Dead Space: Zealot

by PyroFox117

AU. Sequel to "Dead Space: Ascetic". Titan Station has been overrun by the same force that consumed the Ishimura. Curtis and Nicole may be the only people who stand between the Necromorphs and the annihilation of humanity. They'll slice and dice their way through the Sprawl, helping friends, meeting a man thought dead, and being pursued by something... alien. OC X Stalker!Nicole

9. Knife in the Dark

Hey, everybody! Welcome back; hope you've all been well. I'm doing all right, especially because I am done with my summer classes. Those really held back my pace, but I'm hoping to be more productive for the next several weeks.

I had a great time writing this chapter. The fights, frights and other usual things were satisfying, but the special topic for me to tackle was how religion can so often fall victim to greed. I've never shied away from that, and I hope that I have some insight as a Christian in modern America. It's sort of difficult to genuinely do that in Dead Space, considering that Unitology is meant to be a parody of Scientology – which is a complete scam – rather than an actual religion. However, I've been to enough megachurches which don't accurately portray the message of Jesus that I feel comfortable making my critique. That being said, I hope I don't hammer the point so hard that it becomes annoying.

Many thanks to CelfwrDderwydd, Kaijucifer, zetashark and Guest for reviewing. Also, you may have noticed that there's a new cover image since last time. That'd be the work of CelfwrDderwydd, as well; he's a great artist who is deeply committed to this story. Not only that, but he also created whole pages of Altman's Journal in preparation for this chapter! All of these can be viewed on his DeviantArt account, which has the same name. Really wish this website supported links. I describe some of them in detail here, so they'll probably help the reading experience. Really, he's a fellow architect of the series (quite literally, since he wrote the Dead Space: Beast spin-off), and I don't know if I could do this without him.

3 Hours, 15 Minutes Post-Sprawl Outbreak

Nicole felt relieved to find the small lobby of the Church that served the lower-class (which was most people) of Titan Station in pristine condition. No blood, blade marks or other signs of battle scoured the walls. No corpses were piled in the middle of the room. It didn't reek of rot. Nearly all the lights still functioned! It was as if the carnage outside did not exist.

Without anything wrong, she and Curtis had no reason to remain, despite the temptation to remain somewhere relatively safe. Walked past the help desk and into the bowels of the facility, feeling more "at home" the moment she saw insane writings scribbled on the floor.

They knew they needed to go "up", even if everything else remained a mystery. Easier said than done, for the Church was more than a place of worship. It resembled an enclave, not unlike the Concourse. Just from seeing advertisements on her computer, Nicole knew it to possess endless amenities: a museum, gift shops, a gym, restaurants, libraries, and much more, in addition to the rooms which could be expected in any other building. And areas of worship, of course.

It revealed the ugly consumerism of Unitology. She didn't think there was anything wrong with having those things, but the emphasis placed upon them betrayed more of an allegiance to extravagance than devotion to the Marker. Despite Curtis being agnostic, she believed he exemplified more spirituality than what the Church promoted. His work ethic and simple life reflected a humbler vision than the people Unitology showed the most favor to.

Thank you, her husband thought, his cheeks warming. We don't have a choice in how we live, though. While true, he still wouldn't have flaunted his cash if he were wealthy. There was a time when he would have, but not anymore. Same deal with you.

Indeed. She had been a doctor, and Isaac an engineer. While not obscenely rich, they had enough money to afford luxuries outside the grasps of many. The blue blood family that disowned her was far wealthier, so she'd already taken a big step down in society. Now, though, she had nothing but love… and it turned out to be enough. In living a step above poverty, she found that she, Curtis, and the passion they shared gave her enough to exist for. So many things could have made it better, yet no one had everything.

Being anathema to the worst instincts of Unitology didn't hurt. Funny how even the Necromorphs, with their lack of personal possessions, turned out to be better examples of temperance. She thought about this a lot. However, this wasn't the time for navel gazing; they had stairs to find!

Turned out to be harder than she expected. This section of the Church didn't seem connected to the rest. Maybe because of the way the Concourse was constructed? Or perhaps they missed something obvious without a map. Regardless, they searched high and low without finding any hints of a staircase or elevator. All throughout, though, Corruption continued to creep and grow along the ground, made of whatever skin cells and human hair sloughed off without notice.

The air grew colder as they crept forward, finding more and more dead ends. That was, until the two reached a certain door. She cocked her head, for the surface was coated in a familiar substance with the texture of rubber. This was insulation – she recognized it from medical freezers that preserved blood and organs.

FUNERARY WING

The crimson ink did not instill positive feelings. Nor did the hum of other minds waiting beyond. This was a crypt. Bodies of deceased Unitologists were kept here to await Convergence… and maybe moved elsewhere. Still didn't know whether "mausoleum ships" were real.

The place would be a locus of activity as the dead reanimated and scattered to the four winds. They might have even hastily assembled one of their camps or communes here, though if so, it'd break the moment any Necromorph caught wind of them.

Neither she nor Curtis wanted to enter. As they knew from experiences, morgues were bad places to visit during these circumstances. That was the only way forward, though, and the fate of the universe might have hinged on them going through the graveyard. She just hoped they didn't regret this.

The two threw their shoulders against the door, which broke in one try! To her relief, the insulation doubled as makeshift soundproofing, for nobody and nothing noticed what otherwise would have been a noisy entrance.

The temperature dropped a dozen degrees when they landed atop the broken barrier, barely bruised. Probably not as cold as Curtis experienced in the fusion reactor, but still chilly enough to freeze tissue. Human tissue, anyway; such temperatures proved harmless to her. Necromorphs didn't require water, and their flesh was slightly elastic, so whatever was in her solidifying wouldn't matter. Nicole and her kin would be spry as ever during a fight.

They got up, finding themselves in a room composed of row upon row of upright tubes, each containing the remains of the faithful. Cryogenic storage had been replaced long ago by stasis technology, which was easier to use and risked fewer accidents. The system probably used both, though the former was easier to see in action. Regardless, this setup must have been optimized for dead people instead of the living, who were usually the ones preserved for long periods.

There's no point standing around, Curtis thought as he pulled out the Line Gun and briskly strode forward. She followed, and both hoped to get through quickly. Though maybe we should fire off a couple shots now and let them know we're here.

That's not a terrible idea, but I think we're better off pressing forward. That way, they'd be able to get the drop on the Necromorphs and have an advantage while they scrambled to deploy. Making themselves known early gave their foes the edge. Curtis conceded to her, as she was the expert on her own kind. Still, she operated as much on instinct as facts, for she wasn't a master strategist. They just needed to listen to each other and hope everything worked out.

Thwak! Thwak! An ugly noise became louder the deeper they delved, echoing off metal. It sounded like an aluminum pipe being slammed against a rock. She knew from psychic grumbling that its source was organic rather than a malfunctioning machine. She told the others a little farther away not to help – they had better things to do, and she wouldn't waste their valuable time serving the Marker. It almost gave her pause. Necromorph unity was a beautiful thing to behold when they weren't bringing out the worst in each other. At times like this, when there was nobody around to hate, Nicole wished she was still part of them.

If only they didn't want to destroy everything and everyone she knew in the name of "love". That hypocrisy was what made them abhorrent. It wasn't their fault, though. The Marker's will was almost impossible to break free of. Only one other Necromorph managed to escape it on the Ishimura, and only because of constant pain. It took a profound loss or revelation to slip the sickly-sweet dream the Marker offered – a dream that kept them bound beyond death.

Well, the two were never going to sneak past everyone. They braced for a fight in this frozen Hell before stepping around the corner. The room opened ahead, and they spied its single inhabitant.

A Fodder in a parka had been pinned to the floor by a cryo/stasis coffin. Most of her lower half had been pulled free, but she kept hammering at the technology keeping her feet trapped. Hammering with… um… combinations of wrenches and picks. Those are Maintenance Jacks, Curtis informed her. Not really a heavy-duty tool, but I see them used in the mines sometimes.

Now, they were pitted against a couple tons of iron. From her equipment and position, Nicole knew that she wasn't dead before all this. Probably a maintenance worker down here that got caught under collapsing debris. That changed nothing, but it showed more than true believers were down here in the dark.

The Fodder's head turned toward them, revealing her nose had been bitten off. Between that and the shroud, she resembled a mummy. Dead eyes locked onto them, and it took a moment for the truth to dawn. When it did, several dozen other Necromorphs snapped to attention. Screaming from deeper in rattled off the walls.

Curtis shot the Fodder's right arm off in a burst of plasma that warmed the air and melted ice – but not before she brought one of the Jacks down on her trapped foot. Easier to amputate than to lift the debris. Then came a move Nicole didn't see coming: enhanced muscle chucked the remaining Maintenance Jack at them!

The blunt end nailed Nicole in the chest, and she stumbled back a few feet. If it had been the wrench end, she'd have been impaled. Probably not fatal, but it would have been unpleasant. The impact made her talon squeeze the modified trigger of her "Plasma Cutter". The bolt went wild, nailing a pipe in the ceiling that sprayed coolant across the Fodder. If she meant to do that, it would have been a perfect shot. Still, it gave Curtis a chance to pick the Maintenance Jack up with kinesis and return it to its owner with enough force to take her left leg off.

That was the end of her, though reinforcements arrived before she hit the ground. A lot of bodies thrashed about, but none were too big, so she was pretty sure –

The confidence was knocked from her when the opaque glass next to Curtis exploded in a shower of shards. A woodwind wail rang out, and a Divider pulled itself from the wreckage. Nicole knew more were around, though she hadn't been able to pinpoint them until that moment. It made complete sense, though; the Marker's signal reanimated these corpses by itself, so Infectors needn't go around and break all the caskets open. Not all were "alive" yet, which gave them even more incentive to finish this quickly. Curtis twisted his body to put the Line Gun on its axis and fired a shot straight down the middle, turning the stickman into charcoal.

Escape was usually their preferred method of ending things, but that wouldn't work here. The Necromorphs would alert others if any were left, and then the entire building would be onto them instead of this one localized cluster. They needed to kill everything.

And kill they did. With ruthless efficiency. With honed skill and incredible reflexes. With the miens of two people who were better at hacking off limbs than anyone should have been. As usual, it was a blur for both as they got into each other's heads and coordinated at the speed of thought. The Necromorphs did the same, and they did it adequately. However, they just sprang into existence. They were not fully acquainted with what their new bodies could do. They trusted each other on instinct – but that wasn't a substitute for the connection she and Curtis possessed.

Had to give them credit, though; even when their brothers and sisters were nothing more than rolling heads or smeared across the metal, they kept fighting. There was still a chance to rip Curtis in half or gouge out Nicole's four eyes. It was not to be, though. The last frosty corpse fell to her Cutter, sending another mind – another soul – into whatever awaited them.

If there was an afterlife, the Markers and their masters cared nothing for it. They reaped flesh, and it mattered not if spirits happened to be trapped inside. She hoped the Judge of morality, if any there was, showed mercy. In their own way, they were martyrs for a cause so much bigger than any one person. It may have been a goal she would die to prevent, but it was still what they believed… even if that belief was thrust upon them.

Curtis crumpled to his knees, and she didn't do much better. Hard-fought victories came with scars.

Her husband inhaled sharply as Somatic Gel knitted his chest back together after a serrated blade penetrated his RIG and slashed across his pectorals. A muscle in his neck, probably the sternocleidomastoid, had also been pulled. Her flesh bore cuts and burns, though none of her limbs had been detached. That was always a pain to deal with. The two rested for as long as they dared before getting up again. When it came to relentless endurance, Curtis may as well have been a Necromorph.

I guess you're right, he thought while cringing. Even if she meant it in a good way, she supposed there was no wording that'd make it sound positive to him. Hey, I'll take what praise I can get, he weakly joked, though she felt a tug at his mouth. I'll bet no other Necromorph has ever said such nice things.

Though he tried to lighten the mood, she'd legitimately wondered the same thing. She knew from the memories of the hive that other species around other suns very rarely forged Bonded pairs. However, she couldn't say whether those unions of living and dead possessed the same romantic relationship they did. It was interesting to think about the lingering shadows of those who tried to stop Markers… and failed. Still, Nicole told herself that none of them must have been as desperate as her and Curtis. At least in this galaxy, humans (and this new creature that suddenly appeared) were the last ones standing.

