[leksbronks]

Chapter 14, part 1
--------------------------------------------


When Isaac finally came to, he found himself still in the elevator, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. How long he had been there he had no idea - obviously long enough that the elevator had stopped, having reached it's predetermined destination and now standing silently with the doors perched wide open. Quickly realizing his dangerously exposed position, he instinctively tightened his grip on the plasma cutter still in his hand and painfully rose to his feet. He was finding it difficult to stand erect as a result of his near-fatal encounter with the brute, and he slowly, carefully twisted his torso from side to side in an attempt to realign his slightly dislocated spine. He felt a few of the vertebrae in his back snap into place with a series of disquieting clicks as they found their way into position, and after a few deep breaths the pain had subsided enough to again allow for normal movement.

He took a step over the elevator's threshold when his ears were met with a dreadfully familiar sound - decrepit, phlegm-saturated gagging echoing scarcely off the walls of the hallway, accompanied by the blunt, repetitively paced sound of muffled movement. Something was crawling through the concealed interior vents of the corridor. The scent of death became prevalent on the air, and Isaac instantly knew that it's source was now very close to him. Isaac paused, looking up at the grates in the ceiling and listening intently as he tried to trace it.

Both the sounds and the rancid smell diminished shortly thereafter and disappeared, and Isaac eventually concluded that whatever it was had apparently moved away from the area. However, that sound had now been replaced by another - the quiet, patterned approach of footsteps emanating from down the hall to his right. He immediately made his way down the hallway in the direction of the sound, now growing louder as he neared a right angled turn in the corridor. He stopped at the corner's edge as he detected a change in the sound's pattern, slowing down with caution as if whoever or whatever it was had now become aware of his own nearing presence. He listened as it continued to slow, then stop - just a few feet around the corner, out of sight. He then heard the faint, high pitched oscillating whine of a pulse rifle being charged up. Quickly estimating how much time he had before the gun would be fully ready to fire, he lifted his cutter and leapt around the corner.

"Hey...!"

He was startled to find Nicole, poised with defensive apprehension and clutching a badly damaged pulse rifle aimed directly at him in her hands, her eyes wild and spread open as far as possible. She was covered with countless marks of dust, grime and dried blood smeared all across her face, skin and clothing, and her dirty, matted hair was strewn about her face neglectfully, giving her expression an immutable aire of hysteria. He noticed how frail and thin she was; a tiny, delicate, brittle leaf in the wind just waiting to be crushed at any moment. Deeply regretful for frightening her and wanting to put her mind at ease, Isaac immediately reached up and removed his helmet.

"... Oh my god... Isaac??"

As the recognition of who she had encountered set in, her jaw dropped and the tense, fearful lines of her face instantly softened into incredible relief. She smiled tiredly and lowered the rifle, releasing a deep, labored breath that evolved into weary laughter.

"Isaac... I knew you'd come back. I knew it."

Still stunned, Isaac just stood there speechlessly. He still wasn't entirely sure he believed it was her, despite that every fiber in his being had already conceded to the idea. He was unbelievably ecstatic to see her - but the resident paranoid doubt in his mind prevented him from acting on any impulse to approach her.

Was it really her?

Nicole noted his pensive body language, and as if she already knew exactly what he was thinking, she reached out and slowly, gently, took his hand.

"It's okay, Isaac. It's me."

He felt the warm, soothing touch of her skin against his hand, even through the thick layers of his glove. He looked down at it, astonished by the experience as she looked to him with eyes full of tender reassurance. Comforted by the physical contact, all of Isaac's doubts were instantly dispelled. His stance loosened and he leaned in to embrace her. He felt the warmth of her chest through the thick titanium plates of his suit as she connected with him, adoringly smelled the top of her head, and his eyes rolled back slowly as he closed them in sensory intoxication. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, felt unable to consume her enough in his grasp to quell the mounting elation he felt at her touch, and kissed her softly. She returned the embrace with equal enthusiasm and yearning, burying her face in his neck as a long cherished moment of reunion finally broke what felt to both of them like decades of separation. She gently rubbed his back and squeezed him tighter with every passing second, both snubbing the growing fear of having to let go. A long moment passed and they eventually parted, still clinging to each other with interlocked fingers and looking into eyes glossed over with restrained tears. Isaac felt absolute relief wash over him. He had finally found her, which is what he had come to do.

At least, in part.

As she stood there, drinking in the nectar of his presence, she suddenly noticed with alarm his bruised nose and forehead, still wet and caked with blood. Her smile faded. She then glanced down at the burnt backside of his right glove, and her voice arose in immediate, almost motherly concern.

