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Hunter Flood - Chapter 1: Steele
Posted By: Skul<skulkrusha2000@hotmail.com>
Date: 30 July 2005, 1:17 am
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2343 hours, October 9, 2552 (Military Calendar) / Delta Halo
The thudding of drums, the roar of electric guitars, the warbling sound of a synthesizer and the shouting of a blond, long-haired man in his early twenties. These were the sounds that entered Lieutenant Hunter Steele's ears.
His head nodded as he listened to his Flip music collection playing on a portable holopad, remembering how he had gotten interested in it when he had heard Sergeant Johnson listening to it on Earth some time before humanity had first learned of Halo. He managed to get Johnson to agree – grudgingly – to lend him an album for a short time.
"Just make sure you return it to me…" Johnson had said, quickly remembering to add, "Sir."
"Don't worry, Sergeant, it's in good hands," replied Steele.
Steele now had four albums of his own, two from the band The Determinates, one of the current chart toppers.
His music was one of the few things that made staying on this Godforsaken ring tolerable. He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his short, reddish-brown hair. Today had been hell. First, his platoon of twenty marines had been attacked almost literally the moment they had stepped off the Pelican. He had lost Higgins, Leroy and Irvine to those Covenant bastards. The six Grunts and two Elites had been hiding in the ruins of a small building. They must have heard the whine of the Pelican's engines and decided to set an ambush.
Steele remembered how they suddenly burst out from behind the crumbling pillars and broken walls.
Higgins and Leroy, both Privates, were the first to fall. They stood stock-still, staring at the Covenant's soldiers running towards them. They had never encountered the Covenant in combat on foot. They were always dropping their enemies from Pelicans or Warthogs, feeling invincible. They had learned too late that they were not as untouchable as they had thought.
Higgins' last sight was a stream of blue plasma burning through the air, heading straight for him. He was pushed backwards by the force of each bolt. It had taken two short seconds for the plasma to leave the Elite's Plasma Rifle, make contact with Higgins' skin and melt it away. He staggered around like a drunk as his life drained away, struggling to breathe through lungs that had been cruelly burned away.
Finally, his face ashen, John Higgins pitched forward into the soft, lush grass of the ringworld.
Leroy was luckier than Higgins, in that his death was much quicker. Two Grunts had their Plasma Pistols trained on him. They fired their weapons rapidly, spending only a scant few seconds on their target before concentrating on another. Leroy's cry of anguish was piercing. His finger pulled the trigger spasmodically, spraying lead from his BR-55 uselessly into the air. He fell backwards, his eyes closed and his young face at peace.
Sergeant Irvine reacted instantaneously. He shouldered his rocket launcher, but never got a chance to fire it as a barrage of green plasma bolts impacted his chest. His scream was coupled with the sickly-sweet smell of burning flesh. His body fell backwards heavily; his eyes wide open, staring at the SPNKr ('My Little Spunker', he had always called it) which had fallen beside him, with an expression of shock and pain frozen on his face.
Second, five Drones and four Jackals had opened fire on his platoon's location as they were setting up camp. Another good man, Jones, had lost his life and two had been wounded. One was Sergeant Major Ovell; the platoon's finest tactician next to Steele, the other was Corporal Zatz, the sniper from Ukraine. Zatz sometimes referred to himself as 'The Pain from Ukraine'. Zatz was a pain, alright. A pain in the neck! He was always proclaiming that he was the best sniper in the platoon. This annoyed Sergeant Dezmin, the other sniper they had with them, as Zatz – according to Dezmin – couldn't shoot for shit.
Thunder struck. Steele then remembered why he had retreated inside his tent and turned his Flip music up to such a loud volume.
So loud, it's gonna deafen me… he thought, reaching over to lower the volume a few notches. As he turned the holopad's volume down, the rain's volume seemed to get louder. It thrummed on continuously, slapping the fabric of his tent.
A Goddamn thunderstorm! And in the middle of the night, to boot! As if today hadn't been bad enough…
Thunder on Earth wasn't nearly as loud as this! His Flip music barely drowned out the sound. The rain drumming on the canvas of his tent didn't help matters, much, either.
After running the day's events through in his head, Steele suddenly realised how tired he was. He rubbed his unshaven jaw, feeling the roughness of two days' stubble scrape lightly under his fingers. Fighting off the Covenant hadn't given him time to shave. He needed to remember to do so at the earliest possible convenience. Now wasn't one of them, however.
Tired…
He shook his head.
