Hey again, everybody. Like I said last time, this is the start of the Dead Space 2 part of the story… as well as where the Xenomorph really begins to show up. It won't be in every chapter, but it'll give our heroes several scares along the way.
Speaking of which, it was very satisfying to write Curtis and Nicole here. This is the first time they're going through the meat grinder as a married couple! I've tried to impart the feeling that these two have been together a long time and trust each other completely (psychic bond or not). I'd be interested in hearing if you guys think I made their relationship strong.
In personal news, I am doing well. My English teaching practicum (internship, essentially) is going swimmingly, though we will see if that is what I end up doing professionally. It's a lot of fun helping people become better writers, and I have plenty of experience to speak from! Obviously, I'm not telling high schoolers about the weird interspecies romance tales I write – though I'm sure plenty of you guys are in that age bracket. Hey, I don't judge; I started writing my stories when I was still a teenager, and there's way worse stuff you could do on the Internet.
Special thanks to CelfwrDderwydd, Kaijucifer and StriderGunship for reviewing since last chapter. I appreciate it, etc., etc. Not trying to be glib, but you guys already know. Still won't stop me from expressing that.
2 Hours, 15 Minutes Post-Sprawl Outbreak
Curtis stood with Nicole in a storage closet. That was the first place they found with oxygen after he vented the evac bay. The room remained silent except for the soft clanking of his boots as he paced. Inside their minds, however, they argued. Didn't yell or scream or insult each other as some couples (most of his foster parents, for example) did. Their relationship was much healthier than that.
Nevertheless, they found themselves on opposing ends of an important issue. Though that should have made him tense, it had the inverse effect. Nice to know that they didn't agree on everything. At the end of the day, they were still different people. And they needed to answer the question: how do you solve a problem like Isaac Clarke?
You're not being realistic, Curtis thought, vision darting back and forth as he walked in a tight circle. Always returned to Nicole, who stood with arms crossed under her exposed ribcage.
He survived last time. If he got out, he'll be fine. Four yellow eyes stared at him. Despite not being human, he could read them better than any regular person.
If he got out, Curtis snapped back. They couldn't assume he waltzed out of his cell and past the guards. He (and his bunkmate, for it sounded like EarthGov had two captives in the same place) would be kept under lock and key at all hours.
The military and local government are in shambles right now. Even the Oracles couldn't get us! Nicole stomped for emphasis. There's no better time for a prison break. Well… she may have been correct, but that still didn't mean he weaseled his way out. For the sake of argument, though, he entertained the suggestion.
Assuming he is alive, destroying the Marker is the fastest way to help him, along with everyone else, he pointed out, stopping his circuit and locking gazes with his wife. Which is why we should do that first.
She turned from her position and rested her bumpy scalp against the wall. She could put a dent in it, if not break through, if so inclined. Curtis, I hate to say it, but I'm not sure we can save anyone else. The ships are gone. No more will come. True, but they could gather survivors! Sure, it'd be hard, but they needed to try! At the same time, though, he knew that was a fool's errand.
Protecting themselves was hard. Getting one injured person, like Karrie, around safely caused even more strain. Dozens upon dozens of survivors flocking to them would lead to disaster. Necromorphs would lunge from the darkness and drag people away. They'd constantly be distracted, needing to perform headcounts when danger momentarily passed. Even if Nicole somehow wasn't a problem for them, the Marker would agitate everyone into tearing others apart. They were better off alone, yet his point that they should target the source still stood. She rebutted that, too.
It'll take hours to get to the Government Sector and destroy the Marker. By the time we do, I'm not sure there will be anyone left. True, there would probably only be a couple thousand people alive by the time they reached the other side. If they embarked on a scavenger hunt before crossing, however, there would only be dozens or hundreds. She cringed, knowing him to be correct, but she ignored the point. Besides, Isaac's just as smart – Hell, maybe smarter – than I am, and he's an engineer. Might have developed some ideas about the Marker over the last few years that will give us an edge.
Yeah. Maybe the engineer possessed insight to help them destroy the Marker; no small feat, since they didn't have a continent to drop this time around. Still, he wondered if she really thought Isaac would help, or if she had more "personal reasons". Not to insinuate Nicole still had romantic feelings for her former fiancée – he knew she didn't – but she cared for him. She glared daggers at him; how dare he think that this was a conflict of interests?! The thought never even crossed her mind, so he knew his momentary suspicion was incorrect. Hey, he couldn't help whatever popped into his head!
"Even ignoring that, he might have lost his marbles," he said aloud, trying to smooth things over. It sounded from their final conversation over two years ago that the Marker permanently broke his brain; he spent too much time around it without Nicole, Lexine or any other protection. The hallucinations lived in him without any outside help. That was atop whatever terrible things EarthGov did to him, which neither could imagine. He may have been alive, but he would have been utterly broken.
