Chapter 2 – Inferos
August 18th, 2543 (22:05 Hours – Military Calendar)
Sol System, Earth
ODST Training Base "Camp Ravenport", Scaffel Pike Mountain, United Kingdom
3 Weeks Later:
:********:
As far as Duncan could tell, his Uncle Rick was dead wrong. Either that, or he was lying about that 'feeling damned' part, because right now he honestly believed that hell itself had to be cozier than what he had been enduring for the past 2 weeks. The mud caking his face was one thing. The gunshots shooting so close overhead that he felt the heat on the back of his neck was another. Finally, the tormenting taunts the drill instructors roared through staccato bursts of gunfire helped summarize life at Camp Ravenport.
To Duncan's left, dozens of fellow recruits were crawling in several columns through muddy earth beneath lanes of barbed wire. The chill night air was full of the collective grunts and groans of men and women pushing past their limits just to reach the end of the course. Staying alive after that was an unguaranteed bonus.
There was a three-round burst immediately to Duncan's right and a fresh spray of mud plastered his face. He didn't even wince. He glanced at the smoking bullet holes in the muck just a few inches from his hands.
"Hey Iris, what're you stopping for!?"
Another three-round burst in the same spot sent Duncan clawing up his lane with renewed vigor. All the while the vein-faced drill instructor remained right beside him. He kept firing his M7 Submachine Gun into the ground close to the line of recruits. At the same time, he exclaimed one eloquent line after another explaining what he would have done had he met their parents with the knowledge that they would produce the human trash crawling in front of him. All of that in several different languages.
"Feltennék egy kést az Atyád szívébe, és magamért viszem az anyád! Fogadj rá!"
There goes the Hungarian again. Once Duncan and everyone in his lane heard it, they quickly doubled their efforts. It was always a bad sign when Drill Instructor Mahoney started using his native tongue in the middle of an exercise. It meant he was about to find a way to make life even more miserable for whatever woeful soul caught his eye.
It was generally accepted among ODST recruits that cultural backgrounds were a major factor in the varying degrees of drill instructors' intensity. Brazilian instructors were pains, and the Russians were just as likely to put a boot to your neck as they were to encourage you. But God help you if you got a Hungarian. Rumor had it that they specialized in making examples of recruits for the most minor misconduct. Their punishments were purposefully slow and agonizing, both physically and psychologically torturous. Duncan had no way to confirm that for himself save for the existence of the ODST Training Base in Hungary known as Camp Árpád. It had one of the most notorious reputations in Sol for virtually cranking out veterans that had yet to see actual action. Moreover, Mahoney was in the process of confirming that rumor firsthand.
Everyone on the line watched him kick out one of the support-beams for a section of the barbed wire. Without fail, the razor-wire mesh fell right on top of Duncan. It hooked into his clothes and cut into his skin. He swallowed down the cry of pain rising in his throat. Now wasn't the time. He reached for the knotted barbs and tried to disentangle himself. Only, the more he tried the more he was wrapped up and a line of ODST recruits were piling up behind him.
"Come on man! Just take that stuff off already!" The closest recruit to his rear, a burly North American named Cosmo, bellowed. His southern drawl was more pronounced thanks to the stress of the situation. "You're wasting time!"
Both men stopped at another burst just beside them. They looked up to see Mahoney standing right above them, so close that they could see the sweat mark surrounding the letters 'ODST' on his shirt, as well as the veins popping out on his face and neck.
"Come on Iris!" He shouted. "You're holding up the line!"
That was rich coming from him. Duncan was cutting his hands by then trying to get free. It merely made matters worse.
"Need some help, lad?" An Irish voice asked from beside him.
He hadn't noticed him coming until he was already next to him. His bright orange hair, though buzz-cut, made him visible in the dark. The ODST recruit named O'Reilly had been ahead of Duncan. But seeing his plight, he had crawled back to help. Though it had been knocked out of its socket, O'Reilly was able to hold up the downed support beam, thereby lifting the wire. Duncan plucked the last strands off and crawled through the opening.
"Thanks Riley."
"Don't thank me yet, Sunny Jim." O'Reilly said. He handed Duncan the beam before crawling on. "We're only halfway through. Just pray to God and the Holy Mother that 'Honey doesn't get any more bright ideas."
