Chapter 5: Unremarkable Performance
Chapter five of Diving Deep, a Helldivers 2 Fan Fiction. It follows the hapless Lucas Loverso as he tries to discover who he truly is while fighting for managed Democracy.
Why is Super Citizen Rhyno on the planet?
He and Rogers wiped before me, a complete squad should’ve been dropped. Unless we’re out of reinforcements – no, still half a dozen left.
Clicking on my squad comm, I attempt to satisfy my confusion, “Why didn’t we drop?”
“We did,” Rogers replies over the comm. I know he’s in a drop pod similar to mine, a meter away on the command deck.
Do I know that? I keep waking up inside the pod, ready to go. So much of the super destroyer’s operation was a mystery to me.
“You were a dead drop,” Rogers replies, bringing my attention back to the screen. “Took me out with a triple tap to the chest.”
“Oh,” I say, unsure of how else to excuse what must have been frightening for both my squad mates and my lost clone. “Sorry about that.”
Just as suddenly, I feel the pod beneath my feet accelerate rapidly as Rhyno’s reinforcement beacon fires a blue beam of light into the sky.
“I’m moving on the objective, we’re almost out of time,” Rhyno says as I lose sight of his location and my screen switches to my high-aback view and the navigational stick forms in my glove.
Tapping the RCS thruster I maneuver closer to Rogers as he comes down with me.
“Get back to your bodies and secure the samples,” Rhyno instructs and he pants heavily from his engagement. “Then head to the extraction, the tower should be there by the time you arrive.”
“Extraction?” I complain as my hell pod smashes into the planet, “we just got here.”
“I want to get off this jungle, and we’re almost out of time.” Rhyno replies with no humor in his voice.
Rogers shrugs at me and tosses a strategem. I watch the blue targeting beam cast high into the sky, I can only assume it’s his beloved MG-43. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice support cannon, but I want something cooler – like the recoilless rifle, or the autocannon.
“Let’s move, Loverso.” Rogers says finally as his strategem rises from the ground where it landed.
As I expected, it's his MG-43.
Tagging the map with the location where a sample container’s beacon is going off, I begin a light trot through the short foliage.
“My container is in that stand of trees,” Rogers says, dropping a pin on the shared map. “Want to split up and meet back at the extraction point?”
“I’d feel better sticking together, especially if we’re headed into that area marked with red Automaton activity”
“Roger,” Rogers replies. I can just imagine the cheeky grin he’s giving for using his name. I have to be friendly, however, from what they say, my last clone was kind of a dick to these guys.
Weirdly, I can’t remember anything about that drop.
I see the blinking of my dropped sample container among the low vegetation. Finally, one step closer to getting off this rock. Rogers gives me a slight tap from behind as he jogs past me and scoops up the sample container.
“I got it, Loverso.” He chides, then continues. “Gonna have a big sample count when I return to the ship.”
I so badly want to pop him with my pistol again. We do have at least six more reinforcements…
“The credit for securing them is shared,” Super Citizen Rhyno chimes over the comm channel. I suppose getting scolded by a Super Citizen is almost as good as my putting a round in his back.
“I know,” Rogers replied, but I am sure he didn’t. “I just want the credit in the post mission briefing.”
Okay. I’m going to shoot him.
~ ~ ~
“What’s your name?” I ask as I toss the removed helmet into the dell next to the citizen’s house.
“Atsawin,” he replies quietly. “We need to get inside before they drop your new clone.” Moving for me to enter his hovel, I comply.
His L-shaped house is packed. The kitchenette has enough room for a coffee pot and a microwave. The half-dozen cabinets have all had their doors removed, and various reheatable meals ready to eat fill the shelves.
The rest of the counter space is taken up by a large APW-1 anti-material rifle, which is half disassembled. Several computers, showing schematics, are wired together.
The living area beyond the kitchenette has a busted broadcast screen, a pair of small couches and an ugly green semi-shag carpet.
“You all always need a minute,” Atsawin says, patting me on the shoulder. “Something doesn’t have to be big to bring wealth. My little home here is my sanctuary.”
“I have no memory of my home,” I reply sadly. “Before trying to kill me, my squadmates called me Lucas, but that’s all I know.”
“Technically,” Atsawin interjects, “you’re not even him.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were a dead drop?” He asks and I nod in affirmation, “so Lucas’ memories and personality, and everything that made him Lucas, never got written.” Atsawin shrugs, moving towards his computer, “you’re a blank slate.”