"He's stronger than you think. Been through just as much as you have." He knew from the memories they shared that it was true. Curtis may have been an orphan, yet Isaac had been raised by a mother who didn't even seem to like him after his father disappeared. That gave him resilience. Would it be enough to survive the unimaginable? "If anybody could survive this, it's him."
OK, he thought, taking a deep breath through the nose. Let's say you're right. Isaac escaped whatever jail he was in, and taking time to search for him won't make things worse. Maybe it'll even be in our favor. Silence hung between them until he dared to ask the most crucial question. How the Hell do we find him?
Nicole glanced at the floor, and her exposed mouth was somehow twisted in concern. Anxiety bubbled within her, but he didn't pry. Either she'd tell him, or she wouldn't. Tell him, she did. The plan to locate Isaac blipped into his brain. His jaw dropped as an ugly gasp tore from this throat. She wouldn't dare.
That's a terrible idea. Probably the worst she'd ever had. Usually, he was the one who came up with subpar plans that Nicole vetoed! Was he supposed to agree with this?! His wife was a strong, brilliant woman. Far more than him. He couldn't allow this, though. He'd drag her through the station before letting her kill herself with this harebrained scheme.
She didn't argue. Even if it was a bad idea, she said, it was the best she had. They'd never find Isaac any other way. Nothing was off the table. That was when she did something Curtis never saw coming: she dropped to her knees and groveled, begging her husband to grant this mercy.
"Curtis, please," she rasped with a quavering voice. "This is the only way. I need to know if he's out there. I need to save him this time." He remained quiet in voice and mind for a minute, dreaming of all the ways this could go wrong.
Fine. Let's get it over with. Nicole would do this with or without him. How was that for unity?
No, not here. We need to go to our apartment. While Curtis would be her main anchor to sanity, the familiar environment of the only home she knew for years might help. On a more prosaic level, he was OK with that because of the supplies stockpiled for this inevitability. Not critical, but extra ammunition and Med Packs would be a boon that they counted on being able to utilize.
OK. He shrugged and opened the door. Needed to move so there was some chance of finding Isaac before he bit the dust. Despite his frustration, he didn't feel angry. All of Nicole's emotions were unveiled before him with their minds melded. She rarely felt the fear and helplessness that now coursed through every cell. Her entire being quivered in desperation. He'd be heartless to not help her, since that pain was practically his. At the same time, he still believed it to be the wrong choice.
Like he acknowledged earlier, they were different people. Their Link didn't mean they had to be the same.
There aren't many Necromorphs on the lower floors yet. Of course, the situation could've rapidly altered in the last 15 minutes. He didn't feel too confident in that route, especially because the beasts must have wrecked his "car". Driving his little jalopy around would've been an interesting way to navigate the crumbling station. Slower than the very hardy trams, yet they could reach nearly anywhere instead of connecting to fixed points. Regardless, they'd rely on their own feet for the time being.
Don't worry, I have a foolproof route. A moment later, so did he. To Nicole's credit, Curtis recognized this as a smart way forward… no matter how much it already scared him. But hey, anything they did here held danger. At least the problem had workable solutions.
Instead of going down, they went up: inasmuch as "up" existed in space, anyway. The stairs were a safer option than the elevator, and they were already near the top floor. It was only a couple of minutes until they reached the pediatric/natal ward. It used to be a nice place until a few minutes prior. Scattered toys, like a model EarthGov gunship and collection of Gorillanauts action figures, reminded him of the few things to comfort him during his childhood. Petty as they were, pieces of plastic gave him more comfort than anything else when he was a kid.
Idly wondered how these trinkets were made. Considering Earth's supply of hydrocarbons had been all but tapped out, the toys were probably made from the ones on Titan. He might've mined the materials! It fascinated him to know that he contributed to the vast works of humanity with his own two hands.
No amount of self-distraction, however, was able to blunt the impact of the bloody smear leading from a nearby vent. The Necromorphs were already here, though spotting a Pregnant or two in the crush of flesh earlier already tipped him off to that. Nicole's memory-dump included coming through here, including how she rescued a teenage girl named Audrey. That might have been the most heroic thing she'd done in either of her lives, and there was plenty of competition. As much as Nicole claimed to be the pragmatic one, he didn't believe that was true between this and wanting to find Isaac. That role fell to him, which made him want to take a shower.
Thankfully, it sounded like everyone on this floor got out. He saw enough dead children on the way here; his stomach couldn't take more. It was a school day, though. The sick kids turned out to be the lucky ones.
A flash of movement caught his eye before they continued. The Line Gun was drawn before coherent thoughts formed. Such was the power of instinct and reflex! When he aimed, however, he found no Necromorph. Instead, the motion came from something much less dangerous… although almost as unbelievable.
