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Unity

Chapter Text

 

He stares, fixated on the structure. Glowing, pulsing as though it breathes, calling to him. To them. His eyes trace the intricate words of an alien language etched into the spirals of the object. The Marker. His mind translates the language with ease and it begs him, pulls him closer. Speaking with a delicate voice.

“Unity,” It calls “make us one.”

“Make us whole.”

He shudders as his eyes closed while fingers dance upon the obelisk. It craves him, and they crave it. Oh how they wish to become one, become whole again. He turns, back facing the Marker, and allows himself to slide down against it. His body resting with it. This will do, for being whole. As close as he can allow. His body screams to shed blood and reunite with the structure, as do the voices, whose fingers are wrapping around his brain. Again he shudders. Not from the cold, or the voices. But the stirring inside. His cells trying to heal dead tissue. The regenerations inconclusive mindset killing and reanimating bits and pieces of fleshy walls, organs, and blood.

The deterioration slowly catching his mind and he allows a voice to stand above the others, and they beg for the same result.

“Make me whole.”

Chapter Text

 

 

We know what the sun is.

But that doesn't mean we enjoy the brightness or the warmth. But we must endure it.

We know how the technology works.

But that doesn't mean we want to use it. The doors stay shut, the power on, the lights off and on in various places. Heat and the lack of, in the rooms we visit.

We know what humans are.

But that doesn't mean we want to keep them. Nor does it mean we want to distance ourselves. We don't know.

We know who he is.

And we know why he comes. We know why he leaves our planet. We know why he did not Make us Whole.

We are not ignorant.


They wake up to a bright light shining on their face. The sun, it must be a new morning. 

They stand from the bed and their bones produce a satisfying pop. The cold on they feel engulf them is welcoming as they make their way through the quarters. Each room has an open door for the others if they choose to use them. They never did though. The others enjoyed the outside and the lower floor. Both were colder and darker. No one touched the elevator so how would they know how they felt about the quarters if they never tried. Only one room remained occupied. But it was never lonely, and they liked the extra space anyway. 

They went for the elevator first and went down to the bottom. The ride wasn't silent due to the machinery working to take them down, the silence was boring anyway so they didn't mind. Once at the bottom, and after the doors scream as they open, the step into the darker facility. The children quickly ran to hide once they spotted them. Some of the older siblings stayed and watched. They greeted the children and made their way to the playroom area to find some entertainment. It was spacious with only one plaything but still fun. Sometimes there would be a toy or food in the plaything but it was a rarity now. Everyone was hungry and antsy. The hunger was easily forgotten once they all found something to do or slept all the time. The children stayed up more than any of the others above, and somehow they remained just a bit faster than the elders too. The playroom was devoid of any other being. The others stayed out of the way most of the time because they were found to be nothing of interest. It never bothered them to be in a big space. 

They sat in the plaything and took the tools that were left behind to write little notes into the metal. Nothing important but for the children to see when they come back.

"Leaving you a hidden plaything, it is delicious and for the one who finds it"

They reach outside of plaything and bury the bug for the children, and they head back towards the elevator. As they step inside, a child grabs a hold of their suit. The child's' eyes watch them and hold out a thin hand. It stays out to them until they take a few plump bugs into the child's hand. That makes them leave the elevator quickly without looking back at them. They ride to the top floor this time to see the elders. Maybe they would be inside at this time. What time was it anyway? What day? They never knew. 

The elders were already gone to work, building and searching. They never found interest in anything else. 

They walk around the upper facility, being mindful to the wiring connecting the machines and the broken dividers that connect the rooms together. They were once meant to fix the dividers but decided against it. They tap the comm system again before moving on. The guest laying on the floor against one of the machines never complained about the broken materials, so they never bothered to start again. The guest never did anything, just lay there. The guest has been there longer than they have, but that was unsurprising since they did not come from this place until they were taken from their original home. They had the name of that home written above their quarters on the floor beneath them. They would need to look at it again to be able to recreate that wonderful place. They'll do that soon. After a walk outside to see if the guardian is awake. 

The sound of the door and the crunch of their first step outside stops all movement momentarily. Then everyone is back at work. No guardian to be seen. 

It is still on.


J_Carver  has created a chat room

Welcome to your personal chat room! Invite your friends!

 

I_Clarke has entered the chat

Welcome to the chat room!

E_Langford has entered the chat

Welcome to the chat room!

E_Langford says Welcome to the oldest way of life and communication on earth... that we hav decided to use for some unknown reason

J_Carver says oh shut up langford it is easier for me to use with a head ache

E_Langford says we have only been back on earth for a couple of months and you are already hungover 

E_Langford says too soon carver too soon

J_Carver says too soon my ass shut the hell up i deserve this after your suicide mission and ill drink as much as i want to

J_Carver says what the hell is clarke doing that he cant even be bothered to say hi in the damn chat

E_Langford says to @I_Clarke you alive isaac? havent talked to you after the first week we came back

J_Carver says probably drinking to erase what happened surprised your not with him 

E_Langford says shut it john hes probably asleep and i have work that needs me

J_Carver says launching us back into to space again apart of that work?

E_Langford says maybe

J_Carver says thats not funny

I_Clarke says Ellie, what do you mean by maybe?

J_Carver says welcome to the land of the living dead boy

I_Clarke says Ellie.

E_Langford says this isnt the wake up call either of you wanted but it is important we may need to go back out there

J_Carver says WHAYT THE HELL FOR

I_Clarke says Ellie, you know that I can not and will not do that. 

E_Langford says listen you two HAVE to be apart of the crew if we are sent back out there

E_Langford says we have been getting distress signals from tau volantis, that icey rock we left after you killed danik and his men!

J_Carver says fuck thaat no one is on that planet if there is life theyre probably dead by now

E_Langford says the last distress call was 3 days ago carver

J_Carver says ....

I_Clarke says Anyone talk to you after making the distress signal?

J_Carver says isaac no

E_Langford says there was a voice on the one before the most recent signal it sounded like a weak man he sounded paranoid

E_Langford says he sounded as paranoid as stross, isaac

J_Carver says no no no ellie isaac no 

I_Clarke says He could be alive if he is anything like Stross... Any other voices?

E_Langford says no

E_Langford says his was the only voice on all 27 signals

J_Carver says dont you fuvkinh dare ARE YOU LISTENINFG TO ME

I_Clarke says Let me know when the next call comes in... I am not saying I am going, but when is the soonist we can leave? 