They could see the Hungarian Instructor walking further down the line, already busy harassing others.
Duncan held up the beam long enough for Cosmo to crawl through before handing it over. Cosmo did the same for the recruit coming behind him. It continued that way until they were all clear of it.
Unlike the other lines moving under the wire, there was a sizable gap in Duncan's line. O'Reilly managed to close it just before the woman in front of him got out at the end.
Mahoney was waiting for them. He was reloading his M7 just as O'Reilly was getting out and had already pulled the charging handle when Duncan was crawling past. The latter had just reached his hand out when a single round shot into the ground where his hand would've landed. He glanced up at Mahoney who was looking down at him with an unnerving calmness.
"Hurry it up Iris. You're holding up the line."
Duncan's eyes never left Mahoney's as he purposefully reached out to a different spot and pulled himself out from under the wire. From there he was free to run after the others. He heard another three-round burst from behind and a shriek from Cosmo but didn't bother looking back.
The way ahead was a further continuation of the manmade ravine cut into the upper region of Mount Scaffel Pike. While the barbed wire course was further back, what was left after that was a series of half-constructed buildings and debris-filled gravel roadways meant to simulate urban combat conditions. Other recruits were already making their way through the streets while Drill Instructors fired down from rooftops, purposefully shooting near them to keep them alert.
Duncan followed after O'Reilly in weaving through the first of the buildings. They leaped over varying debris as they headed for the other side. At the same time the characteristic belch of 7.62 Millimeter rounds more than persuaded them to keep their heads down. Cosmo managed to reach them halfway through the course. He was racing ahead when sudden explosions on either side of the street sent everyone sprawling to the ground.
"Composition 7!" O'Reilly shouted.
"They can't be serious!" Cosmo growled.
Duncan shook his head and tried to get the ringing out of his ears. The two buildings immediately to their left and right were on fire. However, it must have been a controlled explosion since there was no visible shrapnel damage.
"Dalton's been taking some of Mahoney's suggestions!" Duncan said as he struggled to get back up.
"Nah!" O'Reilly said. "Dalton's a different kind of psychopath! Wouldn't surprise me if this was his idea!"
The three recruits had been among a dozen others caught by the shockwave, one that had also been meticulously measured out so that it rung their bells and nothing more. Once the firing started again, they were the first to start running again.
They didn't stop until they were completely clear of the ruins and out of the ravine. All that remained was the drop.
The drop was a sheer cliff 40 meters down. It was split by an artificial waterfall running from a river that ran parallel to the ravine. A deep river mouth waited for them at the bottom, enough to break their falls…if they landed right.
A batch of recruits were already on the jump platform hanging over the waterfall's edge. The instructor there fired his M6 Pistol into the air. They took the signal and jumped.
Once they were gone, Duncan, O'Reilly and Cosmo rushed onto the platform. They were met with the sight of Scafell Pike's forest-carpeted southern slope below. The river beneath them branched out from where it gathered at the base of the cliff and into the foliage. About two kilometers away, the fenced perimeter and mazework of lit buildings beyond was Camp Ravenport.
Duncan braced himself. The instructor next to them gave them a malicious smile. "Your turn boys." He held up his pistol and fired. At the gunshot, they leaped off of the platform and over the edge, legs together and arms at their sides.
The drop was quick. Forty meters flashed past in less than 2 seconds. The splash down was deafening. They pierced through the water's surface and torpedoed down another 10 meters to the riverbed.
It was pitch black and unbearably cold. Duncan wasted no time pushing off from the bottom and heading towards the surface.
The day after the funeral, Duncan had called his uncle and taken him up on his offer. Rick was ready to say the least and had him fill out a few papers. Apparently, he had just gotten in under the wire since there were ODST Training Programs in Europe with one more week left of open recruitment. One thing led to another and he found himself kissing Erica goodbye before shuttling over to the UK.
He had survived two weeks of physical conditioning as part of 1st Selection. This was where the instructors did their best to crack down on everyone, weeding out the chaff among the wheat of Class 207. At current there was only a week left to do it. Performance Ejections, Drop on Requests and Medical Rollouts had whittled their numbers down from an initial 500 recruits to 273, but whoever was left was too busy trying to catch their breaths to notice who was leaving.
