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Doom Story Update
🕑 Added 2024-11-06 12:00:01 +0000 UTC3k words
***
Andreas awoke with a chortle, an uneasy sensation causing his eyes to drift open. A dangling chain of drool curled onto his cheek as he propped himself on his elbows, the soft texture of the pillow lingering on his scuffed cheek as he took in his surroundings. A set of drawers were propped up in one corner, its surface stacked with a small potted plant, and a framed photo of a lighthouse sweeping its beam over crashing waves. Beside it was a sliding door, a tiled bathroom visible through the gap. A table and chair were the only other things decorating the room.
How had he wound up in a hotel, what had happened? It took a moment to regroup his memories. Sneaking around the siege camp, the pipe, the Baroness taunting him as those reinforced doors closed her off from him. His shoulders and neck ached like a motherfucker from power-napping with the armour still on, but the sense of refreshment coursing through his blood put such complaints to rest.
He swung his legs over the mattress, his boots planting on the carpet. As he rubbed his crusty eyes, his thoughts turned to that feeling that had woken him up, and part of him concluded it was a sensation born from being watched. He took a second glance around the room, and this time he saw something else.
Hovering five feet above the ground was a drone, peering down at him with a bright, blue sensor that served as its eyepiece. Its circular body was about sixty centimetres in diameter, with its upper half composed of a white, smooth lid capping a set of hydraulic pincers with rubber-lined grippers. A quiet humming noise filled the room as its unseen propulsion systems kept it gently bobbing in the air.
“Fuck off, drone, I’m napping.” He plopped back onto the bed, face-first.
“I know you’ve never been a morning person, but can’t you make an exception for me, Seargent?”
He did a double take on the drone, eyebrows raising in recognition. “Eva? Where the Hell did you get a Dropper from?”
“You like it?” she asked, the lower pincers staying in place as she twirled the casing in a full three-sixty. “The engineers at the foundry had a couple lying around. I felt bad having Corporal Torres carry your helmet around all the time, so I had them upload a copy of myself into one. The sensor suite is a little rustic,” she added, flexing her pincers at him. “but now that I have arms, my abilities have expanded tenfold compared to that cramped little helmet. If you’ll turn your attention to the table, I think you’ll agree with the sentiment.”
She gestured with a pincer, a pile of steaming bacon with a side of poached eggs sat on a tray on the table, the crispy smell finally registering in Andreas’ mind. Eva hummed in amusement as his prior tiredness was instantly erased, Andreas taking a seat before the food.
“Breakfast delivery? I think I’m all for this.”
“Technically this is supper, you’ve been sleeping for thirteen hours.”
He paused with a forked piece of bacon an inch from his lips, giving the drone an are you serious look. “Shit, thirteen? How come nobody woke me up?”
“A couple tried, but I had the door locked. I considered it a health risk to interrupt your sleep cycle – though it's more like a sleep scribble at this point. Few dirty looks from the senior officers, but they don’t have the authority to order ARC around.”
Andreas regarded the drone thoughtfully. She was usually a stickler for the rules, so imagining her sectioning off this room from the base’s owners was an odd shift in character. Odd, but far from unpleasant.
“Thank you, Eva,” he said. “Going through debriefing was the last thing on my mind once we got through the pipe. Still is.”
“Thirteen hour-long naps are the least you deserve,” Eva replied, hovering closer as Andreas dug into his meal. “You made it. It came down to the wire several times, what with all the leaping off buildings, blowing up nests, slicing through demonic hordes, all while having this estranged with that Baroness, but you made it, Seargent.”
“Never doubted me for a second though, right?,” Andreas asked, speaking between mouthfuls.
“Oh, no, I definitely had my doubts, especially when we were captured. But you pulled through, like always.”
“Hey, we pulled through,” he corrected. “It was a team effort. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been there to reign me in what things got hairy.”
“You’d likely still be out in the streets, fighting the good fight,” she chuckled. “In all seriousness, the credit is yours. You’re the one who was shot by eighty-seven fireballs, nearly a quarter of which hit or grazed you.”