E_Langford says in about a week, maybe sooner

I_Clarke says Carver, are you in? When I decide I need to know.

J_Carver says  fuck you

I_Clarke says Carver.

J_Carver says FUCK  YOU OK FINE IF YOU GO I GO 

J_Carver says fucking assholes

J_Carver has left the chat

E_Langford has been made chat leader

E_Langford says  ...see ya soon isaac

E_Langford has left the chat

I_Clarke has been made chat leader

I_Clarke says Maybe Ellie.

I_Clarke has left the chat

chat disbanded

Chapter Text

The day's sky was blue and bright. And now the night comes with dark blue and streaks of white frost. The cold is as welcoming as ever. The elders and "fresh" born continue their work on clouded ice, picking through and depositing precious items, personal items that will see the surface if we want new family to stay. More family means a happier guardian, they think. They look up to the sky and see them. The dim and flickering of the stars. Their stars were up as well. They just knew it was the same ones from home, they shined in the same way but only in a new position. They never believed that their stars would burn out. Because that would mean their home would stop existing, and that can not come to be. It was their first and favorite home. More cramped than the current, but it was still home. It held more children, fresh born and adolescents. There were also the singing mothers. They kept their place watching and protecting those who were just brought into the family. They missed the mothers, and the comforting environment of soft tissue that was with them.

A fresh born bumped into them, dropping their tool. It stared and bent to lift the pickaxe from the snow. Their yellow eyes stayed on them as they stared back. After silent moments, they chirped and turned back to the path they wandered. They watch the fresh born leave and look at where they had dropped the tool. In the indention of snow now sat a chunk of flesh infused ice with a strange language. They pocket it and glance at the stars once more before turning back to their home. Not yet time for bed, but time to check on the comm and guest again. 

The door screams as it shuts behind them. The guest still lays by the machine, their face still cold. More frost had gathered over them after the few days left alone. They had not realized they spent countless suns and moons outside until the storm came twice. They missed their bedding in the quarters. They leave the guest be and tap the comms systems. It's dim light greets them and is unmoving for a mere moment before flashing with something new. It was odd and unexpected. They force themselves to remember what to do with the line of foreign text that appears over the new selection. A few attempts and audio comes. A voice of a breather, a voice of teeth and tongue. 

"Hello? This is Ellie Langford, former Class IV heavy equipment's pilot of the CEC. We received your distress calls! Are there others with you? How are you alive up there?" It's voice pauses and a sound of air comes from it. "Look.. I want to help you, whoever you are. And me asking so many questions now may be putting you at more danger. Let me be quick. Send another message, with... I don't know, your eye color or what you are wearing in that cold! So we KNOW you are alive and this is not some pre recorded message being sent out for some god awful reason. I hope you get this and are still alive. So we can come for you. We are ready to go if we receive your word. Please. Please respond if you are alive out there." 

The audio ends and the screen is still on. Eyes? Cold? They look at themselves in the reflection of metal. Their head held very little hair, none ever growing in properly due to them tearing it out long ago. The eyes stayed the same, but the face was dark in some places making them pop more. The rest of the face was almost as pale as the guests skin. Their face never changed anymore. Their R.I.G. has become a dull dark grey after so long in dirt and some spots were a deep dark color due to what could have been blood and tissue. They like it this way. They tap the comm and tell the voice of their ice blue eyes and old patients suit before drifting off to speak of the incident with the pickaxe, how the fresh born stared. He paused when a scream of a child came from below. Loud and clear, indicating they may have gotten into the ventilation. They let the communications device know they have to leave quickly and turn it off. They quickly rush to the elevator.

The child was in no danger. It was only searching for food to satisfy it's hunger. Thinking of hunger made them realize just how hunger they were as well. It hurt to think about such a thing but there was no helping it. They needed to rest to forget the growling of their digestive system and the pain that came with it. The make it to the door frame of their own room and they glance up. The name still written in that foreign language, yet understandable only due to constant memorization. They smile and tell it good night, knowing it will not respond. But the thought, the dream, of the home whispering a response was always something to keep them happy.

"Goodnight, Ishimura."


"A response! A response!"

Ellie all but shrieked to the others aboard her ship. She immediately hits the PLAY button once it fully loads onto the main computer, Isaac and Carver having entered while it began. Carver furrowed his brow at the voice, Isaac stood silent and confused. The voice was almost identical to the patient Nolan Stross. Though he had died long ago... This man whoever he was, began to talk about a "fresh born" and a pickaxe with ice. Another survivor, Isaac thinks. The clip continues on for almost ten minutes of detail of the pickaxe fresh born until a sudden shriek makes the three almost jump out of their skin. Then their was silence. Ellie was on the edge of her seat, hands tightly gripping her desk until the man's voice returned. 

"I have to leave." He whispers and then the clip ends.

The three and the crew, that had all heard the grotesque noise, sit in silence. 

Heads turn when they hear the clicking of a keyboard and buttons from where Ellie is sitting. The sound of mechanical whirling grows load and the crew begins to quickly join her in the sounds of clicking and tapping. Carver and Isaac are at first dumbfounded by the sudden excitement but quickly recover.

"What the hell was that Langford?! And what are you doing?!" Carver shouts. 

"We can only assume that it was a necromorph. That man could be in danger, we are leaving. Now." She is determined to get to the planet as soon as possible. Carver glances out the large windows of the ship and gasps. Before he can speak, Isaac starts

"Just like that? After about a week of waiting for his response, and then getting... this. We have no further planning, no nothing, just plunging straight in? We are going to kill ourselves for one man who may be dead, him and whoever he was talking about, this.. "first born" or whatever is before we even get there, " he paces and sighs " not to mention that the planet, we barely escaped from, is infested with necromorphs!" He throws his hands up. 

He again sighs and reaches over her, typing in coordinates. "...we need to atleast check the debris and outer most parts of the space around the planet..." Carver gawks at Isaac as Ellie lights up. She nods and stands, giving orders to the crew. All of them scatter to their workstations, set on heading straight to their seemingly inevitable suicide. None of this crew, the crew of the Shooting Star, had experienced what lay on Tau Volantis, only hearing of the story from Ellie. With this ship they would without a doubt get their fast, but one thing remained with them.

They all feared for their lives.

 

 

Chapter Text

 

It hurts. It hurts so much. 

The pain is agonizing, it gnaws at their flesh and organs. We need to eat. But the only food... WE NEED IT. We need it. We need it. 

