for he sensed through faint fragments of visions that this one was a different color) just wanted to kill him. That was a lot easier, though just as stressful. Then the wind holding him aloft was gone, and he fell. Out of bed. Landed in a lump on the floor, bolting up from the dream in an instant.

"I'm sorry I couldn't snap you out of it in time," Nicole said, leaning over to help his quivering form to its feet. The nightmares got worse; her mental wards were strong, but weaker when she hibernated, and the Marker made a massive push against him. Enough to break through a few times, though they mostly stood resolute against the tide. The floodgates would soon break for everyone else. Doomsday approached.

"It's all right," he said, getting back into bed. She ran a claw across his hair, trying to lull him back to sleep. Her eyes shone in the dark, scared but happy to have him. They reflected his own emotions. For all the torment past and yet to come, he cherished the time he had with her. Wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Neither would I." She pulled him close, and the two held each other until metaphorical dawn. Curtis was unable to drift back to sleep, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Instead, he existed in limbo, but at least the Marker couldn't come for him. Most others on the Sprawl weren't so lucky. The only others to resist it, as far as they knew, were Gabe, Lexine and the enclave of neighbors around them. Come morning (an hour before his shift at the mines), the two roused for the daily grind. Nicole, however, couldn't contain her apprehension. Needles of her fear jabbed him. They only needed to ride out this danger a few more days. Then he'd get a bit safer.

He loved his job. Regardless of how executives treated him, stone was always kind (the Marker excepted). Still, the world came to an end. Between that and the constant stress he felt in the Government Sector with Nicole absent, it was time to throw in the towel. He'd spend what time he had left with her, safe as could be and preparing. Far better to be together than apart.

"Three more days. Then I'm done," he said, rubbing her scalp just the way she liked.

"I'm excited," Nicole purred, mandibles snapping to a concerned expression right after that left her mouth and mind. "About you being safer, not everything coming to an end."

After grabbing a soy caffeine drink from the fridge, he went to the SNN website on his RIG, navigating the stories while sipping his drink. The headlines didn't inspire much confidence, but then again, when did they ever?

MASS PSYCHOSIS EPIDEMIC WORSENS

SIX DEAD IN NURSING HOME MASSACRE

MENTAL HEALTH CLINICS STRETCHED TO BREAKING POINT

ATMOS NEARS COMPLETION, BRINGING NEW HOPE TO LOCAL ECONOMY

TITAN STATION ELEMENTARY SCHOOL STAGES THE METAMORPHOSIS

EarthGov tried to stamp out such news a few months back, but at this point, all these crises were so obvious to even casual observers that there was really no point bothering. Little to be done. Not all of those were bad, but most were… though the last got a chuckle out of Nicole, who read through his eyes. What?

You've never heard of it, she more said than asked, but he shook his head, anyway. Cracked a small smile. One of my mother's favorite books. It's an ancient novel about a guy who turns into a monster and has to live in isolation. His family isn't nearly as nice as you. Several scenes from the book and a vid adaptation thereof flashed in his head. Kind of gross. Never particularly cared for it before, but it's gotten a lot more relatable over the past couple of years. Seemed like a grim play for small children to put on. Sign of the times, he supposed. Even kids felt down about what happened… and they had no way to stop it. He reeled in physical pain, and his drink nearly dropped from his hand.

The Marker killing anyone was monstrous. Killing kids… That was one horror absent from the Ishimura: no children aboard. A couple pregnant women and those creepy genetic cloning templates from the Biological Prosthetics Center were the closest they got. Titan Station, on the other hand, had plenty of youngsters, like the ones down the hall who constantly got in trouble scribbling on the doors.

They'd all die and be twisted into monsters to murder their parents, or vice versa. Curtis and Nicole learned a long time ago that they couldn't save everyone (though they helped a few), but kids would be by far the worst to let die. It'd be even worse for Gabe and Lexine, seeing as they tried to have a child of their own. I don't want to think about that, Nicole said in his head, unable to even vocalize it, so he swiftly dropped his greatest fear.

