Doom 3™: Worlds on Fire

by Matthew Costello

  “Yes, sir. Sorry. Now if I—”

  Kane watched General Schine cover his mic, then lean over to the man in the middle. And there was something familiar about him. Had Kane seen him in some theater or other? General Hadfield, his nameplate said.

  Hadfield whispered to first one then another member of the tribunal. Then he spoke. “Captain Ferrita, we appreciate that you want to do what you can for your client. And we also understand that you think you can make a case of extreme mitigating circumstances regarding former Lieutenant Kane’s disobedience of a direct order—”

  “Well, of course, but—”

  But Hadfield didn’t really want an answer from Ferrita. Instead, Kane saw the general give a nod to the prosecution desk, and the rail-thin prosecutor walked up to the table in the front.

  Hadfield held up a hand. “Hold on a minute, Captain.”

  Again some more off-the-record words. Kane leaned close to Ferrita. “I think the term for this is railroad.” Ferrita looked back at him with a look that said,Right, and there’s nothing the hell we can do about it.

  Ferrita seemed about to add something, and Kane thought:Is Ferrita in on whatever is going on here too? Is this little stage play all for my benefit and the record?

  The prosecutor nodded and left the tribunal table.

  “There is no need at all for us to review the events of last April, 2144. The electronic record is quite complete; the satellite vids show it all. And I am sure, Captain, you have no wish to waste the tribunal’s time, especially with our nation facing threats from so many different sectors.”

  When in doubt, wave the flag and ditch rights. A pretty old story, Kane thought.

  “No, sir. But my client still would like to explain—”

  “Mr. Kane, we have—in consultation with the prosecution—discussed an arrangement that would both appease military justice in these difficult days and resolve this case quickly. That is, if you and your lawyer agree to the terms.”

  Ferrita leaned close. “Think you best stand, since he’s talking to you.”

  Kane stood up. Months sitting in a cell had left Kane stiff. But he still knew he was the only one in the room who had faced anything approaching battle conditions for years. He could feel it. And he knew they could.

  “Yes, sir. An arrangement?”

  The woman, Colonel Thompson, smiled. “Adeal. That will allow us to close this matter and all get on with more important work. It will have the advantage, quite possibly, of saving your life.”

  “Not,” General Schine, said, “that we all agree it should be saved.”

  “A deal?” Kane repeated.

  “Yes. And for the particulars, you can follow the prosecution attorney, Colonel Sack, to the conference room. When he has your decision, we will reconvene.”

  The three stood up. The prosecutor stood to one side, looking almost afraid as he waited for Kane.

  Kane turned to Ferrita, eyes locked on him. “Did you know about this ‘deal’?”

  The captain rubbed his chin, then looked away. “I heard some rumblings that—”

  “Rumblings?” Kane shook his head. “Okay then…counselor. Let’s go see what kind of deal the U.S. Marine Corps has cooked up for me.”

  He turned and walked toward the prosecutor, already hurrying to the conference room.

  Colonel Sack, looking nervous, stood at the end of the room and gestured to two chairs.I’m not going to hurt you, Kane thought.Though that would certainly be fun.

  Kane took a chair and sat down, followed by Ferrita.

  He turned to his lawyer, “I would have liked some warning…you know, a heads-up?”

  “I wasn’t sure…this would happen.” Sack cleared his throat. “As you know, Mr. Kane, your offense carries—in the time of war—the potential of the death penalty.”

  “Yeah—never a good idea to save other marines. I’ll try to remember that.”

  “Um, but that’s just it. The Corps recognizes that what you did, you did to save fellow marines.”

  “Nice of them to see that.”

  “Easy, Kane,” Ferrita said.

  “And a trial dragging up testimony over such an incident, especially with the other geopolitical realities tossed in—”

  “Those realities. You gotta hate them…”

  “Bottom line: the Corps would like to avoid a trial. It has no interest in exacting the full penalty from you. Instead, it has an offer to make.”

