Chapter 39
Square One

"This individiual soul is unbreakable and insoluble, and can be neither burned nor dried. He is everlasting, present everywhere, unchangeable, immovable and eternally the same."
- B.G., 2.24

"Sir, we have visual on USG Executive Shuttle CV4, approaching from the starboard side. Estimated time of contact... 6 minutes."

2nd-In-Command Xander Sklar of the Recovery Patrol X22376 spotted the distant, shadowy mass of a small executive shuttle, inactive and floating listlessly just beyond the border of Aegis7's orbit. Captain Maximilian Reinhardt and his crew listened to the soft klaxon beep of a distress signal sounding through the communications array, growing louder as they drew closer to the incapacitated vessel. Reinhardt looked out the front window, and then turned to address Sklar, who was acting as pilot.

"Hail it."

Sklar immediately punched up a few commands on the control panel, staring intently at the response on screen, and then spoke into the transmitter.

"USG-CV4, this USM Recovery Patrol X22376, responding to your distress signal; please reply."

After a few moments of static silence, he tried again.

"USG-CV4, this is USM Recovery Patrol X22376. We are responding to your distress signal; please reply."

Again, silence. Sklar shrugged and turned to the Captain.

"No response, sir."

Reinhardt nodded, his gaze sternly fixed upon the darkened ship looming larger as they closed in. He felt nervous, but he simply couldn't explain why; this was supposed to be nothing more than a standard rescue mission.

Somehow, they knew it would be here... that he would be here. Still... it was just, a sandard, out-of-the-box rescue mission.

"Maybe their comms are down. Run a remote diagnostics scan on their -"

"... I read you loud and clear, Patrol."

Reinhardt's eyes, along with all others in the room, darted instantly to the receiver as they heard a deep, vacant voice carried on the incoming airwaves. Sklar, whose emotional response was far different from those of the rest of the crew present, split his lips with a large, excited grin and he rubbed his fingers idyllically across the silver helix Marker broach clasped to his collar.

A survivor. A living, breathing survivor. If they were lucky enough...

Sklar seized the communications array in his obvious excitement, and opened the outbound channel.

"CV4... am I speaking with the pilot?"

There was a brief moment of silence, occassionally interrupted by the sound of distorted static.

"... I'm the guy flying this thing..."

"Is there anyone else aboard with you?"

Again, a long, agonizing intermission of silence.

"... No... maybe. I don't know. I don't think so."

Reinhardt and Sklar both took note of the man's disorientation, clear even through the radio, and as his voice drifted off into incoherent mumbling they began to question his condition. The Captain and Sklar met stern eye contact with each other, and Sklar turned back to the controls.

"We've run a scan on your ship's systems. It appears that you're dead in the water. We're coming to rescue you, just hang tight."

Sklar paused and waited, but the man did not respond. Again, Reinhardt and Sklar hard glanced at each other, their intrigue rising along with an inexplicable fear of the dead, freefloating shuttle that was nearing their starboard side. Suddenly they heard a sound on the other end of the broadcast, like heavy, steadily increasing breathing, which was followed shortly after by a seemingly disturbed and agitated response.

"Wait... who'd you say you are... Rescue Patrol?"

Sklar nodded and replied.

"Yes. Your distress signal was first picked up about 3 hours ago. We were dispatched to find you."

Sklar's voice fell silent for a brief moment as Reinhardt tapped his shoulder and whispered discreetely into his ear.

"... We believe you have been a victim of a terrorist attack, CV4. We're here to help you."

They received no reply, and Reinhardt took it as cue to take action. As they were unable to load the executive shuttle due to size, and autodocking capability was offline, he and his team were going to have to climb their way over to the limp shuttle and rescue the stranded man manually.

"Allright - suit up."

The patrol cruiser navigated next to the executive shuttle, and Reinhardt and his crew prepared to disembark. As they lined up, in their suits and ready to take to outer space, the Captain sealed his helmet and muttered from behind it's metal casing.

"Well... this looks promising."

The exit hatch opened soundlessly into the vastness of space, and one by one they drifted out onto the side of the ship. Reinhardt came up last, and he motioned toward the darkened executive shuttle, which was now floating directly above their position.

"OK Sklar - you first, and we'll follow."

Sklar, though thoroughly delighted by the prospect of getting his hands upon a survivior of the clandestine events surrounding Aegis7, still had to take a deep breath. No matter how many times he had explored the dark vacuum of space on these missions, he never could quite get used to the disorientation of the experience. He shook his head.

What the hell. Deja vu there, for a sec.

Sklar just ignored the strange feeling he suddenly felt and returned to the task at hand, pushing off the side of the patrol cruiser. Once he had reached the shuttle and established a line for the others, they quickly followed suit and they all made their way into the executive shuttle upon Reinhardt's command.

Once they entered, the first thing they noticed was that the entire ship was completely dark except for the faded, blinking light of the activated distress beacon. As he saw it, Reinhardt again felt a unexplained fear, and he shuddered. He turned on his helmet-mounted flashlight, and prompted the other soldiers to do the same. They peered around the cockpit, the flashlights and the solemn green glow of their helmets' visors cutting through the cloud of suspended dust as they examined the darkened interior. Sklar approached the command center, stopping right behind the back of the pilot's chair and looked at the damage all around.

"Sir, no one's here…nothing but some damage to the controls..."

Sklar was suddenly startled by a hand as it lashed out from the pilot's seat. Caught off guard by the offense, Sklar immediately drew his divet and flipped around to face whoever was.

"Hey, freeze!"