They hurried forward with the knowledge that no more awaited in the immediate vicinity. She did not believe the cell here had a chance to alert others in the Church, since they were taken by surprise and destroyed before getting a chance to spread the word.

Patches of ice almost formed armor on her as they paced through the mausoleum. Though not very tall, it was wide and deep. It made her muscles crawl to ponder how many dead were down in the dark. Thousands of bodies… they'd have had no chance if the rest already reanimated instead of a couple dozen. That process already began, as she detected more burgeoning psyches stirring in places they already passed. We must almost be out.

To Nicole's relief, a door came into view the moment she thought that. It was identical to the one they entered through… including being ripped down. She could not have cared less at that point, just wanting to get anywhere else. Her feet detached from the floor when she stepped through, which jolted her for a moment. Most areas without gravity warned about that ahead of time. Maybe so few people came down here that it wasn't deemed necessary. Not like Unitology allowed government safety inspectors to check.

I think we know why it's like this, at least, Curtis commented as he glanced at the sarcophagus being held by robotic arms in the center of this new chamber. He knew because she knew; somebody who didn't work with the sick or dead would have been lost by the mechanical excess that tugged the catafalque back and forth. Well, that part must have been because something broke, but machines ferried the dead and those in suspected animation because it was cheaper than making humans perform manual labor.

A similar system was in the Ishimura's cryonics department, which separated them from Elizabeth for a time. It was great when it worked, but things got silly – at best – when it didn't. What worked well for rocks and garbage did not necessarily translate to organic beings. An aperture opened in the ceiling, and a gravity beam moved another box into the room. Countless instances floated against the back wall and farther down, though she knew from one hanging open that they were empty. There must be dozens of them up above. Nicole wondered whether the Church always possessed such a surplus or if they increased their stock to celebrate the apocalypse that they helped usher in.

Another hole in the ceiling snapped open, shutting almost as quickly. It looked strong enough to crush a boulder. Curtis sighed. Even the way up wanted to kill them – though at least they finally found one! The next time that happened, he used stasis to buy them a few seconds. They darted above the feuding arms, only to be slowed to a slog by the beam of gravitons trying to force them back down. The push wasn't strong enough to overwhelm them for long.

Pushed through the gap right before it snapped back into tempo with the rest of reality. She felt like there was a metaphor about "the belly of the beast" or something to be made, but she cared little for such pithy sayings.

The first thing she noticed once they wrenched themselves free of the tractor beam was that she'd been wrong about the number of coffins. More like hundreds than dozens. Rows upon rows were pressed against the cylindrical wall higher up. One got selected every few moments and was shot down to join the rest. There must've been thousands before the system started to freak out. AI problems or not, though, she spotted a platform with a door attached.

Finally, Curtis thought as they dodged a final ballistic sarcophagus. His mind dripped with relief; there would be plenty of problems, but at least they found a way into the place! One step closer to finding Isaac. They touched down on the mesh catwalk, which looked just the right size for a casket.

It was easier to move bodies when they weren't dead weight.

"'Dead' weight." Good one. She didn't mean it to be a joke, yet she saw the appeal. Gallows humor. Now you're just messing with me.

Me? Never. Even so, her mandibles pulled into what almost felt like a grin. Let it never be said that Nicole Brennan lacked a sense of humor… especially now that things almost looked up.

3 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Sprawl Outbreak

OK, good, we didn't get sucked into space, Curtis thought as the door opened. He stepped through, happy to feel gravity holding him down again. The hall they entered continued to the left and right while curving forward, creating a horseshoe shape.

He took one branch. Nicole took the other. It turned out not to matter when he looked at himself through four other eyes. They ended up in the same place: a funeral parlor. Based on the framed pictures of an older man, flowers (fake, of course), and scented candles, it seemed the place was being used when the Necromorphs attacked. The body, however, was gone, replaced with a bloody smear in the inert stasis coffin.

His eyes went from the casket to the pall to the wide hallways they'd just traversed. Right after the service, the body would be hauled a few feet into the Zero-G crypt and stored with the others that awaited Convergence. Morbid, but it made sense that a place dealing in death made their system efficient. The Universal Awakening came to the Sprawl, so those preparations were not in vain. Well, except for the fact that he and Nicole demolished a good chunk of them. Those ones wouldn't inherit the eternal life they sought.

Did you ever go to funerals for your patients who died? he asked as they walked through the pews. She shook her head.

Never. It would have felt wrong to involve myself in their personal lives – and deaths. Curtis understood that; she was their doctor, not their friend. Besides, it would have taken so much time out of her busy life and career. He'd never been to a funeral, either. With neither family nor friends before recently, why would he have? Nicole put a claw to her chin.

Actually, there have been exceptions to not getting involved, she ventured. A couple times, I treated people with similar patterns of bruises and broken bones. They always said they fell down the stairs, but I'm a good enough doctor to tell when contusions and fractures come from repeated blunt force trauma. Curtis' eyes widened, for he'd experienced such things directly. Long ago, but the pain sometimes lingered. I directed them to resources about domestic violence and told them to get out as quickly as they could.

That was brave of you, he replied.

No, it wasn't. I could – should – have done more. Not just for them, but for everyone. I still don't know how, but my work and my oath can't end the second I leave the office or operating room. She raised her Plasma Cutter. I'm doing that now, though. Better late than never.

That goes for us both. They emerged into the rest of the Church. Aside from the architecture, it was almost the same as the other places they'd been. Smoke and death lingered in the air, and the lights went dark.

He heard the faint noise of gunfire from somewhere distant. Those mysterious soldiers put up a Hell of a fight. It was only a matter of time before they fell to biological bombs or bony blades, but the team fought better than most EarthGov soldiers. And, perverse though he felt for taking advantage of it, they distracted other Necromorphs in the building. Tempting as their greatest foes were, they seemed more interested in larger groups of targets. Perhaps that would give him and Nicole another few minutes of grace.

The elevators were down, and it'd be tough to find stairs in a place like this. Unlike the Concourse, he didn't see any maps. That made sense, as parts of the building were restricted. Non-members couldn't go a lot of places, while Enigmas were able to travel anywhere. Not many of them, but he suspected there were more on Titan Station than almost anywhere, given the Sprawl's opulence and history of support for Unitology. They wouldn't host the annual symposium here otherwise. Unless you have any ideas, I think we have to wander.

She was at a loss, so they got to walking. Carefully, of course; his hands were always on his gun. However, despite this place being a hotbed of Necromorph activity, the lack of vents made him feel safer than usual. They couldn't use their most common ambush route. Unless one smashed through a wall, they should have been protected from flanking.

Until they entered a large room ringed with ornate reliefs. Still, Curtis couldn't complain about the space. Corruption had a tougher time consuming wide-open places than cramped corridors, so there were not any patches of the meat biome for him to jump over. What he didn't like was the smoldering hole in the wall where the door used to be. It hit him that this was the entrance that the unknown goons blasted through with heavy ordinance.

Maybe we should have waited until they dispersed and slipped in this way… Easy to say with the benefit of hindsight.

A major crossroads like this was a bad spot to loaf around. Something could come through at any moment. They hurried through, though a gift shop near the entrance caught his eye. Not for anything in the store, but because of the heraldry gracing the side. Once he saw it, he saw it again and again. The statuary stared at him without eyes.

There were probably dozens of different teachings hidden in plain sight, visible only to the few who knew what to look for. Didn't care about any of those, though; only one ran loose on the station. On their way to the other side, they passed a decorative wrought-iron gate, the like of which Curtis had never seen. The craftsmanship was more impressive than he expected. My name's "Mason"; I should know a thing or two about architecture, he wryly thought. Captain Malyech once said something similar.

They entered another room, this one full of wrecked furniture. Wooden furniture. The real stuff, he could tell from Nicole sniffing the grain. The fact that parts of it rotted into brown, knotty tendrils gave that away faster than scent. From pews to couches, it happened on everything in the posh parlor. Good thing most of the property they'd seen so far had been metal. Curtis only hoped this stuff became part of the Corruption.

He'd dealt with many terrors, but a Necromorph chair would make him have a heart attack. Like the Ishimura, the Sprawl had little in the way of robust plant life – houseplants like Larry were about as impressive as it got – but Earth would have tree Necromorphs stomping around if a Marker wormed its way there. There would be bigger problems if that ever happens, he thought, turning to Nicole. Though she found this interesting, there was no time to do anything more than take passing glances.

Up there. She pointed to a door on a balcony. Hey, it led to somewhere else; that was enough for him!

They pressed deeper into the Church over the next several minutes. If Nicole wasn't here, he'd have been forced into insanity a dozen times over. Voices in his head would have torn him apart. Didn't know why he indulged that… the whole space just seemed wrong, though. The walls pushed on him more than any mine's. The architecture was otherworldly.

These tunnels were mostly abandoned, though they were always vigilant for Necromorphs. Even with Nicole's psychic early-warning system, the Church was as dark as pitch, so it was difficult to tell. They didn't see any for sure; it was a couple of "maybes", always at a distance.

They entered the museum where Curtis came to see the artifacts the Church displayed. Nothing remained except scuff marks on the floor from believers desperately trying to save their greatest relics. Not everyone was lucky enough to have portable kinesis modules. Not all Unitologists were fanatics (most of them probably had no clue the undead monsters were the afterlife they believed in), yet it piqued his interest that some of them put the wellbeing of objects over their own. That wasn't part of their doctrine – it was the all too human desire to protect one's belongings, the same kind he saw demonstrated with discarded luggage on the trams.

I guess it's a little easier when you barely have anything, Curtis remarked to Nicole, who lightly snorted. Necromorphs had that instinct burned out of them; the only reason she took what she did was because of how useful it could be. Then again, she wasn't sentimental to begin with. Not with objects, at least.

From there, it was back into the unknown. They passed holo-projectors spitting out the equivalent of abstract art from being bludgeoned so many times. The garbled shapes meant something was supposed to be transmitted, though. That's why it didn't surprise Curtis that they encountered a reading room/library. The door, like many others, had been pried open, allowing them to see within.

Curtis had gone most of his life without reading a tangible book. Hell, he could count those he did on one hand. Don't worry, I've read enough for us both, Nicole thought as she pushed through the gash in metal. Yeah, physical books were more her thing, and she had to keep on top of medical literature for her job. She still preferred them enough to order them from shipping services. If he bundled both their lives together, Bonded as they were, he was quite the bibliophile. That was another word he learned from her!

He craned his neck up to find the ceiling, but there wasn't one. Not for several stories, anyway. The cylindrical room stretched upward, linked by a spiral staircase that spanned the whole thing (as well as an elevator in the middle, but that was out). He'd never seen this many tomes in his entire life, but being able to ascend so many floors at once was what really excited him.

He took a step towards the stairs, but then he stumbled. Caught himself with his hands before facing a dead man. Not undead, just plain old dead. He gasped and jumped to his feet; he'd seen his share of death, but he could still be surprised. And in this case, it was all around him.

The floor was riddled with corpses. Their ebony robes blended in with the polished black marble, which was why they hadn't been obvious. The scent of decay was powerful enough everywhere that it didn't stand out to Nicole. More than just being dead, these people wore familiar masks. Nicole had the smaller version of it in her pocket, but these were the real things: silver, seemingly eyeless (though there were little holes to see through) and elongated in the back. Curtis stepped back, trying to grasp what happened. The bottles of poison sitting around offered a good enough answer.

Maybe this was a specific cult or sect within the Church that venerated this alien above the Marker. The creeping madness and peer pressure might've enticed them into making the choice. Perhaps the death-ritual was something else entirely. He didn't know. I've got no clue, either.

As his vision scraped the floor, he noticed one more detail. A metal slab with Marker symbols lay on the floor before them. He could only assume it was chanted before they did the deed. Fortunately, an English translation was offered.

Mighty Herald, descend from on high,

To bless us humans, doomed to die.

Enfold me in thy sweet embrace,

And purge me from this mortal space.

Take my flesh and take my soul,

And by thy will, I'll be made whole.

Raise ye up those who've believed,

For unity shall the faithful receive.

Judge my acts, and judge my life;

If I am worthy, then take me from strife.

Angel of Altman, I implore,

Make me whole forevermore!

