CHAPTER II: BOOT CAMP
The smell was suffocating. It was something like a mix of burnt grease and brimstone, and it hung in the air like a heavy curtain. It was exactly such things that distracted him easily.
He moved silently through the narrow passage. Rough volcanic rock surrounded him on both sides, the floor was covered with a thick layer of ash, and above was an eerie red sky, thick with swirling vapors and flashing cinders. There was a clearing ahead. He had to avoid being seen at all costs. If only that smell could go away...
Ahead was a larger area. The ashen ground was dotted with several pointy brown things that slightly resembled deformed tree stumps and several pools of thick fetid water, though it looked more like tar. The silence was unsettling. Where were they?
There! A tiny wisp of disturbed ash floating near the ground. There was something right behind the corner. He gripped the shotgun tightly. His hands were sweating inside the protective gloves and for a second he felt like the gun would slip out of his grasp. He could hear the labored breathing now – it had to be a former human. Weak, slow, with poor coordination. Carries a low-caliber security rifle. Shouldn't be too much of a challenge.
Fully focused on the lingering threat behind the corner, for a few seconds he was completely oblivious of what was going on behind his back. The hollow growl startled him – he recognized it immediately. A "pinky" demon – very sharp teeth and horns, resilient skin, charges at high speed to come within melee range. He turned around sharply and prepared to shoot the fiend between the eyes... but there was nothing behind him. A moment of hesitation and then he saw it – a blurry distortion in the air, like a drop of alcohol in a glass of water, rushing towards him. A specter!
The precious few seconds lost in the confusion turned out to be more decisive than he expected. The specter rammed him with its horns and he fell on his back. The shotgun was still in his hands – he pointed it up and shot blindly into the blur that was descending upon his throat. The blast went straight into the creature's mouth and the distortion flew backwards, spewing blurry fluids in all directions. He had no time to enjoy his success; a heavy footstep was heard to the right. The former human fixated him with its glazed eyes and raised its weapon. The shotgun blast took its head off a millisecond before it could squeeze the trigger.
Just in that moment a loud siren was heard and a mechanical voice announced: "Simulation ended. All trainees, please report to your instructor for performance review."
A ripple went through the vista of the infernal landscape; it shimmered and then disappeared, revealing the bare concrete walls of a large underground chamber. More importantly, the smell disappeared and he could finally breathe freely. Several other marines were nearby, already taking off their helmets. One of them approached him and gave him a hearty pat on the back.
"You are one lucky bastard, Hicks! I thought that specter was going to eat you for lunch. You'll probably get some bonus points for quick reflexes, eh?"
"Sure," Hicks replied, "But I should not have allowed that thing to ram me in the first place. I think they will give me some extra hours in the specter spotting simulator."
"Don't worry about it – even the best have trouble seeing these things in the gloom," the other man grinned, "Always better to hear them before you see them – that's what I say."
"True," Hicks nodded, "It was the growl that tipped me off. Imagine how deadly they would be, if they could charge silently... anyway, let's report to the instructor."
10 minutes later
The room was already filled with marines who were eagerly discussing the training session. An overview of the simulator arena was displayed on the large screen – it looked just like a gauntlet. The "Slough of Despair" was one of the marines' favorite – it was (supposedly) based on an actual area in Hell, which was visited by the anonymous "Doom marine" himself, built according to his memories of the place.
The hottest topic for discussion, however, was the simulator upgrade that had been performed last night. The demons' AI was improved, the impact from enemy hits was made stronger (and more realistic), the environment was made more dynamic, new arenas were added ("House of Pain" and "Unholy Cathedral"), and, of course, they added the smell. Everyone was complaining about the smell!
Hicks was not in the mood for talking, yet he paid attention to the ongoing conversation. Right next to him was a small group of younger recruits – typical geeks who drooled at the sight of a plasma gun and wanted to have every possible gadget in their arsenal. Their conversation revolved around technology as well.