Three or four multicolored fish flitted around a large tank set into the wall on his left. Nicole's memories told him she encountered them on the way in, though he forgot until he set eyes on them. His jaw didn't drop, but he still felt an unusual sense of wonder. They must have been so small that the Necromorphs didn't bother to add their biomass to the collective. Their minds also might have been primitive enough to shrug off the Marker's commands to kill.
His wife knew that one of them – a little orange critter – was called a "clownfish". The others were enigmas. Would have been to most people. His only hint was that they probably came from tropical climes, given their vibrant coloration. That meant they may as well have been aliens; the last coral reefs had been choked to death by warming seas and pollution centuries ago. These creatures only survived in public aquaria and in the menageries of exotic collectors. The hospital was lucky to get its hands on a few to share with children who had probably never seen a single animal before.
Curtis lived by the sea and often swam in the Atlantic (against the advice of signs warning against it) during his youth. During that time, he counted on one hand the instances he glimpsed a live fish before it darted back to the deep. Some still lived in deeper or more distant waters to avoid humanity, coming closer depending on the season. There were times when food vendors in the Hubs could get real meat instead of textured soy! He'd seen more on Titan Station than on Earth thanks to a couple of restaurants he could never afford to eat at having vessels of bigger ones on display. People could pick one and have a chef kill and cook it in front of them. Seemed ludicrously expensive – and cruel – but what did he know? Respect for other people was hard to come by, so why should animals have been treated better?
He found himself enthralled by the fish, and they with him. That was how he interpreted their unblinking stares, anyway. Almost wished he could take them with him. Sadly, he had no way to keep them alive in his pockets, and he wasn't going to carry the whole damn glass box around! Not to mention that he'd be a complete douchebag to care more about animals than the millions of humans he had been unable to help. Honestly, they were in a good spot.
The tank seemed to be sealed against vacuum, and flakes floating around meant they must have been fed right before everyone fled. Also possible that the container had its own AI system that monitored food and pH levels, etc. Combined with the fact that water's exceptionally high specific heat capacity – a term he learned from Nicole at that very moment – meant the little guys would survive a while after life support inevitably shut down. Not that they cared; he very much doubted they had the slightest inkling of what went on. At absolute most, maybe they noticed not many of the strange giants without fins were around, a trend that would continue when they were perhaps the last living things on the station.
"Uh, sorry, I can't help," he muttered to the animals with brains the size of peppercorns (at largest) before walking away.
I think it's good that you care about them. It means you care about everyone, Nicole thought as she sidled up to him. He supposed that was one way to look at it. His concerns were not limited to humanity. Every living thing on Earth was in danger, from birds to bacteria. The world of his birth would be a stripped husk by the time they were finished. Some of the planets his species had visited might have had life of their own in the past, but now nothing was left. From what Nicole understood, even the Necromorphs would cease to exist as individuals. Most of them welcomed Convergence, but it didn't change the fact that the process would wipe away the last vestiges of their personalities. They were victims, too.
You don't think it's dumb?
Hey, I wanted to save Larry when I ran out of the apartment. At least I'll be able to see him… er, it… when we get back. She rolled her neck, a little embarrassed to think of the houseplant as having a gender identity!
Oh, that's the real reason we're going back, he replied with a dollop of sarcasm. Gotta grab a cutting or something so you can grow Larry II when we get out of this. She was about to respond, but the wheels rotated in a different direction before that happened. Put a long claw to her mandibles; the stereotypical position of thought looked rather silly on his wife.
That's a good idea. Dracaena trifasciata is a very resilient species; a clipping might remain viable, even given the hazards we're going to face. Curtis felt himself crack a goofy smile. Well, he supposed not all his ideas were bad… though he offered this one in jest, assuming it would be. Larry II would be plopped into a pot once they got out.
The duo reached the airlock before they knew it. All the standard warnings plastered it, drawing his eyes to yellow and red from the dull gray walls.
A million ways to die in space… Thanks to some quick thinking, though, suffocation probably would not be among them. He spotted an oxygen tank in a patient's room near the airlock, and he got the idea to strap it to his back using the magnetic holster designed for tools. Fit like a glove, leaving him pleased with himself. He was having all sorts of great ideas! This RIG stored 15 minutes of air, which should've been enough to reach the garbage compactor, but this gave him insurance in case of a delay. And if even this proved insufficient, Nicole's RIG had an emergency supply for him to tap into.
He stepped out of the room, feeling the surprising weight of a tube full of gas. It would be no problem in Zero-G, even if it weighed down his shoulders for the moment. Then came the moment he dreaded. The first half of the airlock cycled open, allowing him and Nicole to step into the decompression chamber. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath.
A whooshing noise filled his ears as his RIG sealed itself at the lack of air. It was always intense, and his recent experience in the ship hanger almost made him jump! Not that it would have done anything, since he'd already turned his grav-boots on. Besides, leaping was the worst thing to do now. Took a few blind steps, not looking through Nicole's eyes, before cracking his own pair open again. Vertigo hit him like a sack of bricks.