It was a secret supplication, kept bundled in mystery and obscured by eons and rot. Bit of a mangled metaphor, his wife joked. Curtis rolled his eyes. She once called him "a poet", but that didn't mean he always had the right words. Speaking of poetry, whoever penned the prayer didn't impress him too much. Eh, I think it's all right.

It clearly addressed the alien, though. They must have believed this creature only ascended the "worthy" through death. Everyone turned out to be eligible for that fate. In that sense, it was no different from the Necromorphs.

Curtis paused as he heard a familiar squelching behind him. Nicole did more than that; she felt it in her brain. Distracted by everything around, she didn't notice as this cousin or sibling snuck up on them. Not until it injected its bile into the first corpse. Nicole spun around, scrambling forward and tackling it off the body that rose from the floor.

They faced a newly minted Slasher. Its new arms burst through the black robes while its old ones remained locked in front of its chest in a gesture of supplication. Its head slumped to the side, and the mask along with it. They sized each other up for a split second while his wife and the Infector tore each other apart.

Before he knew it, his Line Gun was drawn, and the Slasher jumped at him. Muscle memory let him dodge before the blades came down, but one gouged his hip, eliciting a pained grunt. A scream would have torn out of his throat if the wind wasn't knocked from him. A little Somatic Gel would fix it; he hadn't hit his limit.

Whirled around and fired his weapon, which took a chunk out of the monster. Or did it? Flowing robes obscured its gaunt body, so he didn't know if meat was mixed with the charred fabric! It went for another low blow, which Curtis was ready for this time. He fell back as it lunged forward, swords raised above its head in a way that looked unnatural after his thousandth time seeing the move.

Two blasts of precious plasma chopped its arms off at the shoulder. The sinew holding them to the rest of the body crumbled, and it fell atop him. Curtis heard the gnashing of teeth as it tried to bite him through the mouthless mask. Quickly fell silent as the Marker's energy drained from its broken body.

Panting, he raised his bleary eyes to look at Nicole. She needed no help, having just torn off the Infector's haustellum and gutted it down the middle. Four golden specks looked his way once the jaundiced bat stopped twitching in a pool of its own bile.

Curtis pushed the cadaver off him, and Nicole extended a clawed hand. His leg burned as he stood, so he hastily fished a Med Pack from his pocket. Applying the cream brought relief and peace of mind. The Necromorph pathogen may not have been able to infect living bodies, but other germs could, especially with how the Marker weakened the immune system. If Necromorphs failed to kill people, a cold eventually would. Nicole also needed a dollop to mend superficial cuts on her arm. Those might also need stitches to fully reattach the limb, as it looked a bit limp, but her faculties remained intact. Between the two, they polished off the bottle.

Then they stood in the silence, listening for the rage that might come next. It didn't happen in the crypts because Curtis and Nicole gave the Necromorphs no time to reach out to their fellows. The Infector might have thought to do that before sticking its tongue into the carrion. For several seconds, he stood with bated breath as sweat dripped down his forehead. Waiting.

A distant scream resounded in his mind, and then in his ears. Through Nicole, he felt 10,000 wills turn in their direction. 10,000 bodies, too. More or less. This small fraction of Titan Station was double the Ishimura's Necromorph population at its dead-est. They couldn't fight so many. They couldn't fight a single percent of them.

The two sprinted up the stairs as fast as their legs allowed. Curtis, obviously, was slower, so Nicole yanked him along, not caring how many stairs he tripped up. The world spun as they ascended the spiral, yet the ceiling only seemed to stretch farther away.

They burst onto the top floor, barely slowing. Curtis hit his head on the banister as he rounded the bend, but he barely felt it through the adrenaline. Fear caught up with him; he wanted to vomit. He faced mortality every minute for the last several hours. It never got easier. Only remained sane because of the steady hand of someone beyond life and death. In his own way, he offered the same service to her.

His head shot from side to side, hoping that there was a way out instead of being a dead end. Thankfully, there was an exit onto this higher floor. However, that wasn't the part to seize his attention. That would be the bloody glass box with an ancient text tucked inside. Its brown cover would've been utterly unremarkable had it not also been the source from whence the final religion sprang. Supposed it made sense that it'd be taken to the library, though a special vault would have been safer. Not that he complained.

He ran to it instead of the exit. Its case leaned precariously against the guardrail; it would've tumbled over the edge if not for that. Forgot about the book with everything else happening, but it might prove vital to him and Nicole. The believers who guarded it during the apocalypse put up a Hell of a fight if the broken bookcases and scorch marks on the carpet were to be believed. They fought to preserve something sacred. How ironic that the Necromorphs – the result of the Marker's "blessing", whether they realized it or not – couldn't have cared less about it, only the fleshy things nearby. If the Golden Marker was smarter, it would've torn it to shreds.

You hear that? Curtis thought at the self-proclaimed golden god. There might be a way to stop you forever in there, and you didn't burn it when you had the chance. To say this upset the Marker would have been a gross understatement. It replied in deafening curses older than the Earth, and even the distant Necromorphs yelped from the feedback. The whiplash and blood trickling from his nose was worth it, though.

Curtis didn't know if anything useful was within. Perhaps it'd be gibberish or rote analysis. Maybe the Church lied about it being here for that goodwill tour, instead showcasing a blank replica while the genuine article was kept in a compound back on Earth. But he had to believe something Altman wrote 300 years ago could turn the tide of the plague he unintentionally helped release. Besides, he had no other options. EarthGov knew how to build Markers now, and its fragile existence hinged on their secrets. He doubted even this debacle would put more than a brief moratorium on their development.

I ALSO BELIEVE IT HOLDS CRUCIAL INFORMATION.

The Black Marker knew better than them, since information stored in its systems for millions of years was blasted into Altman's head when he interacted with it. Things even the Marker forgot over eons, transcribed for all to see.

The artificial glass may have been strong, but his RIG was stronger. His fists hammered away. Curtis had been certain that Unitologist snipers hid in the museum's rafters, but they died alongside everyone else. Nicole joined in, seeing the potential value of the thing. The only defense left, it seemed was the security alarm.

The klaxon, which sounded unsettlingly like the foghorn noise the Marker made whenever it spoke in his mind, blared the moment his fists and her claws cracked the casing. One burst only stopped echoing around the atrium when the next blast began. The entire room was abuzz with sound and fury. His helmet dampened it somewhat, and Nicole's eardrums were sturdier than a human's, but it still disoriented him.

A final blow broke through, and his hand flew through to snatch the journal from the stasis/kinesis field before the container tumbled over the edge. It felt odd as his hand lagged behind the rest of his body; even the electrical impulses it sent to his brain were slowed. However, his fingers wrapped around the prize before the glass box fell. A few seconds passed before he heard the thing shatter below them. Curtis glanced at the treasure he now held.

Not very big; perhaps 200 or 300 pages. And not turning into a monster, either. Paper, though made of wood, didn't seem to be altered by the Marker signal like the furniture they encountered earlier. Nicole informed him that, though organic, the plant cells were destroyed in the papermaking process; all that remained was cellulose derived from the cell wall, which was not enough to convert into Necromorph tissue. The faux leather band that held it closed also seemed to be uninfected, though the stasis field might've slowed down the process.

I can fit it in the same mylar bag as the hard drive, she assured him, already trying to take it out of her pocket. It'd provide protection from physical attack and environmental dangers.

Though they had no time to lose, Curtis couldn't resist thumbing through the pages of the sacred text. The fact he held it was nothing short of amazing.

The first couple pages seemed normal, if written in fancy cursive that he needed Nicole's expertise to read: Altman worked for a mining company called DredgerCorp in the days before the CEC usurped the industry (though DredgerCorp still hung on in a diminished capacity).

Using maps of gravitational anomalies charted by the Central American Sector's geological division, it seemed he found something strange in the Gulf of Mexico… yeah, Curtis knew all this from cultural osmosis. Some parts of the story must have been snipped from Unitologist canon, though, such as Altman's research partner, James Field. There was an urban brawl player with that name, coincidentally. More intriguing was a woman named Ada Chavez, whose name popped up several times. She and Altman seemed to be very close – maybe the Church didn't want people to know their "prophet" had a girlfriend!

I RECALL HER. SHE WAS KIND.

A flash of a woman's figure filled his mind. The way the Marker "saw" the world was grainy, but he got enough. The monolith looked back on those as the "good old days" before the madness programmed into it took hold. Except for him and Nicole, these people were the closest it ever had to friends. And, through no fault of its own, it killed them.

Things sharply took a turn for the weird, though. About a quarter of the way through, English was supplanted by Marker runes. These weren't scrawled all over the place in fits of madness, though; they were written in straight, clear lines. Curtis remembered that some Unitologists used a one-to-one substitution of select glyphs for the Latin alphabet in their texts. It obviously had no relation to what they really meant (Nicole came to the revelation that they represented an altered version of the human genetics that transformed people into Necromorphs), but what he wrote was important enough to an encryption, primitive though it may have been.

Alongside these notes were sketches of the Black Marker. Close-range, pulled back drawings, internal diagrams from after a small chunk was carved out with a diamond-tipped blade. His patron recalled that last one; it had the "scar" to prove it. There was even a rubbing, where Altman pressed the paper against stone and wiped it with a pencil. He pored over this tome against his better judgement. Nicole snatched the book from him, for it would only matter if they survived. Before she did, though, he saw a drawing that made his skin crawl.

It was a collection of several different shapes, all depicted in solid black, as well as a system of writing that was neither English nor Marker script. Most of them meant little to him and Nicole, but two parallel pieces clearly evoked the alien's elongated cranium. Still, their eyes were drawn to the form in the center. It was somewhat similar to what they feared. Except it was bigger.

A lot bigger.

Nicole stuffed the object of his obsessions into the pouch. Now he had no excuse to not take her hand and run. Still, he couldn't complain; they made significant headway into the building before being caught. The Necromorphs would have to keep looking for them, too, lest they slip away. Barreled through the door, seeing silhouettes dance at the ends of the hall. They reminded him of the Shadow Man, filled with vitriol and vengeance.

As happened many times before, they had no choice but to run like Hell.

3 Hours, 45 Minutes Post-Sprawl Outbreak

Your foot's in my face, Nicole thought, which made her husband move his appendage. Slowly, though; couldn't have her cousins hear.

She twisted her head, allowing the two eyes on her right side to see through the crack in the floor. Dozens of her kind stalked above, trying to find them. The two put as much distance as possible between them and the irate horde before tearing open the ground and diving into the crawlspace below! Then she smoothed it out as best she could and hoped it was enough. She had a hunch that this space had an area under the floorboards, based on the hollow sound her feet slapping against it made. The grav-panels were below them still… and the force of attraction increased with their proximity. Nicole was 50 percent heavier than she had been a few feet higher, which was another sign people were not meant to be here.

A garbling murmur began above them, which made Curtis' stomach triple in weight. Oh no. They already would have been found if they hadn't learned how to better shield their thoughts and fears from the rest of the hive.

Space blurred through the fissure, tinted slightly blue. Her mind was inundated with thoughts faster than most minds, living or dead, could process. Twitchers may not have been the biggest or toughest soldiers of the Marker, but they were the scariest to Nicole. Nothing matched their inhuman speed. The only things to be grateful about were their rarity and the fact their senses were no better than the rest. Curtis still held his breath.

Slowly, the Necromorphs wandered away, internally grumbling. They'd be on patrol now that they knew enemies were about. Nicole and Curtis needed to be even more careful. Difficult to believe Isaac survived in this maelstrom, but she held out hope. He made it before, even with his mind crumbling. He was strong enough to do it again.

I hope you're right, Curtis thought. He was more focused on the pile of writhing goo, which slowly crept closer to his head. Corruption may not have been too prevalent above, but it grew like a weed in this dark place. Only through blind luck that they crawled into an area of the undercroft without gunk. That'd remain true no longer than a few minutes. Regardless, she felt safe enough to roll onto her back and slowly pry the "roof" open with her claws. A lot easier now that they'd already cracked open the metal.

Yeah, we're good. Nicole jumped out before helping Curtis up. Let's hope we don't have to do that again. After cracking her neck, she looked around to figure out where they ended up.

