Halo: Prism Crisis
By D.Doberman
Chapter One
0300 Hours, April 23, 2554 (Military Calendar)/
Slipstream Space – Aboard the UNSC Flotsam
Unknown Coordinates near Taut Nui System
First Class Lieutenant Jakob Downs
The UNSC Flotsam and her sister ship Jetsam moved silently but quickly through Slipstream Space. Both were fast Corvette-class ships in the United Navy Space Command, and both were filled to the brim with weapons.
The entire crews of both the ships were asleep in cryogenic tubes; including me, First Class Lieutenant Jakob Downs, squad leader of the 242nd Orbital Drop Shock Trooper Division. I was in cryo-sleep on the Flotsam; well that is, until the ship's onboard computers in the cryo-bay woke me up.
I flinched as the IV and catheter were carefully withdrawn from me and the computer opened the tube's curved, clear plastic lid. Sitting up, I grimaced before swallowing the glob of cryo inhalant in my mouth. It was distasteful. But as officers always said: "Just grin and bear it."
Climbing out of the tube, my legs moved me as my bare feet lead them to the dressing room. It was empty, and as I groggily opened the locker that my utilities were in. I pulled on a pair of shorts, and slid my feet into a pair of boots. I lifted my knee and rested my chest on my knee as I tied the shoe-laces of the boots tightly.
There was still three more hours before both ships would exit the Slipspace, but I had requested the computer wake me up this early so I could get a workout filled in before the ships returned to normal space.
Running my hand through my half a centimeter thick hair, I scowled. It had grown since I climbed into the cryo tube and I believed that even though the cryo tubes kept people from aging, it didn't stop hair from growing at a faster rate.
I swung the locker close, making a loud slam, before I headed for the gym alone. The gym was cylindrical, and there were free weights, punching and speed bags, elliptical trainers, and a whole lot of other machines that could stretch and tone any muscle. The gym otherwise was empty, and I had it to myself. Although it's safe to workout with a partner, I went against protocols and headed for the high-gravity free weights.
After a grueling workout of bench pressing the free weights, I headed for the leg machine and worked out there, before heading for the punching bag.
When I nearly finished with my leg workout, Sergeant Major 'Ox' Morgan walked into the gym an hour after I had been in there. Although he wasn't a SPARTAN, he could've passed for one. He was heavily muscled, lean and fit. He stood almost at two meters tall, and somehow the cryo-sleep hadn't lengthened his hair, for it reflected the overhead lights. There was a massive scar that stretched from his knuckle all the way to his underarm, from a fight with a Brute. He had come out victor in the end, with his right arm bone shattered in different places from a Gravity Hammer the Brute had used.
"Sir," Ox Morgan saluted.
"At ease," I replied, returning the salute while lifting the weights with my leg.
Morgan went to the speed bag and began there.
"So, Lieutenant," he said, his fists moving rapidly, "are we going down first?"
"It's unconfirmed," I replied. "But I willing to bet that we will be."
"Yes, sir."
We continued our workout, and Morgan held the punching bag while I punched it, after which I spotted him on the high-gravity free weights. That's when I noticed the tattoo on his left arm. It was definitely a Chinese symbol, and it was beside a oval.
"That's the first time I've seen that tattoo. Is it new?" I asked.
"Yeah," Morgan grunted, lifting the bar. "There's this Chinese tattoo designer onboard, and he did it for me."
"What's it mean?"
"'Bad-ass.'" He replied.
After we finished the workout, we headed for the public showers. The corridors of the Flotsam were getting more crowded with ship personnel and other people. We passed three other members of the 242nd Division. There were seventeen ODSTs—including myself—in 242nd, and each one was proud to be in it.
The public showers weren't as crowded as I thought it would be. After the shower I took a razor and shaved the half a centimeter hairs off my head.
As I was getting into my uniform, black fatigues, Adam, the ship's AI appeared. He was had the image of a lithe man.
"First Lieutenant Downs," Adam said, his voice a high pitch. "Captain Williams has requested that you and your team assemble on the bridge, ASAP, for a briefing report."