He stood at the pinnacle of an impossibly tall building, beyond the limits of what could reasonably be constructed on Earth. A cityscape stretched miles from left to right, partially surrounding a chunk of rock (with its own metal bits jutting out) at the center of an unfinished circle. Saturn hung over the horizon, and a bright white spot near its ring system was another moon in a closer orbit: maybe Tethys or Dione. Saw similar views every single day, so they were no longer anything special.
He'd never been part of the panorama, though. Over the last two years, he stayed safely within the station's walls. Those times were at an end. Everything else he'd been through made spacewalks less scary, but he still would have rather been anywhere else. Nicole would psychically "turn him off" and puppet him across the hull if he asked. Curtis could manage, however, so he began to thud across the metal alongside her. They just needed to get all the way down this lengthy spire and maneuver, probably with their thrusters, back through the trash chute she emerged from. Assuming it hadn't been closed, but he didn't want to think about that!
This trick wouldn't always pay off, since airlocks were scarce – sane people on the Sprawl wanted to stay inside – but they had to use every edge available.
Slow breathes, in and out, gave him a modicum of self-control. They plodded across a cracked screen of Director Tiedemann's face, silently repeating the same "calmly evacuate" spiel, for all the good it'd do people now.
You don't think there will be many Necromorphs out here? Nicole asked after a few minutes, both out of wonderment and to focus him on a danger more tangible than floating away.
Maybe on the outsides of the Crossover Tubes, since those are straight lines, and the Marker doesn't want us getting back over, he replied. The other parts of the station were too large to justify having Nests or whatever, especially since he didn't expect EarthGov to mount an exterior attack (though it would be welcome). Some reserves on the parts connecting most of the populace to the Marker would suffice. In fact, he wondered if the armored Necromorph that attacked him and Karrie earlier was part of that cohort. A shiver ran up Nicole's spine, and therefore up his, as he recalled it. You all right?
Yeah, I'm fine, she thought as he spotted an explosion on the distant left of the Sprawl. Elicited nothing more than a resigned shrug. It's just that the glimpse you got of the thing… I can't explain why, but your memory of it creeps me out. Curtis only saw the tip of a tail, but it didn't seem that scary to him. Doesn't matter, since we have other fish to fry. What was it with this building and fish?
A small flash of navy to their right made them stop dead in their tracks. Obviously wasn't a Necromorph, but it took a second to figure out what approached. Big and blue and shining a spotlight against the bulkheads. It's a gunship, he realized, drawing from the toy he saw a few minutes earlier. The last time Curtis saw them in real life was 13 years ago, during the Mars Independence Riots. The government didn't break them out every day.
The small craft were operated by one or two pilots, and, as the name implied, plentiful weapons systems were mounted to them. They were light enough to work in an atmosphere, even if their primary purpose was as space vehicles. A full-scale battleship would have been too bulky to maneuver around, but these were perfect for inspecting the hull from a safe distance. Inspecting it, he realized, for Necromorphs. Or them. Or both.
A few minutes ago, he yelled for Nicole to "hit the deck." Neither needed such motivation now. They dropped, pressing themselves against the metal while the searchlight inched closer. His twitching fingers clung to any purchase they could find, since the grav-boots only worked when the soles were pressed down. There was an immediate danger for him to dread again, which he perversely welcomed. Paranoia wasn't unreasonable when a threat hovered overhead. Boring palettes may have been their saving graces; they blended in well against the Sprawl's exterior, which would not have been the case if his RIG were neon. Neither emitted heat, so they couldn't be spotted in the infrared.
Curtis was tempted to shut his eyes, but he kept them open as much as he dared. There was no way for them to blow the thing up from this position. They could only flee, and even the odds of that were slim. Best to wait it out and hope the pilots paid little attention.
The beam of light painted metal a few yards above their heads. The drivers didn't spot any humanoid shapes just outside its radius, for the ship progressed without pause. They waited until after the fighter craft rounded a bend before staggering back up. That was his cue to start worrying… though he never stopped.
The rest of the journey was silent and uneventful. It should have been a chance to "relax" as much as he could, but his mind became more turbulent no matter how much Nicole tried to calm him. Fears leapt at him from every angle, turning the spacewalk into a waking nightmare in multiple ways. Hell, he wanted Necromorphs to burst out and attack them by the end. That way, there wouldn't have been as many killing the innocent people inside!
Mercifully, they neared their destination while Curtis switched to breathing from the supplementary oxygen tank on his back. Wouldn't have been needed if he breathed normally instead of hyperventilating. But he ignored that, since a bigger problem was on their hands. They'd been able to jump from building to building with relative ease until that point. This gap was bigger. Hard to say by how much, yet enough to make his head spin. There was no way he could make that leap, especially with miscellaneous garbage obscuring his view.