"Christ, Isaac... are you okay? What happened to you?"

She clutched at his hand, turning it over to get a better look at it. Isaac, lost in the moment, had all but forgotten the heated throbbing of his hand beneath the crisped skin of his glove, looked down at it with distance in his eyes. He smiled sheepishly at her, held up his cutter with the other hand.

"Oh... yeah. Cutter backfired in my hand. I uh, I kinda fucked up on that one."

Nicole tried to stifle a little laugh, her composure still wrought with concern. She reached up and gently ran her fingers across his forehead, carefully examining the wounds on his face with trained, medical expertise.

"We really should get these cleaned up - but not here. It's not safe. I know somewhere we can go. Follow me."

She picked up her rifle again as she turned back around, leading Isaac in the same direction from which she had come. He followed suit, keeping close pace behind her. She led him down several various corridors, all of which he had never seen, countless pathways converging into so many twists and turns that Isaac soon lost his sense of direction and now trusted solely in her to know the way. As they ran, Isaac could barely hear the concealed sound of pounding in the ceiling panels above them, and he sensed they were being tracked. They wandered for several minutes, quickly moving and remaining vigil of exposed doorways and open vents until she led him up to a locked door at the end of a darkened, barely lit hallway. She produced a crew key from her jacket, deftly swiped it into the slot and the door slid open. She pulled him in quickly as the door closed behind them. Once inside, Nicole turned back around to Isaac.

"Wait here."

He remained by the doorway of the pitch black room and watched the glowing notches of Nicole's RIG, floating through the expanse of darkness ahead of him as she slowly made her way across the room. He kicked on the flashlight of his cutter and aimed it to light her way, guiding her as she weaved in and out between several desks and other furnishings scattered throughout. A moment later there was the flicker of soft, overhead florescence as she activated the lighting panels, revealing a small enclosed room which had at one point apparently been converted into a remote medical station. The walls were lined with glass cabinets, the counters housed a variety of medical equipment, and several patient beds, stained and aged by time and despair, were hastily placed in tight, awkward positions throughout the room. She turned back around and brushed her hands together.

"There we go. I found this place a little while ago. I don't think it was always a medical station; I think it's some sort of storage room the Colonists eventually turned into one. There's no decontamination vents or windows in here; the necromorphs can't get in, so it'll be safe for now."

Isaac lowered his cutter and slowly walked further in, looking around the room and sensing the desperation that must have once run rampant here. The whole room had a rushed and disheveled appearance, as if everything within it had been placed there in extreme urgency with no regard for function or approach. The items along the counters were tossed carelessly all around as if having been foraged through, and the medication cabinets, with contents half of which were spoiled or expired, hung crookedly from their posts with the doors hanging open. The disarrayed bedsheets and pillows of the patient beds were all stained with what appeared to be blood, but old and faded after multiple unsuccessful washings. Isaac's brow furrowed in distress at the pain and agony the walls of this room had once bore witness to.

[leksbronks]

Chapter 14, part 2
-----------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, Nicole had busied herself with digging through the cabinets, grabbing random supplies and clearing off a spot on the counter. She arranged the items she retrieved and pulled up a chair, directing Isaac to take a seat.

"Hold out your hand."

Isaac readily complied, unable to take his eyes off her. He watched in awed silence as she reached for his arm, gently unclasping the locks of his gauntlet and removing the metal plates, then carefully sliding the Kevlar glove from off his hand. He winced slightly as the roughened material caught on the tenderized skin, but she continued undisturbed. As Nicole examined his hand more closely, her disposition changed, growing a little more stern and authoritative as she became engrossed in her natural duty as a nurse. She saw the skin was red and sensitive across the surface, but no permanent damage. The glove had done its job well, considering it had taken a direct blast of superheated plasma backfire from point-blank range. Without a word, she turned back to the counter and prepared a makeshift bandage by ripping a sheet of gauze into several smaller pieces. She then quickly applied some sort of ointment to the skin, which Isaac found quite cooling to the touch, and finished up by strategically lining the backside of his hand with the strips of gauze in several layers and securing them in place with medical tape. Once she had finished, she cautiously slid his glove back on, being careful not to disturb the bandage placement, and replaced the gauntlet. She then began to prepare some swabs for his facial wounds. Keeping her eyes on her work, she finally spoke.

"That looks like a Tank Suit. It's very well made. Where'd you get it?"

Isaac sighed, the corner of his mouth twisting slightly. He was too expended at this point to go back over the details.