That nightmare would confront them soon enough. No point dreading something he couldn't hope to control. The most they'd be able to do was get vengeance. Even if they did, though, such a tremendous loss could never be repaired. We beat it once, he thought, grip tightening on the armrest. We can do it again.

I hope so, Nicole replied. That was as much as the two said about the matter before falling silent. Some topics were best left to oneself. Not often they acknowledged that. Curtis sighed and flicked off the holo-screen. Enough misery for one day. Didn't expect that resolution to last long as morbid curiosity drove him to see the next bad thing. For the time, though, he felt content to relax and prepare to enjoy retirement.

…

One of Curtis' last days blasting and drilling passed thankfully uneventful. No visions hammered at his brain's fault lines as he chiseled minerals from seams of stone. That was due not to luck or fortitude, but to the woman toiling down the crevasse. Always glad when Lexine ended up in the same spot as him. Happened once a week or so, which kept him from quitting earlier.

For some reason, a fraction of the CEC staff was spared the mysterious hallucination-inducing illness that swept through the rest of the station. Perhaps that anomaly should have been conveyed to health authorities, but he'd seen no coverage on the matter. He suspected the CEC appreciated the productivity boost and wouldn't report it to the government trying to drown them in a bathtub. Meant they could keep pumping out product.

Speaking of which, got to keep chiseling rock. Clink, clink, clink. Comfort and safety lived in doing something he'd dedicated his life to. Lexine seemed to feel the same; she loaded a telemetry spike into her "Javelin Gun", a surveying tool used to fire sensors into rock and probe the chemical/elemental composition thereof. Always impressed that such a petite person shrugged off the recoil, yet she'd been in the business a few years, which built muscle like nothing else. The RIG also helps, obviously. She got a decent one this time instead of glorified civilian clothes. Only ways he identified her were her accent and a couple unique dents in the metal plating.

Leveled the Javelin Gun at a seam she'd chiseled and fired the spear a foot into solid rock. A pneumatic thud echoed down the halls, momentarily eclipsing even the loudest drills, before fading into oblivion. Curtis shivered within his shell. The CEC took on-site safety more seriously with everything that happened, so his chances of impalement was significantly less than even a year ago. Still didn't want to be on the business end of the thing. Neither did Necromorphs, surely. Even if it didn't shear off limbs, it was the only gun or tool he knew of besides explosives that might dislodge enough biomass to end them with a torso shot. Short of that, it could pin them to a bulkhead while someone pulled them apart.

He spent a lot of time thinking about this sort of thing, to say the least. He had a hammer, and his enemies were the sharpest nails of all time.

"This vein's mostly organics, but it also has cobalt, silver, alkalines and platinum!" she called to the miners in the area, whose heads shot to her like the dinner bell just rang, including his! While this load didn't sound too special, it always primed the pump to claim the last untapped riches of Titan.

He moseyed over to the fresh wall, ready to clear some rubble, when a painful crack came from the Force Gun he used that day. Made him cringe, for the tool was an extension of his own body. Any time he hurt equipment was akin to breaking a bone. "That didn't sound good," she said while turning to him. They rode in together that day, so each was already aware of the other.

"No, it didn't," he replied, sending a call to the closest engineer to resuscitate it so he could return to work. Didn't care about making money anymore, but he wanted to end on a high note, knowing he'd done his best across his entire career. Not a day wasted. He almost shed a tear in his helmet thinking about it… but that could come later. Right now, he was happy to enjoy what little time he had left with the people he loved. "Someone should be here in a few minutes." That left them with the grinding noise of saws and plasma against rock. Nails on a chalkboard to some, yet always music to his ears.

"What else is on the menu for you today?" he asked Lexine as she packed up her gear. Surveyors generally had more varied goings-on than miners, being specialists rather than the people who just hit things. Never got to see all her skills in action, sadly.