Thank God, thank whatever God, if any, was out there, that he didn't need to. The most amazing woman in the universe was brave enough to make it for him. They embraced each other, and he felt her skin through the metal shell surrounding him.
I love you, Curtis. I'm sorry I can't do more. He felt both of them lift off, rushing through the vacuum. Getting her that RIG was a great decision.
Love you, too. Tears ran down his cheeks. Even after everything he'd gone through, he still felt like a coward. Thought that the Necromorphs would toughen him up; maybe they had, in some ways, but they made him more fearful in others. He knew what they did, and there was no way to stop them. Not until millions were dead. You're doing better than anyone else could.
Slowly, his feet touched the floor, and he reluctantly released the only person he'd ever loved.
2 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Sprawl Outbreak
To Nicole's surprise, there weren't many Necromorphs nearby. The tendrils reaching from her mind returned no close echoes. Not yet; there were other stops along the way. They'd surely arrive soon, though. She was glad Curtis never became friends with any of their neighbors (except Gabe and Lexine, of course), since they'd all be dead within the hour.
This fact made her husband's shoulders slump as they entered the basement of Titan Heights, and she imagined dark bags forming under his eyes. There was nothing she could say or do to take the pain away, short of "turning off" his emotions. He didn't ask for that, though, and she'd have refused if he did. Under no circumstances would she lobotomize him, even temporarily. The evil they faced was real, and burying their heads in the sand helped nobody. He understood that, despite the agony flaying his soul.
The world they emerged from the cellar into was dead silent. Even the screens playing Tiedemann's infinite address in the atrium had been muted, leaving subtitles and moving lips to tell the tale – just like the ones outside the eight-story window. The graveyard city was still haunted by this ghost. All the people who wanted to leave already had, and the rest of them stayed inside. Too many. She was surprised Tiedemann issued an evac warning in the first place, yet he should've been honest about the Necromorphs. An impending exanimate Armageddon would've enticed more people to run than from "terrorists."
Nicole craned her head back to look up at the other floors of the mezzanine, which overlooked this lobby from three sides of the room with balconies. She could climb to the seventh floor… Curtis, not so much. Whatever, the elevators probably still worked, and even if they didn't, the stairs would. Her only concern was someone seeing them (as happened before) and freaking out, though the desolation led her to believe everyone who hadn't left at least possessed the foresight to stay inside.
As for the Oracles, she no longer worried about them. She gave no indication that she wanted to return home when she fled. Moreover, they didn't seem like the kind of organization to waste resources. They'd likely withdraw now that the Necromorphs nearly finished spreading to every inch of the Sprawl. Maybe some of their ships observed the station within whatever security perimeter had been established, but she couldn't see them doing more. The gunship she and Curtis saw on the way over meant EarthGov kept an eye out.
The lift was already at their level, so they got in and punched in the second-highest floor. It was a smoother ride than the ones at the hospital, but that didn't mean much. Still felt like it took an eternity to ascend, especially with her cousins closing in by the moment from both upspin and downspin. Her limbs twitched with pent-up energy; she would've bounced to relieve it, yet the infinitesimal odds of that breaking the elevator were enough to dissuade her.
Then they stopped, and she was outside before the doors opened all the way. She was halfway down the hall before her partner reached the start. Curtis called for her to slow down – though this was her idea (if not obsession), he didn't want her to exhaust herself. A difficult prospect, given that this body could function until it literally fell apart from stress, but she reluctantly consented. If nothing else, she didn't want to run him ragged when their "adventure" just began. That gave her time to listen to sounds of panic behind closed doors.
Not many of them, though. Nicole wasn't sure if she should be glad about that. Maybe it meant more people than she expected fled… or they might have silently waited for the danger to pass. It wouldn't, yet they didn't know that, and she wasn't going to start doomsaying in the middle of the hall. She didn't need to, though, for it sounded like the level already had its own agoraphobic preacher.
"Don't come any closer!" a man's voice shouted from one of the nearby doors. Nicole didn't know if he saw them through the peephole or if he would've ranted regardless, but she was just fine following his orders. "I'm not opening this door for anyone; I don't care what you have to say! I'm armed, and I'll fucking kill you if you try to get in! Stay away from my door!"
The yelling faded away, replaced with the gurgles of a crying baby. The soft whispers of a mother trying to comfort the infant drifted out, too. That was the one that almost broke Nicole. There was nothing she could do but tell herself everyone could be avenged. Her whole body tensed; the pressure within was so great that she could have exploded. Despite what she now was, this evil was beyond her. It was beyond words or comprehension or forgiveness. The Golden Marker may have induced lunacy, but it was the mad one.
Humanity would always be vulnerable to that insanity, for its depraved thoughts went to places an ordinary person could not imagine. Knowledge from countless civilizations meant the Markers had infinite ways to inflict death and pain. She and Curtis would come up with some new methods once they reached the monolith, though…
Then they got to the apartment. Curtis presented his RIG, and the threshold slid open. Though it had happened on thousands of occasions, this was the first time she'd seen the process from this side of the wall. It looked like a cyclone leveled the interior, which she supposed wasn't too far off. Another force of nature would tear through before too long.