"Uhhh... long story. A gift from the guys at the hangar."

Nicole nodded and lifted her eyebrows in response, her attention now concentrated on his forehead and her hands toiling to prepare a thread and needle. Isaac, noting the tools and serious look on her face, became a little alarmed and pulled back.

"What's that for?"

"The wound is pretty big; you need a few stitches, that's all."

Not particularly pleased with the prospect but knowing he had no choice, Isaac just shrugged his shoulders.

"... Great."

Nicole quickly swabbed the wound clean, dispensed a thin layer of anesthetic gel across it and slid the first stitch into his forehead. She felt the skin of his face pull tight against her wrist as he squeezed his eyes shut at the stinging sensation. She then instinctively attempted to engage him in conversation in order to keep his mind off the pain, a behavior inherited during her years of medical experience.

"So, I guess you met our roommate up there. He's a charming gentleman, just don't, you know, get within a million miles of him."

Isaac glanced at her, trying not to laugh and disrupt her work.

"Well, he definitely doesn't like me - and I always thought I was a pretty swell guy to get along with."

A nearly undetectable smile touched her lips, threatening to break her solemn, stone like demeanor as she threaded another stitch. She fell silent, continuing her work for a few moments, then spoke again.

"You know, I'm really happy you came back, Isaac. Even if it wasn't for me."

He darted a concerned glance at her.

"What?"

She just continued on, the reassuring smile becoming more prominent on her face. Another stitch slid into his scalp with decreased pain as the anesthetic began to take effect.

"I know exactly why you came back... for the Marker."

Isaac began to shake his head, but was quickly admonished for it as she straightened his head with a grip on his chin. Perturbed, he tried to refute her statement.

"No..."

Nicole simply silenced him with a slow shake of her head, her face remaining bright and cheerful as she spoke.

"It's okay, Isaac. I know what it is you have to do, just as well as you do. There are more important things than just you and me. But now that we're whole again, we can finish this. Together."

He was confused by her statement - though he knew she was right, he wasn't sure he fully understood what she meant. He then remembered his intense drive to return to Aegis7, how the Marker had burned in his mind - but it all seemed forgotten once he had found her. He glanced down at the ground as she threaded the final stitch, trimmed the line and prepped to start work on the gash on his nose. He tried to think of something to say, but was interrupted as the first stitch slid into the skin on his bridge.

"I know where the Marker is. When you're ready, I'll take you to it."

He sighed. He had begun to feel much better being in her presence this whole time, but now, being reminded of the haunting obelisk that stood somewhere on this barren planet calling to him, the darkened thoughts that had plagued him began to cloud his mind once again. He silently preferred she hadn't said anything about it.

Suddenly, he heard it - the chanting. It had returned, barely audible from the back of his skull, but present nonetheless. He sat and listened to it for a long moment.

"OK - we're done."

Lost in thought, Isaac had not even noticed that she had finished the final stitch on his nose and cut the line. She dabbed his head with a soft cloth, removing the excess gel from his skin and stepped back.

"Good as new."

Isaac reached up curiously to touch his nose, rubbing the tips of his fingers across the pattern of stitches he now felt. As she looked at him, he nodded and smiled.

"Thank you."

She smiled back, wiping her hands, nodding reassuringly and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"You're welcome. Now, how's your back?"

Just then, a rattling of metal clanged just outside the door of the room, followed by a sloppy, discombobulated pounding along its surface. They both looked with alarm at the door, and Isaac quickly stood up, grabbing his cutter. Nicole stepped up next to him as they both realized they had been found.

"Shit. I think we better get going."

[leksbronks]

Chapter 15, part 1
------------------------------------------------

Dr. Werren sat in silence at his desk, his deep set eyes wrought with abstraction as he stared blankly out at the infinite void of space from his office window. He eyed the stars one by one, watching as the scattered points of luminescence emerged and vanished repeatedly upon the aphotic black ocean to what seemed to be in rhythm with his restless thoughts. It had been over 2 weeks since his last requested audience from the Counselor, an occurrence that was unheard of, and with mounting suspicion he began to deliberate very seriously upon the situation unfolding aboard the CEC station. Clearly, there was something happening around him, transparent and subversive to his knowledge - but why?