Unsurprisingly, they didn't know. The surroundings possessed the same odd architecture they'd almost adapted to. Hadn't gone down any levels, though, so the only thing left to do was keep looking for stairs. The song and dance quickly got old, but she didn't see any other way with the elevators down. Then again, they must have needed clearance to reach higher levels that way, so it wouldn't be a panacea.

If only they had more time. More people died with every passing second, which was exactly what she and Curtis feared. To her, finding Isaac would always be worthwhile… but the people who died weighed heavily on her. No guarantee destroying the Marker here was going to save anybody – they still wouldn't be anywhere near it even if they hauled ass toward GovSec the moment they reunited – but at least there'd be a chance. Curtis cocked his head her way. We know he's here, and we're already in deep; leaving now will mean we did nothing when it counted. True, she couldn't afford to second-guess herself now. Besides, you deserve closure after that telepathic Hell you harrowed.

"Closure" implied that Isaac was dead, and… Who am I kidding? She put her exposed skull in her clawed hands. She and Curtis knew Isaac lived as of an hour ago, but that didn't mean he still did! Throwing herself back into the hive mind was the only way to check again: something out of the question. What if this was for naught, and people died because of her insistence?

Her husband had no good answer. He could only begrudgingly admit that, if anyone survived, their lives would be awful. They'd be thrown into prison, maybe experimented on. At absolute best, they'd exist with the burden of knowing that humanity may well have been doomed. Cruel as it sounded, maybe these people were better off dead. Nicole didn't believe that; every life had value, as she (and he) knew from her career. But if she were in someone else's shoes… she didn't know.

She almost felt grateful when a Necromorph came along to take her mind off things. A single mind entered her psychic range, so it should have been no trouble to take out before it alerted everyone. Quickly, though, she realized something was wrong. Couldn't put a talon on what, but it was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Might be worth checking out, Curtis ventured. She agreed. Briefly crossed her mind that it could be a trap, yet she quickly dismissed that idea. Whatever happened to this guy could not be faked. They'd seen Necromorphs convincingly play dead. This would be like spoofing a 105-degree fever.

A minute later, they walked into part of the complex that seemed homier, in the sense that it sported posters on the wall, and the scent of fast food hung in the air. There was even a shag rug in the center of a small rec center! What, are we back in the 2470s? Curtis, having studied Unitology for a while, believed it to be a rectory for the Sprawl's monks and clergy. Those who devoted their lives to the Marker dwelled here, studying the teachings of "Altman". Nicole was not impressed. Though being cloistered must have been difficult, it looked like they didn't lack for much, which made her wonder if this was more akin to a fancy hostel. She lived a much more ascetic life than these people. Still, no point judging the dead.

She tracked the turbid mind to a room housing a co-ed sleeping area. Very similar to the Ishimura's, with double-decker bunk beds pushed from wall to wall. Several were still occupied, but they would not be getting up until they rose from death. Her target, however, already rose. He just couldn't stand.

The Slasher rolled on the floor, eyes darting from place to place without cause. No thoughts pulsed through his mind except ones of confusion. She and Curtis stepped forward, discarding all caution when it became clear that he was too addled to notice. Alongside him was another puddle of the chemical slime they saw before entering the building. That made Nicole suspicious.

They stood over him as he swirled in a circle, blades lazily threshing the air. It reminded her of those fish they saw earlier milling around their tank. His mouth even flopped open and shut as he spun. They stood in complete bafflement. It was as if he'd regressed into an infant, though that was impossible. Children who became Necromorphs were just as capable as adults. She gave him a light kick in the leg, which did nothing more than activate the dormant patellar reflex.

It… resembles late-stage bovine spongiform encephalopathy or kuru, she thought, raking her memories for everything she'd ever learned on obscure medical diagnoses. Most doctors required the Transnet and multiple hours to perform such a feat, but she'd seen a lot of crazy stuff in her career.

What are those? Curtis was naturally curious about her hypothesis. Not just because of the specifics, but also because Necromorphs didn't get sick! No infections targeted the dead except for microorganisms associated with rot, and even those were kept greatly stunted by the Marker.

They're prion diseases: illnesses caused by misfolded proteins in the brain degrading white and gray matter. She shared secondhand images of wasted sheep and cows from books she studied in residency. They're unique for being totally incurable, always fatal, and the only diseases caused by agents that aren't alive in some way: proteins are just molecules, unlike bacteria or viruses or fungi. Sometimes proteins misfold because of hereditary genetic abnormalities, but most ancient people got them from eating meat already tainted with prions. Curtis listened with rapt attention!

Prion diseases were incredibly rare in the modern era, thankfully, given their perfect mortality rate. Despite the vast swathes of people inhabiting the galaxy, the price of meat meant it was rarely eaten. Among that which was, almost all was grown in labs and petri dishes; even the most unsanitary of those wouldn't suddenly develop prions in the same way that bacteria didn't spontaneously generate. She only knew of them through historical records and a single case she worked on early in her career, back when she was more of a general physician.

The patient was a young woman with a familial history of Gerstmann-Sträussler-Scheinker syndrome. She knew based on her own symptoms – dysarthia, ataxia and memory loss – what developed in her brain, but she wanted to confirm that with a physician, just to be sure. Nicole would have been stumped if the woman hadn't told her about the disease. They consulted several more times over the next couple of years to discuss quality of life improvements or hospice options; Nicole wasn't sure if the illness could hypothetically be cured, but the sheer rarity of prion diseases meant no pharmaceutical corporation ever tried. Where was the money in it? And then, one day, she never came back.

Curtis became equally confused based on what he learned, and he thrust himself into solving the problem. Nicole firmly believed that any citizen could be a scientist, too! If nothing else, his extra brain power would help crack the puzzle.

Then that should be impossible right? For one thing, this Necromorph has only been around for a few minutes. The Slasher rolled onto his back and put his arms under him to try and push up, but he pathetically fell down a second later. For another, it – he, sorry – doesn't have a brain anymore! Even if he did, it sounds like this kind of thing takes years to incubate, not minutes.

Correct. Again, this was a time when she wished she had a microscope, if not an entire lab, in her pockets. RIGs weren't that advanced… yet.

Still, she had a few clues from the scene of the crime. Those began with her own foot; given that she kicked him and betrayed no symptoms (thankfully) indicated it could not be spread through physical contact, at least for short durations. After all, this issue must have manifested immediately, given the short amount of time he existed for. Secondly, that weird slime from the front entrance was here again. Could that have something to do with the affliction? It didn't seem like a direct cause of the delirium, since she was still unimpeded, but there might be a correlation.

Most interesting to her, though, were the nearby bodies. The hole in the Slasher's head told her he had been reanimated by an Infector instead of the inexorable passage of time. That meant the Infector hadn't bothered with the rest after seeing what happened to this guy. Curtis went to check the other corpses the moment the thought crossed her mind. Both simultaneously flinched when he got a good look. They assumed these people committed suicide like the alien cult in the library. However, it appeared that the creature did the dirty work itself. The same unusual claw marks lacerated their bodies. Given that all of them appeared to be resting, it must have been quiet, too. That detail made everything click.

If that creature killed the man he used to be, she realized, gesturing to her "brother", then some part of its physiology disrupts the Necromorph pathogen. It didn't work on those who had already been reanimated, since that Puker remained lucid after its close encounter. In other words, humans killed by this monster came back as near-useless vegetables.

Given that prions were not biological, it made sense that the Marker couldn't turn them to its own ends. Of course, she couldn't call it a vaccine, either. Given that the Necromorph pathogen was so weak on its own, this alien counteragent might be easily neutralized by the human immune system or wear off with time. Alternatively, it could have been too powerful and killed people outright! Curtis looked at the liquid on the floor. In other words, she believed that ingesting the goo on the ground in the hopes that it would keep him from turning into a monster was a terrible idea.

All right, you've made your point. He shuddered. Well, that'll be something to consider if it scratches me. Seeing that it was a complete killing machine, though, she doubted either of them would escape its grasp if caught. Anything else?

I don't think so. In that case, Curtis raised his boot while she looked away. Much as she tended to abhor euthanasia, it was a mercy in this case. His feeble mind blipped away. Wordlessly, they moved on. Didn't take long until they found a spiral staircase leading up, which they greedily climbed. The thin metal and gravity lessening as they ascended signified it was old. Probably not in the best shape, either.

Once they reached the top, though, it turned out to be worthwhile. Not only did they gain serious altitude, but the view was its own reward.

A little platform peered into the void, showing the splendor of the universe. Saturn's rings stretched before them. The stars burned brightly. A comet passed… or maybe it was a distant ship patrolling the station. Speaking of which, the station itself was no less impressive. And it was a Hell of a lot scarier. She didn't know what exploded below, but the pillar of smoke evaporating into oblivion told her it must have been serious. Spots of fire cropped up, fueled by substances that were able to burn in a vacuum.

It'd worsen over the next several hours as more systems failed. Good news for the Necromorphs, since they didn't have the life support requirements of the living. Fireballs would still incinerate them, though. The contrast between beautiful and horrific made the view that much more captivating. The crown jewel of human opulence came to an end in fire and fury.

She and her husband were scared. That only made them lean more heavily on each other. Her claws slipped through Curtis' fingers. He wanted to take his helmet off and plant a kiss upon her scalp, but there was no time. That didn't stop her from longing for it. Sex wasn't on Curtis' mind (though that could change), and it meant nothing to Nicole after she died. But being here, now, with so much at stake… she wanted to tear his RIG off and fuck his brains out.

Curtis coughed, surprised – and a little turned-on – by her vulgarity. After this was over and he took a shower, they'd get a bed, a bottle of alcohol and mood music. For once, she'd be the one who took initiative.

Come on, let's try to get to the top. Honestly, she wasn't sure which one of them thought that.

A sputtering cough pulled them from their reverie. Guns snapped to attention as they pivoted to meet the sound. Nicole reached out to pinpoint its source, finding nothing but Corruption. It was human. The two glanced at each other before padding forward. It didn't take long to find the source.

Some shape weakly stirred in the hallway, and an almost imperceptible moan reached her ears. Nicole crept forward with her superior vision, finding a bulky shape with its stomach torn open. Seemed to be inflicted by her own kind instead of that creature. Given the bulkiness, she wasn't sure what sex the person was, but it didn't matter. Their left hand clutched an old M41 Pulse Rifle that she only recognized because of Hammond. Odd choice for someone otherwise so prepared. It sounded like thousands of rounds had already been burned through, though, so this might have been the backup.

Curtis flipped the Line Gun's flashlight on. This gave them a better look at the mysterious soldier, gore and all. She didn't know what to make of them except that they were the exact opposite of EarthGov in many ways.

Their armor was pitch black, as opposed to the bone-white RIGs marines wore. Even the Oracles dressed in white. This might have been better for blending into the darkness, though she wondered if there was more to it. The head was also unique, seeming to possess a built-in faceplate; couldn't even guess at its purpose. Instead of a visor like most RIGs, it only had two little slits for the eyes. While some EarthGov armor used the same, these were even narrower. Reminded her of the goggles ancient people near the north pole used to prevent snow blindness – back in times when there was snow.

Other than that, the only other detail she noted was the lack of detail. There was no name badge, no rank insignias, no indication of who this person was or why they were here. Like Oracles, they were enigmas – and not the Unitologist kind!

Another moan escaped the person's lips, reminding Nicole that they didn't have much time to search the most important part. She squatted down and applied Somatic Gel to the organs that sloughed out of the abdominal cavity. The stuff couldn't heal this kind of damage, but it might be able to relieve pain in these last moments. It might also buy a few more seconds of life to poke around during, though that wasn't why she administered mercy.

The head slumped as she fiddled with the holo-projector interface. Those narrow "eyes" stared at her, unblinking. There was no indication the person behind them saw her, considering their imminent death. She hoped they didn't; it might make passing on a tiny bit less scary. Of course, they – or some semblance of them – would be back soon enough. Curtis twisted back and forth, keeping an eye out for the monster. Just our luck that it's here instead of anywhere else on this big fucking station.

Nicole shivered and returned to work. It felt gross to go through the files, like graverobbing someone who wasn't quite dead. Hundreds of text, vid and audio logs were sorted into a dozen folders: typical, since the storage space on most RIGs was enormous. Made it almost impossible to find anything, though. The erratic heartbeat and labored breathing she heard from pressing her head against the chest told her she needed to be snappy. In desperation, she looked at the files recently opened and chose the one at the top. Hopefully this tells us something about the one-man army here.