Duncan breached the surface and swallowed in breath after breath of fresh air. Cosmo and O'Reilly were already swimming to the riverside nearby. Duncan used the current and a few strokes to get back on dry land.
"Hustle up!" An instructor said, waiting casually at the riverside. He nodded towards the gathering of recruits a dozen feet away, all fighting to do jumping jacks. "The Head Instructor's waiting!"
Duncan staggered back to his feet and stumbled towards the procession. O'Reilly and Cosmo followed suit. They quickly melded in with the crowd and went into jumping jacks. The act was purposefully made to exhaust them thanks to their water-logged clothes. Through ragged breaths Duncan was able to spot the architect of his misery walking in front of the gathering.
"Keep it up darlings." He said. His British accented voice resonated though he was talking at base level. "No one rests until everyone's either here or I say stop."
Head Instructor Dalton strode with hands folded at his back, head held high. He was a bald man whose dome shined in the light of the single streetlamp nearby. His thick, graying beard didn't detract from the fact that his physique was able to put 90% of men half his age to shame.
Under his vigil, Class 207 willed exhausted limbs to extend and relax in endless jumping jacks. Duncan felt his legs burning with each repetition. After another five minutes, the last stragglers made it to the group. Yet at least 12 others who had gotten down to the waterfall had to be taken away with broken legs since they didn't land right. Still, Dalton let them carry on for another ten minutes until he turned to face the group. "At ease!"
Class 207 grounded to a halt.
"That's it for today. Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for some sustenance at the chow hall and some tranquil R&R at the barracks."
Sparks of hope started spreading amongst the class. Dalton's smile widened. "After we jog back that is."
Dalton watched that same hope crumble and die. Recruits gave restrained groans since no one wanted to be noticed. Even so, one stood out for all the wrong reasons. Duncan could tell it was Stanton, a recruit from Iowa. He was shaking and his face was pale.
Dalton must have noticed too and he came over to look him in the eyes. "Is there a problem Stanton?"
Stanton quickly shook his head.
"I asked you a question. I expect you to answer verbally."
Stanton was able to steady himself. He opened his mouth. Duncan wished he hadn't. Stanton fell to his hands and knees and threw up the day's lunch special all over the ground and all over the Head Instructor's boots.
Everyone froze. Stanton kept bringing it up for another 10 seconds. Dalton just stood there, unphased. When the man finished, Dalton crouched down and planted a firm hand on his shoulder. "You alright now, son?" He asked, his voice laced with a deceptive care. Stanton nodded weakly.
"Good." Dalton got back up, took off the shoes and placed them in front of him. "Because you're going to clean these boots until they're shinier than before you dumped the entire lunch menu on them. Then we're jogging back. Get to it."
The whole class watched Stanton hesitate then reach for the boots. He stopped when Dalton held up a hand.
Duncan swore he saw a smile cross the Head Instructor's face as he said: "How it got there is how it'll leave."
:********:
The jog back was long and hard, especially thanks to the recruits' heavy fatigues. The class moved along a dirt road headed down the slope of Scafell Pike. It was long enough for Duncan to forget what Stanton had just done to the Head Instructor's boots. He was pretty sure the man quit after that because he didn't see him anywhere in the lineup. It took ten minutes of running underneath the towering Beech trees before the perimeter gates of Camp Ravenport came within sight.
Military Police manned the gatehouses and watchtowers and patrolled the roads outside the fence. The five-meter tall titanium doors of the Northern gate slid apart, allowing the procession inside. Dirt roads fell away to concrete streets that gridded Camp Ravenport. Fuel Stations, Hospitals and Clinics, Commissaries, Post Offices, Shooting Ranges, Environmental Simulation Centers, full Vehicle Depots and active helipads were some of the installations that comprised Ravenport. Construction and Maintenance Personnel were bussing from place to place while MPs drove Warthogs laden with crates. D77-TC Pelican Dropships soared overhead and landed on helipads to make deliveries. The sight astounded Duncan the first time he came to Ravenport. Right now, only one part of it mattered to him.