  “We’re listening,” Ferrita said.

  “Here it is. Kane will be restored to active duty effective within the next forty-eight hours. He will be a private…in the space marines.”

  Kane shook his head. “What? The space marines?” Everyone in the real armed services knew that they were having trouble getting people to sign on to this new subset of the marines. “Might as well agree to be a rent-a-cop.”

  “The space marines,” Sack continued, “serve an important role in the expanding intersolar system security and goals of the United States. You will receive pay commensurate with your new rank, and even be eligible for retirement.”

  “How long a commitment?” Ferrita asked.

  The question seemed to make the prosecutor squirm. “Ten years, nonnegotiable.”

  Space marines,Kane thought. There could only be a few possibilities. Doing transport security, or escorts for planetary runs, maybe a post to the new Europa project, or the biggie—the project everyone knew about, butdidn’t know anything about. Mars.

  “Let me guess, I won’t be staying on Earth?”

  “They want to send you to Mars City. A minimum of two years on Mars. After that, maybe other postings. That, with your loss of rank, is the deal.”

  Kane looked at Ferrita. “Any negotiating moves to pull here, counselor?”

  But the prosecutor responded fast. “Mr. Kane, there are no other arrangements that can be made. You either accept this or face the tribunal, which could—as you have been told—result in a death sentence.”

  Kane smiled at the man. “Thanks for the clarification.” He stood up. “And when would I leave for Mars?”

  “Oh, I thought that was clear. As soon as possible. Forty-eight hours, most likely. With the next major transport. Should be enough time to get your affairs on Earth—whatever they are—in order. So—shall I inform the tribunal that terms have been agreed to?”

  “My affairs. Yeah, plenty of time to get them…in order.” Kane laughed, then stuck out his hand to the prosecutor. “You got a deal.”

  The prosecutor looked warily at the outstretched hand but took it anyway. Then Kane closed. Not so bad that he’d render Sack’s hand useless, but enough so he felt a good strong jolt of pain. Then he released it.

  Ferrita stood up. “Private, I’ll walk you back to your cell block. They’ll get your personal property ready.” He turned to Sack. “You will get all the necessary approvals into the pipeline?”

  A still-wincing Sack took out a PDA and projected a touch screen that floated a few feet in front of him. He hit some points on the floating screen. “There. Done. Just got to make sure you are at the Denver transport dock at least two hours before departure. You will be ferried up to the main UAC transport out of California. And that”—he took a breath—“is it.”

  Ferrita put a hand on Kane’s shoulder. “Let’s go—you’ve some things to do to get ready…”

  And just like that, Kane was out of his cell, and back in the marines.

  Though not really the marines, he knew. No way you could mix up the space marines with the real deal. As much as they tried to paint it as an elite corps, nobody wanted long tours of guard duty somewhereout there, whether it was one of the space stations, the moon, Mars, or any of the newer outposts being set up by the UAC. Better than a firing squad, though. Not that they would use such a dramatic form of execution in the twenty-second century. An electric charge to the brain precisely applied would more likely have been the method. Rest in peace.

  Ferrita handed him an envelope.


  “Here’s everything you will need. Embarkation instructions, your CO at the station, a guide to life in zero gravity. Normally they would provide some training, but—”

  “They just can’t wait to get rid of me?”

  They had reached the elevator that would take them from the depths of this subterranean fortress back to the surface.

  Captain Ferrita looked right and left. “Look, Kane. This may be a new chance for you.”

  “You don’t sound so sure.”

  “I mean, it’s better than the alternative. But I think—well—there are rumors all around this place. About Mars. About what’s going on there.”

  “They’re building a city, right? A home for the future. Experimental labs, some secret things, right?” Kane looked at the captain, trying to figure out how much he really knew.

  “Sure, that’s what the vids show. That’s what the UAC promotes. Some people are already living there, working and living on Mars. The new frontier and all that. But I got to tell you”—another glance left and right, making sure they were alone—“that isn’t the whole story.”