“Well that’s going to change soon,” Andreas said, smirking. “Now that you’ve got a drone, you can charge right into the line of fire with me.”
“On second thought, being confined to your helmet wasn’t all that bad,” she mused, Andreas chuckling at her.
His meal was had double portions, but Andreas scoffed the meal down in a matter of minutes, Eva filling him in on what had happened while he was out. She had written up a digital report and used the Rallypoint’s intranet to send a status update back to the carrier, and apparently the Admiral expressed relief upon hearing that he was still alive and well, and to continue the mission to the best of his ability.
He asked about Torres and the rest of his section – the ones that had come in on the dropships, Eva explaining that they were somewhere in the headquarters.
“Commander Valeria is there too. Remember her?” Eva asked. “She wished to speak with you as soon as you woke up, so we can hit two birds with one stone if we go straight to her.”
“Duty never stops calling, I guess,” Andreas said, burping into his hand. As much as he enjoyed a hot meal and the warm bed, he knew that Sharrya was on the move right this moment, and he should do the same. “Lead the way, Eva. Wait,” he added. “Where're my guns?”
“I took them to the armoury for cleaning and refitting,” Eva explained, her drone tilting in his direction. “Don’t give me that look. These people have been safeguarding the complex for months by themselves, you don’t have to carry a gun everywhere you go.”
He took her word for it, following the drone out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him. Eva floated off to the right, Andreas glancing back at the hatch that led out into the pipe, the sound of sloshing water very distant and quiet. As Torres had said, they must have flooded it once they were all safe inside.
The ward was a series of whitewashed hallways, arranged in perfect grids. Eva hovered at around chest height as she drifted around the corners, the intersections signed with arrows pointing to different sectors of the base. Wards from A through to D took up most of the list, along with Barracks and Security, but the one they followed was ICC.
After a few turns, Andreas saw a pair of men walking the other way. They were dressed like militia, wearing surplus armour with submachine guns slung over their shoulders, carrying themselves not quite like soldiers, but not quite like civvies either. They called him by name and rank as though they had just enlisted in his unit, regarding him with an awe that didn’t sit right with Andreas. He gave them a curt nod and went on his way, but he could still feel their eyes on his neck long after.
At the next turn, three more people idled around a door, two men and a woman. Military surplus and close quarters weaponry was present also, and once again Andreas found himself being noticed and saluted, their displays of respect underlined by looks of surprise and reverence. Andreas decided to speak up once they were out of earshot.
“Why’s everyone looking at me like I’m the al-Gaib or something?” Andreas asked.
“I told you,” Eva said, her drone flying backwards as she turned her eye on him. “These people have had little to do but watch the world around them slowly be consumed. You can imagine how hard it was to hold onto hope that any of them would live through this seige. So when reports that a lone man fought through the hordes and destroyed a gore nest in the process gets around, well, you can imagine how people might see you as the next best thing to the Slayer’s return.”
“Don’t tell me I have to give a speech or something.”
“Once word starts to spread that you’re awake, it may be possible the Commander would ask such a thing,” she replied, spinning her chassis in a drone-version of an eyeroll. “Come on, Seargent, facing down a horde of imps while a Baron of Hell threatens to seduce you, that’s nothing, but you’re scared of speaking to a crowd?”
“I’m not scared,” he insisted, but deep down, a part of his chest tightened with anxiety.
A couple passes with more militia groups later, and Eva was leading him down a corridor capped with a reinforced bulkhead, the frame flanked by two guards in black combat armour. They carried heavy assault rifles, their gear equivalent to his. This must be the way to the ICC.
Either the two guards recognised Eva’s drone, or they knew who Andreas was, one of them turning to hit the control panel. They saluted crisply as the metal door opened up like the bars of a gate to a castle’s keep.
As he stepped through, the glow of dozens of terminal screens reflected off the front of his armour, the climate-controlled air leaving a chilly taste in his throat. Most of the command centre’s floorspace was taken up by concentric rings of polished desks, wide curved monitors and data projections lining their surfaces. Men and women typed furiously as they leaned over their workstations, the clacking of keys rising above the murmur of conversation. Instead of walls, a large monitor curled around the room, the display broken up into smaller sections to show numerous data feeds of the base’s critical systems. A map of planet Earth dominated the majority of this display, with red blobs showing Hell’s forces, and blue blobs for ARC’s. There was a lot more of the former than the latter.