They slide out of the bunk, their body laying heavily on the floor, and crawl to the hall. Nails scrape across the hard floor, breaking the fragile cartilage, bringing a grotesque and vile sound with every drag and pull. They can almost touch the elevator, they can almost make it down for food. Their fingers graze the metal and the moment the contact with the frigid metal is made, they vomit. The nothing their stomach held spilling out onto the floor. Weak bile, blood, and chunks of flesh and various other substances seep through the spacing that divides the current floor and elevator. The bile comes up continuously, no sign of stopping despite their empty innards, turning their esophagus red and raw. They whimper and whine, gag and heave until the vomit seizes its attack. They hold themselves above vile substance for only moments before their arms give out, dropping their face into the flesh chunks and bodily fluids. It is warm against their cold cheeks and lips. The taste on their tongue burns but is a welcomed guest for the hungry creature. They let their tongue lap at the snot mixing with the solid and liquid-like substance and allow it to slide down their throat, some sticking to their chin and palette, before they crawl through it to press the elevators buttons. It dings and they enter, going down to the dark floor to the children.

The dark is comforting but does nothing for the pain. Again they drag themselves forward, making sounds they know will attract the other hungry. They have nothing for them. They have no food for the children. The bugs were no where to be found for the children. Many of their footsteps could be heard, ten or more had them surrounded. Their heads turned and necks cracked as they listened for more sound. They had stopped all movement to keep them from jumping. Minutes ticked by while they waited for the perfect opportunity. The children began to disperse in singles, doubles, until only a singular digit of the children remained. They reached for a clawed hand and pulled. Immediately a screech began but was silenced when the head smashed into solid concrete. Over and over until it stopped, until the child's whimpering and wriggling stopped, they had to stop to be still as the others come back, feeling around. Silently they roll, with the semi-limp body, away from the growing group. And they wait again, this time until all of the children were gone. They focus on the body in their arms. It twitches, broken teeth and jaw move to attempt and bite but fail. They dig their nails into the child's neck and pull. They push deeper and pull with greater force until thin flesh comes apart from the almost nonexistent muscle and weak bone. Black blood and pus leak from the cavities. They apologize and hold the child's head above theirs and drink. The drink is warm despite the body being cold. The pull it closer and bite down into the head, ripping the remaining flesh from the skull. It is cold sliding down their throat, yet it is too sweet as it sits in their tight belly. They finally sit up and tear into the rest of the body, yanking atrophied organs and stuffing the small meat into their mouth and chewing hungrily, even on the bones. They could not stop until the entire body was destroyed. The remaining blood and pus was licked off the floor. It was warm. It was cold.

They began to sob once their hunger had been sated. They cried for the child, they cried for their crime, and they cried for their worships praise and screams. 

Eventually they make it up to the main floor, after wiping snot and tears from their face. They had spent hours crying for the little one. They ignore the guest today and go outside where the sun burns their flesh. But they deserve this pain for their sin. They deserve more pain but can not make themselves go to the caverns and pickaxes. It would be hard to seeing as the lifts were broken from such a long time ago. So they opted to sit on the snowy stairs of a landing pad. It was quiet today. They could see no fresh born, no elders. They needed sound, a distraction from what they had down, anything. The stairs were cold, they could feel it through the thin, disgusting R.I.G., and they could feel the metal. The feel it, and they hate it. The slam their wrist against it. The pain isn't there. They hit again, and again, and again. The pain still is not there. so they continue for three hundred forty seven times, exactly, in a row. Until the skin of their wrist is splitting and their retched blood is tainting the pure snow. They continue until a particularly hard hit reaches bone. Their vision becomes blurred as vibrations go through their body, making them feel an astoundingly euphoric sensation. It is just what they were looking for. They would have continued longer, perhaps going as far as to break the bone, had there not been a strange sound. It was familiar and mechanical, though they could not find where it was coming from. Air and snow began to move around them, pushed away by wind and what they assume is the breath of something big. The look above and gasp.

A ship is the source of breath, the sound. A decently sized one was coming in for a landing near where they had been seated at. They try to move but their body is stuck, maybe iced to the frozen blood they had bled, or from the amount of time they had lost to the melancholic emotions and thoughts. They watched it hesitate with its' landing, and how it hesitated longer to open its' jaws. The colors of the great machinery hurt their eyes but they realize, with that big of a ship there was sure to be a great amount of creatures with breath, humans perhaps. 

Something big is in there. More than one something. Well... duh. And you do not bother to run, to alert mother or the children. They will know when what is in the ship sets foot. They will kill us. Maybe. But I can't exactly move. Maybe we say, maybe is a possibility. The other could be taking us home. They look to the sky, though there are no stars, they could feel home beaming down on them. The Ishimura is calling for them.

Home... It is calling... but... what if they leave us... just like HE did...?  Their mind hits a blank wall as they go over the memories, sorting through unpleasantries and false believers and so on until they settle on one delicate memory, holding onto their brain desperately for life not wanting to be forgotten. So many faces existed in that time. So many wrongs and rights covering what had gone on. They remember their first time, on the ship, in their room, and the beautiful union that had come from all of the time spent... spent doing what exactly? It did not matter. None of it did because they were left behind. Of course they had the newborns, but it was never enough. But it was their home. Then they were forced out of it to drift without the warmth of their bed and onto an older home that they did not understand. But it felt good to have a bigger family, and with the guardians' watchful (neglectful) eye on them, they felt at peace for a little while. 

They sigh and contentment until they are shaken from their memory by a warm appendage. They lean into it, perhaps do to the starvation of touch, surprising whatever said appendage belonged to. They allow themselves to get lost in the feeling, the connection the begged to keep but all to soon pulled itself away, making them look to the creature. Of course it was someone, of course it was. The rig looked a bit old but in great condition. They could not remember this model, though it did not matter. The face that was shown after the mask peeled back was more important to them. So many strong features to this face. Walnut-shaded skin, they remembered walnuts because of how fun they were to crack, plump cheeks and two different colored eyes. They were pretty. Nothing like the icy blues they had. 

They stare back at one another in an uncomfortable silence before the human female offers a hand for them to take. They tried, but their arm... their arm they tried to reach out with was stuck with a combination of frost and solidified blood. The solid substance pulled skin the more they tried to wretch it free. The woman gasp and runs to his arm, gagging somewhat at the sight. They hear her whisper words of reassurance and promises of help. Confused by the human, they look to the ship they had almost forgotten about to see more humans watching. One in particular looked familiar from a distance. They felt an emotion flood through them. Something akin to fear and relief. Another part felt differently.

