"P-Sec sir, what seems to be the problem?"
"I have no idea. He suddenly began shouting and screaming, saying that the Marker was going to kill everyone."
Sergeant Abraham Neumann tiredly rubbed his eyes.
"The Marker... Is this fucker another Unitologist nut-job?"
The lead maintenance officer shook his head.
"Fuck no."
"Then why the fuck is he losing his shit, Bryan!"
"I don't know! Maybe Josh or Rodriguez spiked his rations with hallucinogens? Those two take shit too far on the regular."
"I'm sorry this had to happen on your watch," Bryan continued apologetically, scratching his bald head.
"Don't be. It's my job," Sergeant Abraham grumbled before stepping inside. His gaze fell upon a man curled up in a ball, whimpering and crying to himself. "What's his name?"
"Michael Feld."
"Michael Feld, this is Sergeant Abraham with P-Sec. Can you tell me what happened?"
"W-we have to get out of here... We have to get out of here!"
"Calm down," Abraham said calmly, though his hand rested firmly on his belt. "Why do we need to get out of here?"
"T-The Marker is going to turn everyone insane. People will turn into monsters and... and...!"
He shrieked and lunged forward, grabbing Abraham's collar. His eyes were manic with fear, and spittle speckled his face as he screamed.
"We need to get on a shuttle and get the fuck out of here before—"
His mania was silenced with a hard cross punch to the face.
"Crazy fucker," Abraham growled, standing over the unconscious body. "There wouldn't be a Marker on this godforsaken planet in the middle of nowhere. And if there was, all the Unitologists on this station would be in an uproar."
His gaze snapped to Bryan. "Josh and Rodriguez, you said?"
"Y-yeah," Bryan stammered. "Though I'm not certain that it was them. It's just a theory."
"Pull them back from their shifts. I need to have a word with them."
"Our religion isn't full of assholes," a woman in a P-Sec uniform snapped, her arms folded.
"Not you too, Cortez..."
"What? It isn't! Every group has their own variations of assholes."
"Sure, and your group seems to have them all. Have you heard anything about a Marker?"
She shook her head.
"No. Someone's being a dick."
------
~Less than an hour ago~
"Where am I...?"
Michael Feld woke up to an unfamiliar environment.
He'd just returned home after a day of performing checks on satellite dishes after a major windstorm, noting that some of them had dents in the reflectors from flying debris and one's support arm was bent.
It was another long day, and another beer cracked with some gaming before bed.
But now...
With shaking legs, he stepped out as the door hissed open. There was nothing in his bedroom except a bed and a lamp for reading.
The air was cool. On that fine line of being cold enough that one wants a jacket, but when you put it on, you're suddenly too warm.
The fluorescent lights flickered on and revealed what appeared to be a domicile, except it wasn't his, and it was very metallic.
His gaze wandered the room.
A comfortable-looking couch with what appeared to be a TV and table. The table was scattered with papers, books, and a laptop. The doors appeared to be sheet metal with off-brown coloring.
He gulped nervously and began to step forward when a massive migraine suddenly fell upon him.
"AGHH!"
He shouted, collapsing forward and clutching his head.
Brief visions and memories of this universe's Michael Feld flashed through his mind.
Attending the academy on Earth, scoring top of his class and joining the Concordance Extraction Corporation (CEC) as an Electrical Engineer. Despite being a high scorer, he was still in heavy debt due to the costs of schooling, and when he heard about a special opportunity in the far reaches of space that offered double the regular pay through CEC channels, it was an opportunity he couldn't pass up.
The reasoning flashed in his mind as if it was yesterday.
A few years of hard work and I'll be debt clear! Then I can start saving up for my very own ship!
An ambitious, highly dubious but ambitious plan for a single engineer. The cost, even if he rose through the ranks, would take at least ten to twenty years, assuming nothing went wrong. And even then, it would only get him a basic shuttle-class ship.
But for the new Michael Feld...
The one from modern Earth and not this sci-fi universe...
"I'm working on Aegis VII," Michael croaked.
"I'm going to die."