Doom 3™: Worlds on Fire

20

UAC HEADQUARTERS—PALO ALTO

IAN KELLIHER OPENED THE DOOR INSIDE HISoffice. His personal assistant sat at a massive desk, just outside. One of two gatekeepers. Another receptionist sat at another desk beyond this room, controlling the electronic doors.

“Elaine, hold all calls and make sure that I’m not disturbed until you hear from me.”

She looked up and smiled. “Yes, Mr. Kelliher.” She was beautiful, but much more valuable as a trusted assistant than a potential mistress. Besides, he had plenty of those. Different women for different moods. All discreet and enamored of the power that being UAC head brought.

He shut the office door, hit a button, and his PDA screen projected itself into the air in the center of the room. “Stauf,” he said. A code word. An anagram of his own choosing. And the secret cache of reports from Mars became available.

“Today. Play.”

The screen showed Delta Lab, everyone ready for the test. Then he heard MacDonald’s voice.

“Sir, as you can see, plans are going forward full speed for the new test. Betruger says he has his volunteer. Unconfirmed as yet, and Dr. Betruger is confiding in no one. But if you don’t want this test to occur, I suggest you have only the next twenty-four hours to stop it. And as a reminder…”

Macdonald’s transmission then showed the still images from the last human test, even more horrific when frozen. The poor volunteer hacking, coughing out his insides on the lab floor.

The images made Kelliher’s stomach tighten. But the prize—you had to keep your eye on that. Though he appreciated MacDonald being his eyes and ears, Kelliher knew this: He had no intention whatsoever of stopping Betruger. Not when there were signs, reassurances that this time, with the new calibrations, with new adjustments to the chamber’s transmission systems, Betruger just might succeed.

Kelliher was willing to risk another experiment or two. Especially now that he would have his own people on site to shut it down.

Betruger’s chances and days might indeed be numbered. But there was no need for the scientist to know that.

“Clear.” Then: “Elaine—”

“Sir.”

Kelliher walked around to his desk. “I’m open for business again.”

“Yes, sir.”

And during the day’s affairs, the meetings needed to run the global empire that was UAC, Kelliher knew he’d only be half listening. Because he’d really be thinking about Mars, Betruger, and what was going to happen tomorrow.