Beyond the terminal rings, circular tablets flanked the room, soldiers in combat gear pouring over maps and discussing among themselves, one of the groups catching Andreas’ attention. About ten men were clustered around one such table, wearing black shirts with rolled up sleeves, and dark pants that ended just above their combat boots. Over their vests they wore tactical rigs with the pockets full of weapons mags, and while most of their combat armour was missing, the ARC logo on their shoulders was easy to pick out.
When he looked to their faces, recognition bloomed inside him, and he suppressed a grin as he made his way over, going completely unnoticed even as he stood right behind one of the men.
“Stand up straight, Kowalksi. I’m gone for a couple days and you think that makes it okay to slouch?”
The Private, Kowalski, stood to attention without missing a beat. Then he furrowed his brow and glanced over his shoulder, his suspicion morphing to surprise.
“S-Seargent? Holy shit, man, it’s good to see you!” He slapped the Seargent on the shoulder. “Hey, everyone, look who’s back from the dead.”
The team had been engrossed in their report, but now they were turning their attention to Andreas, the men lining up to welcome him back to the section. Among the Privates was their Corporal, the team leader explaining that the rest of the section was down in the canteen getting some R&R, and he’d let them know Andreas was up as soon as he could.
Once they’d all welcomed him back, they didn’t waste time pressing him for details on what had happened since his dropship was shot down. Andreas did his best to fill them in on his journey, with Eva adding in her own comments, usually ones that explained in detail on how Andreas preferred to hold his ground rather than cede it.
This did not surprise the men in the slightest. In fact, the squad filled the command centre with laughter at the suggestion of retreat, the little drone scowling at them grumpily. They earned a few odd looks from the terminal operators, but the squad was too engrossed in his story to pay them any mind.
What did surprise them, was his interactions with Sharrya (he called her the Baroness, just to save face), and while some of them thought little of it, a few of their number regarded him with a keener interest. Perhaps they’d picked up on his subtle shift in tone when forced to discuss her, and how he didn’t quite speak of her like she were a demon, but a combatant who was both skilled and cunning.
“You speak fondly of that Baron,” a new voice said suddenly. New, but not unfamiliar. “For me, fondness is the last way I’d describe that puta.”
Andreas turned around. A woman in a white, pristine uniform stood with her hands clasped behind her back, the dark trimmings of her belt and collar standing out against the ironed fabric. She looked older than Andreas by a few years, and at first he thought crows feet was beginning to settle in her cheeks, but a second glance confirmed those were scars, the blemishes giving her the look of a veteran.
Her brown hair was tied up in a neat bun, Andreas catching sight of it as she dipped her head in greeting. “You are Seargent Andreas, I recognise your voice. It is strange, that after all the suffrage Hell has caused us as a species, I expected antipathy for the Baron and her forces, not partiality.”
Her dark eyes regarded him with a sliver of confusion, or maybe that was suspicion. He recognised that tone – Eva’s complaints had run along the very same lines. Something told him he shouldn’t be as flippant this time around. This Commander had been harassed by Hell’s legions since day one, she’d no doubt lost people.
“Commander,” Andreas began, bringing his hand up for a salute. He continued after she waved for him to be at ease. “It’s true, I find the Baron’s strategies commendable, but that’s not because I’m sentimental. Fighting’s only half the battle, studying your opponent is where the real fights are won.”
“Know thine enemy,” she said. He had a feeling that was as close to agreement as she was willing to say. “The only thing I’d like to know about that Baron is how to kill her, but it is good to know ARC has professionals leading their teams. Welcome to Rallypoint Gamma, Seargent.”
“Feels good to be behind some walls, Commander,” he said, appraising the room.
“I’d imagine so after the lengths you took to get here. Mi fuerte es to fuerte. Anything you need, just ask.”
“If you could give me and my section a target, I’d appreciate the hospitality.”