He shifted in his seat, leaned into folded hands. He had been most disturbed since his last encounter with her, remembering the strange, Marker like notes scrawled irrationally across her paperwork, increasingly concerned about her position in a situation that now blatantly appeared to be spiraling out of his control. Why was she so evasive with him? Why also with the Abbot? As a Unitologist, her purpose was their purpose. Why now was she changing direction without them, despite their perspectives holding sizable influence over her managerial affairs? What was she doing for the Church that would need to remain hidden from them? He was eerily reminded of Dr. Challus Mercer, the alleged Unitologist fanatic once stationed aboard the Ishimura and now presumed dead - a recollection that made him shiver. From what he had learned through his personal experiences with the devout doctor, Mercer was by far the most dangerous and unpredictable human he had come to know involved in the entire Marker extraction project, one whom he personally believed to be driven by gross personal motive despite his credible devotion to the Church. If the Counselor, who had worked intimately with Mercer in the past, were to be following his steps in even the remotest way...

He suspired uncomfortably with a growing sense of fear as the converging details in his mind began to paint a very dire picture for him. His suspicion consequently sparked a great concern for his work done beneath her watch. What was it, exactly, he was contributing on her behalf? He had trusted her for so many years, they were equals. Not just partners, but equals. He was suddenly overwhelmed by a potent desire to return to the lab and departed the room, making his way swiftly down the hallway and thinking loudly to himself the entire way.

The tests. Something to do with the tests.

Once he reached the lab, which was practically empty at such a late hour, Werren headed directly to diagnostics and the sampling room. He walked in and briefly surveyed the area to ensure he was alone and sealed the door. As he looked around he suddenly felt jeopardized by being there, partially out of concern that he might be under surveillance but primarily due to the fact that he still didn't comprehend what it was he intended to accomplish. He walked over to one of the refrigeration units, opened it and with deft precision sifted through the sample packets, searching for one in particular...

A7_ISH55613 - Clarke, Isaac [ Authorized Access Only]

He quickly withdrew the sample packet, closed the unit and carried the packet on a tray to a nearby workstation. Opening the envelope and gingerly pulling out the sleeve of samples, he laid them out on the table and examined the dates. Werren then turned to the terminal, activating the command controls, accessed the laboratory database and started a search to retrieve the accompanying files. After a few minutes of fruitless scanning, he realized with concern that all the documents referring to the samples had been removed from the system. Frustrated but not without expectation, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small data chip, slipping it into the module on the terminal. Just a little extra insurance, years in the making. He accessed the chip's contents - his own personal (unauthorized) archive of the documents, and some hacked key codes that allowed for further discreet access into the database system. He eventually managed to find the documents he was searching for, and quickly opened the report corresponding to the date of the sample in his hand. He scrolled through the pages, each line overrun with countless characters of data, until he reached the section regarding sample chemical concentration measurements. He scrutinizingly examined each entry, noting none that seemed unusual, until one 12 pages down the list caught his eye...

[Clostridium perfringens/_gram positive .... 0.0008%]

Werren's eyes froze on the entry, now sinking with suspicion that his samples had been tampered with. Without delay, he began to input the code keys, managing to gain random limited access to the restricted zones of the database and performed a system wide search on the term. The links to two obscure documents refreshed on the holo monitor, and he noticed with great dismay that they both originated from some of Mercer's recently 'misplaced' journal logs. Apprehensive yet intent to understand the truth, Werren activated the first entry after some personal debate and listened to the static audio log playback.

"This is Dr. Challus Mercer, USG Ishimura. I have been working very hard with our newest acquisitions, and I am very pleased to say that the results have been phenomenal."

Werren noticed how Mercer's tone seemed to carry a sense of conservation and reasonable logic over the fuzzy recording. The enthusiastic fanaticism in his voice was still subdued. It must have been an older log.

"We have, for the first time, managed to facilitate the growth of the necrotic virus in a controlled environment. It had previously been suggested by my colleagues that this was an impossible feat, that the virus was too fickle and delicate to be artificially maintained. However, that opinion has now been invalidated - utilizing sub zero stasis techniques and direct injection of cloned gram-positive clostridium perfringens strains into the sample tissues, we have been able to not only extend its duration of life and control it's growth, but to expand upon the growth diversity of the viral pathogen. In a few rare cases, this has been surpassed by unexpected permutations that have produced, among other things, invulnerability to molecular damage, rapid cellular regrowth, and the ability to manifest in a dormant state to allow for transparent absorption. This speaks highly of it's vast potential - including the possibility of undetectable viral-human recombinant augmentation. I am only assuming at this point, but am very confident that this is a key to unlocking part of the Marker's power - and may even lead to what I suspect is the Hive Mind. If we can control this virus, we can control the Hive Mind."