Our love has returned.


Isaac and Carver watched from the ships' lift. They couldn't believe their eyes. Someone was here, someone was here and alive. The strange part though, not that this person was alive somehow in what had to be the most disgusting R.I.G. Isaac has ever seen, was the blood frozen to the mans' wrist. He could see the bone for Christ's sake. Isaac was concerned and curious. The man looked weak. And if he was being completely honest it looks as though the wound on the man looked self inflicted. Carver must have had the same thought because he reentered the ship to now come back with a straight jacket, heading for the man. Isaac followed, prepared to hold the man down if he struggled. 

As soon as the iced blood was removed from the man. Ellie looked over the wound and the pattern of the blood on the stairs. Concern was clear on her face as she tried to bring the man to his feet. He didn't struggle and felt incredibly light, which only made her feel more worry. She noticed the boys coming forth with a straight jacket and she frowned. Isaac offered an apologetic look before reaching out for the man. He hadn't expected him to flinch back into Ellie or give a pitiful growl directed towards Isaac. He stared at Isaacs' hand before turning to face Ellie, letting Isaac see the mans' spinal display. It was completely dark. Carver must have noticed as well because he had dropped the jacket and began to draw his gun. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing Carver?"

"His R.I.G. Ellie, fucking look at his R.I.G.! It's blank, dark, he has no fucking display!" Ellie turns the man to look and tilts her head.

"Carver maybe it malfunctioned, he is alive and moving and I know you are not this idiotic to shoot a man. One who survived here better than us apparently." 

Carver hesitated but didn't seem convinced as he kept his weapon directed at the guy. Ellie shook her head and began pushing the man towards the ship. Those who came out of the ship rushed after her calling for Doc Alicen. Isaac looked to Carver for a moment. "Was that necessary? She could be right y'know."

Carver didn't respond right away, but cursed as he ran back into the ship. Isaac stayed back to look at the landscape. Tons of snow and ice, no life surviving here is what they all believed but that man... they were wrong. He closes his eyes and thinks. The man looked sick and cold... And he had hurt himself pretty badly and then proceeded to stay out in this cold, with a shitty suit mind you, to the point of freezing his own blood. The guy might die on them. And if he is in that kind of condition, what about the other survivors?

Isaac shakes his head and turns to the ship and heads in.

He comes to the conclusion that the man doesn't have much contact with anyone due to the fact of him practically clinging to Ellie like a lifeline, and she holds his shaking body. Though he did say he had a family here, right? That goes through his mind as Alicen is trying to fix up his wrist as best she can, but there is only so much she can do with him being held. She's attempting to pull what skin she can together to stitch but this guy, he has no extra skin to stretch. He is sickly thin and because of this, any stitches she manages to get in rip out of his skin from the tightness of it all. The man watches her with interest without so much as a flinch from the pain it could be causing with very little anesthetic. Again she tries until she gives up and looks sadly at the man, from the look of the poor guys' wrist she would only do more damage than help. It's a bloody mess with sliced skin from the failed stitches. What made matters worse was when she stood to go for gauze, the man falls from Ellies grasp onto the medical tools. The sharp instruments pierce below his open wrist, others completely slice up, down and around the arm. No flinching from him though, which honestly amazes the good doctor before she's running to him and frantically cleaning him up, bloodying herself. 

Eventually, somehow and someway she was able to wrap up his arm with already dampening gauze. She has to change it every fifteen minutes. After the first forty-five she leaves him on a table and drags Ellie, Isaac, and Carver to a corner. 

"There is something seriously wrong with this man. His blood does not clot properly, he is severely dehydrate, and do not get me started on the state of his skin!" she whisper yells "He is so thin and may be sick from how long he has been here. He needs food, water, and medicine. I do not even want to imagine how much of his body, under that disgusting excuse for a R.I.G., is frostbitten or how much of his body, his organs have atrophied due to any sickness. I am surprised he is alive!" she takes a deep breath "I need to see his body. Not just the obvious self inflicted injuries of his arms, the rest of his body. I also need that straight jacket Carver." Immediately Carver goes to retrieve it from where he had dropped it while Alicen continues about worry and the miracle of the mans' life.

Ellie and Isaac stare at one another and decide it's best to help the man as soon as possible, and whoever else may be on this planet. They separate to gather food and clean, warm clothing for him. Carver comes back to the man looking at himself, running fingers over the bandages. He wonders why they came back to the planet for someone who is pretty much a dead man walking.


They covered the blood.  Indeed they did. Very kind. Even though we don't deserve it.  Punishment.  Need more of it, right.  Remove the arm then.  We can not. How would we hug the woman again? She is so very warm... We like it. Then take her. She can belong with us.  How nice. We do not deserve her though.  She will know what we did soon enough. They can look into our stomach. We remember the machines. 

They freeze up and look around them. Countless machines surround them. They had forgotten about x-rays and the classic scanner that doctors used on their patients. They had forgotten many things that had come in their past. They feel panic build and it keeps growing higher and higher in their body. They are shaking, searching and holding themselves. It is suddenly not so nice to be on a ship again, knowing they will see what they had done to the child. They will see the body torn to shreds in their stomach, the bones' ash, the flesh, everything. That made them feel the bile begin to rise up again. They began to scratch into their arms nervously, as someone comes from behind. Whoever it is says something foreign to them. They need to leave now.

We need to leave immediately. Run away.

"Hey? Hey uh... guy?" The man taps his back and continues to speak. "We need to look at you- woah, what are you doing?"

They stand and head for where the entrance was, tripping and grasping at objects. They clatter to the floor drawing the attention of more humans. 

They know, look at them staring, they know our sin. 

They try to swallow the lump that has seemed to form in their throat and suddenly everything felt too warm and bright. Finding the door they began to scratch at it frantically as voices come closer. They sound urgent and frightened. Hands grasp at their clothing and pull, trying to hold them back. They pull away from the, begging for the door to be opened, crying for their room, their home, for the comfort of the children and the cruel abusive brutes. The only response to their pleas is the sound of ripping cloth, metal hitting the floor and collective gasps. Cool air hits their back and they let out a pleased moan and collapse to the floor, holding themselves. Their back was free from the warmth and the hands of the humans now. It was oh so pleasant and made them forget about their fears and grief. 