"Next I'm goin' to run some soil sample analysis. Get a more detailed reading on the chemicals and such than this can give me." Patted the Javelin Gun now magnetically holstered to her back. He somehow sensed a smile behind her mask. "Better to make sure of what you think is true than make any assumptions." Oh, he knew that better than most. Not exactly in the same field, yet he'd learned the folly of guessing too much.

"Fascinating," Curtis commented, laying the sarcasm on thick, which made Lexine cross her arms. "Hey, it's not like my job is more exciting." Hitting rocks, looking at dust: both sounded as thrilling as watching paint dry to most people. "What about later?" He didn't know where he went with this. Just nice talking to his friend.

"After my shift ends, I'm going to try and book an appointment at Titan Memorial Med Center," she said, fidgeting slightly. "Hopefully I can get one with the record amount of people hospitalized." Curtis felt his heart flutter in alarm! Was she ill? Did she… His fears evaporated as he remembered what she told him earlier: fertility testing. Lexine talked Gabe into the two having a child (after Curtis spoke with Gabe about their feelings) well over a year ago. The current issue was her getting pregnant.

She and Gabe tried for a long time, yet nothing stuck. He wasn't sure of the issue exactly, nor was it his business. He only remembered it so well because wife and husband talked to Nicole about it a few times, since she operated for free. While Lexine would've preferred to get pregnant the natural way, she'd tried an artificial uterus like most modern couples, which also didn't work.

Led Nicole to believe Lexine's issues stemmed from genetics… and that they might be tied to her anti-Marker powers. They altered her brain structure beyond any other known human, to the point that Nicole almost considered her another human subspecies (much like how Necromorph DNA was very nearly human with subtle alterations). The point was that it might complicate reproduction. Lexine never thought about it before, but she admitted that her mother and a couple other ancestors had difficulty conceiving. That was one reason her family tree had so many only children.

"I really appreciate what, uh, 'Kelly' has done for me, of course, but she doesn't have the tools to know exactly what's wrong," she continued, not seeming to notice Curtis' lapse in attention. "If that doesn't work… well, maybe Gabe and I should've considered adoption to begin with."

"You'd make great foster parents, but that's a tough choice," he said, both to alleviate her guilt and because he knew from experience. Surely there were good people in the system. Just his rotten luck to be stuck with the worst of them. Not as simple as some people thought. "Especially with everything about to happen."

"What's about to happen?" asked a familiar voice from behind, making Curtis yelp and whirl around. "C'mon, Lance, don't have a cow," said the woman, throwing her hands skyward in mock surrender. Good thing he and Lexine knew better than to use his real name and refrain from publicly delving too much into his personal life. That'd shatter the illusion of him being a normal guy for eavesdroppers. As it was, though, Karrie had no idea what transpired.

"Who's this?" Lexine asked, confused by this person's casual demeanor. Only then did Curtis realize these two had never met. He rarely thought about that, since his other few friends knew each other in some capacity. Wouldn't call Karrie a friend, per se, but they'd been work acquaintances since meeting last year at the Church. Even after what a few did to him, he still had nothing against Unitologists, and Karrie had a good head on her shoulders. Wasn't one of the crazies. They just seemed to be assigned to the same places a lot.

"Oh, this is Karrie," he gestured. "Karrie, Lexine. Lexine, Karrie." The women shook hands, looking about as different as two people could with differing RIG styles coming with their disparate professions and Lexine being a foot shorter than Karrie. "And Karrie is here because…" She crossed her arms.

"Why do you think? You requisitioned an engineer to fix your Force Gun. That's me." Ah. That finally got it through his thick skull. Her jokey attitude often made her profession slip his mind. Couldn't judge what job someone had based on personality, yet the other engineer he once knew, stoic and cynical, stood in sharp contrast to her. He handed over the tool, which she suspended in midair with kinesis before popping it open.