The bedsheets had been shredded, the computer system yanked out, and all their cabinets flung open. One didn't have to be a detective to discern that the Oracles wanted to find anything useful. They hadn't been able to capture their target, but perhaps they could save face by looting the data that covert observation prevented them from harvesting. Unfortunately for them, all such information was tucked away on the drive in her pocket. A hole in the wall from an angry fist was the one sign that they utterly failed. If the Necromorphs didn't get them, EarthGov might flay their hides; failure didn't seem to be an option in their line of work.
They stepped in, synchronously gathering all they could. Their belongings had been scattered, and some had been taken, sadly. The Oracles could use some supplies, even if their RIGs couldn't fit the amount of aid stockpiled in that little room over the years. Then again, neither could Curtis or Nicole's, which was why they had backpacks. Might not have been hoarders, but they were well-prepared. After all, some of this stuff was supposed to be for Lexine and Gabe. Even the prototype suit that got them through the Ishimura was there! The one he had on now was fine, especially since those modifications had been integrated into just about all other military/industrial models over the last few years. Still made her nostalgic.
Curtis started piling Somatic Gel and power cells on their ruined bed while Nicole handled a smaller matter… Her eyes fell upon Larry, which remained unharmed by the brigands who broke into their home. A crack in the pot was the only visible damage.
She flipped on the sink, and cold water gushed out. The plumbing still worked, so she grabbed a rag and passed it under the kitchen faucet before wringing it out. Then she took two steps over to Larry and amputated the tip of a long leaf with a pair of scissors – hey, her claws weren't the best at doing everything. The moisture would keep it alive for a few days (though she hoped it didn't take that long to destroy the Marker). If it did die, that meant it'd transmute to Necromorph tissue in her pocket as the Marker's signal altered its deceased cells. Not the scariest undead, but it'd still be kind of sad.
With that, she tucked the leaf into another pocket before turning around and shoveling supplies her husband salvaged into the others, since the limited resources remaining meant they didn't have to use rucksacks. They filled almost to bursting, and she felt like a tick that gorged itself on blood. Curtis tossed a few dregs into the hall; maybe other survivors would stumble upon this random trove of loot. More likely that Necromorphs would smash it, but they had to take chances like this, no matter how slim.
A pit formed in her nonexistent stomach as Nicole realized it was time for what they came to accomplish. This was her idea, and even she admitted it was crazy.
There's still time to back out, Curtis suggested. They won't be here for a couple more minutes! Much as he wanted to beg and plead, he remained restrained. Their whole relationship was built on incredible amounts of trust – that was the reason they dared to become friends and fall in love. He continued to trust her now. This may have been a bad idea, but it was the only one she had. OK, he thought, pushing air between his teeth, how will this work?
She had no idea. They were making this up as they went along. She just hoped that Curtis and the familiar environment of their apartment would prevent her from being lost to madness. For lack of a better term, they'd be an anchor, and her husband would haul her up from the depths with the silver cord that was their Bond. That was how she wanted it to go, yet she might become so heavy that nothing could reel her in. In any case, the clock ticked away.
A flickering light fell on them, but that was better than no light at all. She reclined on the ruined bed while Curtis pulled the desk chair over. He was the doctor while she became the patient. However, he didn't practice traditional medicine. He was a rootworker, a shaman, a witch doctor. His medicine was something along the lines of hypnotism and astral projection.
Nicole didn't know if such systems were even real; they weren't used in medicine outside of a few Unitologists who seemed like quacks, even by their standards. Didn't immediately dismiss them as she once would have, though. She'd experienced so much weirdness by just being what she now was. In fact, she hoped they did exist. Perhaps they could help where science failed.
There were no spells cast or rituals chanted as she closed her eyes. Those would be nonsense; the only other precaution she could think of was having Curtis tie her down, which they didn't have time for! She floated in the blackness before pushing into the hive mind. Other minds constantly hammered at her own when Necromorphs were around, yet she maintained a degree of separation. No longer; she leapt into the cauldron, which felt like being buried in burning tar. All the inhibitions she built up were stripped away as she joined the horde. She was neither welcomed nor shunned, for new minds joined every second – she was one drop of water when the ocean grew bigger than it had ever been before.
She felt everything her brothers and sisters did, thought everything they thought, and, most importantly, knew everything they knew. Her mind melted like wax in a flame, but she used the last of her sanity to dig through the millions of memories to find the one that mattered most. This psychic palace was the largest repository of knowledge in the universe. Part of her was tempted to stay… find out the secrets of the Markers… learn how to defeat them… wait, why would she destroy the things that made her? Didn't they deserve more respect?