The holographic text log blipped into existence, and she almost regretted that wish. Knowledge was not always easy to live with.

FROM: WEYLAND-YUTANI CORPORATION TITAN STATION HEADQUARTERS

TO: TEAM GREEN

SUBJECT: "PATIENTS"

Thanks to assets embedded within EarthGov, it is known that Patients Two, Three and Four – Nicole Brennan, Curtis Mason and Isaac Clarke – are still aboard the Sprawl. The whereabouts of Zero, One and Five have not yet been ascertained. All are of great value; if any are encountered during your primary mission, it is imperative that they be taken alive. Administer sedative (or, in the case of Patient Two, copious physical restraints) and proceed to the outer hull for extraction. Use whatever means necessary to eliminate hostiles, be they human or otherwise.

Addendum: XX121 has been tracked to the Public Sector. Much as the Company would like to have it returned alive, that is not a realistic option. Neutralize with extreme prejudice, and attempt to recover the remains. The people responsible for this debacle will be dealt with. The Callisto Project is always in need of new subjects.

She and Curtis needed to pick their jaws off the floor after digesting the memo. Another powerful collective wanted them dead or captured. It made her want to bash her head against the wall. Weyland-Yutani had a PMC division, but she never suspected these soldiers could be theirs. Though cutthroat, she hadn't thought corporate warfare to be their style. But that paled in comparison to learning that the company wanted its lost "pet" back.

The clues came together, and she didn't like where they went. Not one fucking bit.

Weyland-Yutani owned this XX121 alien, studying it for some reason. Easy to believe the biggest company in the universe wanted to pry apart the genetic code of the only extraterrestrial ever encountered. In the chaos of the dead rising, it escaped confinement. Of course, being a natural enemy of the Necromorphs, it mowed them down, which led it to the Public Sector. Now, Wey-Yu wanted its property back… in a box, since capture wasn't feasible.

And it wanted them, too. Almost easy to overlook the fact that the megacorp knew who they were. Wondered how they learned Isaac was at the Church, but she supposed subtlety was not his forte. Which is more shocking, Curtis mused, this or learning that the Red Marker was manmade? She didn't answer that, instead trying to discern positives in this morass.

The good news, if it could be called that, was that she doubted any other outside force possessed the resources to find that out. EarthGov, Weyland-Yutani and Unitology were the only three connected enough. She also supposed it was good that the monster's bloodlust extended to everyone. Otherwise, she didn't see much to reassure them.

It didn't matter, though. Reading Isaac's name again gave her more hope that she'd find the man she used to love. He was here, and they'd get to him!

The commando seized, which made both her and Curtis jump. Then they fell back, causing even more blood to ooze from the hole in their stomach. This information would be lost forever in a matter of seconds. She extracted something from her coat: a thin strand of wire.

Thanks to the fiber-optic cable, they'd be able to read it again. Some called Nicole a genius, but she didn't possess an eidetic recall! Gabe did this trick with Curtis a couple hours ago, and she thought it prudent to bring one to repeat it. She jacked one end into the commando's port while the other went into Curtis'. Come on, we can at least get this log!

Indeed, that was the only one they could. A flatline split the air the instant the next file began to transfer. The RIG died with its wearer, which was a common security measure. The more surprising thing was a miniature explosion on their back after the mechanical wail subsided. She flipped the nascent corpse over to see what caused it.

A smoking hole had been blown in the right clavicle, which went through to the bone. This area housed the tachyon-generating mechanism on advanced RIGs. The residual blue glow confirmed what happened.

Clever. Very clever. Wey-Yu couldn't prevent its people from dying or becoming Necromorphs, but it could stop them from turning into Twitchers by putting a dead man's switch into the stasis modules. Upon dying, the system fried itself. Probably meant to give Wey-Yu's own people an edge, but it helped them, too.

Nicole got up, still feeling as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on her. Only thinking about that creature distracted her from the knowledge that Weyland-Yutani joined the list of organizations wanting to put them under the knife. Curtis found himself drawn to the same dire thoughts, leaving them in a realm of mental misery. That was a downside of being Bonded. They amplified each other's emotions, which sometimes led to downward spirals. Not that it wasn't warranted in this case…

But we must be close, she told herself. The footprint of floors shrank as they climbed, meaning they neared the apex. Less space should have meant fewer places to hide, yet that turned out to not be an issue. Not with most Necromorphs they came across dead. Fresh plasma marks and shell casings told her that Isaac and at least a couple of the Wey-Yu soldiers made it that far. She felt several dozen minds above throwing themselves against these implements of death. Far more surged from below after them, but Nicole and Curtis could outrace them. Of course, that invited the question of how they and Isaac would get down once they reached the top.

Rounding a corner snapped her from gloom. Only after blinking her four eyes could she quite believe what she saw. Normally, such disbelief was reserved for terrible things. This time, however, she was awed by wonder.

The circular chamber was decorated with reliefs and artwork that put the rest of the building to shame. The level of attention to detail was almost incomprehensible; it'd take hours or days to absorb everything. Crystals on the floor scattered light into a rainbow. Said light came not from artificial sources with the power down, but through stained glass windows on all sides. They told the phony story of Altman in pictorial form, something the Black Marker again objected to. Still, the alien rock also seemed wowed by what it saw through them. If that didn't say how impressive it was, nothing would.

She believed this to be the inner sanctum of the Church: the heart of faith on Titan Station. Only the most important (i.e., richest) Unitologists would be permitted into the shrine. The rest could only hope they accrued enough capital to one day worship in this place (if they knew it existed at all). They padded through the room, soft footsteps made much louder by the vaulted ceiling. Throughout, she craned her neck to get the best possible look at the details. Curtis' head faced forward, which was enough for both.

She saw an advertisement in one of the gift shops claiming that all the glass in the Church was made of the sands of Io, a former moon of Jupiter that was the second world to be harvested by the CEC after Titan. That was a way to be opulent rather than any aspect of the faith. Half the world must have been smelted for this room! However, the most beautiful aspect to her was the chandelier hanging by a single chain. She assumed both to be standard iron or steel, but Curtis gasped and informed her that it was forged from platinum. Precious metals were far less precious than in prior centuries with entire planets being torn apart, but a gigantic candelabra made of the stuff must have still cost an arm and a leg.

Nicole had to admit that she was stunned. Impressive as the rest of the facility was, this room may as well have been a piece of some heavenly city that fell into their universe.

You think Sam would've liked it here? Curtis asked as they crossed the chamber.

Yeah. Loath as it made her to admit, the most impressive 30,000 square feet she'd ever entered spoke to her as an artist. The designs could inspire her future work. She built a life outside of being a Necromorph, even if said life was little more than a presence on the Transnet. That mattered. It also made her hit upon an unfortunate notion. How many of my fans are EarthGov or Wey-Yu or Unitologist shills trying to get information on me?

Doubted it was that many; it wouldn't take more than one or two people to pore over her art for hidden messages that she hid within – which she didn't! Tried to weave complex themes into her art, yet that hardly meant she sprinkled in hints about impending doom… though, come to think of it, maybe that would've been a good idea. She wasn't the most famous illustrator in the universe, but she liked to think she'd built up a reputation over the years she'd hunched over her drawing tablet. Out of tens of thousands of subscribers on her feed, the vast majority of those must have been people who gave a slight amount of a shit.

A metal slab smacked her in the face, and her claws shot up in shock! Only took a second to realize they weren't under attack. No, distraction made her walk into a wall. Her husband burst out laughing. Took her a moment, but she ended up chuckling, too. Though she didn't have dopamine or serotonin anymore, his was good enough. It helped that she couldn't feel pain; otherwise, that might have stung! Reminds me of how we met, Curtis said, thinking back to going to her office on the Ishimura with a bleeding forehead and rubbernecking at her for good measure.

Yeah, but at least I don't need stitches, she countered, crossing her arms.

Low blow. She rolled her eyes. Nicole could do this all day, but they needed to get around the wall that decked her in the jaw. On closer inspection, it was actually a door. A locked door. A locked door with a huge dent in the center that meant it could never be fixed. Something must have slammed into it hard from the other side to distend metal like that. It was nothing her meat hooks and plasma couldn't solve.

A snarl from behind made her whirl around in a perfect motion. Seven or eight particularly intelligent minds connected with hers. Glowing yellow dots stared at them from behind the room's many pillars, all filled with acrimony. The fleet wasn't far behind, so it sent its swiftest members on an intercept course… which meant they didn't have any Twitchers. Hats off to Weyland-Yutani for blowing up their stasis modules. If only EarthGov possessed that kind of rugged insight. If the Stalkers couldn't kill them, they'd buy enough time for the rest of the Necromorphs to arrive and finish the job.

We need to take them down. Not easy with plenty of cover and them trying to stall. Her best idea was to face forward while Curtis bashed through the barrier. She had the aim and reflexes to hit these targets.

Another shadow darted across the room. All right. What was one more? This one, though, had no aura of hatred emanating from it. She felt nothing, which meant it wasn't a Necromorph. Oh no. Her fears were realized when it pounced on the most distant Stalker. There was nowhere to run that'd satisfy her "flight" instinct. Putting her shoulder to the door with Curtis would only get this thing's attention. She stared, transfixed, as the monster tore into her helpless sibling. He thrashed about, trying desperately to escape, as the alien crouched atop him.

Toyed with its prey in the same way cats played with mice. Quickly ripped both of her brother's arms off, though. That was the end of him.

Then, still partially shrouded by the column, it turned toward her other siblings, who were also frozen with fear. With no thoughts but sheer terror coursing through their rotting veins, they did something Necromorphs nearly never did; they ran from a fight. Fled back to the army that stormed up the stairs. Even this thing would be helpless against the hundreds of soldiers that came, so the bulk of the forces remained on their warpath (albeit a little hesitantly). Sheer numbers would take it down.

Whether the alien understood this, Nicole had no clue. It was an animal. A smart animal, to be sure, but she now firmly stood by that assessment. Then again, Necromorphs also seemed like animals to humans, who could not peer into their internal worlds. Didn't know which was worse. The thought of it killing out of indifferent instinct was just as scary as murderous malice.

And it continued to exact that function.

One Stalker, slower than her kin, found herself caught by the ankle. Despite the room being relatively illuminated, it knew how to keep to the darkest parts. Instead of the strong scream that defined their phenotype, she made a squeak of utter helplessness. What she felt within was even worse. She begged Nicole to save her from the black thing that hoisted her up.

Please, don't let it do this to me! she yelled upon being hauled into the rafters. Fought with all her might, but it was not nearly enough. There was nothing to do but stare. Nicole's sister hated her because of the choices she made. Even so, Nicole would have saved her if given the chance.

A shriek reverberated through the physical and mental planes, echoing long after it really ended. The cracking of bones came from above. Her sister's body parts rained down in the center, and the head lilted in her direction. The eyes – the three left, anyway – still glowed. This was a horror vid that came to life. She dared to glance back at Curtis, who worked feverishly to cut through the door. The metal was covered in scorch marks, and some started to melt from the storm of superheated ions bombarding it. Didn't matter that he'd burned through half their ammunition trying to open the thing, he just needed to do it!

Going as fast as I can! His fingers trembled with each pull of the trigger.

I know, babe.

A low growl warbled through her bones, which made her feel like pudding. The ultimate predator was here. It swung to the floor with barely a sound.

She finally got a good look at the thing that tore a path across the station. Almost made her collapse. It… it was like something out of a child's nightmare. The same could be said about Necromorphs, but still. Even without the instinctual fear this thing evoked in her, it was scary.

Standing on its hind legs, it was about eight feet tall. Not massive – the largest Necromorphs, like Brutes or the Graverobber, were bigger. It seemed the size of a mountain, though. The wound that bled acid less than an hour ago completely healed. Couldn't regenerate as quickly as a Hunter, yet it happened much faster than for humans. Its claws were sharp enough to cleave through bulkheads like butter, and the tip of its tail, which idly flicked around, looked even keener.