"Nice meeting you, Karrie, but I really do have to go now." Lexine nodded and took her leave; Curtis would be sure to enjoy his last few minutes of sanity as she went to pursue her research. It meant others nearer to her would be spared the pain. Whatever shielded the Marker clearly worked somewhat. It took the Red Marker a week to push the Ishimura to the brink. Several months after the Golden Marker activated or came to life or gained sapience or whatever, things finally reached that level. Record cases of violence, suicide and self-harm. People snapping at each other and fights breaking out on the train. He saw one of those happen last week. Somebody would've died if an officer hadn't stepped in.

The worst part was that this seemed almost normal. People tended not to have high standards to begin with, yet the Ishimura's collective decline was fast and steep enough to alarm all. Titan Station decayed slowly enough that many took it for granted. Even more insidious, in his opinion. He sighed and shook his head as he again address Karrie, still engrossed in her work.

"How've you been lately? Haven't heard much from you," he said. It had been a little while since they last ended up in the same place, which gave them stuff to catch up on.

"All right. Busy volunteering at the Church," she replied, looking up at him. Barely slowed her one-handed soldering spree. Took a lot of practice to reach that level of confidence. "I've worked at the soup kitchen and stuff like that. A lot of people need help right now."

"I'm happy for you. That's a great thing to pursue," he replied, trying to keep the conversation going over the clamor of a dozen mining tools behind them. Luminous sparks and bolts of plasma were thrown with each blast, strobing their silhouettes across stone. Shadows danced on the wall… and his heart stopped for a split second, when he swore one sprouted swords from its shoulders.

"You're free to join me. Religious or not, we'd be glad to have you. Gotta do something during early retirement!" Despite her flippant demeanor, Karrie could be genuine when she wanted to. A nice offer, but defeating the Marker came first, and it became increasingly apparent that it planned to act soon. No time to waste, which was why he quit in the first place. At the same time, though, he felt hypocritical. A pang of guilt plunged into his gut. Longed for a better universe, yet he lacked the strength to make it so. What was the point of saving anything if all fell back to the rotten status quo of far too few caring?

"Maybe," was all he managed to spit out before falling silent, eyes again latching onto his intermittent shade plastering the far wall. Reminded him of the Shadow Man. Perhaps it was. Karrie handed the Force Gun back before too long. He thanked her and tried to get on with his day, still brought low by apprehension. He knew not what would happen next, which made him afraid. How did I survive childhood if I can't handle being in the dark about the future?

Angry vibrations mounted in the back of his skull while time dragged on. First the whispers, then the hands. That was fortunately as far as it got before he left for home, so he wasn't inundated with visions of death, madness and decay before punching out. From there, everything ended up normal. Returned to the locker room along with a cavalcade of other workers, hung up his tools, got out of his RIG and went home by a rather unusual route.

Traveled to the nearest transport area as whispers became roars. Crossover Tube 2 was writ large on the metal, similar to the Ishimura's deck names emblazoned on the floor of their tram stations. The art was hardly what disturbed him as he boarded the train, though. More fear of the unknown. The gondola silently departed while he marinated.

Not often he came this way. He always rode Tube 3 to work, being the one he lived closest to, and he usually took Tubes 1 or 3 back to PubSec, as most mines hugged the flanks while government enclaves and private labs populated GovSec's center. Crossover Tube 2 was mostly used by scientists, soldiers and others. That meant he rarely dealt with the eldritch wreck barreling toward him from the left.

The ship always marred the sight of Saturn, space, sun and stars. Most of the time, however, it existed in limbo between the two halves of Titan Station, hanging by a thread. This time, it occupied the whole sky. That would have been all right if they quickly passed. Curtis could have closed his eyes and pretended it didn't exist. The tram slowed down, though. The maintenance crews that tried to renovate the hulk had to go home sometime!

This more modern maglev system ran completely silent, yet he still heard the system screech to a halt in his mind. Creeping dread breathed down his neck in the temporary absence of Nicole or Lexine stopping it (and the former would reappear once he got just a few feet farther). This mixed with a whole host of questions that came whenever he arrived. Were the Necromorphs already returned here? Was classic rumor all that happened? Or did the actual, incorporeal spirits of the dead haunt the ship's twisting bowels? Any or all of these seemed credible. Again, it pained him not to know for certain.