The corner of Commander Valeria’s lips curled. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you? I was hoping ARC would send someone like you. Walk with me, I would speak with you privately.”
“Just a moment, Commander,” Andreas said. “Corporal.”
One of the men form his section stepped forward. Andreas reached into his pack, and brought out a bundle of chainlinks. Hooked onto said chain links were silver tags with names printed into the metal.
“Keep these someplace safe,” Andreas said, handing the dog tags over, the Corporal handling them like they were made of glass. “They’re all that’s left of my squad.”
The Corporal made to pocket them, but the Commander held up a hand.
“You can take them to my personal office on level two, nobody but my most trusted are allowed there. May I also ask that one of my advisors make a record of the fallen? I made a promise to your Seargent that I would honour your dead.”
The Corporal looked to Andreas, who nodded wordlessly. He followed after Valeria as she turned to the door, the Commanders leather shoes making crisp clicks against the floor.
“Thanks for that, Commander,” he said as they stepped into the hallway beyond. One of the door guards followed, escorting at a few paces behind them.
“So many have fallen these days,” Valeria muttered. “The few of us left should make time to pay respects.”
Eva slipped through the closing doors just in time, her lens exchanging a glance with their bodyguard as she floated down the hall.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” Andreas prompted, Valeria pausing a moment before answering. She was a little shorter than he, her eyes about level with his chin.
“Your superiors, ARC,” she began. “When they answered my distress call, they made it abundantly clear that my country was beyond saving, and they insisted that our next course of action should be evacuation. Are you of the same opinion?”
“This on or off the record?” Andreas asked.
“You can speak freely in my Rallypoint, Seargent. ARC may have absorbed all of Earth’s assets into itself, but I was in command here long before Samuel Hayden came back from his little trip to Mars Spain and its people are who I answer to first and foremost.”
Seeing he wasn’t about to be in for a reprimand, Andreas spoke his mind.
“Personally I like what you’re doing here,” he said. “There aren’t many places out there that can hold their own without ARC support like you have. Earth’s our home, it’s about time we started taking it back.”
“Couldn’t have put it any better myself, Seargent. My demand to your superiors followed those very same lines. Did they tell you much about what your mission here in the Rallypoint would be?”
“They were a little more vague than I’d like,” he said, keeping up with her clean, posturised strides. “They said we were to head out and lend you whatever assistance we could.”
“-Within reason,” Eva butted in. “And to ensure the safe delivery of our cargo.”
“That too,” Andreas added.
“Interesante. It does sound vague when you word it like that,” Commander Valaria said. “And when do you return to your carrier?”
“Not until you’re satisfied, I suppose.”
“So, in a manner of speaking, you are now under my command, si?” she asked. “Your entire section as well?”
“The section answers only to the Corporals and the Seargent,” Eva said, hovering urgently between their shoulders. “You’re not even classified as ARC personnel, you can’t give us orders.”
“No, I’m not ARC,” Valeria said, stopping at the next hallway to address the drone. “but the chain of command still applies, and as commanding officer of this facility, I’m responsible for every soul inside these walls, AI’s notwithstanding. You’ve been ordered to assist me, which makes me your CO until the moment I relieve you.”
Eva’s drone made a series of stuttering noises. She seemed to have lost the computation power to form words.
“And it’s all above board, too,” Andreas mused. “Is that why you brought me out here? Want me to go let the boys down easy?”
“I want your personal involvement in the next stage of our operation,” Valeria explained. “And don’t look at me like that,” she added, turning to Eva. “We are all in the same boat now, everyone must pick up a paddle.”
“Very well,” Eva sighed in resignation. “What would you have us do?”
Valeria pursed her lips in a small grin. “Row. Not to worry, I have the exact paddle in mind for you. You especially, Seargent, should find it most pleasing given what you’ve told me.”
The Commander led the way down the left turn, Andreas lingering back for a second. Eva buzzed up beside his head and used her pincers to shrug at him. Told you what? she seemed to say, but Andreas only replied with a confused shake of his head.
After a few more turns, Valeria led them to another bulkhead, the reinforced door sliding open to reveal an expansive courtyard, rays of sunlight drawing dusty beam in the air.