“Not blank,” I reply defensively. “Just because I didn’t get his personality, I’ve been building my own since I dropped.” Tapping the side of my head, “I’m him, but I’m my own version of him.”
“I hadn’t considered that,” Atsawin admits, tapping his lips with his right hand. “Technically, you’re any Helldiver right now, you’re all just one big batch of clones. One of four distinct seeds.”
“Wait, what?” I interrupt, feeling a burning nausea churning in my stomach.
Atsawin grimaces, clearly unsure if he should continue. “When a Super Destroyer goes to a resupply yard, they load on new cryopods filled with blank slate clones. There are four different host clones, and each time you thaw, it's just whatever the next one in line looks like.”
“So, wait, I’m not Lucas?” I know I sound like an idiot, but this is almost too much to comprehend.”
“No, you were supposed to be Lucas,” Atsawin replies. “You might have even gotten a partial imprint, but your body is …” Atsawin pauses studying my face. “I think you’re the Yuri clone.” He grins, with an almost childlike secret, "you didn’t realize that you have a fifty percent chance of dropping as a woman, did you?”
~ ~ ~
The red highbeams of the Automaton's were less creepy in daylight, but that doesn’t really make me feel any better.
Checking the countdown, I see it drop to fifty-nine seconds. “One minute,” I warn Rogers and Rhyno as I see their pips blitzing towards my location on the extraction pad.
This cermacete pad was a previous civilian cargo lot, and I am currently taking cover behind one of the soft drink machines along the perimeter.
An automaton round striked the blue vending machine and I can hear several cans burst inside, but the hulk of the machine absorbs the blast, providing excellent cover.
I really could use a Dr. Democracy right now, seventeen seasonings and additives. Mmmm. I wonder if there are any pop dispensers on the Knight of the State, I’ve never looked.
“Twenty seconds,” I call out. “Rogers, you better get your ass on this platform since you insisted on carrying the samples.”
“I know,” Rogers grunts loudly as I hear the exasperation in his voice. He’s been at a dead sprint for the last couple minutes.
Watching them move through the trees is unnerving enough, but watching the red lights try to come between them and me is another level of … I suppose I should say liberty or something.
I squeeze off a stream of rounds from my MG-43, slapping a scout strider’s pilot in the back. As he, it, whatever, collapses from his perch, the strider tumbles over.
Blasting another short burst into the next scout strider, I separated the leg from the gun platform, and it collapsed to the ground as well.
With the two scout striders down, Rogers bursts through the underbrush, blitzing for the platform.
"Pelican 1 landing sequence initiated. Watch where you're standing." The announcement comes over our comms from Pelican 1’s pilot as the heavy chin-mounted cannon opens up on the advancing horde of Automaton troopers and Commissars.
The thick tar oil-like blood of the automatons spews as the mighty cannon pours rounds into their line.
Closing the distance to the pad, the fire breaks off and the Pelican’s feet contact the ground. “Twenty seconds, begin extraction.”
“Super Citizen Rhyno isn’t back yet,” Rogers shouts from the rear ramp of the Pelican.
“Just go,” Rhyno confirms over the squad comm. “I’m not going to make it.”
As I climb on board, the Pilot shouts, "Launch countdown complete. We have to leave now!"
“Go!” I shout back at him, even as the ramp closes behind me.
I plop down on the bench seat across from Rogers. The Pelican can fit four, but we only came down with three—and we’re leaving with two.
In our helmet cams, we can already see the Super Destroyer reporting our mission results. We groan as the Democracy Officer assigns the mission a ‘Unremarkable Performance’ classification.
I can’t even pay attention to the rest of the stats. We fought hard, but the mission will be virtually unnoteworthy in the record books. Maybe that’s what it means to be a Helldiver, a virtually unnoteworthy footnote to the footnote.
I hadn’t been paying attention and the sudden jolt told me we were back on the Knight of the State. Somewhere down below was Super Citizen Rhyno. He’d probably starve to death or be overwhelmed by Automoton forces–
Super Citizen Rhyno was waiting for us at the top of the lift from the hanger bay. As Rogers and I rode the short platform up the incline our dirty armor showed in contrast to Super Citizen Rhyno’s shining DP-53 Savior of the Free armor.
As our combat stats popped into our helmets—yes, Rogers secured the most samples—I eyed Rhyno suspiciously. Obviously, this was a new clone, but what happened to the one we left behind? Was it really that much more cost effective to leave a body behind and thaw a new one? What about the armor, and the weapons?
Why did nobody care enough to go back?