He finally halted, the trolley wavering within the transparent tunnel for a moment. Then the sole entrance to the Ishimura hissed open, revealing an almost comically small platform that the departing crew stood upon. They stumbled inside, faces grim and covered in grease. However, he focused more on the corridor that led into the labyrinth, covered in plastic and chrome to hide what lurked beneath. Must have been miserable to work in with the sordid history, possible hauntings, sheer size and dirt and grime. He figured EarthGov handled a lot of the initial cleanup (disposing of all the mysterious organic matter, trying to salvage data, etc.) to prevent this motley crew of underpaid workers from stumbling on anything compromising.

Much could still lurk in hundreds of miles of halls, though. A shiver ran up his spine as the last of them boarded and the tram took off again, ferrying him into Nicole's arms.

…

Nicole had her claws full spritzing Larry the snake plant with distilled water when Curtis got home, so he didn't bother to knock. "Hey, baby," she said, placing the bottle next to its happy leaves. Almost everything they could say already had been by the time he physically arrived. However, there was one thing she wanted to tell him before he zonked out.

"Hi," he replied, kicking off his shoes and settling on the bed. She turned to see him, already drifting off above the covers. Suppressed a laugh at his ennui, for it was nothing to make light of. He hurt deep in his soul, and she shared that pain. Humanity was sick, and many were about to die from that illness. Their shared consolation was that they might save some. It would have to be enough.

She sat next to Curtis and patted him on the head. "I heard from Titan Station Art Museum," she said, piquing his curiosity. They'd waited on news for months after she assembled a folio of her best work. Almost an afterthought with the world about end, yet she promised Lexine she'd give it a shot. More than that, she did wonder whether she'd make the cut. Were the biggest names in art impressed with her? "They were polite and praised what I sent… but they said now wasn't a great time to accept new material with everything going on."

Her spirit fell at his expression and thoughts, which rang sadder than hers. He wanted her to make it. Though most of her accepted rejection without fuss (worse things happened than not getting her art exhibited), the petty part was incensed, making her glower deep down. How dare they turn away something she'd poured the last year of her afterlife into? Not that it mattered either way. There wouldn't be a museum by the time her work was set to debut. "It's not a big deal," she claimed, wanting to believe that.

They relaxed together for a few minutes before Curtis remembered one more minor thing he needed to do. After that, they could settle down and cuddle and be as sensible as they could for the rest of the day. He went to the computer while she flopped down in his place. Even the dead appreciated how darn comfy this bed was. Her eyes drifted shut, yet she saw just fine through her husband's as he navigated through their contacts, found a name, and spun a vid log to the far reaches of space. It traveled from one spiral arm to another in moments. The power to bend the galaxy in their collective hands, yet humanity found itself hindered by everyday problems. But that was a quarrel for another time. The call was answered quickly by a familiar face.

"Thanks for calling. Caught me at a good time," Schneider said from the cockpit of the stealth ship he long ago stole from EarthGov. The camera shivered and twitched slightly; a good indication he hurtled through another dimension faster than the speed of light. Shockspace was weird like that. "Just about to finish another smuggling run. Not easy to bop around the galaxy from dead drop to dead drop. Hard life."

Yeah, sounds terrible, making out like a king, she grunted in annoyance through pointed teeth. Even if his life wasn't perfect, he had more luxuries than them by a factor of hundreds. She didn't look down on his decisions – tried not to, at least – but it annoyed her when the powerful complained about their challenges. However, the weight of sin was not lost on her. She draped a pillow over her face for the illusion of privacy.

Once, that person was her. She never considered herself a braggart, yet she still got caught up in petty concerns when billions of people had it worse. Wasn't bad to be concerned with one's wellbeing, yet being at the absolute bottom of society, not even a person in the eyes of humanity, humbled her. Knew that wasn't what he tried to convey, yet that was what she heard.

"What have you found out?" Curtis asked, which made Stefan's brow crinkle.