Mercer paused again; Werren, though exasperated with disbelief, continued to listen to the remainder of Mercer's message.

"We will be conducting more tests on the dish samples this afternoon. Provided we get the results I am expecting, we will be ready to begin the second phase of our testing immediately. We already have three newborns in medical that have been assigned to our case, and with the Counselor's consent we hope to start the augmentation procedures right away."

[leksbronks]

Chapter 5, part 2
----------------------------------------------

The message ended abruptly, and Werren, still in shock, simply stared at the screen as the displayed waveform accompanying the playback flatlined. His eyes returned briefly to the menu command requests flashing on screen, then to the other link of interest - a document authored by Mercer entitled Transmigration: Hive Mind Within. Raising one eyebrow with unavoidable curiosity, Werren attempted to access the document, but all of his code keys were rejected, his request repeatedly denied. Undeterred, Werren began to examine the sample under the microscanner, and with growing detestation saw within the display fields that it contained highly concentrated amounts of the same pathogen originally detected in Isaac's blood during initial testing. Werren was completely bewildered by what he saw. He had always suspected the detected pathogen was infection, acquired during Isaac's extent aboard the Ishimura or the Colony, and had to some degree understood the severity of his case. He had recognized the virus in the sample results right away during Isaac's initial examinations, but had been met with silencing opposition by the Counselor. Now he saw that in the few short months the sample had been stored, the amount and purity of the pathogen's count within the tissue had increased at an appallingly exponential rate. Faint traces of the augmenting bacteria were found that he had not previously detected in earlier samples taken from Isaac, nor latterly introduced during any of his own procedures.

Unauthorized intravenous chemical introduction.

Werren knew he had to work quickly; he figured it probably wouldn't be long before someone in Communications discovered his unauthorized data access attempts from his terminal and came looking for him. Picking up his pace, he quickly returned the first sample to the sleeve and pulled out the next one, labeled with a date subsequent to the first by two weeks. He slid it into the microscanner and returned to his examination. This next sample was vastly different, now containing a count of pathenogenic traces that far exceeded the first and nearly dominated the entire sample. He noted how fresh the compounds in the samples appeared - though taken months prior, they contained a tremendous virility that rivaled samples just minutes old. Again, the bacterial traces were also detected. Werren looked up with dawning realization.

The drug treatments.

Werren went for the medication storage drawers and scanned the various compartments. He eventually located several remaining bottles of the medication that had been assigned for Isaac's treatments - a trial derivative of memory suppression serum CL-218.872 - stored in obscure, unmarked jars. He pulled one of the jars from the drawer, opened it and quickly dropped a small sample of it onto a slide. Slipping it under the microscanner, he made a brief examination and saw his fears realized - the serum had been contaminated with the same trace amounts of bacterial strain prior to injection.

Someone's maddened attempt to manipulate the infection.

Werren stepped away from the table, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he pondered the evidence. Why would the Counselor knowingly provoke the condition, then set it free? It didn't make sense. What did she know that he did not?

With no desire to waste further time, Werren returned all the samples and equipment to their proper places, collected printouts of the data and headed right for the Counselor's executive suite. He arrived before her door just shortly after 5:00 hours, and with a clenched, angered fist prepared to pound on the door. Before he managed to land the first blow however, the door slid open much to his surprise, and he saw the Counselor inside, sitting in a plush chair at a small desk just a few feet from the door and engaged in reading some material. She remained silent and motionless as Werren entered the room, with not so much as looking up. Judging by the nonchalant disposition of her acknowledgement, it was obvious she was in expectation of his arrival.

Werren walked directly up to her, locked eyes, and tossed the printouts of the test results and Mercer's transcripts viciously into her lap. He leaned toward her and in close proximity hissed words under searing breath.

"You were deliberately tampering with the testing... why? Why, all this time, Madam - what could you possibly achieve with all of this?"

The Counselor's composure remained pristinely insensate, as her stare retreated from him.

"Dr. Werren, do you believe in the Marker?"

Werren, completely taken aback by the unexpected question, slightly loosened his stance and blinked at her indignantly for a moment. With a lowered voice he responded, dark conviction burning in his eyes.

"... Of course I do, Madam. Yes. I believe in the Marker. And I also believe that the Marker may in fact be everything Altman said it would be. However, sometimes I don't necessarily feel that all Unitologists are following to the same end. And that is dangerous for the rest of us."

The Counselor broke a small smile at his indirect, passive-aggressive nature, the first near sign of emotion she had shown to him; yet, her eyes remained cold and unfeeling as lifeless pits.