Despite being scrawny – skeletal, even – she saw well-defined muscle beneath the skin. No wonder it could go toe-to-toe with the Necromorphs, who were pretty much all sinew, themselves. There were also structures which didn't seem to be muscle. Looked like tubes or wires, including the four big ones on its back… they must have been part of its body, but they evoked an oddly mechanical look. Just like her art style often did. The cranium stretched halfway down its back, and the whole thing sparkled as much as any piece of glass now that it was in the light. Regardless of all that, she was a little surprised the first alien ever encountered was even recognizable.

The Necromorphs (mostly) looked like humans because they were human. This creature evolved on a different planet in a different solar system. Hell, it might've been from the surface of a star or comet or formed in the depths of space! The fact that it came out with arms, legs, a torso and a head impressed her. Still, despite it having some traits in common with terrestrial creatures, it was unlike any animal on Earth.

If she had to pick one, though, she'd go with a scorpion. As with most animals, there weren't a lot of them left: she'd only seen them in zoos and biology textbooks. Some species possessed the same shiny, black exoskeleton, claws (albeit very different from this thing's), barbed tails and a chemical defense system. All of which were about to be turned against them as Curtis continued to carve through. I just need a few more seconds!

It snarled again as it pawed at her erstwhile sibling's head. "Lips" raised to reveal steel teeth. Really, the organism looked oddly metallic. Then it raised its head to observe its next targets.

Well, mostly her. Curtis was practically an afterthought, though there was no doubt it'd kill him, too. Despite her abject terror, the scientist within her pondered how it detected them without eyes. Highly developed senses of smell or hearing? Feeling electric fields like some species of fish? Sensing minute differences in air pressure as objects moved?

"Shoot it!" Curtis screamed, about ready to snap.

"I can't!" The hypothetical image of a deadly acid cloud caused by plasma tore through both their heads. It melted through flesh and steel alike and ended with them as puddles. Didn't know if that would happen, but it was very possible.

With that, the alien dug its claws into the ground and flung itself forward. 200 feet and a couple of seconds separated them.

Time slowed. Both her lives flashed before her eyes. The memories, good and bad, unfurled in a tapestry. This had happened once or twice on the Ishimura, she was sure… but now she had lived even more. Despite being dead, she was more alive than ever. And she was going to make sure this monster couldn't take that from her.

She looked to the sky, from where salvation came in old myths. To her shock, those legends turned out to be true. There was something up there that could beat the monster. A silver bullet… or, in this case, a different kind of valuable metal. Her Plasma Cutter flew up while the monster charged. Now that it was just the three of them, it decided to abandon subtlety.

Three shots cleaved through the chain holding the chandelier to the ceiling. May have been hard, but Curtis was right about it being ductile. The unwieldy size of the decoration meant the creature couldn't dodge as it crashed down!

The alien shrieked as the massive piece of metal pinned it to the ground. The impact cracked the floor, sending the gravity panels into a panic. White beams of gravitons sucked it down more, compressing it flat against the ground. Sadly, they didn't utterly blow up their enemy into a shower of green gore. Sure, it'd be an acid bath to anything nearby, but at least that'd be the end.

It wasn't dead, though. It barely even seemed hurt by a blow that should have inflicted serious damage. However, it was dazed long enough for Curtis to finish carving the hole. He squeezed through before she dove into the opening and hauled ass. The Necromorphs reached the room behind them, and they'd ram the door with enough force to break the remainder.

From what Nicole saw as she raced past, this chamber might have been a reliquary for the belongings of Unitologist saints. There were a lot of boxes and vaults that suggested it, anyway. Otherwise, it didn't seem too different from the last. Both were places for the elite to worship in ways the serfs never could. She wondered if any of Altman's other possessions were here. There was no time to check; even if so, she doubted any mattered as much as the one they stole.

She knew from the roars and wrenching of metal that they were close. Maybe they had a 15-second lead if they kept full tilt running. The final flight of stairs was just ahead, though. As they rounded that corner, though, satisfaction turned grim.

Charred rubble blocked the steps from floor to ceiling. Bits of metal fell from the crumbling structure. It took only a moment to realize this was Wey-Yu's doing. After all, one of their sappers detonated explosives that blew the church building's front doors off their hinges. Now, they did the same thing to cover their tracks. Entirely possible that they utilized low-grade explosives to break the last egress, as well.

Curtis easily could have cleared it with kinesis if they had time. Needless to say, they did not.

Her head shot back to witness the frightening tidal wave that rushed at them. The alien ran along the ceiling, which distracted her kin. Zombies and an alien. What else? Angels or demons or frigates from some ancient war might burst through the fabric of reality to get at them, too!

It seemed hopeless. How were they going to get out of this?

Well, I do have one more idea… Curtis ventured while looking at the elevator doors.

4 Hours Post-Sprawl Outbreak

Curtis climbed for his life as sounds of rage rang out below. A couple of Lurker barbs got him in the back and drew blood, but that seemed to be the worst of it. Didn't have a Crawler hanging off him or a Divider head atop his own.

So far.

He didn't need to cock his head back to see behind him; Nicole's vision from a couple stories above worked just fine. What he saw through them was a cyclone of blades and bone. Hundreds of the things were in the shaft, all climbing atop each other or mounting the walls with their claws. The lower gravity in the elevator shaft made that feasible, though it was high enough that he couldn't use thrusters.

As for him, he clung to the central elevator cable for dear life while Nicole fired her weapon at anything that moved. The wall was too far away to use his grav-boots for an assist, so he kept putting one clammy hand in front of another. Only 20 feet kept him from his wife. One hand in front of the other, he reminded himself. Nicole did something in his brain to make the burning in his biceps more bearable, but he nearly reached his limit. Needed to rest…

"I'm out!" Nicole shouted, clicking her tool in frustration. She leaned over the ledge with a spindly arm outstretched to catch him when he jumped. Something brushed against his leg, and the reflex made him kick down with the force of a piston. So many bodies tried to drag him down into their horrific embrace. He struggled against it with all his might. That needed to be enough; it always had been before.

He heard sizzling over the roars and other clamor. Through Nicole, Curtis saw that a Puker at the bottom of the shaft vomited acid on the coaxial he climbed. This one must have been particularly dumb if it thought cutting the rope from below would stop him from going up. It's still attached to the ceiling, idiot. If anything, it'd become harder for its own "team" to reach them. The second-most powerful corrosive in the universe melted through steel strands. Didn't know what it expected to happen when the last fiber –

Curtis let go of the cable as he was flung into the air. Nicole called his name across the Link on his way up. For his part, he felt rather outfoxed. Didn't need her half-second physics lesson, though it helped explain why he currently flew.

The cable was stretched very tightly to do its job. That potential energy was released upon being severed, which sent the cord – and him along with it – rocketing back with restoring force to regain equilibrium. Perhaps safety mechanisms were present to prevent this whiplash in the event of an elevator failure, yet if so, they failed with the rest of the electricity.

He reached the apex of his ark, coming within a foot of the shaft's ceiling. Could've reached out and touched it if so inclined. Then came the part the everyman appreciated: what went up must fall down. Plummeted headlong into the pit of death. A thousand of his greatest enemies groaned in excitement, ready to peel him like a banana. Their claws extended as they all reached to be the first to impale him.

He wouldn't have made it without her.

Nicole grabbed him with those impossibly strong arms as he rushed by, leading to a sudden stop several dozen feet over the raving mob. Her limbs almost wrenched out of their sockets, but her frame held together. Half of her body hung over the ledge; only her feet being anchored to the floor by her claws kept her from slipping.

The Necromorphs wailed at what had been taken from them and began to climb again while more barrages of Lurker quills launched their way. Some dug into Nicole as he climbed up her, and he could only be thankful that they were among the least effective weapons in the undead arsenal. It must have been difficult for the Marker to engineer ranged attacks from organic bodies – there was only so much force that muscles could put behind flinging something.

A burst of bullets tore up the wall next to him as he pulled himself onto the platform, which made him jump in alarm! Not for himself, but for whoever was dumb enough to wander into this Hellish pit.

"Get out of here!" he shouted while helping Nicole out of her awkward position. His stomach sank as he peered over the edge. The Wey-Yu commando whose RIG they plundered for information was back. The legs may have been bent backward, but it was almost entirely human otherwise… right down to the gun in its hands. They didn't break the Pulse Rifle. Why would they? Until now, the closest he'd ever seen to a Necromorph using firearms was the Exploder – whose arm literally immolated upon being damaged!

In hindsight, it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. The Markers were smart enough to reverse-engineer stasis technology into something that could speed up time rather than slow it down, which was a feat beyond human capabilities. It had no problem with Fodder using common items as melee weapons, so one using guns was the next step! Another round of… well, rounds pinged below them after a sluggish reload.

The only positive was that the thing's aim sucked; might've been able to inflict some damage if it was able to hit them! You make fun, but it will quickly learn, Nicole warned. They always do. Yeah, and the body's memories of being able to shoot a gun might help the cadaver relearn the process it used to know. Only thing left to do was give it a name.

Let's go with "Shambler". Something about the name evoked the classic zombie trope that most of the others lacked. It looked slow, and it sure acted that way. Then again, it could afford to be when it had range no other Necromorph came close to. That very important piece of work done, it was time to leave.

A Fodder lunged up and grabbed Nicole's waist, pulling her into the dark before she could react. She may have been fast, but she still stood on the precipice of an abyss. Without a thought, Curtis unleashed stasis on the two right before they vanished from view. Then he hurried over and pried Nicole free from the greedy claws of death.

She wouldn't have made it without him.

She thanked him for the assist in the slurred drunkenness stasis inflicted. Neither put too much thought into it, though. This was nothing new. Besides, partners helped each other out. Maybe not in the same way "normal" couples did, yet the spirit of teamwork was alive and well.

He shot a few power cells from the Line Gun down the chute, primed to overload and explode in a few seconds. A feeling of fear shot through Nicole and into him. The Necromorphs scattered before the fuses blew. That'd buy a few more precious seconds. They looked around.

The wall ornaments, which, again, were mostly carvings of Markers, seemed to be made of solid gold, for one thing. He retracted his helmet and bit into one of the projecting reliefs, something that took Nicole aback despite how long she'd known him! Hey, this is an old prospector test; gold is soft for a metal, so biting leaves tooth marks if it's the real deal. Sure enough, he saw outlines of his molars in the aurum, so it must have been pretty pure. His wife learned something new, which didn't happen every day!

Other than that, the most important aspect was the view. This was the top, all right. The sun had set the last time he saw outside, but they were now so high that the landscape changed immensely. The tops of skyscrapers were beneath them, with only the needles and antennae going higher – he never realized just how tall this was. The sun peeked out from behind GovSec, which they faced, and Saturn loomed large in the background. Despite being nearly a million miles away, the sheer size of the planet made it appear much larger than Luna did in the skies of Earth. Almost like he could have reached out the window and grabbed it.

The screens and billboards, including the particularly huge ones covering the concave end of the Sprawl, had gone dark. Either the power had failed, or Tiedemann decided there was no longer a point to broadcasting his orders; the few people alive were unable to comply. Most interesting, however, was the Ishimura's stripped-down skeleton. It waited in drydock along the second Crossover Tube. Ironically, it may have been one of the safest places! Couldn't imagine there were many people on it when everything started going down. Or maybe he was just nostalgic.

He could have gone on, but the detonation that rocked the room was a wakeup call to bail. There wasn't anything out there that they hadn't already seen. Besides, Nicole was distracted by something new. She sniffed the air and then put her nose to the floor as they ran. And he was weird for biting gold, eh? The snark vanished when he picked up the scent along with her. Someone had been through here moments ago. Someone familiar.

"Isaac?!" Nicole exclaimed as they ran up a ramp and rounded the final corner. Sure enough, she glimpsed a human with his hand on a door. He whirled around and fired a shot from a Plasma Cutter (sure had a lot of plasma weaponry between the three of them), but she dodged it with ease. Harder to stop was her momentum, which carried her into her former boyfriend; they toppled backwards as the threshold opened.

Curtis reached them, finding both on their knees hugging the person they used to love.

Isaac's helmet was retracted, letting him know this was their friend instead of a very confused stranger. He may as well have been a stranger after so long. Still, time's ravages hadn't aged him a day. Managed to obtain an engineering RIG practically identical to his old duds. The man seemed sane, to Curtis' great relief. "Sane" was relative in a universe where giant rocks raised the dead, yet he had no interest in hurting them.

