The DOOM Chronicles

Chapter 01: Opportunity Knocking

They were serving what was laughably referred to as meatloaf again in the mess.

Watts supposed he shouldn't complain, at least not out loud. It was a step up from the stuff he'd been stuck with back on Earth, which was impressive in its own right. It showed what kind of spending power the UAC had, that the slop they served in the cafeteria was actually better. Theoretically, at least. With a sigh, he grabbed the Styrofoam takeout box of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy and corn, then booked it for the door.

He wasn't in the mood to talk tonight.

It was the end of a particularly long shift, another day in his glorious life on Phobos. He stepped out of the mess and came into one of the big gray hallways that crisscrossed Phobos Labs. He'd been here three months already and he still hesitated sometimes when trying to figure out how to get from one place to another. Getting lost was embarrassing enough on its own, it was all the more embarrassing when you were in the Marines for shit's sake. Not that he actually considered himself a Marine anymore.

Technically speaking, the Space Division of the United Marine Corps was, as the name implied, still a part of the UMC. But that was as far as the reality went: in name only. What really went on up here, he thought morosely as he made his way back to his 'apartment', was that the UMC and the UAC had cut a deal. The UAC gave the Marines first pick on some choice weapons technology and, in return, the Corps sent up a small army to provide protection. Protection against what, no one had ever elaborated on.

Or, that's how it was supposed to work, anyway.

Nowadays, what with a new war popping up weekly back on Earth, the UMC didn't exactly have a lot of its best and brightest to ship up to Mars and her two moons where nothing was happening. So, to hold up their end of the bargain, they'd been sending rookies that didn't score too high and rejects. Guys who should have been discharged or idiots who'd gotten a squadmate killed. In Watts's case, he'd screwed around with a General's daughter.

That was a year ago, and he was still paying for it.

Watts heaved a world-weary sigh as he found his place and shoved his thumb up against the pad, then punched in his four digit personal identification code. The door slid open, creaking slightly because something in the internal works was gunked up and there was no one around to fix it. Just one more thing on the list.

Watts closed and locked his door behind him, set the food down on his desk, walked over to the mini-fridge and snagged a can of Mountain Dew Lightyear. As he plopped down into his chair and dug into the meal, he knew he should be doing a better job of keeping his spirits up. When he'd gotten here a year ago, he'd made a promise to himself that he wasn't going to sulk or give up. He was going to try and make the best of it.

And he had, or at least, he thought so.

The fact that he was actually a pretty decent soldier helped him keep in line, and it got him noticed by the Brass. The Brass in question being a humorless hardass named Master Sergeant Kelly. Watts had never been sure what the guy had done to get shipped up here, and had ultimately figured that he was a holdover from back during the days they sent actually qualified Marines up here. No wonder he'd always been so pissed, they sent him idiots, morons, rejects, and kids who didn't know what they were getting into or only cared what they were getting out of.

But that was in the past now.

Kelly and the ilk he presided over were back down on Mars, in the aptly named Mars City. In nine months, Watts had received two promotions. Back on Earth, he'd gotten up to Corporal, but he'd been busted back down to Private when they'd upshipped him to Mars. He'd hit Private First Class in a month, then Lance Corporal after another three months. It had surprised him, but apparently standing out of the crowd wasn't really hard up here.