"Werren, we are all looking for eternal life. We are all following to the same end. But this does not make us blind as sheep. If the God we seek is kind and merciful to us as we hope it to be, then we should cherish the opportunities we get to accelerate towards our destination - we should embrace them, and acknowledge this God for them. The Marker is a gift, Werren. A gift from God that we must acknowledge and utilize to fulfill our purposes."

Werren, amazed with disbelief, just stood before the Counselor with a loose jaw as he listened to her.. no, he couldn't believe he was listening to her.

"Our purposes? Counselor, what exactly are our purposes? Whose purposes are fulfilled by this, ours or his?"

The Counselor's immovable, stone like face was betrayed by a slight hint of unexpectedness as the muscles of her wrinkled cheeks momentarily twitched at his retort. A long, unsettling pause fell between them, and the Counselor lifted her chin, straightened her back.

"Challus Mercer was a genius, Dr. Werren. He was truly blessed, and his work stands as infallible proof of that. A far cry from your impoverished, discordant attitude towards our human evolution. I wonder, Dr. Werren - how is it that you can be so devoted to the purpose, but cannot place your faith in the catalyst?"

[leksbronks]

Chapter 15, part 3
----------------------------------------------


Werren, now becoming very unnerved by her incorrigible words, just shook his head.

"No, Madam... this is not a catalyst for human advancement. This is fuel for a fire that will burn us all alive. Madam, the samples... this is epidemic. Eternal life.. it's not supposed to be like this."

The Counselor just continued past his words, paying no attention to them.

"He is our catalyst, Dr. Werren. I've known this for a long time; he carries it with him now, and all I have done is help them along, see to it they get back home safely. It is my duty as their faithful servant."

Werren had become infurated by the Counselor's cryptic words, but was still far too shocked to respond with anything more than blundering deduction. Was she talking about Isaac Clarke?

"My god.... you're insane. You're just as mad as Mercer was! All of this..."

Werren simply had no idea what else to say, whether if anything he could say would sound reasonable to her at all. He had trusted her for so long. He had devoted a large portion of his 40+ years to her services, never once questioning her authority until now and always trusting implicitly in the Counselor's remarkable character as a highly ranking member of the Church. But now he felt betrayed beyond retribution; he began to see with great despair that he had been chasing a sinister mirage, led along with the others out into the vast desert of deep space by an increasing collective of crazed fanatics masquerading among them and secretly driven by personal motive, just to die at their hands.

Werren's eyes widened.

The Abbot. He has to be told about this.

He looked back at the Counselor, and with a sneer removed his CEC badge and tossed it upon her desk. Though he had conviction in his decision against her personally, his instinctive loyalty to the CEC itself became apparent in his fracturing demeanor.

"Madam - I tender my resignation under your authority. It has been an absolute honor to serve with the CEC all of these years, but I simply cannot follow this to your end alone. I'm sorry."

The Counselor sat perfectly still, totally unresponsive to his abdication. She had returned once again to writing, absently at first then with a growing fervor as he spoke. Standing for a long moment after his last words, Werren indecisively concluded that she was not about to respond. Confounded, Werren turned around and left the Counselor's suite. The door closed behind him, and the Counselor sat in the silence that resumed in his absence. After a minute of personal reflection, she reached into her vest pocket for a cigarette, lit it and simultaneously dialed the station communications operator. A holo-monitor activated and erupted in a burst of blue light as the screen filled with digital static for a few seconds, then flickered to the image of a female operator answering the call. He voice was curt and busied resounding over the receiver.

"This is Central. What's your direct, Counselor?"

"Patch me through to Officer Jensen."

"Hold please..."

The holo-monitor flickered and again filled with static as the call was redirected. The dial tone repeated several times before the static broke, flickering to the image of a disheveled, heavy-eyed P-Sec officer, apparently roused from sleep to respond to her call.

"Mmph...... Jensen."

The Counselor was not abated by his unkempt appearance, immediately responded with tenacity in her voice.

"I need you up in the Executive Suite right away. I want Dr. Alex Werren arrested immediately."

The distorting image depicted Jenson rubbing his eyes, concealing a tone of resentment and nodding with a yawn.

"... I'll be right there."

[Sarcasmic]

The plot thickens on all ends.
I really dislike the counsellor.
I really like Mattock
I'm too fond of the Nicole bit though, but I can see why it's there. Can't wait for the next updates... any idea on how long this will be overall?