  “And you think it has something to do with my going up?”

  Ferrita nodded. “I don’tknow anything. All I know is what I hear, just the rumors. What people have whispered about. The UAC’s experiments, some gone wrong. Some people missing. People get scared. Word filters back. It’s getting real tense up there, Kane. And I think, maybe…that’s why you’re going up there.”

  “Let’s send the marine traitor from Terekstan to Mars?”

  “Something like that. They’re beefing up their marine muscle on the planet. The UAC is worried about something. They pay the freight, the marines supply the bodies. Obviously they thought someone like you would be useful on the planet.”

  “Useful? Interesting word. Useful for what? Against what?”

  The elevator door opened—an empty chamber.

  “Wish the hell I knew, Kane. But if I was you, I’d be prepared for anything.” Ferrita took a breath.

  Least he got that off his chest,Kane thought. A vague warning of something waiting on Mars. And in a funny way, it somehow made Kane feel a little bit better about this unwanted posting.

  Suddenly, he thought, things indeed sounded…interesting.

  17

  MARS CITY—DELTA LAB

  DR. MALCOLM BETRUGER LOOKED AT THE TEAMof scientists standing in a circle around him. Not one of them did he trust.

  No, as soon as this workchanged, as soon as things became truly exciting, revolutionary, and, yes, frightening, he could sense the shift. He knew they must talk among themselves. Whispers, grumbles perhaps. Did Kelliher have a spy among them? He wouldn’t be surprised.

  So Betruger had started treating them differently.

  First, he began compartmentalizing their responsibilities. Now each one of the esteemed team would function—in their area—alone, and report only to him. While he didn’t actually forbid any discussion between any members, he certainly made it clear that he didn’t like it.

  And that was the other thing.Fear… Was there a better motivator? A year ago Betruger had looked up to these people as true collaborators, but now each could be a conspirator, someone who might betray the project.

  At first they didn’t seem so terribly upset by the animal experiments when some went wrong. But they almost all protested the idea of using a human.

  Betruger reminded then:We’re on Mars. There is a reason these experiments are being done here.

  The first transfer of a human seemed, initially, to go well. That is, until the private stumbled out of the chamber. He tried to speak. His mouth opened.

  “Just rattled by the process,” Betruger offered.

  But when the volunteer opened his mouth, everyone saw that the man couldn’t speak because he had no tongue. No teeth either. In fact, his throat seemed to be bubbling up a fountain of blood, shooting it across the lab floor.

  The man was dead within minutes.

  That was when Betruger had to shock each and every one of them with his speech. “It meansnothing. And we will achieve nothing unless we experiment, unless we learn what works and what doesn’t.”

  But even Betruger at first had to wonder.Losing a tongue? Could that really be part of the transfer process?

  An autopsy report, done right in Delta, was sent only to him. While there were mumblings about shock, about the volunteer marine biting and swallowing his own tongue, the autopsy report showed something quite different.

  The tongue, in fact the whole inner mouth, the palate, a chunk of the throat lining had been—it appeared—serrated away. Somehow…cut out. Now that was intriguing. And wasn’t that what true scientists live for?

  As for the second subject, he appeared perfectly fine. A true success. Some of the scientists even applauded like it was a stage show!

  The man emerged from the second tank with no signs of anything wrong. He stumbled a bit, his eyes looked around the room. The medical team caught him just as he was about to collapse, then they laid him down on the stretcher.

  A success.

  Human teleportation across a distance of 30 meters! And the man was fine. But then he woke up. And screamed…

  They were too late getting the gurney straps onto the man. He attacked one of the nurses, his teeth closing on her shoulder, brutally ripping out a chunk of flesh, then he leaped—with what seemed an almost inhuman strength—onto one of the scientists, grabbed his skull, prepared to bite down.

  Only the swift butt of a rifle from one of the guards got the man off. They knocked him out with Coticin, the high-speed supernarcotic, taking him down immediately.

