Well, here's part two of Dead Space: USG Colorado, the story that critics are calling… absolutely nothing, since no one reviews anymore. I have the fortune of saying that one reader put this story on their Story Alert list, but they did not post a review or anything better, so it's pretty much obsolete. Here's your next chapter, the twenty of you that visited the first.

Like I told you before, this story has received a complete, total overhaul. The story is much bigger than it was before, featuring dialogue previously not included and providing more of a back-story to itself and to Dead Space: the Third.

This chapter may include some language not intended for children. If you are a child, stop reading and you may escape with your mind intact.

Entry 2: Mining Facility/ Gregory Peyton

August 9, 2513

Gregory Peyton pressed his hand on the button to record audio logs. He briefly hesitated before speaking up. Why did he have to record a log of the mining crew's progress? Wasn't that the captain's job? Even further, wasn't it the captain's duty to be down with the rest of the crew? He was the captain, and he was the one leading the mining operation in the first place. Peyton shrugged it off with a grumble. "This is Head Mining Official Gregory Peyton, formerly First Mate Gregory Peyton." Peyton winced, knowing that someone up in the ship had taken his place, some "Jacobs" bastard. "I've been demoted to this position so that I may supervise the excavation of some Unitology relic. The, err… White Marker, I heard someone call it?"

Gregory turned to look at the mining crew, armed with shovels and picks, digging the sand up. They were forced to downgrade to these primitive tools in order to 'Not hurt the Marker', according to the captain. The mining crew wasn't even allowed to use drills, or vehicles that could lift the sand up faster. It didn't help that this particular area of Jericho was suffering through its annual rainy season, with the sand soaking up the water and becoming heavier. Much heavier.

"I'm making a future note right now to the people who run EarthGov: stop hiring Unitologists to be captains. They're not making anyone's job any easier. We're not getting the authorization we need to use the appropriate tools for this job because he's concerned about the Marker's safety! Actually, the captain's making us use shovels and picks. Shovels and picks—what are we, Neanderthals?" Peyton declared loudly, earning some startled expressions from his fellow crewmates. After turning to ensure they were still working, Gregory stepped off of the platform with the recording software, unwittingly leaving it on, and walked up to the nearest miner. "Judging from the schematics, how long will it take to dig the Marker out of the sand?" he asked, briefly glancing at the two tiny white horns sticking out of the ground a few yards from each other.

The other miner, formerly the Chief of Security, Jose White, glanced up, out of breath, and jammed his shovel in the sandy ground. "Um… judging by the look of things and the state of our equipment, it should take at least four weeks, and that's if we set up base down here. We need those mining tools, sir."

"Damn. We can't use those. The captain won't allow it. Matter of fact, he ordered us not to."

"Why don't we just ignore the captain's orders?" a new voice joined in. Both Peyton and White turned to acknowledge the new person. It was a man, wearing the standard RIG. "If we get the Marker out of the ground without any damage, do you think the captain's really going to care whether or not we cheated?" Gregory shrugged in response to this. "Plus, we're more likely to damage the captain's precious Marker with our current tools. We can make it look inconspicuous, using plasma picks and shovels instead of normal ones. From orbit, how would the captain tell?"

Peyton stared the man down. He definitely wasn't from the bridge, that was for sure. No one would dare talk like that. "What's your name, and what are you talking about?"

"Name's Kyle Henderson. I was part of security up on the ship. I was investigating a series of rapes that were happening onboard, but now I'm down here, digging up some relic I don't believe in." Kyle looked around briefly before continuing, "Do you see how no one down here is a Unitologist? Don't you find that weird? I think the captain is biased." He shook his head. "Anyways, we need to get the Marker out of the ground, and we need to get back home. I don't want to miss watching that Clarke bastard fry. My parents were on the Sprawl when it happened, I'm not missing this."

Greg looked at the two horns of the Marker very questionably. What did he really have to lose if he allowed his crewmates to go behind the captain's back? All that really could happen was some kind of gain. Either the Marker would be dug up faster, or he got the benefit of knowing that he ignored his captain's orders. Might just make his day. Greg shrugged. "Sure. But just plasma picks and shovels. I don't want to find out that you guys are trying to use those plasma cutters for anything messed up."

Kyle chuckled. "Who do I look like, Isaac Clarke?" He walked towards the deployable storage facility, getting the other miners to follow him.

Gregory sighed and looked back up to the audio log recorder. The record icon was clearly shining, visible to all. Realizing his mistake, Gregory ran up to the platform, almost pressing the off button before hearing a loud scream of terror. Peyton turned and saw Kyle Henderson, holding a bloody plasma pick, collapsing to the ground just as his head came loose. Two others were quick to cut their own throats as well. Jose White was cowering in fear of the blood spewing out of all three dead bodies. Just before Jose collapsed Henderson's head turned onto its back-somehow still alive- and stared him in the eyes, and mouthed the words, "Make… us… whole…"

Yep. Complete overhaul. Those of you who don't recognize the name Kyle Henderson probably never read Dead Space: the White Marker. Kyle was the first suicide on the USG Colorado. Next chapter will be shorter, as it is just the captain reporting the deaths.

Read and review. Send me a private message if you want a story written, but don't want to write it yourself. I'll give you the credit for it. Just leave a brief summary (and your name/username, if you want the credit), and I'll see what I can do.