Sklar aimed his flashlight directly at the pilot's chair, and gasped as the light cut through the darkness to reveal a human man, listless and apparently near death, lying with his arms strewn across the control panel. Sklar quickly eyed the man over - dressed in a weathered, bloodied CEC engineer's uniform, the RIG unit upon his back critically empty and repeatedly blinking with a faint red warning glow. A dangerously damaged helmet was lying against the base of the chair on the floor. The man's fingers twitched intermittently and he was moaning unintelligibly, making little discernible sense as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Sklar's eyes widened, and again, he shook his head.

What the hell... I remember this.

He took a step back, and turned about nervously to call to Reinhardt.

"Captain! We've got a survivor over here!"

Reinhardt turned away from his examination of the database controls and immediately made his way towards the nearly dead man slumped in the seat. He paused thoughtfully as he glanced over the man's features, then reached forward and gently grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him back to get a clear look at his face - along with a CEC company ID tag upon his chest.

[I. CLARKE _ Sr. Eng., Mining Operations]

Reinhardt still seemed nervous, but Sklar was nearly ravenous with glee. He did not know this man personally, but he was well aware of the fact that there were many back home very eager to know everything about him.

As the two soldiers stood staring at him in both amazement and awestruck trepidation, Isaac suddenly woke up. He flung his eyes open and sat up, becoming both fully conscious and terrified of these peoples' presence at the same time. With wide, wild eyes Isaac leapt back out of Reinhardt's grasp, almost violently, and in his startlement he slipped out of the pilot's chair and fell over to the floor, shouting.

"What the, get the fuck away from me!"

Seeing Isaac was hysterical as he scrambled across the floor to the safety of the wall, Sklar and Reinhardt immediately backed down, raising their hands and retracting their helmets to reveal ther faces.

"Calm down, relax, relax!... You, are you Isaac Clarke?"

As Isaac realized that he was not actually confronted by a pack of deadly necromorphs, he finally began to calm down; keeping his hands up to his chest defensively and with widened, suspicious eyes, he examined Reinhardt and his crew, glancing harshly from one soldier to the next. He stared especially hard at Reinhardt's and Sklar's faces, almost as if unable to believe who or what he was seeing. After a few seconds of silent, frightened deliberation, Isaac finally spoke up.

"You... you're from the Credence?"

Sklar and Reinhardt glanced at each other in an instant of astonishment as if Isaac's question had been unexpected.

"The Credence?... N, no... not the Credence."

Isaac did not seem to be comforted by their answer, and he shook his head.

"Y, you don't look like Sarius. Where's Ravi Sarius?"

Again, the Captain and his 2nd looked at each other almost incredulously, well knowing what the other was thinking. Reinhardt, noting Isaac's distress, finally turned back to him.

"What makes you think that we're from the Credence, Isaac? And how do you know Ravi Sarius?"

Isaac's eyebrows now folded angrily over his eyes, as these two people seemed to be confusing him more and more. He frowned sharply and barked at them.

"Who the fuck are you? Where am I? Where is the Credence?"

Reinhardt shook his head.

"The Credence has been missing for several weeks. And so has the USM Valor - and both disappeared shortly after coming out here. Have you had, or know of anyone who had, any contact with either of these two ships, Isaac?"

But the Captain's questions fell upon deaf ears. Isaac was shocked by what he was hearing, unable to accept it for himself. Tears of fear and frustration began to fill his eyes as he began to comprehend that still, he somehow he had failed to accomplish his goal.

"No. No. I destroyed her. It's gone. It... has to be. But, why am I here?"

Reinhardt and Sklar instinctively stiffened at Isaac's shaken, unintelligible response. They sensed he was becoming unstable, and Sklar stooped to his knee beside Isaac.

"What did you destroy, Isaac? What was it?"

They could barely hear Isaac's sullen response as he buried his face in his arms.

"... The Marker."

Sklar's eyes widened, and he glanced out the cockpit window.

"Wait... so, you're the one... did you have something to do with what happened to Aegis7?"

Isaac suddenly looked up at him.

"What? Aegis7? Is it gone?"

Sklar failed to reply, but he glared hard at Reinhardt and pressed his hands to his hips.

"Shit. Sir..."

Reinhardt returned the stare, but he did not seem to be as pleased as Sklar; he knew just how dangerous their living acquisition truly was.

"... Yes, I know."

Without any further response to Isaac, Reinhardt turned about and motioned to the soldiers.

"Allright, let's get him back to the ship. We're taking him back to Sprawl. Maybe they can fix him."

Upon his command, one of Reinhardt's men swept in upon Isaac and forcibly sedated him with a needle to the back of his neck. Isaac wrestled very briefly before he succumbed to unconsciousness, and the team then bound him in restraining gear and prepped him for transport back to their patrol cruiser. Once they were ready, Reinhardt glanced at Sklar coldly just before reactivating his helmet and saw the bright, inspired look upon the young Unitologist's face. He shook his head dismally.

"You mark my words, Xander... this isn't the end of it."

Sklar replied in full confidence as he gazed darkly upon Isaac, being carried between the soldiers towards the exit hatch.

"Unity is forever, Captain. There is no escape."

[_end transmission_]

A/N., 4/24/11

This finally concludes Dead Space: Ouroboros.

I will be making a last minor editing sweep over the entire story in the upcoming days, but that will be mainly to rewrite some poorly written sentences and to correct minor grammar issues. At this point, I don't think I will be developing on this particular story's plot any further. As I write Enigma, however, I may feel the need here and there to come back to this story and add in or change details, so this story, although I am comfortable in calling "Complete", will most likely always remain "Incomplete" in some ways.

Your feedback will always be welcomed and appreciated. Thank you.