"Believe me, guys, I saw it and I even had the chance to poke around it for a few minutes," the red-haired marine was obviously excited and could hardly wait to tell his story, "They have recovered an Arachnotron in nearly pristine condition – the brain was blown away but the mechanical components were intact. They still don't know how the demons could have developed this kind of technology. It's unlike anything we have ever seen before – they are struggling to figure out the logic behind its construction. It's totally alien!"
"It's some sort of cybernetics, right?" asked another recruit, discretely taking notes on his PDA.
"To some extent it is. But it's also different in many aspects," the marine continued, "Demonic technology seems to always use organic components, yet in a manner we cannot fully understand."
"And we probably never will," interjected a third marine, "They are supposed to upload everything we find out about the demons to the database, yet they are clearly hiding something from us. Have you noticed the blanks while browsing the files? I've run into many of these data restricted / insufficient clearance level – they appear here and there, concealing crucial details. And that's the weird thing – they shouldn't even show up. We are supposed to have full access to everything in the database. Clearance level 5 is the highest possible level, isn't it?"
At this point Hicks was compelled to join the conversation.
"Rumor has it that there is a higher level," he said with a wry smile, causing the three young marine to gasp with surprise, "The hidden sixth level. In fact, some claim that its true name is Clearance Level 666 because it gives access to the darkest bits of demon-related knowledge that the government has been able to recover."
Then he smiled and said with a lighter tone, "Of course, it could all be just a tall tale meant to scare green recruits like you. Be good in your training and the answers will find their way to you sooner or later..."
Then he winked at them and turned around just as the "attention" signal was heard. The voices died down as the instructor enter the room and assumed his position by the screen. He glanced through the sheets of paper he was carrying and then turned towards the assembled recruits.
"At ease, men. Your results have a marked improvement this week and I am very pleased. But before I go into details... how do you like the simulation upgrade?"
Several giggles were heard throughout the room, and then a voice spoke from the back rows:
"It's all very nice, Major, but what the Hell was that unholy stench?!"
"The so-called stench, Lieutenant Cole, is one more step towards training you to ignore distractions – even the really nasty ones," the instructor spoke without even looking. He could always recognize each marine's voice in an instant. "Our data indicates that Hell's atmosphere is saturated with a variety of irritating, nauseating and caustic substances. Without the protection of a helmet, you'd most likely be crying blood and coughing your lungs out after a mere ten minutes of exposure. Even when you wear a helmet, you will still feel the foul odor and perhaps a little stinging in your eyes. This is why we did our best to simulate it – so that you can be prepared for it."
A murmur passed through the room – the instructor was right, as always. The annoyance had suddenly turned into a new challenge to overcome. Some of the more hotheaded marines were even eager to face it without a helmet.
"The real issue here is awareness," the instructor continued, "Most of you are still taken by surprise way too often. In a real combat situation, you'll end up KIA in no time. So learn to keep your eyes and ears open – demons are not exactly stealthy creatures, they leave plenty of signs of their presence. Footsteps, scratches on the walls, bloodstains, traces of blood or other bodily fluids, little bits of torn cloth or debris, growls and other sounds are just a few of the things that can tell you that something lurks just behind the corner. Lieutenant Hicks over there detected the presence of a former human from bits of ash disturbed by the creature's clumsy steps. On the other hand, he made a mistake by leaving his back uncovered long enough for a specter to charge at him. We do our best to help you spot these creatures, yet they can always slip from your sight, even when you're paying attention. These things are quite heavy – the inertia from the charge will knock you down, it's practically impossible to withstand it."
He paused for a few seconds in order to make a few notes in his notepad.
"The next training session begins at 2000 hours. The upgrade has raised the difficulty slightly, so don't get sloppy! And don't let the smell distract you – try to get used to it, it's for your own good. You are dismissed... except for Jones, Ryan and Hicks. I'd like to have a word with you in my office."