A shiver in her brain propelled her. Much as she wanted to rejoin this glorious union after so long, she had to do something first. Finally, in the depths of the hive, she found him…
The human she hoped her siblings gutted! She looked through several sets of eyes at the being. So many looked the same: clad in metal to protect feeble flesh, but she recognized this one from the way he moved and the tool he fired. A brother ceased to exist at the pull of a trigger, and his soul faded. Such were the risks of going on the offensive. Still, his memories would live on in the rest of them, being made whole during Convergence. These mortal weapons may have been primitive, yet they were still able to inflict damage… for the moment. Soon, her kin would be beyond such concerns.
That pesky voice at the back of her shriveled vestige of individuality prodded her again, asking for the human's location. What was it? Perhaps it would go away if she did what it asked. That way, she'd be free to rejoin the One without distractions.
Another set of senses went dead, but she still saw through many eyes, heard through many ears, felt through many sheets of muscle, and smelled through many noses. It was more than enough to place him at that house of worship devoted to the Markers. How ironic for him. Still, most of those wise "Unitologists" willingly accepted salvation… even if it did not arrive in the form they expected. The ones who resisted had this gift forced upon them, as was correct – children needed to imbibe bitter medicine to become healthy, whether they wanted to or not. Now, those children blossomed into adults like her. Even the ones who had once been children or infants were now her equals – age had no bearing one's status.
Now, it was time to see who or what lurked behind the curtain. Her four eyes flew open, immediately spotting a human! A flood of memories rushed back when she saw him. They were so trivial that they hadn't factored in before. But now they were back, and she could deal with the matter at hand. In one movement, she was off the soft, white lump and had the human pinned to a wall!
This was him! This was the monster that kept her chained for years, brainwashing her, getting rid of her true, glorious nature so that he could keep her as a pet. Why did she ever agree to go along with this?! Why did she ever love him?! He was weaker than her, and her kin already had everything she ever could have wanted. Now she saw that all this broken man wanted was to fuck her dead flesh. Good luck with that once she ripped his dick off and stuffed it down his throat! He didn't deserve to come back in Convergence – he wasn't special, just lucky and "chosen" by that traitor who wanted to help these pitiful bags of meat.
He tried to stop them before, but they bided their time, waiting to return. Well, they were back – and nothing would stop them this time! Already, their numbers grew far beyond those on the pitiful mining ship and the planet it harvested. After this station fell, her kind would sweep over this species and –
Are you done monologuing like a supervillain? Her head shot around, trying to find the voice that interrupted her before the human cleared his throat. Right, he "Bonded" with her; that was what they called their connection. A perverse anomaly, but that would be rectified once she ripped his head off! That was a good argument for killing him now instead of waiting for later. Nicole, this isn't you, the man thought, more desperate than before. You're better than this!
Don't call me that! she shot back, bristling at the two meaningless syllables of her human name. She wasn't that woman anymore. She wore the same flesh and had the same memories, but she became a different being, better in every way. And she'd kill him to prove it. Turned back to the monster, her claws digging into the wall behind him. He'd retracted his helmet, allowing her to see his face. That was unnecessary, of course; she saw everything in his head.
That was how she knew that he wasn't scared to die. Well, he was, but fear took a backseat to his real emotion. Instead, he felt sad for her. Not disappointed or upset… just sad that she did this. This wasn't real, he thought. She pantomimed an angry god's decrees, whether she realized it or not.
"That's not true!" she screamed in his face, snapping her teeth and trying to make him flinch. He recoiled out of human instinct, yet his mind remained serene. He was utterly convinced that she wouldn't hurt him. She was far too good a person for that. And… she swore that oath not to. Muscles quivered as she tried to prove him wrong. Still, the words echoed in her soul.
First, do no harm…
Her arm gave out, and she collapsed to the ground. She had to kill him, but she didn't want to. Found herself at a crossroads; either she could take his life or spare it. Both her existence and humanity were at stake. Should have been difficult to make that choice, but it really wasn't.
She grabbed the chain Curtis extended to her the second the fog lifted. The primordial anger ebbed, and she realized she could easily have been lost to it forever. As she grappled with nearly passing the event horizon and being stuck there for eternity, however, she became aware of a curious murmur. Most of her kith were so engrossed in their other duties that they didn't notice. Even though it contained a nearly infinite amount of information, they could only pay attention to a fraction at a time. She passed through this stream of consciousness by sheer chance.
That was how this "rumor", for lack of a better term, evaded detection for most… though it would spread. The creek would grow into a river if it turned out to be even half true.
Something picked off Necromorphs across the Sprawl for the last 30 minutes, and it did the same in the Government Sector before that. Must've crossed over at about the same time Curtis did… Her cousins being snuffed out was common, of course. Even the prodigious rate of the killings meant nothing, since they were replaced at a tenfold rate.