"What d'ya mean?" Schneider took a swig of some liquid and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Made being an elite criminal look like a boring day at the office, which elicited a dull chuckle from her smothered mouth.

"You spun me a text log earlier that you wanted to say something via vid log. Figured it was important." Important enough to risk talking plainly over the Transnet. Curtis and Stefan always met physically to discuss important matters for fear the latter's communications had been tapped by EarthGov, but he recently got over those fears. A platoon of police would soon break down the door if he was wrong… or maybe not. Tiedemann would soon have his hands full with other problems. Perhaps he already did.

Schneider pursed his lips and shook his head. "Sorry, but I must have sent the wrong impression. Haven't learned anything new. Not that'll help you, anyway. I just wanted to say goodbye." Damn it. OK, he must have been certain he wasn't being monitored if he called to tell them that. Even if it was necessary. "All about to go sideways. You got through once. Throwing yourselves into it again? Not so sure either'll come out on one piece." She sat up to glare at Schneider personally. "I just hope your station doesn't end up like the Ishimura. Or, even worse, the USG Nostromo."

"USG Nostromo?" she muttered. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite put her finger on why.

Curtis filled her in on the details in the span of a few seconds, and she presently remembered bits of it from old spacer legends he'd spun before. It was a Weyland-Yutani mining ship (so of course it interested her husband) in the early 2100s – an era before EarthGov, Unitology and the rise of Concordance Extraction Corporation, which stole that industry from them. Coming back from a planet called Thedus with 20 million tons of unrefined ore (a pittance in the age of the planet cracker, but one of the largest yields in history at the time) to Earth. Minimal crew, all kept in cryogenic storage prior to the invention of modern stasis and with an archaic FTL engine.

It never returned. Only things known to have been found of it were a few charred pieces of rubble. Whatever else became of it was kept secret by Wey-Yu and the United Americas. Essentially, it was the Magpie equivalent of the maritime Flying Dutchman: a phantom ship that appeared to the crews of troubled spaceships as a portent of doom. For all the legends that'd already been pinned on the Ishimura, at least it had an official story attached to it and hadn't been utterly demolished. Probably would have been better if it did. Regardless, his point was that it might herald things to come.

"Won't be long, based on what I've heard," he shrugged, pushing a button on the dashboard as if extinguishing a cigar. "A couple months, a few weeks. Hell, maybe days." Depended on how ornery the Markers felt, she supposed. Try to break through as quickly as possible or bide more time? The Black Marker tried to get a read on them, and it could tell that whatever barrier shielded Titan Station from their worst effects also hindered the construction of a pan-galactic hive mind of the rocks. Their efforts were uncoordinated. One point of light in a dark night. "You're smart enough to have figured that out by now," Schneider said, neutral expression turning to scowl. The man had enough empathy to not make light of this.

Then he put a finger to his chin. "Actually, there is one thing I've learned that might be useful. Might make you feel a little better, at least." Nicole got out of bed to hear it. "A lot of Markers have been built, and I know the locations of most, but I've not heard of anywhere being hit harder by dementia outbreaks than the Sprawl. Everywhere else seems to lag." Took her and Curtis a moment to put the pieces together. Once both their minds snapped them into place… yeah, that might've been good. As good as anything like this could be.

While anecdotal, it made some sense. The Markers hadn't formed a hive intelligence with the systems blocking their full psychic potential, so they couldn't come up with a unified plan. All shared the goal of crushing humanity, barring a change of heart like the Black Marker (which took millions of years and seemed incredibly unlikely). So, it came down to which one felt raged enough to smash through first. And what Marker would be angrier than the one right next to the people who killed its "father"?

If they succeeded, maybe, just maybe, EarthGov would get wise and burn it all down. More likely, they'd ignore what was right before their eyes. They'd have to see.