  And whenever he was allowed to emerge from his drug-induced sleep, the screaming would begin again, the straps would look as though they would break.

  Betruger ordered him to remain sedated. At least until he knew what happened.

  And something he didn’t tell anyone, not certainly the scientific team, so much more interesting than mere teleportation. Betruger had ideas—theories—but he kept them to himself. After all, there was no one to trust.

  Now, he looked at the assembled scientists. “I want you to prepare for the next test.”

  He watched their faces, the lack of enthusiasm. Such timid rabbits of science. “And yes,” Betruger continued, “it will be a new human experiment.”

  Maria put her tray down at a table filled with grunts. Two of them, Andy Kim and Dick “Deuce” Howard, had made PFC—private first class—simply by marking time here. That was pretty much how it went. Put time in, get advanced, get a bit more money, and count the days until your Mars tour was over.

  Then, if you were desperate, sign on again. After all, there wasn’t much waiting back on Earth.

  Rodriguez, sitting to the right, hadn’t been promoted.But that’s because he’s an idiot, Maria guessed. Trying to run scams and deals in a small place like this where everything is watched and recorded.

  As for Maria, she knew that somehow the black mark on her record was still there.I should have let the nutcase kill Kelliher.

  “Maria, Maria…how go things in the halls of Alpha Labs?”

  Her current assignment—security in the hallways around Alpha Labs—was about as dull as things could get. She hoped to get rotated to one of the exterior sites. Guard duty on Mars itself, not inside this nest of hallways and tunnels—that might have been something interesting.

  “Exciting as ever, Rodriguez. And you, still hitting on the chippies at Reception?”

  He laughed. “I got a lot of fuckin’ patience, Moraetes. You may not see any of the Rodriguez charm, but they will. And just imagine…” He leaned close to her. “All those months with no man-action. Can do wonders to a girl’s insides.”

  Deuce leaned across the table. “Yeah, like make someone desperate enough for a taste of Rodriguez?”

  The whole table—minus Rodriguez—laughed.

  “Funny, Deuce. Like you’d have better luck.”

&
nbsp; The giant African-American marine took a massive bite of a sandwich he had made. It looked as though he had stuffed everything on offer at the lunch counter between two slices of the soybread. “I don’t…kiss and tell. And I certainly don’t f—”

  “Oh spare me, okay?” Maria said.

  She felt Andy Kim looking at her. Maria felt that despite their good friendship, Kim was interested in her. Which was too bad. Sweet kid, but Maria sure as hell wasn’t going to let herself get involved with anybody here.

  “What about you, Moraetes? You think about hooking up with anyone up here?”

  Deuce slapped his friend’s shoulder. “She hangs with us. And that’s plenty, right, Maria?”

  She smiled. “Right. You three clowns are more than enough for one woman.” She scooped up a forkful of some beef-flavored glop. Who knew what it really was. Who cared.

  And she was glad to see that none of her friends—because that was what they were—pushed that question further. They were all space marines, stuck on Mars. That was all that mattered.

  A few moments, then Rodriguez cleared his throat. “I hear…that they’re looking for another volunteer.”

  And for a moment nobody said anything.

  “Whoa, whoa,whoa! Hold it up there!”

  Graulich had walked to the cave opening to check on the delivery of equipment she had called for hours ago. Now she saw a half-dozen space marines outside their ROV vehicles, hanging around as if this was a day at the beach.If they weren’t wearing helmets, it looks as if they’d be standing around and smoking cigarettes. This is security? “Who the hell is in charge here?”

  The marines all looked around as if no one wanted to step up and claim that role. Finally one of them stepped close to Graulich.

  “I am, ma’am.”

  Ma’am?“It’s ‘Doctor.’ If you’re going to address me as anything, it’sDoctor.” She felt the other marines looking at each other. She couldn’t see them rolling their eyes, but she sure could feel it. “And your name?”