They stayed hugging themselves on the floor and began to rock happily as the air danced upon their skin. The sensation was almost orgasmic and had them palming the remaining equipment covering their front. Silence enveloped their space making them feel a bit anxious, being in such a crowded place with so many who can speak was strange with no voices. They turn their head just enough to see the warm woman and the one who wrapped their arm staring at them. The doctor woman began to approach slowly with a clean white dress in hand. She was so close, enough to touch if they just leaned back, when all of a sudden the door opened. Cold air violates the warmth of the ship and causes all of the crew to jump in surprise. A glance to the doors controls reveals the culprit. The dark man with frightened eyes. 

"Get. Out." He pointed a weapon they did not recognize at them. "I am giving you to the count of three." 

They stood and stared, head tilted. What is this? 

"One." 

"Carver what the hell are you doing?!"

Is this a threat?

"Two." The weapon clicks and the sights are on them. 

"Carver! Put the damn gun down!" The woman of warmth stands between them.

"Two and a half." 

"Carver for fucks' sake you can not be serious!"

"Two and three quarters." The Carvers' foot taps and another weapon sounds from behind them. Someone else has a weapon on them.

"Wait no stop-"

"Three-"

"Are you going to kill us?"

Shock and surprise hits them all like a ton of bricks. The monster looks at them and gawks while the others stare wide-eyed. 

"H-holy shit..."

"In person... in-fucking-person he sounds just like..."

"He can't be Stross."

 

 

Chapter Text

Their mind flashed back to days of a time at home. The name Stross resonated with something inside of them and they could have sworn that was familiarity, a fondness. And a pure unfaultering hatred. 

They sit across from a man who is more than unique, from his compulsive movements to the fragile mind. They admire his jerking movements and the paranoid, frantic speech patterns, all about the marker. It's fascinating, marvelous how he talks and moves. They find it all charming... and perhaps the reason for the developing infatuation. Every moment of every day was spent talking with the man. About various topics. The important and... that of other more "private" topics. The conversations failed to bore them no matter the amount of hours that passed, months even... almost a year. And they fell harder for the man with each passing day. Infatuation was normal, in the home, between the great doctors, workers, breeders, even the patients.

Pleasures of flesh never entered their mind until it was suggested by a mother. Her hands remained on theirs, her lips in a pout with eyes looking off to the corner of their room. She'd whisper things. Things about them becoming one, and birthing something new. Creating a life, one of them both. She wanted that, wanted them, their seed, she said. They found it revolting. So they tell her exactly that. She stops the advances and begins to abuse them any chance she gets after the event. The entire crew noticed. But none of them cared when one day they saw her body drifting along side the ship.

Pleasures of flesh never entered their conversations until after her death. He was flustered about the talk, they were curious as to why. So they pushed the topic, forced them to speak. He had a wife, is what he said. They would partake in each others company and flesh. They found it interesting and asked how it was done. They already knew, but they wanted to hear him speak of it. And he did. Tales of lust, uncertainty, and a comforting bond. And their bonding formed a child. He spoke of the child and how little time his family could spend with each other, and how his wife was suspicious of betrayal. Cheat is a sin he had said, and that was one he would never commit. They stayed silent after that.

"I love my family..." They knew this already. And it was interesting. They liked him. And he liked them. And after the talk of flesh, and the death of a woman, they liked him more. For opening up, for the constant interaction, for the little things he would do to them. Touches, whispers, and occasionally sharing of a room. They felt like maybe they could deepen their friendship some way. 

"...and you're family too."


It was exhilarating. A family is what they needed. A united group of beings. Oh how they loved it. But they kept it secret from pyring ears. Only they needed to know. But if he wanted his wife, his child to know, so be it. They are family too. 

Their next meeting was held in the dark of another day and consisted of mainly silence. They didn't mind. His hand was in theirs, and they sat peacefully until his voice cracked and broke the hard quiet. He whispered something, something they don't remember now, but it held such warmth that they wished they could remember, relive. After the words come actions, and oh how the actions became hastey and uncertain. Every minute of the hour felt as though centuries were passing by. It was disturbingly fascinating and equally as painful. Blood had never burned so fiercely and flesh had not ever tasted so sweetly. 

These actions play on repeat every so often when the dark is in and the silence seeps through the quarters of others. Blood did not pour as fast as the first time, nor did the pain wreck havoc on the bodies, no it was more practiced, more pleasurable. They wished for the time of nothing more and only that moment. This was their family. And they wanted nothing else.


A murder has occurred on the ship. A death of a child, a wife, and then the first witness. He was taken away, forced into a white jacket and questioned. Many dark questions. They listened to his voice as he tried to convince them the wife and child were still alive. No one listened because they knew it was a lie. They believe him. He was family. Why would they not? 

They were next to question him, because the others noticed the closeness and suspected something more than mere friends. Nothing perverse though. They first asked how he was, and he was scared. They asked what had happened to him, he said there were monsters in his room. And they believed him. They asked where was his wife and son, and he said they were in their room sleeping peacefully. Then he broke. Crying and snot covered the table in front of the two. It was a grotesque display of fluids and words of sorrow and perhaps well placed paranoia. They believed him and left to search. And they found them.

They found them wrapped, tucked in a dark blanket together. Asleep in a tight embrace. 

Another day and they came back to reassure him that his family is safe and asleep, and he thanked them for watching over them. He soon began rambling on about how the family will be ok, how they too could continue being family. How nothing was wrong and they could keep meeting in the rooms and the dark to dance and taste the flesh. The ones behind the mirror questioned them after the conversations had ended. They were furious with the lies that were told. But they were not lies, they had said. They took the people to the room and showed them the wife and the son. The men became furious and took the family, throwing them off of the bed and onto the floor. Screaming began as they tried to stop the abuse.

They killed one before they were restrained in white.


 A woman, a doctor she says, visits them every so often and asks questions. About hallucinations, depressions and sex. Later they were diagnosed with early psychosis. Then schizophrenia. As were many others she said. Some days she will be happy to speak with them, and they'd speak with her. One day they asked about him. She brushed it off and asked a question herself. 

"How do you know him anyway?"

The question was innocent. It was pure and held no force or loathing. But it infuriated them. They said they work together, yet she said they did not. They screamed that they had worked together, that the two of them were always together. And she told them again that they were not, this time while across the room frantically hitting a button. She began screaming so loudly when they told her again. Soon people came and gave them needles while the woman slept on the ground.