All right, I'll wait for this song to finish, and then I'm grabbing some well-deserved shut-
Someone opening the flap of his tent brought him out of his thoughts. It was a young marine, dripping with rain.
"Sir? Ah, shit!"
The marine cringed as he heard the white noise blaring in the tent. A large crack of thunder gave respite from the music for a whole second and then it was back again.
"What is it, Private?" asked Steele, locking his green eyes on the marine, slightly irritated at this interruption.
"Sir, you've got a message from Base Camp Alpha. They-they say it's urgent."
Oh, damn it!
Steele got up and turned his holopad off. The marine holding open the flap didn't hide his relief. Steele braced himself and plunged into the storm, heading straight for the Command Post in the centre of the camp, the young Private following him.
The camp was set up in a narrow valley, with high mountains on either side. However, the darkness and the thick, grey sheet of rain hid them from view. The platoon may as well have been in the middle of nowhere. Visibility was near zero and the night was dark, too dark. The only lights in the camp were the muted, cold colours of bulbs inside tents.
Marines in dark green parkas stood guard around the perimeter of the camp, their faces bored and unhappy. Standing around in the rain isn't exactly the most fun thing one can do.
Steele hurriedly entered the Command Post, dripping wet, trying to force his body to stop shivering.
Come on. It's just cold. It's nothin'! You've been stationed on night watch in the middle of a tundra, for Chrissake!
The four other marines in the tent saluted. Steele wearily saluted them back as the Private entered behind him.
The portable radiators in the tent removed some of the chill from his bones, but his clothes were damp, practically negating the warmth.
The tired Lieutenant rubbed his bleary eyes and then put on the headset, allowing him to communicate with Base Camp Alpha.
"This is Lieutenant Hunter Steele reporting from Sector Four-Oh-One Alpha Romero, over."
"This is Base Camp Alpha, we read you, Lieutenant," replied the raspy voice of Colonel Kieran Black.
"What's this about, sir?"
"High orbit motion tracker shows movement about three miles south-south-east of your position. It looks like there's a large building there. There's nobody stationed in that area, so we're guessing it's Covenant forces trying to use it as a makeshift base."
"Let me guess, sir," said Steele, "I've got to go and check it out?"
"Essentially, yes."
Covenant bastards! Why can't they just stay in one place?
"Sir, there might be a problem with that," said Steele.
"And what would that be, Lieutenant?"
"Visibility is near zero, sir and night vision would be useless with this lightning."
As if to emphasise his words, another there was another flash of lightning, followed a second later by a ripping thunder crack.
"We are aware of that, Lieutenant."
Steele felt a 'however' coming.
"However, metrological data shows the rain and thunder clearing up within the next couple of hours. It should ease off enough to give you the visibility you need."
What about the sleep I need?
"Understood, sir," said Steele.
He took off the headset and made began making his way back to his own tent to get what sleep he could. Before he left, he ordered the Private who had came into his tent earlier to wake him as soon as the storm showed signs of clearing.
"Yes, sir!" the Private saluted.
Steele glanced at the young marine's nametag: 'Private M. Robinson'.
Robinson… that's Steve's nephew…
The seasoned Lieutenant thought about his old friend, Steve Robinson, fighting on Earth, somewhere… or probably dead.
There was many a time when Major Robinson had pulled Steele's ass out of some hellish situations.
He thought back to the time he, Robinson and a platoon of Marines were fighting against a two platoons of Grunts in South Africa, only a week-and-a-half ago. Steele was too focused on stopping three Grunts from flanking them that he didn't notice one of the others priming a plasma grenade. In fact, if Robinson hadn't dragged him away from that position, they would both be dead. Fortunately, they worst they had suffered were plasma burns; they hadn't gotten far enough away to avoid the scorching explosion that had set some nearby plants on fire and melted part of the wall they were hiding behind. They had needed to spend four days in medical care due to the burns.
Steele's back hadn't yet fully recovered. He still got a slight burning, stinging sensation every so often, which almost always reared its head at the worst possible times.
Steele sighed as he trudged over the soggy ground, his spirit darkening as the rain pelted him.
The Lieutenant reached his tent and, opening the flap, tried to forget that he would have to step out into the storm again in a few hours. He needed sleep. He needed to get his energy back.
Steele clambered onto his cot and lay on his chest, not bothering to take his boots off. The thrumming rain didn't disturb him. In fact, now that he was inside, it was soothing. It wasn't long before he was in a deep, dreamless sleep. He didn't even stir when a flash of lightning lit up the entire camp for a brief moment, followed almost instantly by a loud rumble of thunder.
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