[leksbronks]

Originally Posted by Sarcasmic

I really dislike the counsellor.
I really like Mattock

Good; if those are your feelings, then that means I'm writing it the way I am intending it

Originally Posted by Sarcasmic

I'm too fond of the Nicole bit though, but I can see why it's there.

Yes, there's reason for it, you'll see

Originally Posted by Sarcasmic

any idea on how long this will be overall?

Not sure; it's already gotten way longer than I originally anticipated, but the more I write, the more stuff I keep thinking of to write about. If my calculations are correct, I predict will be about another 6 chapters or so.

Thanks!

[Sarcasmic]

That's a shame. I really love this story, because it's not dialouge driven. Where you story truly shines is in your descriptions and the inner minds of your characters. You don't find many stories like that out there for fanfiction, I'd love to do that but I'm more of the verbal type, and this story is brilliant in those aspects.

[leksbronks]

Originally Posted by Sarcasmic

That's a shame. I really love this story, because it's not dialouge driven. Where you story truly shines is in your descriptions and the inner minds of your characters. You don't find many stories like that out there for fanfiction, I'd love to do that but I'm more of the verbal type, and this story is brilliant in those aspects.

Thank you very much, that means a lot to me I haven't actually written in a very long time (it's been about 8 years, when I wrote an old fan fiction based on the movie AI: Artificial Intelligence) because Im not often inspired, but when something hits me for some odd reason like Dead Space did, then I just like to run with it because I'm sure there's a reason/purpose for it You should try to write if you want, or keep trying if you already are, because I don't think being verbal is necessarily a bad thing, it's just a different perspective. If you can manage to master the art of dialogue driven verbage, you can make it work.

[leksbronks]

Chapter 16, part 1
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After much difficulty, Isaac and Nicole narrowly managed to escape the storage wing and made a mad dash for the opposite end of the complex. Nicole ran ahead to lead the way, and Isaac followed closely behind her, both hands tightly brandishing the plasma cutter to defend. They both ran as swiftly as possible without stopping, maintaining top speed with nothing but the rapid pounding of their hearts to propel them forward until their lungs threatened to collapse and the muscles of their legs screamed and shredded beneath the torturous strain. Still, they couldn't seem to outrun their demonic pursuers as they converged on their position with amazing dexterity and speed from all directions. As they encountered necromorph after necromorph, Isaac became veritably aware of many marked behavioral improvements among even those of the lowest kind. Not only were these necromorphs far faster, stronger and more resilient to damage than he had remembered, but their organizational skills had increased dramatically. It was the first time he had seen obvious signs of sentient communication and common logic shared between them, developing a true pack mentality that carried a variety of cooperative engagement and tactical maneuvers. He had also noticed that baseline slashers, leapers and lurkers were nonexistent. Every one they met along the way was radically enhanced, consumed with irrational blood lust and some even displayed characteristics that Isaac chillingly recalled from his encounter with the elite brute. Even the sounds emanating from these unholy beasts were evolving; their senseless gagging and howling slowly being replaced with sharper, clearer, more enunciated tones that distantly resembled some form of primordial language. To make matters worse, he had nearly depleted his entire supply of plasma rounds during his tussle with the brute, and now found himself precariously having to conserve as many shots as he could by rationing them out, or by resorting to more close proximity tactics such as stasis fields, kinesis punting and fist-to-claw combat. He fought to the best of his ability with absolute rigor, but he only found himself outnumbered and disheartened by the experience. Never, on his previous encounters with them on the Ishimura, did he ever have to repeatedly retreat and leave so many intact behind to keep from being overwhelmed.

Isaac and Nicole both tried to anticipate the necromorphs' attacks as they burst out from vents in the ceilings and walls, leapt through pressurized, solid glass windows, and sliced through door panels to get to them, but they found the creatures almost every time just one step ahead, as if the necromorphs were in turn anticipating them. Isaac noticed how Nicole seemed to hold her own pretty well against them, that her targeting experience with the pulse rifle was more than he had imagined it to be. This thought made him a little uneasy, as he didn't want to even think about the horrors she had had to face in order to acquire that kind of working knowledge of the weapon in such a place. She aimed deftly and with blinding precision, dispatching legs, arms and tentacles with minimal effort. Unfortunately it wasn't long before she too began to run low on supply, and she panicked, shaking the gun vigorously with frustration as it's repetitive fire began to malfunction. Seeing that their best efforts were not going to be enough at this point, Nicole immediately considered where the closest, safest place to get to would be from here and shouted back to Isaac.

"C'mon, we gotta get to maintenance access - it's not far from here, and it's probably our only chance right now!"