 

Something happened on the ship a while back. An explosion or some big event. Their family was long gone but they did not mind being woken up, alone, in a room of their own. It was just a hard thing to deal with, but deal with it they did. He had to be transferred to The Sprawl for work anyway. They didn't mind. 

People were running. Others were giving prayers and acting blissfully unaware of anyone fleeing from a certain direction. They made the decision to go towards the feared direction, only to become witness to something new. And that thing noticed them too. It came for them, impaling them with such a force they had never felt before... even with him. It hurt, it burned and pulled at every fiber of their being, causing them to scream. Someone saved them and they were able to run to another place with the person. This person was trying so hard to stop the blood that poured from them, and decided to burn them. The burn staunched the flow but ached and blurred thier vision. They did not see what became of that person before being forced to the ground.

Everything spun as a body lay on top of them, reminding them of him. Though this was less pleasant. It writhed on top and they pushed it away before another had come, then again they were pinned and fighting to get up. Cuts began to litter their legs to prevent escape. The blood loss was too much and they collapsed into subconsciousness. 


 

Dizzy and pale, they were dragged to a hidden place of prayer, hailing The Marker. Many others were there already and asleep. They would have screamed had they been able. A proboscis like appendage is forced down their throat and they gag. Something else enters them and what blood was left begins to pour from the new wound. It burns and worse off it reminds them again of him, of the flesh connection, the fumbling and uncertainty. Though this time was pure violation and force. And it lasted for what felt as though it were centuries.


 Vomitting was the main sympton of sickness. The pale coloration of the skin and weakness were the less noticable amoung those escaping. They layed deathly still on the floor of an escape pod staring at the ceiling. Other bodies were layed nearby. All unconcious. They didn't mind. Their body was numb and healing, so the quiet people and the whirring of machinary was welcome. They were going somewhere to be helped, at least that is what some men and women had repeated to them. They were told to get rest after all they had been through, but they couldn't. Their eyes stayed open, looking onward to the walls, to the others asleep, and to their own body. It was absolutely disgusting. They won't cry. It happened because they were weak. And they think the others know that too. 

Soon they are moved into another ship. And they hate it. They hate that it is not The Ishimura. They hate how clean it is. But at least they let them clean themself. At least they let them feed themself  And at least they don't ask why they vomit afterwards or about the writing they used the bile for 


 

He was there too on The Sprawl. The memories came back faster than anything else. He too was in white but his head was shaved. It looked pretty. Symbols danced on his skin for moments before dissipating into the air he breathed. He didn't recognize them.

They spend time together after little meetings with doctors and new medicine. They talk of nothing and everything. Slowly he remembers them and they embrace the best they can without use of their arms. At least that makes the two laugh. Then the delve into a conversation about him. He said his wife and son visit him here and that now that they are here too, the family is complete again.

One day he gets his bindings undone and tries to take their flesh. They react violently and that makes him do the same. They spill little blood but it leaves a reminder and a warning for both. They never touch again out of fear of hurting the other by flesh. Though occasionally they hold each other in sleep or just their hands.


 

They met some man named Isaac. His head was shaven just as theirs now. They missed their hair. It was soft and their family loved to run his fingers through it. He cried when he saw it cut away. Did Isaac cry? Did he even have hair? They curiously run fingers over his skull and marvel at how soft the stubble is. It makes them feel their own head. Small patches of hair remained. It was a bit soft yet sad. Their hair never grows anymore. They wish it would grow again, but it doesn't no matter how long they wait. 

They continue to pet his hair, never realizing that wide eyes now stare at them. 


One day something went wrong. They stayed hunched over vomiting, in pain, while he rubs their back. He wasn't shaking or muttering about her, he was calm. He stayed behind them rubbing small circles as they continued to empty the contents of their stomach. The pain only increased with every passing minute. It was a hell of needles stabbing into the organs all the way up to their esophagus and tongue. They cried in pain while he stayed silent. 

After the pain had died down they were staying side by side, hand in hand enjoying the company. Until people were screaming. He stood and ran leaving them to try to follow. It never happened because they fell down in pain. It burned as they curled in on themselves in a fetal position. The screaming continued while they cried on the floor.

Hours had passed and still they remain on the floor. There were footsteps out in the hall, they could see the feet under the door. They crawl for it but by they time they had gotten to it, whoever it was had gone from the hall. They realized there was no more screaming.

They saw Isaac again, moving through the hall, not even seeing them. He had on an old R.I.G. that was an ugly color. There was a woman's voice guiding him, they didn't pay any mind to her words. He was walking further away, they didn't bother yelling out. Watching him go was nice. He had such soft hair.

They could stand if they leaned against the wall. It was still painful. But they could hear a woman's voice in the way they were heading. She was struggling against something. When they came closer they saw her as she began to scream. And they saw him too. He was laughing with what looked like a screw driver in his hand. Something was on it and dripping. Her face was also dripping. She went to grab at him but he had already ran with her eye. They would have gone after had they not began to vomit again.

They could not find anyone anymore. No Isaac, no woman, no family. It was lonely, and they were in pain. So they just sat. Listening to someone sing "Twinkle twinkle little star".

They found him. The voices led them to him. He was on the ground. He was leaking. He was leaking and not getting up. His screw driver was gone. They cried when they found him. They don't know why. He was only asleep and leaking fluids. They had to back away as the creature with a proboscis appeared. It stuck that awful thing down his throat just as one had done to them. It was violating him. It was sickening, grotesque... and beautiful when it was happening to someone else. It began flapping its webbed-like appendages before detaching it's self from him. It noticed them and creeped closer, before seeming to dismiss their existence to go elsewhere. While it left, he began to change. His body was creaking and cracking. Stretching and ripping the beautiful flesh. Long scythed arms and a broken mouth were now on this man. This beautiful, beautiful man. They got closer and touched but as they did, he shrieked. They stopped touching and turned around. He was something so beautiful and magnificent. 

They hated his form and left. He stayed following through the vents.


After a while they sat in what was thought to be an escape pod. He was outside of it, staring in through the circular window. They hated that face. They hated the body that belonged to that face. They hated him. 

But that was never going to be true. They still want the family. So they let him into the pod, and they sat while he stood. Until the pod was shot off and they saw the ship explode. 


Wasn't it funny?

We stopped speaking for so long after we came here. He left us to explore while we sat in the cold. He is sleeping somewhere and we stole from him while he did. 

