Devoted - Merritt's Story Book 2 - Intro (Patreon)

And we're back! :D  This is the intro scene of book 2, chapter 1.  It's about 5 pages long, and it'll also be included when I post the full 30+ page chapter 1 (inline and PDF) next Thursday.  I'm still finishing up edits for the remainder of this giant chunk of a chapter, so enjoy the intro in the meantime!  It includes that special scene with Merritt's son. ^_^

The table of contents will be updated when the full book 2 chapter 1 goes live.

[Table of Contents]

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Book 2 Intro

I’m throwing you a party to celebrate your promotion. Yackley’s VIP room, Friday night, 8pm. Who do you want me to invite? Archer? Meade? Send me your list.

The last thing Merritt’s churning stomach needed after downing the mess hall’s morning slop was an unexpected text from Belmont. He stared down at his phone screen, wondering how long he could get away with leaving a text from his new boss unanswered.

Send me your list. What a simple way for Belmont to zero in on anyone who was likely to support Merritt’s promotion. How would he ultimately use that information?

On the other hand, it was a fair question, and if stonewalling wasn’t an option, Merritt saw no harm in giving Belmont an answer that was already obvious. After half a minute’s consideration, he replied, Yes to Archer and Meade.  Captain Balbo too if possible, and anyone from Chem Ops Corvus.

Belmont sent a confirmation message minutes later, and Merritt returned his attention to the movers who were setting up the general’s quarters to his specifications. He had few requests and few belongings, and he hadn’t yet adjusted to the notion of having a one-person suite all to himself for the first time in his life.

The general’s quarters were in a subterranean chamber below Station 1, connected to the main building by a reinforced tunnel circling up to the first floor cafeteria. His interim aide-de-camp would arrange for meals to be brought to him via this route. A second entryway tunnel branched off from the first, connecting to the outside and allowing for any house guests that were cleared by security. A third entrance, accessible only to those with the highest clearance, connected from a concealed door in the bedroom directly to one of Station 1’s protected back hallways via elevator, offering quick access to the control room and safe room.

His suite even had a kitchenette, which—according to Lieutenant General Meade—was in case he wanted to hire a domestic to cook for him. That option seemed ridiculous to Merritt. His basic food, housekeeping, and administrative needs would already be covered by low-level military staff. Domestic servants were seen as a status symbol for an elite, but as a soldier serving his sphere, Merritt had no use for such a thing, even if he could have afforded it.  He was more excited at the prospect of using the kitchen himself—assuming he’d ever have the time for it.

The movers seemed at a loss for things to do, but there wasn’t anything else Merritt needed. Aside from his perpetual duty weapons, laptop, a few pieces of civilian garb, and a four-thousand-dollar suit he wished he didn’t own, he had no personal belongings to move into the late General Rhodes’s old lodgings. Rhodes too had lived a minimalist life, and Merritt saw no reason to get rid of his scant selection of furniture. The kitchenette looked unused, and the cramped living room didn’t have space for more than the sofa, coffee table, and ragged goat-hair rug already present.

The bedroom was similarly spartan, with a metal frame queen bed, steel end tables, and nothing else. The bathroom was simply a cube with a metal toilet, wall-mounted metal sink, and a shower head affixed to the wall.

“Bet you’ll appreciate finally being able to take showers alone, sir,” one of the more gregarious movers had said while checking the plumbing. Merritt had nodded along even though his first impression of the bathroom was that it looked lonely. As reserved as blue-ties were, blue-tie soldiers still had their share of locker room horseplay. He would miss hearing the sounds of laughter after a grueling day of work. Even the officers’ showers had felt too dead to him, and he’d usually opted to use the lower barracks locker room instead. Now a general, that option was far from appropriate.

On the other hand, his new bathroom’s construction was of vastly better quality than anything he’d had at the barracks. And he appreciated the stylistic nod to the fabled prison bathrooms once used by the underground’s criminal founders on the surface.

The study attached to the bedroom was more challenging for Merritt to see in a positive light. It held a work desk and a computer that Merritt hoped to scrap, provided he could get the clearance to hook up his laptop and equip it with the necessary security and applications. The desktop machine was outdated and unreliable, with specs that couldn’t even rival Merritt’s custom build.

Wall-mounted monitors displayed the same information as the Station 1 control board, but they were grainy and prone to glitching—barely suitable for managing a military crisis in real time. Rhodes had often slept on a cot in the Station 1 control room to monitor urgent events instead of trying to work with his at-home equipment. Merritt suspected he’d be carrying on the tradition.