Without a word, Isaac closed the gap between them as he darted around an elite slasher he had been tangling with, barely missing contact from its lancinating arm and returning the gesture by slamming it in the chest with his cutter's blunt face. Nicole suddenly made a hard right turn down a narrow passage up a dead end to another door - again, locked. Nicole worked on opening the door as Isaac covered the hallway, taking aim at a group of enhanced Lurkers galloping towards their position along the walls and ceiling and waving their minacious, whiplike appendages. Isaac focused on the constant chanting in his skull to drown out the sound of their high pitched shrieks as he blasted them off the walls with his final few shots, recoiling in disgust as their bloodied, listless bodies slammed to the floor with mucilaginous thuds. The door finally opened, and they both ran through, finding themselves in a drab maintenance hall that ran parallel behind the main corridor. It was darkly lit, sparsely maintained and the walls were intricately webbed with veiny, pulsating tendrils of the consuming virus as it stretched endlessly along the entire length. Despite the hall's dubious appearance however, it turned out to be a lot safer as the entire way was encased in solid concrete and virtually bereft of any openings, hatches or vents. They were met with the sound of vicious pounding on the door behind them as it closed, and suspecting it wouldn't be too long before the necromorphs managed to break through it, decided to keep running.

As she led him down more unknown corridors and passageways, Isaac was simply astounded by how expansive the Colony really was; apparently, he had personally seen only a very minor fraction of it. From the outside, it had given the appearance of being very small, a constricted and fragile place stretched delicately across the sand; but the discernible layouts of these tunnels seemed to hint at miles of sophisticated underground passageways and concealed locations. He was also fascinated by the fact that Nicole could have memorized such a vast, complex maze of twists and turns. How long had she been there? As the noises of their pursuers tracking them from the floors above eventually faded into the distance behind them, they both brightened a bit to assume they had escaped the storm for the time being. They took the moment of refuge as opportunity to slow down and catch their breaths, their bodies now starting to run ice cold and double over in pain as the levels of adrenaline in their systems declined and surrendered to overexertion. They tried to press on, not wanting to remain in any one place longer than necessary, but after a few moments of strained persistence the both of them ceased, pitched forward with hands on knees and leaned against the wall. For the first time since he could remember, Isaac actually began to feel the acute grip of exhaustion weighing him down.

But there would be no sleep for them tonight.

Though her pain was plainly visible on her face, Nicole still appeared generally less affected by the experience. Isaac wondered if she was truly sound or just holding it back; he knew well her tendency to circumstantially harden despite her primarily sensitive and trusting nature. She leaned against the wall, unspeaking and staring off into the distance down the hallway in the direction they were heading, her hoarse but slowing breaths diminishing into steady exhalation. She remained quiet for a while and carefully examined the ambience of the environment with undivided attention, stirring only to move her head at the sound of some distant howl or other vibration as it echoed with ghostly frigidity through the floors above them. Isaac just remained quiet next to her, taking advantage of the moment to gain a full lung's worth of unconstrained air by removing his helmet, and eventually, once able to focus on something other than the intolerable aching of his muscles, run a few status checks on his RIG.

Her signs look good. A little high, maybe, but she's okay...... Shit. I should have grabbed an extra stasis cartridge.

At the thought of running low supply-wise, his attention turned to the plasma cutter in his hand, then noticed Nicole doing the same with her rifle. She was hunched forward and looking it over feverishly, trying with failed attempts to open the clip latch. As she wrestled with the gun, her nervousness escalated to anger as she started pounding on the side of it uselessly with her fist, tears of frustration welling up in her eyes. Seeing her crumbling composure, Isaac leaned over and gently took the gun from her hands, examining it himself as she watched with receding agitation. Though he had little knowledge of military weaponry save for what he had learned during his time aboard the Ishimura, he still surveyed the weapon with meticulous eyes - among other things, the entire length of the gun's underside was moderately damaged, dented in several places including one across the clip latch panel that must have been causing the locking mechanism to jam. With a little difficulty, he managed to pry it open and pulled out the clip, still hot and slightly smoldering in his hand. Eight shots. That's about.. maybe a tenth of a second's worth of fire? As he looked at it he realized he wasn't familiar with the type of model it was, so he made some guesstimates as to it's condition, performing what little maintenance on it he could, then replaced the near empty clip into the chamber. Feeling annoyed at his inadequacy, he sighed.

"I don't know how much longer it's gonna hold up. It's almost out anyway, so it probably just... doesn't matter."