"Adam," I said, as I tied my boots over the hems of my pants. "What's the ETA of our destination."
"Approximately forty-three minutes, seventeen point nine eight two seconds," the technical AI construct said.
I rolled my eyes. "You know,"—I picked up my cap and placed it on my head—"you could've just said, 'Forty-three minutes.'"
"But you asked—"
"Tell Captain Williams I'm on my way," I said before heading towards the hatch that led out of the room.
"Yes, sir," Adam flickered out.
Heading down the corridors towards the bridge, I came to a hatch were two maintenance workers were working on it. The panel had been damaged, and the two were bickering over what caused it. Assertively I grabbed one by the collar, held up him up, and forcefully said: "Just get this goddamned hatch open right now, or I'll use your head to bash it open."
My intimidation worked as the man I grappled went from scared all the way to near death. "Aye-aye, sir!" he saluted, his hand trembling with fear.
"Right away, sir!" the other saluted as well.
A minute passed before the hatch slid open, they saluted, and I went through without thanking them. Just before the hatch closed all the way, I heard one mutter: "Bastard."
The corridors of the Flotsam were long, and at many times had intersections. As I went through an intersection, I met up with two ODSTs, Corporal Axel Mikhail and the Elite, Jael'rikk. The two were talking in whispers.
Corporal Mikhail was African-American, and for some reason had grown fond of a goatee. It was short, but without doubt, it was there on his chin. He and I had about the same body frame, and nearly stood at the same high, one and a half meters. Jael'rikk, who had joined 242nd weeks after the Elites had joined the UNSC, wore specially made black body armor to match our own. He stood over two and a half meters tall, and was as strong as a SPARTAN. Most of the members in 242nd got along with Jael'rikk, and likewise he got along with them. There was one ODST that didn't get along with him and that was First Private Andy Jenkins, the younger brother of Private Wallace Jenkins who was reported as the first Flood infected marine. Attached to his side, Jael'rikk fancied a Energy Sword.
"Sir!" they said at the same time, saluting me.
"At ease," I said, walking past them towards an open hatch. "Head down to Hanger Bay B17, and await orders."
"Sir, yes, sir!" they snapped off another salute and walked down to the right corridor.
I proceeded forward, toward the bridge. I came to a flight of stairs that would lead right into the bridge and walked up them. Inside the bridge, there were several computers manned by Navy personal. Sitting in the Captain's seat was Captain Tobias Williams. The man was in his mid-thirties, and was smaller than me. When I walked in, Adam alerted the entire bridge of my presence.
Captain Williams turned and looked at me and stood.
"Sir!" I said saluting. "Here as ordered."
Williams snapped a salute back. "At ease, Lieutenant."
I lowered my hand and walked up to the Captain.
"Lieutenant Downs, I've been waiting for a long time to find this Installation, and now today we've done it. In approximately 0030 hours we'll be reaching it, and as soon as we exit Slipstream, I want your team to be ready to make a drop." He paused.
"Is something the matter?" I asked.
The tone in his voice confirmed my suspicions. "Well, the HEVs aren't working properly."
"So what's that leave us?"
"Armed Assault Boats."
I began to protest.
"Lieutenant—I'm sorry. It's the only thing we have next to Pelicans. And I know about your feelings toward those."
Scoffing, I put my hands on my hips. "The feeling for both of them is mutual."
"If you won't go down, then I'll send down marines, and possibly to their death. Helljumpers aren't afraid to jump feet first into battle."
"Fine. We'll do it."
"Good," Captain Williams seemed pleased. "When your team makes the landing, secure a location for a Pelican drop party. We're going to hit this Installation quick, and hard."
There was silence. Then I asked: "That's all, huh? No shit?"
"None whatsoever."
"Sounds too easy. And I don't like the easy way out."
"The AAB is in Hanger Bay M09. I'll get Adam to tell your team to meet there."
"Yes, sir."
"Dismissed."
"Thank you, sir!" I snapped off a salute as did the Captain. I turned and walked out of the bridge, and began the long walk to Hanger Bay M09.