Chapter 41: Hidden Pieces

The holotable displayed the fourth floor of the interior of Mt. Hollow, a wide hallway down the middle with two jumbles of rooms on each side.

“To achieve your Pass, you will travel through the AO starting here,” The bearded DI drew his finger along the central hallway, “and reach here.” He stopped on the far side of the map. “You can take any route to get there, just as long as you get there.”

A dull ache formed in the center of Dozer's chest. The DI flung the recruits into evermore arduous exercises. Once Dozer understood what he had to deal with, he dealt with it. Still, he dreaded the few moments before the DI gave them all the bad news.

“Blast doors block the central hall here, here, and here.” Three door icons appeared on the one-quarter, half, and three-quarter mark. “Open these for your fellow recruits if you’re stricken with a sudden case of generosity. You will also find locked doors in the rooms to each side. The location of these smaller doors is as yet unknown.”

The fireteam sat in their usual order, with Errorist on Dozer’s left and Model on Dozer’s right as far from Buttstroke as possible. Buttstroke checked over his shoulder, almost at Dozer, as if a thought of him had entered the team leader’s head.

“In previous exercises, you could pass as long as you killed enough of the enemy before you got eliminated.” The DI scanned the room and made eye contact with every recruit as if he wanted to burn the info into their consciousnesses with the power of his mind itself. “Not today. Don’t get eliminated. I can’t stress that enough.”

Acid sat at the far wall. His posture crumbled.

“A Pass B is the arrival at your destination with six kills distributed among your fireteam. And a Pass A is your obligatory arrival at said destination plus the kill of our elusive Pithite Control Unit.” His arm shot out and pointed at Acid. “Recruit, have I bored you?”

“Sir, no, sir.” Acid’s spine snapped to attention.

“Good to hear.” The DI dropped his arm and brought his attention to the other side of the room. “For those of you who haven’t reached Level 2, don’t you dare rest easy. Just because you have a week to level up, doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be better to do it today. Remember what you have at stake.”

The buzz of a non-existent mosquito appeared inside Dozer’s skull, within his brain, the telltale sign he had eyes on him. Acid observed him from across the room. Everyone knew Acid’s precarious situation, but the guy put on a front. He had desperation behind his eyes and showed it only to Dozer. Dozer gave him a nod, and Acid returned it with a strained curl of his lips meant to look like a smile but ended up more like a scream.

“Last, for those of you not in a full fireteam,” the DI’s eye flashed in Acid’s direction, “you only need two kills for a Pass B.”

Echoes of sympathetic groans emerged from the recruits. Acid bounce the back of his head off the wall. A tic contracted the muscles of his cheek.

“Only two?” Buttstroke spoke out of the corner of his smirk. “Asshole’s going to be just fine.” He let a grim chuckle escape.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

***

The fireteam’s light beams penetrated the pitch black behind the entrance. The beams trembled with every turn of their heads, every sweep of their weapons. Dozer refused to let his heart drop, not like the first time he had marched into darkness. He had braced himself against the gloom. Still, his saliva seemed to have retreated beneath his tongue.

“In.” The bearded DI waved them inside.

As always, the fireteam followed orders. They took their places along the wall, Model on point while Dozer pulled up the rear. They moved through the first three rooms and let their footsteps sound out. The first rooms served as a buffer into the AO, anyway.

Dozer shouldered his sniper rifle and equipped his pistol. The long rifle would only be useful down the central hallway. There and there alone, he could control the space with deadly force. Everywhere else, not so much. On top of that, the sidearms didn’t get lamps. All he had was his headlamp to break through the dark.

The stale air stank of dust. That familiar smell meant there weren’t any weird environments on this floor, not like the last exercise. Besides the footfall of his teammates and the brushing of fabric on fabric, nothing but silence met Dozer’s ears. No doubt the Pithites set up their ambushes out there in the dark.

Dozer took the chance to check where they just came from.

Where is he?

Acid had agreed to hang around the entrance and follow them.

A dull, red illumination shone around the last corner. Model poked his head out to check. “Clear.” He spoke over the WarFace comm, lips unmoving. “The emergency lights are on, so something is getting power. Doorways on either side and our blast doors with a panel next to them.”

Buttstroke chewed his cheek. “We’re gonna get shot up if we rampage down the central hall all alone. Take the left route.”

The rest of the fireteam had made their way into the central hallway when Dozer caught sight of Acid behind him. He shifted from one side of the doorway to the other, lights off on his helmet and rifle. The guy moved spooky quiet for a corpsman.

Dozer caught up with his teammates. Model checked the next room, and the fireteam followed. Reset; repeat. After a few rooms, their lights illuminated a door in their way. It had no obvious open/close button, only a panel beside it.

“Get to it.” Buttstroke tapped Errorist’s shoulder.

Errorist pulled the retractable wire from his tablet and plugged it into the panel. He pulled it out, examined the connector, and plugged it in again. “Got no power.”

“So power it up.” Buttstroke lowered the butt of his minigun and rested it on his boot.

Errorist showed him the blank screen on his tablet. “The panel won’t even turn on. There’s nothing to hack.”

The red illumination of the emergency lights edged into Dozer’s consciousness. “The central hall had those lights on. We gotta go back.”

“Fuck that.” Buttstroke dragged the words out long and scrunched his face. “There’s gotta be a way to open it here.” His helmet light scanned the wall.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dozer broke silence discipline and whispered it out loud so Acid would hear. “We gotta go back.”

Buttstroke pointed his helmet light at Dozer’s face. “You shut the fuck up.” He strained the words under his breath, but aloud. Dozer’s breach of protocol must have gotten under his skin. “I can figure this out.”

Dozer rose a hand to block out the light. The ache behind his eyes waned.

Model stepped between them. “What’s to figure out? We gotta go back,” he said over the comm.

Buttstroke switched back to silence discipline and sent his sigh through the WarFace. The sound of a boot dragged along the floor—Acid’s retreat—came from behind them, and Buttstroke’s head perked up. He pointed his minigun in the sound’s direction. “Take cover.”

They rushed for the wall and took position. Dozer played his part and acted like the sound didn’t come from Acid.

Model checked. “It was nothing.”

Buttstroke lit up Dozer’s face with his helmet light. That ache sprung back. Before Dozer could raise his hand again to block it, Buttstroke pushed off the wall and dashed around Model into the next room. Model’s face dropped. He dashed into the room on Buttstroke’s heels.

“What the fuck?” Pigment seemed to drain from Errorist’s face. “Let’s go.”

They rushed into the next room. Model’s leg disappeared behind the far doorway. The pair raced to catch up.

Buttstroke had Acid backed into a corner with a finger in his face. “You fuck off.” He whispered the words out loud.

A chill rolled over Dozer’s skin.

Not good.