"That's all I've got for you," he continued with a shrug. "As for me? Well, you already know." Vaguely. Schneider kept descriptions of his apocalypse bunker close to the vest. She and Curtis might have been the only others to know if its existence. Prefabricated homes were always expensive, but advanced ones with hydroponics gardens, automated gravity, and advanced air filtration (luxuries Stefan desired) quickly put them beyond reach of all but the wealthy. Drop it on some backwater ball of rock, and it might be one of the safest places in the galaxy from the coming storm. A haven to survive in while the Necromorphs killed everyone else.

"I also wanted to call about that." Schneider straightened up and ran a hand through his buzz cut, ready to pitch the deal of a lifetime. "I'm giving you one last chance to think about my offer. Pack whatever you can. I'll get to the Sprawl in less than a day if I push it." Tried to sound rational in the face of death, yet few could. Did better than most. Sweat pooling on his forehead, visible even through the grainy video, proved his composure wasn't perfect. "Hell, invite the Wellers along! My place is big enough, and they seem like nice folks. Plus, I don't trust any of my other contacts after what Copland did." Yeah, she'd probably develop trust issues if one of her colleagues sold the doom of man for a small price. Even Mercer, evil as he was, acted out of religious zeal instead of greed.

"It'd just be us. A lonely life, but at least we wouldn't be killed by zombies!" He turned to Nicole after he uttered that, looking meek. "Uh, except you." Nicole grunted in annoyance. It'd be great if Schneider refrained from bringing that up in most of their conversations.

But she saw the appeal. Both did. A vision ran through their shared mind of a simple existence on the frontier, dwelling with their best friends. The galaxy crumbled around them while they remained safe and ignorant in their relative paradise. Curtis growing old with her, and her joining him in true death when he passed away. Even if the Necromorphs found them after ending all else, Nicole suspected they might spare the group. At that point, it would be crueler to leave them as mute witnesses to the victory of death. The two peered into their shared soul. The temptation to take the easy road was great… but they pushed it away.

"Stefan, thank you for the offer," Curtis began, taking their (perhaps) friend by surprise. The man invited them to call him by his first name after they escaped the Ishimura, yet they rarely did. "But our answer is the same: we can't." The only sounds to permeate their apartment were the dripping sink and the ship's thrumming engines. His face catalyzed into grim determination, and he momentarily struggled to find the right words.

"Good luck, then. I ain't a religious man or a saint, and I'm no damn Unitologist, but I'll pray to whatever's out there for you to make it." Nicole appreciated that more than he knew. She also believed in no gods (conventional ones, anyway), yet even going through the motions meant the world. "Take care of yourselves… and kick some ass." Stefan gave a final grin, flashing his teeth before the log cut out. Couldn't hide the sadness in his eyes – the last thing, Nicole knew, they'd see of him before the outbreak. Only hoped they saw him again after.

Curtis was weak from thinking about this again, so she helped him to his quivering feet and carried him to bed. Truthfully, she didn't feel too hot, herself. A hand rested on her shoulder as she lowered him. If this all goes bad, I want you to know that I love you, he whispered in her head. I say that every day, to the point I worry it's getting old, yet I only repeat it because it's true. You're my heart, Nicole. A wave of complex feelings ebbed from him to her: love, guilt, shame, pride. They'd gotten used to untangling the complex weave of emotions that tied them together. Still occasionally got overwhelmed.

You've become quite the poet, Curtis. She remembered a time shortly after they arrived on the Sprawl when he tried to serenade her with a sonnet he wrote. Wasn't Shakespeare, as she knew from experience! But it's OK to be scared. She slid next to him and wrapped her spindly arms around his trunk. Saving the galaxy and being afraid weren't mutually exclusive. They could try to be heroes while still being afraid.

He patted her back. I am. Terrified, really. But no matter what happens, I don't regret a thing. Neither did she. Then he let out a chuckle that sounded more like a cry. It might be pathetic to say, but I can't imagine my life being any better, at least with all the terrible circumstances. Her husband still yearned for simpler times and lamented that he wasn't born in ancient days. Still, it could have been worse. He could've been alone.