"Is this real? Are you here?" His voice cracked like that of a much younger man.

"I'm here," Nicole said, breaking the embrace. It warmed Curtis' heart that Isaac interacted with his former love this way. There was no longer any fear in his eyes – he accepted her as she was (though that didn't mean he found her attractive again). "I've never stopped looking for you, Isaac. All this time, I've held out hope you were alive. And here you are."

"I – I haven't thought about you as much as I should have, but at least I remember you. And Curtis." He put a hand to his head, shell-shocked by everything. "It's all so… hazy. I spent a lot of time in stasis, I'm sure of that."

Curtis observed the apex of Unitology. It wasn't as grand as the previous wonders conditioned him to expect. Though this room had a giant window of its own, it faced away from the sun, so only pithy light made its way inside. Practically nothing except scuff marks on the metal floor. Whatever used to be there had been removed in a hurry. Through the transparent barrier, though, he saw something to remove them: a small spaceship, moored to the side of the station. The airlock to enter it was just ahead! This must have been what Isaac looked for! They could use it to fly to the exterior of GovSec. Reaching the Golden Marker would be grueling, but they'd be closer than where they currently stood.

Before he could speak, that airlock opened, and a squad of armored people poured out. Curtis' hair stood on end. He didn't know who they were, but he'd never been in a similar situation that ended well. Nicole was also on edge, not least because these people completely ignored her. Still, nobody attacked. Curtis and Nicole refused to shoot first. Therefore, a tentative stalemate prevailed until a woman stepped from the open passage. Well, the only reason he knew she was a woman (for her industrial RIG hid the body like everyone else's) was the cadence of her voice. A similar figure stood next to her, this one not uttering a word.

"Ah, Isaac. So glad to finally…" Her speech sputtered when she saw him and Nicole. Her head cocked to the side, as if eyeing a particularly fine purchase at a store. The Necromorphs and alien weren't the only predators around. She elbowed the figure next to her. "Looks like we've outdone ourselves this time."

"I'm sorry, but who the fuck are you?" Maybe Curtis could have stood to be more polite, but he had other things to worry about. Even that question may have been more than he needed to ask; the Necromorphs finished climbing the elevator shaft and quickly closed the distance.

"My name is Daina. Daina Le Guin. This is my partner, Tyler Radikov." Curtis knew he'd heard those names before, yet he couldn't recall where. Whenever that was, though, he remembered that the context wasn't good.

Nicole, keep your hand above your tissue laser. Her claws hovered above the "gun", ready to draw at the drop of a hat. He couldn't be subtle with his larger weapon.

"They promised that they'd be able to help me get out of here after I escaped from EarthGov," the engineer explained. Did they? Isaac turned ashen as her goons raised their guns. Nicole had hers up before they did. "Ah, fuck."

Curtis should have realized from the get-go that these people were radical Unitologists. They probably told Isaac some slick excuse to get him into the building. Not that he blamed Isaac for walking into a trap. Everyone clung to hope, even against their better judgement.

Now that he thought about Unitology, Curtis remembered how he knew of these two. During their time together, Karrie explained how she was recruited to sabotage parts of the Government Sector to unleash the Necromorphs. These were the two that hand-picked his friend for the holy task, promising her great things if she complied. In their view, being among the first to experience the rapture of Convergence was the pinnacle of devotion. For whatever reason, they hadn't cut their own throats to join the party. Hypocrites.

"Karrie told us about you," Curtis spat, trying to rub salt in her eyes, for all the good it'd do. "She escaped the station. Your body count isn't too impressive."

"Did she? Give her my best regards for helping bring all this to fruition." She mockingly put a finger to her chin. "Oh, wait. You won't be getting out. Just like you couldn't help millions of people here – tell me again how you were only able to help your friends." Words hurt more than weapons when aimed correctly, and Curtis cringed from these ones. She had a point; the people he and Nicole helped were ones they knew.

"You think you can stop us?" Nicole stabbed back, also telling him Daina tried to get in his head.

"We've heard rumors of your prowess, and being able to delay Convergence, if only for a few years, was impressive." Daina swept her arm around the room. "But look around. You're quite literally outgunned." A dozen Unitologist heavies. Three of them. Not great odds. These guys may not have been crack shots, but they wouldn't miss at this range. If they were going to die, though, they'd die fighting. Curtis took comfort in Nicole getting to see Isaac again, at least.

"What are you waiting for, then? Let's get this over with," he said.

"Don't worry. We're not going to kill you; you're worth too much for that. Our 'body count' will stay on the low side." Huh. Not the answer Curtis expected. That didn't mean they were being merciful. In fact, he was more unsettled by whatever terrible fate this high-ranking woman devised. "We're going to put you in stasis. As humanity accepts the Universal Awakening, you two will be living objects of worship. A human and a Necromorph, together as one.

Shivers ran up his and Nicole's spines. Each felt both. He imagined the last disease-ridden vestiges of humanity huddled in a starship somewhere, worshipping him and his wife as idols while the universe burned. Would they remain aware of what happened in death-like sleep? Would their dreams be haunted by chanted psalms? He'd rather die than be forced into that.

"As for you, Isaac… you're going to help us create more Markers."

"What the Hell are you talking about?" he shot back.

"Didn't you wonder why the government locked you up instead of putting a bullet in the back of your head?" Actually, yeah, Curtis pondered that. He figured the answer was a generic "they want to study him," but there may have been more to it. "They needed the information locked in your brain. The fragment of the Red Marker wasn't enough – they required your knowledge. Knowledge we now have. I believe this 'outbreak' will be enough to tip the balance of power in the galaxy from the living to the dead. If not, though, we can always have you make more."

But having a Marker, even part of one, is only a portion of what this goal requires. He remembered what the Oracles on the Ishimura said. To get there, we need to know what you know. What you saw. And when Curtis said they could have just asked, they replied that neither he nor Nicole had the language to tell them. The Black Marker talking to him so much, along with his Link to Nicole, probably messed his head up, too. He'd never submitted to the EEG tests Nicole regularly performed on Lexine, yet he suspected his readings would be just as strange compared to a baseline human's.

INDEED.

It said nothing else. What was there to? Well, except maybe congratulations for finding Isaac. However, the being felt confident that they'd escape this sticky spot. It was impossible to describe in words how he knew that. A sense of serenity marinated in the back of his brain, more primal than what he felt from himself or Nicole. That presence reacted to stimuli so slowly (except in extraordinary situations like this one) that he forgot about it most of the time. It kept its most intimate thoughts from them, but from what Curtis gleaned, the menhir was content with its lot in "life" as of late. It truly believed its chosen champions would save the human race.

YOU HAVE ALREADY ACCOMPLISHED THE TASK ONCE BEFORE.

That didn't mean they could pull it off a second time. Even if they did, the government knew how to build Markers. Unless their hat trick involved demolishing them all, it was only a matter of time before the end. Curtis appreciated its optimism, and he wished he agreed more often. Not really the time for existential dread, dear, his wife reminded him. True enough. They weren't going down without a fight.

Nor were the Necromorphs.

They slammed into the door with the force of a spaceship. The roars were loud, but the throbbing in his head was louder. The threshold must have been reinforced to not immediately buckle under the pressure. It'd only take a few minutes for them to slash or bludgeon or melt their way through. An epic battle needed to happen now, or else they'd all be the victims. And, hypocrites that these people were, none were interested in opening that door. They didn't want to embrace Convergence right then and there.

"I think we've spoken quite enough about this," Daina sneered. "Quickly, now; the servants are here, and I don't want them killing us by mistake."

The soldiers were ready to pop off shots; there were probably medical facilities aboard the shuttle so that they didn't die. I love you, he told Nicole in the blink of an eye. Just in case he never got a chance to tell her again.

"Halt!"

The proclamation, issued an instant before the pull of a trigger, was something Curtis never expected. Four shapes sprang from the shadows. There were many in this room, but he was shocked how well they remained obscured by darkness and the few pieces of furniture that must have been nailed down. It felt surreal, if not cinematic.

The circle of Unitologists that surrounded Curtis and his friends was now itself encircled (well, more like ensquared) by four people in familiar black RIGs caked in blood.

Ah. It turned out Wey-Yu followed Isaac this whole time. That made sense, though he questioned why the few who survived, though bloodied and beaten, refused to throw in the towel. Unitologists were driven by fanaticism, and EarthGov by the fear of losing their absolute power. What was their excuse?

"We represent Weyland-Yutani. Anyone who puts down their weapons – or turns them on these two idiots…" The person pointed at Daina and Tyler, so the company wasn't calling him or the people he cared about stupid. That… was good? "…will each receive a lifetime 25 percent discount on Wey-Yu products, a house on one resort world of their choice and a lump sum of 100 million credits. Should be enough to buy Enigma ranks."

The weapons slowly dropped as the grunts looked at each other, weighing their options. Was the promise of eternal "life" better than the relative paradise they could receive without dying? He'd wondered if money could break religious fervor. That question was now answered… though it took a lot more than Curtis could ever bribe his foes with.

"Morons! Will you really throw away everything we've worked for because these people say they'll give you a house?!" Curtis wondered with bated breath, too. Didn't know why; none of these people wanted to help.

Unitologists. Weyland-Yutani. Necromorphs. All scrambled to capture or kill the three most important people for a million miles. In a way, he supposed he should have been honored by the attention. Used to lament that nobody ever paid attention to him. Despite living in hive cities flooded with people, he was a mere statistic.

Well, he finally got his wish. He may have been the most important person in the galaxy. Everyone wanted a piece of him.

In the end, fame turned out to be overrated.

Light overwhelmed his eyes before his visor automatically adapted. This happened all the time; a ray of sunlight bounced off Saturn's rings, or a holo-sign on the side of a building flared. Neither explanation accounted for the gunship out the window. Oh. Curtis almost wanted to laugh. Right when I thought it couldn't get worse.

EarthGov, the fourth and final faction, entered the playing field. And they revved up the machine guns on the keel. Whoever flew the gunship, be they a general, an Oracle or some hapless grunt, decided the best course of action was to kill them all. He couldn't say he disagreed with a situation this perfect. He saw the face of death just a second before he was supposed to.

Curtis and Nicole hit the floor before the barrage of bullets burst the window, but nobody else was so lucky. The atmosphere was sucked through the collapsing wall; he was grateful to not hear death rattles, regardless of how despicable these people may have been. A couple were sucked out, and more were shredded by the relentless rain of fire. Gabe told him that bullets in space environments, like those in Pulse Rifles, were low-caliber; though that made it more difficult to pierce armor, it meant that they wouldn't take out a wall and get everyone sucked into space. One blew a hole in the floor next to his head, leaving a wound big enough to kill a cow!

His wife didn't care about any of that, instead looking desperately for someone even after all the lights died. It didn't take long with four eyes.

Isaac held tight to a piece of the ceiling that had been partially ripped away. Vaguely realized that meant gravity in the room also failed, but that hardly mattered. More metal tore off with each moment, leaving him clinging to a shrinking island.

Suddenly, the suction stopped. It wasn't a particularly large room, so all the air left in no time. Nicole immediately flew up to retrieve Isaac while Curtis stared at the carnage, still in shock. Almost everyone else was gone. Daina and Tyler had been reduced to freeze-dried chunks, and he saw people writhing in the distance who would never make it back before their oxygen ran out.

The bullets also sputtered out. Maybe the gun was jammed, or perhaps it needed time to reload. He didn't know how these things worked! Nicole snatched the man and flew back down. Through the window, he saw the Unitologist freighter had been blown to bits. The wreck floated away, so they wouldn't be using it to escape. They all turned out OK, though. Only one question – what the Hell do we do now?!

The ship fired again before Nicole replied to his rhetorical inquiry. At the same time, one hit too many blew open the door the Necromorphs wailed on. The chance to destroy their enemies must have been worth the price of getting sucked into space forever. The three threw themselves to the ground again, trying to press themselves flat as paper.