It was the memories that chilled her to the bone. Individually, there was little evidence for what happened to this force's victims – they seemed to blip away, taken entirely by surprise. Hundreds of final impressions from hundreds of deaths allowed evidence to be pieced together, though: she felt long claws on her torso, sticky saliva dripping down her scalp, and an eyeless, shiny, black face staring back at her.
Eyeless in the dark, they watch. Grinning chrome, living night. Through her terror, she recalled some of the last words of Dr. Kyne. Spending so much time around the Red Marker allowed it to change him in the same way it altered Isaac. He glimpsed its hopes and fears… and this was the latter. Black as night, teeth of steel, demons of the void made real! Prophets and Heralds, he called them. There must have been some secret Unitologist teachings about them, which would doubtlessly get plenty of details wrong.
The Black Marker told her and Curtis that two or three million years ago, these things dealt them a serious setback. Not an outright defeat, but they gave the Necromorphs and Markers enough trouble that an instinctual fear of the beings had been ingrained in their collective unconscious. Evolution gave humans innate phobias of certain animals, loud noises and the dark. All of these were dangerous enough that the entire species feared them to some degree; they lodged like splinters in the Jungian id, finally being used against the Necromorphs. After all, humans had been the most dangerous game for the past several millennia.
Her own species having a similar fear would have been funny if she didn't feel the exact same terror. Besides, anything higher on the food chain would naturally consider humans prey. This was the thing Curtis glimpsed on his way over. He was lucky to have gotten out alive.
She didn't know what it was, where it came from or how it got there, but one of those beings was loose on the station. Somehow, she knew it could kill all of them. The Black Marker shuddered in agreement in her mind (though it was heartened that she freed herself from its descendant's grip). And then it was over.
Her eyes flew open as shriveled lungs pointlessly hyperventilated. The psychonautic journey into the heart of the hive mind seemed to take hours, but Curtis' memories told her it lasted less than five minutes. The things she saw and felt were realer than real – this world may as well have been the dream. Still, she knew that perception would shift as time passed. Her husband picking her up off the floor helped… even if he was almost as scared as her.
Is… there an alien on the station?! While that was indeed something to be terrified of, Nicole noticed that he utterly lacked fear about one specific thing: her. He'd completely forgotten what she nearly did to him. Loved and trusted her so much that he always knew she'd free herself. Nicole would have conveyed how much that belief meant to her… but he already knew. One that isn't a Marker, anyway.
I have no idea. She took his hand, quickly landing on her feet. It was probably an alien, but it could just as easily have been a time-displaced animal, a demon, or a being from another dimension. Nothing would surprise her. Her only comfort was that it acted alone. Even if they assumed it was invincible (and nothing was), the Sprawl was enormous: far larger than the Ishimura. The odds that they'd run into it were slim. Then again, they never had the best luck when it came to these things. The Marker would send more of its forces against Curtis and Nicole, and the monster would follow its food supply. Is it actually eating them?
There was still so much she didn't know, and the Black Marker offered no answers; it was just as confused as them after being cut off from the hive's knowledge. If anything, she did their patron a favor by spelunking into the universal library that it had been kicked out of. It would be an even bigger help if she did it again. She imagined a treasure hunter getting too greedy and going back for more gold, only to have the cavern or ancient temple collapse atop them.
Just because she freed herself from the chains the Marker shackled her with this time didn't mean she could do it again. The sensation of unity with an entire species instead of just one other person intoxicated her like a drug. As she knew from her profession, the more one abused narcotics, the more dependent on them one became. If she kept going in, she'd get so addicted that she'd never get out.
Oh, and one other quibble: the connection worked both ways. She saw through their eyes, so they saw through hers. Her cousins, or at least a large chunk of them, knew where she was. Not that that made much of a difference, since the Necromorphs were already on their way to raise Hell, but it provided them an incentive to leave even faster – they had maybe a minute or two left. She practically heard them scratching inside the walls. There was just one more thing she wanted to do, which she relayed to Curtis in the blink of an eye.
It only took her lover a moment to locate the miniature Enigma mask that he pried off Warren Eckhardt's corpse. The thing sat in the open, easily visible; it must have been of no value to the Oracles. That made sense, for the ones they ran into since made clear that they didn't really hew to Unitologist teachings (despite many acknowledging that the Markers were tremendously powerful beings). They gave this to Eckhardt, complete with "ORACLE" stamped on the back, to imply the connection to the Church. Though imperfect, they knew it to be a visual representation of what now ran through the streets. Curtis tucked it in one of his pockets, just in case.
I guess it's appropriate that we have this, since we're going to the Church of Unitology, he thought as they jogged out the door.
That sounded like a terrible place to be right now, but Isaac was there. That begged the question… why? Her first thought was that he still struggled with his insanity, but he'd already be dead if that was the case. Must have known something they didn't. She hoped they arrived quickly enough to find out what.