It's early, but I'm going to bed now, Curtis thought while stripping down to his boxers, tossing his clothes to the side. Hard to do that from within her grasp, but he managed. Knew he didn't even intend to brush his teeth or floss. Well, she wasn't about to let him go to bed that easily! Any husband of hers was staying healthy whether he felt up to it or not. You really don't have to do – she cut him off with a claw pressed against his lips before standing up and retrieving his toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste.

Apparently, I do, she thought, ready to shove that brush in there as if forcing oral care on an obstinate child. Curtis refused out of embarrassment for a moment; he was a grown man! He could brush his own teeth! I'm not trying to embarrass you, she replied. You're in pain, and I want to help. Not physical agony, which was her job to treat, but existential hurt. This ranked among the most difficult times in his life, so she wanted to help. And he knew that more deeply than anyone else could have. That was the nature of them.

Just because he knew that didn't mean he always acted like he did. That was also part of being human – having too much pride to accept help. Please? she earnestly asked. If that didn't work, she'd give it up. This was her final plan. Not a very impressive one, but they had bigger problems on the horizon than a slight uptick in the chance of Curtis developing a cavity. After a moment, Curtis rolled his eyes and relented, allowing her to get in there. No problem operating foot-long claws inside his mouth. If she could do surgery and draw with these things, she could sure brush someone's teeth!

That wasn't so bad, he replied, already slipping into dreams with mint in his mouth. Hers, as well. Hadn't brushed her teeth (which perhaps made her a hypocrite) in years, since she didn't eat anything or produce saliva. Still liked the taste, though. Good night.

Yeah, good night, Nicole replied while she went to the bathroom to clean his toothbrush and flush the toilet (the man always forgot to do that). He was fast asleep when she returned a minute later. Thoughts gone, he'd drifted into that middle ground between wakefulness and dreaming. Unlike last night, he slept easily enough. Chalk that up to one win.

She reclined next to him, ready to join him in sleep and prepared for whatever the future brought. At least, she tried to be.

THE END

Happy 2022, everyone! Hopefully it's a better year than the last. Started out decently for me with this story ending, if nothing else. Always special to finish one, and this is my fifth. Hopefully I can notch many more! It was also my 24th birthday at the end of last year, so I'm that much further along life's path.

I'll now talk about the future of the franchise. This is liable to change, but at present, I expect to write three or four more stories. Dead Space 2 and 3 will get entries, as Extraction and 1 did with Ordination. A final story after the events of 3 (which leaves the series on a massive, unresolved cliffhanger) to wrap things up is also certain. The one I am not so firm on is an entry bridging 2 and 3 like Ascetic. We'll see. More Alien elements will be added down the road, as you may have guessed from what the chapter names spelled out!

Either way, it's clear now that my Dead Space series will exceed my Five Nights at Freddy's ensemble in length and number of stories. Speaking of which, I'm going to start work on the next story for that franchise! Be on the lookout for the next Freddy's tale, which'll be out after I reread the last entry and watch some Let's Plays of the earlier games. Now for the Q&A! Only person who asked a question (or reviewed the last chapter at all) was CelfwrDderwydd. And that's fine! Not every chapter evokes something to say.

CelfwrDderwydd: Sent via PM, the question concerned the role androids would play in this story. For those unfamiliar with the Alien franchise, artificially intelligent humanoid robots are a major aspect of the setting, appearing in all the movies, to the best of my knowledge. This has always been one of the more difficult aspects of that series to implement into my hybrid universe, as Dead Space has no AI. I could just ignore it, but I did come up with an explanation.

That being that there are cyborgs – people with robotic limbs or other enhancements. Where there were androids in the Alien films, just swap them out for cyborgs, and that's more or less how those events happened. Not as common in the present of Dead Space with the advent of biological prosthetics (as grown in the BPC), but some are still around.

End Q&A. Finally, here's a link to my Discord server! There, you can find links to all (though those are also available on my profile here). It's a fun place where you can discuss my stories, share some memes, or just hang out with me. Remove spaces and asterisks:

www*.discord*.gg / HPcMTpxVsH