The irresistible suction began again. The dead flew over their heads in a tidal wave. So many reached down, but all came inches short of a successful mauling. It was a literal river of flesh, flowing into the abyss. A student of history would know something mythological to compare this to, yet neither he nor Nicole fit that bill. The most they could do was look in horror at the thousands of beings that marched to their deaths. His wife was particularly agonized by the hatred pouring from her kin. They loathed her enough to spend the last seconds of their "lives" trying to tear her apart. It mostly wasn't their fault. They only knew her from the venom their golden god spat. That didn't make it any less painful. Not with the voices in her head.

If nothing else, Curtis appreciated them blocking bullets. They would have been shredded by the constant fire without these things to shield them. What was intended to be a final rout made Curtis, Nicole and Isaac safer. Well, "safer" was a poor term when they had no way out.

He and Nicole put their heads together, trying to puzzle out a solution before the solid wall of meat petered out.

Isaac kicked him, which made both look at the man. Immediately saw why he did.

The fingers of his left hand gripped an escape hatch they hadn't seen on the way in. Made sense for this room to possess one: this was the top of the building, so there needed to be some alternate means of escape in the event of a fire… or a firefight.

Hold on! he shouted in his head. Not that Nicole planned on letting go. The two climbed against the wind until they clung to the same seam in the floor. Kinesis couldn't be used from this angle, so Isaac pushed his hands into the gap and poured all his strength into prying open the seal. Curtis quickly joined, surprised by how difficult it turned out to be. Must've been stuck!

Nicole came to their aid a moment later. Together, the three may have been strong enough to lift a small car. Muscles and machinery strained as they poured everything into one action. It was this or dying!

The hatch popped open, and Curtis flung himself through the instant it did, atmosphere blasting out be damned. The updraft of air being sucked out slowed his descent enough to not break any bones when he hit the metal floor several stories down.

He groaned, slowly sitting up. The first thing he noticed was that Nicole and Isaac stayed with him. The second thing was that they appeared to be in a storage area. Crates and pallets littered the floor, some covered in dusty sheets. Looked like the place hadn't been touched for a while, except for the thick Corruption that pulsated on the walls.

"Is everyone OK?" he groaned. Mostly asked that for Isaac's sake, for he already knew Nicole did just fine. Physically, at least. Mentally, she remained in shock that Isaac finally came back to her. She always held out hope, but after being separated from him for nearly three years… she still had trouble believing it.

"Nicole…" the man groaned, trying to pop his back. The helmet stayed on this time. "I – I'm glad you're alive. It's been way too long." He coughed, though it didn't sound bloody or filled with sputum. "Though it only feels like a few weeks to me, given that I spent most of the last few years in stasis. I didn't know what EarthGov was doing with me, but I do now." Plying his brain for the secrets of the Markers, it sounded like. Not a fate Curtis would wish on anyone. Though he wondered exactly how they extracted that information if words were insufficient. "Daina contacted me, saying she had a way out. I should have questioned it, but I was desperate."

Nicole responded, "Don't blame yourself. We're here, and we're alive." She paused. "Well, most of us." Nobody laughed, but Curtis felt himself smile. Still some joy in the world. There was so much to say, and they had time to say it. For a moment, Curtis felt safe.

But only for a moment.

A familiar hiss from behind and above them shattered that sense of safety like so many bullets through glass. He yanked his neck around so hard that he nearly snapped it.

"XX121" perched on a crossbeam not 50 feet away. Its maw dripped with sticky mucus. Both of its jaws. For the first time, he was in a good position to see its open mouth… only to see that its tongue had a smaller mouth attached to it. Nicole's anatomical memories told him that these "pharyngeal jaws" existed in some fish species, and – this is no time for biology! He leapt up and tore ass away, his friends hot on his tail.

"What the fuck is that?!" Isaac screamed.

"It's an alien! We'll explain more later!" That was enough to shut the man up, yet his mind must have raced with a thousand questions. The first extraterrestrial ever encountered just so happened to attack them on the worst possible day?! Good job, Wey-Yu.

His lungs burned. Feet went numb based on the repeated trauma of them slapping the floor, and his toenails must have bled from them slamming against the inside of his boots. Despite feeling like flaming tar had been dumped on him, he knew the alien got closer by the second. Practically felt its two sets of teeth on his neck.

They already would've been caught if not for the damage to the area and Corruption. It slowed them all down equally. Still, the race was tilted in favor of the thing that could run on four legs and climb on walls! There must have been a way to beat it, but he couldn't see one. Nicole was so gripped with instinctual fear that she had no ideas.

The ground shuddered behind Curtis. Nicole dared to turn around (honestly, she could probably run as fast backward as forward) and saw the creature's long tail sticking out of pulpy biomass a couple feet behind. Swing and a miss. Though he now noticed something he hadn't before with the body part so close.

The tail segments look like vertebrae!

Nicole glanced at them while the beast yanked its tail from the floor. She saw what he meant, but that didn't stick out to her. Tails are extra vertebrae in terrestrial animals. That rule had no bearing on alien anatomy, of course. The appendage could have easily been its penis. Part of the reproductive system or not, she wouldn't want to be near it. Even if the blade missed, it looked strong enough to break bones with the mace-like nodules.

The odd part to her was it being so emaciated. Maybe it was starving. Despite calling it a predator, it didn't eat anything it killed. Humans and Necromorphs may have been unpalatable to it, with Wey-Yu controlling its native food supply. Good to know that malnutrition may have been the surest way to beat it.

Curtis began to trail the rest of the group by small degrees. Steps slowed him by fractions of a second. He was only human, regardless of how many endorphins Nicole pumped into him. That was enough to be yanked off his feet and tumble into the air.

The noise that escaped his mouth was not unlike that of a scared animal, for he couldn't string together enough letters to swear. When was the last time he had been afraid as he was now, when an alien had him by the ankle? The segmented tail quickly crushed through the armor around his ankle; in three seconds, it'd shatter his bones. Might not even have to wait that long to die, though.

The snarling beast padded across the wall. Time slowed as a great black hand reached for his face. Larger than his head, it could crumple his brains like a soda can. It was like an angel of death. Supposed it may have literally been that to Unitologists, given that the poem he read called it a "herald". The only good thing was that it might not have been familiar with stasis.

He raised his hand and blasted it with tachyons a moment before it went for the kill. Blue light sheathed the monster as time around it slowed to a crawl. It could not dodge, being so close to him, but Curtis feared he might miss. Turned out nobody was that unlucky. Still, he was trapped. He gained a few seconds to think. Moreover, his wife did.

I've got you. His guardian angel was there again, wrestling her fear down as she raised her Cutter, quivering. The monster's face got closer… and the second mouth began to project out from the primary.

The first blast hit its appendage near the body. A scorch mark glowed red against blue light. Five more shots to the tail cracked its tough hide. Thankfully, she chose a spot far enough up the rear that the arterial spray missed him by a couple feet. I don't want to risk shooting it more, she thought, the acid cloud hypothesis fresh in her mind. Turned out she didn't need to; its tail loosened just enough for him to free himself. Didn't think twice about the fall.

He rolled upon hitting the ground, absorbing most of the impact while their foe tore free from the grasp of slowed time. Isaac was stopped maybe 100 feet ahead of them. For a split second, Curtis thought he slowed down to wait, but he quickly noticed the massive industrial door the engineer tried to pry open with kinesis. It was stuck. If he added the force of his kinesis, they'd get it open. Probably.

Before that, though, Curtis saw a metal pipe on the ground and got an idea – pinning worked on Necromorphs, so maybe it'd delay this thing, even if acid quickly disintegrated metal. He tossed it with kinesis right as the monster got free from deep time. The alien deftly caught it with one of its six-fingered hands and tossed it aside, which almost made him wither. Damn it.

Curtis added his kinesis to Isaac's. The strain on his bicep was bearable despite the steel's great mass. There must have normally been a button to open the damn thing that had been overgrown by Corruption! It separated from the wall after a few seconds, strands of torn meat now hanging down like snot. Nicole used the last of her ammunition to take potshots at the alien, which had been enraged enough by the toughness of its prey to drop subtlety. It charged like the wild beast it was, its rapid heartbeat (if it had a heart), expelling more acid blood from its superficial wounds.

Though he'd never really considered it, he would've expected the Necromorphs' greatest – perhaps only – real foes to be their antithesis: intelligent, tech-savvy and non-violent. Instead, it turned out to be very similar in its mindless rage and penchant for brutality.

With the barrier down, they barreled through… into a dead end.

They looked around, finding nowhere to go. Maybe another door hid behind some junk or Corruption. They'd never find it with the alien right behind them.

There was nowhere to run or hide. Curtis' stomach dropped into his feet, and his heart thudded in his throat. They turned around to face the beast. The last few hours had been spent circling each other. Now it was time to dance.

He, Nicole and Isaac did not need to speak or think as the monster charged. They'd fight this thing to the death if they needed to. And three on one? Curtis thought, ready to blast its limbs off if there was no other choice. I think we can do it.

Another bombardment of high-caliber ammunition through the windows meant he didn't get a chance to find out. He looked back in terror; the gunship followed them, and it still aimed to kill.

There was no time to brace himself. Even if there had been, he wouldn't have. Better to be out there than in here. Until he was actually in the void, where agoraphobia struck. He had never been so unmoored. The closest he could think of was when he fought the Spider on the Ishimura's hull, and he at least had control of his trajectory when that occurred. Presently, however, he spiraled out of control in body and mind. Leeching off Nicole's collectedness and every shred of willpower, he reached out and grabbed the gunship with kinesis.

Usually, this pulled the object to him. However, the ship was massive enough that the opposite happened; he was pulled to it. Either way, he had a life raft to cling to in this dark ocean. He saw through Nicole's eyes that Isaac grabbed the Sprawl's hull, and she joined him with jets of air. Really… bad shot, Curtis belched, nearly vomiting from fear and vertigo.

Look out! she yelled at him, but it wasn't quick enough to avoid the prehensive tail again. The alien followed him.

It clung to the ship with one arm, the other having been mangled by bullets, and more hit it in the torso. The sublimated acid quickly dispersed in the vacuum, but he was dead if it got any closer – and it tried to close that distance with its one good arm, thrashing as it dragged itself forward by inches.

Nobody could hear him scream in space. It was just him, trapped inside his head and helmet. This shriek, however, was as much out of frustration as terror. This thing was relentless. Well, so was he.

Being able to survive out here didn't come as a shock. Necromorphs handled vacuum without issue. Added to Nicole's burgeoning theory that it evolved on some barren rock far from any star. It did not need air, nor light, nor other necessities humans took for granted. However, for all its other strengths, the creature had no means to propel itself in space. If he escaped its grip now, it'd be gone forever.

He was out of ammo. Stasis still recharged. Punching it would be laughable. Only had kinesis. The only inanimate object within reach was a large tank that floated from a hole the acid mist carved in the ship. He didn't know what it was, but a chemical hazard logo was imprinted onto the side. That was the best he'd get.

He seized it and aimed at the alien, which seemed to not care about this metal tube in the slightest. After all, it easily swatted away the projectile last time! Then again, it couldn't dodge unless it wanted to fly into space forever. Curtis' primary concern was that the explosion would destroy the ship and kill the pilot when killing humans was a line he very rarely crossed. Still, whoever flew this thing tried to murder him multiple times and successfully mowed down dozens of others. I hope there's nobody else aboard…

He tossed the canister at the alien, which hit it right in the mouth.

A bomb went off in his head. Despite not being able to hear the boom in space, the shockwave and flash of light rattled him to his core. Didn't expect the blast to be that big. Nicole yelled for him, but he couldn't quite see her. Instead, all his energy was focused on the alien. Fading in and out of awareness, he saw it squirm. Its bad arm and part of the cranium had been blown away in the explosion. Really hoped brain matter poured out the head… but it was probably just more acid blood.

Behind it, the ship was a flaming wreck; maybe a damaged fuel line had been ignited. Kind of pretty when viewed from here.

Nicole tried to talk to him. The Black Marker tried to talk to him. The Golden Marker and his worst terrors tried to mock him. Curtis knew he should have been scared, but he wasn't. Just so tired… maybe he'd feel better after taking a little nap. But no, he'd run out of oxygen. Eh, resting for a couple minutes wouldn't hurt. His vision faded, though his eyes stayed on the alien until the end. Wistfully wondered whether it stared back at him with that eyeless face…