But he couldn’t complain.  He’d never imagined that he’d have an entire study all to himself. This was more than he ever would have been given as a private, and it was only by Mercury’s good graces that he’d ever risen above that rank. Whatever his King chose to give him, he’d accept it and make the best use of it that he could.

Archer appeared at the subterranean front door at the same moment the movers began to filter out, exiting into the entryway tunnel. She wore a thin white trench coat over her usual suit and lab coat, and she carried a blank cardboard box. Merritt’s grin overtook his face when he saw her.

“General Merritt,” Archer said, returning his smile. “It has a nice ring to it.”

“I never thought I’d hear those two words together.” Merritt stepped aside and gestured for her to come in.

“This entrance was not easy to find, by the way,” she said, sounding slightly breathless. “Do people really have to come in through the Station 1 cafeteria?”

“There’s an alternate entrance that connects straight to the final stretch of tunnel. I’ll show you later.”

“They must not want you having a lot of visitors,” Archer said, and it took Merritt a moment to realize she might have been joking. To him, the discreet public entrance was a natural choice. North Sphere soldiers were at their best when they were doing their duty unseen—giving and serving without glory. Unlike the East, where citizens sought to be soldiers solely for the prestige that came with the job, a North Sphere soldier’s success was measured by how little their sphere’s civilians felt the burden of their presence. It was the proper role of Mercury’s general to be hidden from the public eye, passing the glory of his good decisions onto his King.

“I like it down here,” Merritt said. “It’s harder to bomb.”

“That’s fair,” Archer replied with her familiar practiced chuckle.

Merritt pointed to the box in her hand. “What’s that?”

Archer set the box on the kitchenette counter and opened the top. She pulled out a deep green succulent plant in a round ceramic pot. The plant was no taller than the length of her forearm, with thick rounded leaves the size of Merritt’s thumb. She placed it directly into Merritt’s hands and said, “It’s a jade plant. I got it from the labs. They grow these on the surface too, but this one’s been modified to survive with no sunlight. It won’t ever grow larger than this, but it won’t die either—as long as you water it and refresh the synthetic soil’s nutrients.” She held up what looked like a prescription bottle. “Just pop one of these pills into the soil every six months. The casing will dissolve the next time you water it.”

Merritt stood without speaking, eyes wide and lips slightly parted as he ran his hand over the top of the plant. Finally, after a long stretch of silence, he said, “I… I love it. So much.”

“Merritt,” Archer said.

Merritt looked up at her.

“You’re petting the plant.”

Frowning, Merritt stopped. “I shouldn’t do that?”

With an amused smile, Archer replied, “At least not while people are watching.”

Merritt carried the plant across the room, setting it gingerly atop the coffee table. Then he sat on the rigid sofa so he could look at it. “It’s so cute.” When Archer raised an eyebrow, Merritt explained, “I’ve never owned something that was alive. It was never an option, living in the barracks.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Archer said. “I honestly didn’t expect you to like it quite this much. But it’s nice to see.”

Her words startled him. Halfway through her sentence, he’d been preparing to apologize for his show of emotion.  But then he recognized something in her face that he hadn’t expected. She was happy to see him happy.

“I’ll take good care of it,” he said, wishing he had the words to adequately thank her.

“I know you will.” Glancing at her phone, she said, “I need to hurry back to work. Morning meeting.”

“Thank you for stopping by,” Merritt said. “And thank you for the plant.”

After saying goodbye to her at the door, he turned to take in the sight of his quarters. What would it mean to have all this space to himself when he probably wouldn’t have more than an hour a night to use it? How long would he be able to tolerate having no one to talk to after coming home from work?

He took a moment to remind himself that he’d just been promoted to General of the North Sphere Army. That was a good thing. He might just have to remind himself every now and then.

Five days on the job isn’t enough to already be disillusioned. Give it at least another week.

His shoes clacked on the bare concrete as he headed into the dim, empty bedroom. His weathered suitcase sat atop his bed, pressing a sad dent into the flimsy mattress. Now that he had privacy, he could finally unpack his most vital belongings.

In a tiny sleeve taped to the inside of the suitcase was his photograph of Damen Mercury. Pressing a bit of tack on the back of it, he affixed it to the wall. Then he raised his hand to his heart and whispered his pledge into the silence.

“I, Merritt, am a soldier of the Underground North, duty sworn to sphere and King. You, Damen Mercury, are my King. My life is yours to preserve and yours to take. My life is your property, and I grant you the power to use my life and my death to the benefit of our sphere. Live to serve my sphere, die to serve my sphere.”

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