They all shook while staring. Even the dark man seemed surprised and confused. 

Take another from him. He won't mind. He doesn't answer to it anyway. And we do not remember ours.

They sigh and look to Isaac, who they fully recognize now.

It was some sort of family tradition to take names...

"We are Stross…"

We already took his voice anyway.

Chapter Text

After hours of care, confusion, and even identity theft, everything had calmed down. A doctor was looking over "Stross" when Isaac entered to take a peak at them. He looked over their body, looking disgusted at their sick and tight flesh. It made them feel nervous as he watch their naked body being worked on. The doctor paid no mind to his presence and instead asks them questions.

"When was the last time you have eaten?" 

their mind automatically goes back to the child they had forced into their throat and choke up for a moment, causing the doctor to startle. "We... we ate not long before you all came... we think..."

She blinks before writing down a general idea of time "And what was it you ate? Ice, bugs, what? If you do not remember I can check in between your teeth or pump your-"

"No! no..." she jumps back in surprise before slowly approaching again. Isaac stares hard at them as they avert their gaze from both humans. "No.. please... we are sorry for what we have done... but we had to eat... please do not let the others know... we will punish ourselves for the child's fate..." 

The doctor gasps and quickly writes something down that they could not recognize. It was hard to read those symbols, and they were everywhere. Some resembled the symbols that spelled out Ishimura, but they could never sound any out. 

The doctor excuses herself after a hushed whisper into Isaac's ear and leaves the them alone with him. It was awkward for them, sitting nude before their love. He stared at them with curious eyes and made no clear indication of leaving. Eventually he opens his mouth to end the silence.

"So..." He stops momentarily, perhaps to collect whatever his mind was attempting to produce "Stross… how... how do you feel?" An innocent question that makes them bring their eyes to the man. He looked more nervous than they felt. It was clear in the way he moved his hands and furrowed his brow.

"We feel... warm, Isaac." They pick at the IV in their arm "It is strange to be this warm, like the sun has come closer to kiss and hug us. It is unpleasant. Not kind."

Gears struggle to turn in their head as they think of a better way to describe the feeling of the warmth, but none come to surface. Instead of being able to continue, they become distracted with the way Isaac runs his own hand on the back of his head and sighs. The hair on his head is still short, just like before. And they want to touch that hair, and the hair on his face. The stubble looked soft. 

"Maybe you are not used to the warmth... I mean you were here all this time... Don't know how though..." He whispers a part about dying but they ignore it to focus solely on the man's scalp. Isaac talks about something else and when they do not respond, he snaps his fingers in front of them. "Still with me, Stross?" 

They stare at his hand and nod. Then they shake their head, earning a concerned look from the man. "What's wrong-" They begin moving, reaching up, pulling the IV nearly out of the skin. Isaac is quick to try to stop them.

"Let us touch it again, Isaac..."

"Stop moving for a second, touch what?"

"Your hair, it was soft before... is it now?"

"Before? What are you...?"

"Please... you were asleep there... and we like your hair."

It takes Isaac a moment but it is clear on his face that he is searching for a reason for the sudden interest in his hair. "I don't... Stross what do you mean?"

"You were asleep before. We touched your hair, your face, it was so soft," They again reach up to touch his face, grazing the stubble on his chin "We touched you hear and then we saw you again running to the voice... we wanted to touch you again, feel this again." Fingers danced upon the hair and they let out a content sigh. Familiarity passed through Isaac's eyes before he grabbed their hand, holding it away from his face.

"Wait.. I.. when did you touch my face? I remember someone touching me in my sleep back... back on The Sprawl... Stross that was you?!" The grip on their hand tightened but they kept their eyes on his chin. The whisper a yes before leaning forward and rubbing their cheek on his chin.

He pushes them back before backing away with his hands up. "The hell... The hell Stross?" 

"Please Isaac... another touch, let us feel again."

The doctor comes back with a box in hand only to stop and stare at the two. Isaac still held his hands up and kept his eyes on "Stross". She asks what happened and neither answers, leaving her irritated as she sets the box down and covers them up, thankfully hiding their exposed flesh. She adjusts the IV and gives him the box. 

It was filled with foods they recognized from home. Things the real Stross made for them. They begin swallowing big bites of cooked meat and mush. It burned their throat and they loved every second of it. It did not matter that they would vomit later.

While they ate, they could hear the way the doctor and Isaac spoke. She was speaking cautiously about cannibalism and self harm, things they understood and only the former they hated. Isaac responded with shock and they could feel his eyes on them now, but made no motion to look up from the food in hand. They cared not for his eyes at the moment, even if it did make them nervous again. 

Isaac began to speak more as the warm woman came to see them. She gasps when she hears about the cannibalism before sitting next to them and rubbing circle like patterns into their back. Isaac did not mention to either how they touched him. For that they were grateful, and surprisingly it made them feel happier. That exchange was their secret, and they wanted to continue when no other eyes were on them. They smile and the woman smiles too as she gives him a pat before standing up. 

The three humans talk more about them. They did not mind as the conversation ended and they were dressed and given medicine. They did not mind when the doctor and woman left. And they certainly did not mind when Isaac stayed seated in the corner, keeping an eye on them, clearly lost in his own mind.


It had been hours, perhaps days, they think, before the darker skinned man came to see them. The first thing he did was ask Isaac why he was being weird. Isaac did not answer but did gesture to them for some reason. This made the darker man turn to them and take a seat closer to the bed than Isaac. His hair was disgusting compared to Isaac's. 

"So... 'Stross' " he made a gesture with two fingers on both hands as he spoke the name "How the fuck did you survive here? And how does our dead guy and captain know ya?" 

They tilt their head curiously at the dead guy comment but choose not to press. "Isaac was there, home with us. We know him from Ishimura."

Carver, the man's name they now remember, huffs and crosses his arms. "Ok first, stop with the fucking 'WE' thing. Who the hell is we? You are one guy! Second, you were on that hell hole? Jesus, lucky you got off it huh? Though you are here so... not so lucky." 

"Hell hole? That is our... I.. my? My home?" They struggled with the singular inclusion "Why is she a hell hole? She is our- my... she is home." 

He stares at them before beginning to laugh. "Wow, you... you don't know? Of course not."

They did not get it, what did they not know. What was wrong with Ishimura? Was she ok? 