15 minutes later
The facility's age was obvious, even though it had undergone extensive repairs and upgrades. The concrete walls may have been white once, but now they were mostly yellow, even brown in some spots. Small bits of rusted rebar showed up through the cracks. One particular wall had numerous bullet holes on it – they were deliberately not fixed because they were known to have been caused by the so-called Doom marine's chaingun, and now that stretch of wall had become a place of worship for some of the recruits.
Hicks was skeptical – he liked the story, yet he had his doubts about a single man's ability to defeat the entire might of Hell. If "Doom marine" was real, he was either superhuman or the luckiest man ever born. Or maybe a little bit of both...
There were just five fully trained Phobos troopers at the time the demons invaded. The marines put up a valiant defense and slaughtered hundreds of the foul creatures, yet their superior tactical skills were ultimately outmatched by the invaders' superior numbers. A small memorial commemorated these men's sacrifice, and the new generation of Phobos troopers was their legacy.
The four men sank once more into the gloomy interior of the training camp, heading towards the high-ranking officers' quarters. The air smelled better in here – the good air filtration units were reserved for the high brass, as always. They finally stopped in front of a door – the sign read "Major Stephen Carter – senior drill instructor." The door opened slowly, revealing a dark office. The only source of light was a tactical screen on the wall. A man was standing next to it, though it was hard to discern his face.
When they entered the room, Major Carter touched a switch on the wall and the lights were turned on. The three marines instantly stood to attention and saluted – the man next to the wall screen was none other than General Callahan himself!
"At ease, men," the General's voice was still strong and resonating, even though his age was already showing on his face, "Have a seat and let us not waste any time – we have much work ahead of us."
Hicks was still a little confused. Were they going to receive a commendation? Or a reprimand? Was it about his little specter "accident" in the simulator? The General rarely emerged from his command center and such a personal meeting seemed a bit odd.
Callahan quickly dispelled the marines' confusion: "You are here because your training performance has been outstanding and you show great potential. It has been decided that you are ready to take the next step. You are ready to be promoted into active service."
The General made a short pause. Hicks felt as if his heart would burst. Active service! He could hardly believe it.
"It is always an honor and a pleasure to do this in person, though I don't always have the time to do it these days," Callahan continued, "Every next group of recruits who have finished their training is a testament to the vision of the Phobos program's founders, and an investment in the safer future of mankind. In a few short hours you will embark upon your first real mission."
Major Carter touched the screen and it displayed the map of an unfamiliar geographic area. The view zoomed in on what appeared to be a small town.
"Your target is in southeastern Europe – a town by the name of Pernik, which still exhibits residual demonic infestation," said the senior instructor, initiating the briefing under the watchful gaze of the General, "The locals are known for being very tough people and they have quite a few demon kills to their credit, however they are now facing something different. Something a lot more dangerous."
Hicks's thoughts were racing. Such cases of demonic survivors were usually handled by the Check-and-Cleanup teams. He knew for certain that one such team was in the area, as it recently cleared a particularly nasty infestation near Sarajevo.
"I suppose you are wondering why we haven't simply sent a CnC team to pacify the area," the Major continued, as if reading his thoughts, "We have been getting a lot of anomalous readings from an abandoned metallurgical industrial complex near the town. It is likely that these readings have been generated by a demonic artifact of great power. The situation requires a more careful approach and advanced expertise that cannot be provided by regular space marines."
"This is why we are sending you," General Callahan interjected, "You are now attached to Phobos team Theta-2 and will depart immediately. The shuttle is already fueled-up and waiting for you. My experience has shown that the combination of demon extermination and artifact retrieval is excellent for a first actual mission. I am sure that you will all do your best and return victorious."
"You will receive all necessary gear when you arrive in the mission area," it was Major Carter speaking again, "When you leave this room you will follow the marked route to the landing bay. Do not make detours, do not talk to anyone! Board the shuttle immediately and await further instructions! Dismissed!"
Before the three men could reach the door, the General approached them and shook their hands before giving his farewell: "Good hunting... Phobos Troopers!"
These words were spoken with great pride, yet even they could hardly ease the marines' tension. This was it – the safety was off and now they were off to face the enemy. For real.