Before they could ask, Isaac stands and pushes Carver out. He yells and complains as he is taken from the room but does not return. Instead Isaac does and hesitantly places a hand on their shoulder. "We can talk about the Ishimura later Stross. For now I need you to-"

Before he can finish, a hand is quickly brought to his hair. It strokes lovingly, catching him off-guard as he stumbles back. Though he is stable enough to sit himself down on the chair Carver had previously been in. Silently he lets their hand wander over his head, his cheek, even his neck as he stares wide-eyed at them. They are grateful for this moment as they bring their other hand to join the other in the actions. 

It takes moments before Isaac speaks again, slowly removing the hands from his face. "Does this... help you?" His brow is furrowing and he stairs down at their thin hands held within his plump healthy ones. 

"Help? It... it makes us feel... happy... like you never left. Like he never left..." They bring his hand to their face and rub it against their cheek. "Like... you could be family. Closer than him." He did not understand, and he did not have to. They could feel his body shake as they once again reached for his chin and touched. The softness distracted them from resurfacing thoughts of the real Stross. They think he knows that they stole from him as he sleeps beneath the ice. The name burns painfully in their mind. 

But Isaac keeps that pain numb. And oh how they want to feel more of his flesh to see just how pain he can take away...

And just how much he can give to them.


Isaac left them for a while. It was perhaps the most depressing thing to happen to them since the Ishimura. 

In the man's absence, they were taken around the ship and placed in a room with maps. So many more humans were there and they stared. They stared and it made them nauseous. If it wasn't for the warm woman, they would have emptied the contents of their stomach again. 

The humans asked for the location of the family, the children, the first born, everyone. The maps were confusing and it had been too long since they had read a physical map. As they explain that there is obvious irritation in many of them and the woman quickly takes them out. 

She sighs and sits him back in the infirmary "Look, we can try again tomorrow ok? For now let's get some sleep?" She smiles and places a hand on his knee, on the clean white cloth. "Are you ok sleeping in here alone? I can probably stay or perhaps have Isaac or our good doctor stay with you." She reaches for a device near the bed and waits for their response. Immediately they grab her hand, startling her before quickly letting go. 

They whisper Isaac's name before looking to the device and she nods. "He is a nice guy and I am sure he can watch over you through the night. I think he truly understands what it is like to be in your situation..." She gets a strange look before hitting a button. It glows and they sit silently for a moment, listening to machines breathe. At last she speaks "Stross… You won't take my eye again will you?" 

She stares hard at them and it is only now that they notice her different colored eyes. His mind drifts back to the memory of his family with the screw driver. 

"Stick a needle in your eye..."

She backs away quickly and is reaching for something in her back pocket. Her hand is shaking and before she can continue, Isaac enters the room. 

"Ellie?" He approaches her as she shakes her head and rushes out, quickly saying sorry and good night. 

Isaac watches as she leaves before closing the door. He sighs and sits near the bed they sit on. "What did you do?" His voice did not sound judgmental, more curious than anything. 

They shrug "She asked if I will take her eye again." Isaac immediately understands and reassures them that it is the past, but they do need to not do it again.

Do not repeat the family's mistake.

After a while of being covered in blankets and Isaac creating an awful distance between them, the lights go out. Only the soft glow and whirring of the machinery is there in the dark and even the breathing of Isaac was comforting in the foreign and inappropriate place of sleep. They did not like the warmth that was still there, they wanted to touch Isaac again but he was out of reach. But perhaps they could get up, stand over him like before and touch that soft face, that soft flesh and hair. But the voice inside chastises them.

He is not ours. He is theirs. DO NOT DESERVE.

The voice is harsh but they find themselves ignoring it momentarily. Until it changes.

Just a touch, just a feeling. 

They find themselves standing now, walking over to the chair Isaac was curled up in. His breathing was even as though he was asleep already.

Just a touch, just the hair.

And they touch him, run their fingers over that sweet, sweet soft fur. He moves a bit in his sleep, making them stop the petting. When he stills, they continue, this time leaning forward and smelling the short softness.

Just a touch. Just a taste. 

Their breath hitches as they move closer to him. His hair, his skin smelled so sweet. They could feel their tongue leave their mouth and run against his cheek. It was sickening sweet. 

A taste... 

Their tongue runs over his other cheek, then his lips. Such plump flesh compared to their own, and it enticed them. They dived deeper, fingers on his hair, tongue exploring slowly before two hands grip them tightly, forcing them away. 

Their eyes are wide, staring back at those upon them. Isaac is shaking, furious, scared, confused. 

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" He sounds so different with the loud voice. How long had they been fondling him? The lights were still out and the machines still whirred. It had to have just been an hour or two. But they only felt minutes. 

They stare at him before exhaling slowly and trying to remove his hands from their arms. But they fail. He is too strong and shows no sign of letting go just yet. 

"Stross. What are you doing. What the hell were you trying to do to me?" Again they do not respond, but lean forward as best they can. Just barely can they set their head against his. They can feel him trembling as he holds them back. Was he afraid?

"Stross-" his grip loosens and he quickly stands, moving away from them. He wipes his cheeks and lips. "I don't know what... THIS is but... I need you to stop. Right now."

They did not understand. 

But we want...

What do we want...

Like Stross before... 

The flesh? 

The blood, the pain, the taste. How close.

But he is not Stross.

He is better. He is Isaac.

They inhale sharply and imagine it. Would it be painful with Isaac? He is a rough man. Stross was not rough, he was uncertain and careful. But it still hurt. 

"We.." They stay still in their spot next to the chair Isaac had once been asleep in. "Isaac... let... we want you." They want him. Just like they wanted Stross, but this was stronger. Isaac was different. He could be closer, he could be more than family. They could be more together. They could be whole. Not just from touch, from taste, from sex. No. 

They reach for him.

They will show him their family when everyone else wakes. They will meet the children, the workers, the first born, even the elders. The guardian already knows Isaac. But it will not know Isaac like they want. They will be the only one to know Isaac like this. 

An overwhelming feeling washed over them, one they had not experienced quite so intensely before. This feeling pushed out the voice completely for a while. They would not speak for the duration of the hours. Not while they wanted Isaac. No one else could have this love, and this love, Isaac will take them to back to the Ishimura. Maybe even Earth. 

But then the family came back to mind. They will want to touch Isaac, they will want to violate Isaac, just as they had done to them. They would have wanted to watch before but now... the softness that is Isaac, the softness of his hair of his flesh, of his taste....

They will not let the guardian touch Isaac.