Dalton led Class 207 until he had them stop in the central parade grounds: a field of grass amidst a concrete jungle. While everyone else was panting, the Instructors stood rock steady.
"Get some rest, 207." Dalton said. "There's one more week of 1st Selection so eat hearty. We're back to it at o'500 Hours. You're dismissed for the day."
With that the class dispersed. While some went to the barracks, almost all headed to the cafeteria. Duncan was in the initial tidal wave that broke through the doors and washed over the food stalls before receding to the tables.
Duncan found himself in the middle of an ocean of taken tables with nowhere to rest his platter of steak, mashed potatoes and carrots. A waving hand caught his attention. It was O'Reilly. He shared a table with several others and pointed to the last free seat. Duncan took him up on his offer and planted himself on it.
"Life is good, D." O'Reilly sighed through mouthfuls of grilled lambchops. "Know why that is?"
"Because we're lucky to even be alive." Duncan laughed after thinking it over for a second.
O'Reilly shook his head. "Nah, not so, fella. It's because we're almost through 1st selection. Half the class already quit. We're still here. Know what that makes us?"
"The better half." Duncan cackled, before tearing into his steak.
O'Reilly smirked. "Amen and amen."
"Wrong." A familiar, southern voice said from behind. They peered over their shoulders to see Cosmo looking at them sideways from the opposite table.
"If you ask me, you two shouldn't have even survived week one."
O'Reilly grinned. "Good thing we didn't ask you then."
Cosmo's brow twitched. "You pickin' a fight you can't win, Leprechaun?
O'Reilly shrugged. "Just pickin' that brain of yours, hick."
Cosmo glared hard at them. "You-
"Think about it." O'Reilly interrupted. "If me and Master Iris here didn't help you out then you'd still be stuck in that barbed wire."
"That ain't even half true. You saved Iris yourself."
Before O'Reilly could retort, Duncan interrupted. "Let's just agree that Mahoney was the pain that caused all that. Honestly, we have a higher chance of getting offed by that man than the Covenant at this point."
"Here-here." Another recruit said at Cosmo's table. He raised his cup of soda in a mock toast. "And here's to not licking tonight's dinner off Dalton's boots tomorrow morning."
"Here-here." A dozen other recruits raised their cups in jovial agreement. That was enough to settle things between O'Reilly and Cosmo.
"I swear," O'Reilly huffed. "If Stanton doesn't become the Patron Saint of Boots after this…" He glanced back over at Duncan and remembered something. "Hey, didn't you say yesterday you'd let me see a picture of your lady now?"
Duncan winced, remembering the deal he'd made that if O'Reilly was still around today then they'd get to see each other's partners. He swallowed the mashed potato in his mouth and surrendered over a picture of Erica from his pocket.
O'Reilly whistled, glanced at Duncan, then at the picture and finally back at Duncan. "What does she see in you?"
Duncan snatched the picture away and slid it back into his pocket. The Irishman simply laughed.
"Ha-ha, real funny." Duncan said. "Now where's yours?"
O'Reilly stopped laughing and held up a finger for him to wait as he reached into his pocket. "I'm a man of my word Master Iris." With that he whipped out not one or two, but three pictures. He handed them over to Duncan who marveled at the lively blonde in one, the cute brunette in the other and the reserved redhead in the last one.
"You a married man, Riley?" He asked jokingly.
"I was in my head, but not in theirs." O'Reilly sighed, slumping onto the table a bit. "Sadly I'm not so good with women it seems. The blonde was a neurotic. I mustn't have been giving the poor lass enough attention because she started accusing me of playing hooky with other women. Eventually she got fed up…" He held out his left hand and pointed to the lengthy scar along the top. "Gave me this with a kitchen knife."
Duncan winced.
"The brunette." He continued. "She liked to light up, morning, noon and night. I tried telling her she was addicted but she wouldn't listen. I also tried hiding her pack from her one night. Didn't take her long to piece the mystery together." He pointed to a burn mark on his right wrist. "She used her lass cig to give me this before she left. I still have her pack though."
Duncan was feeling mildly out of his depth at this point.
"And this one." He pointed to the redhead. "Boy was she a doozie."
"I'm guessing she misunderstood you and tried putting a knife to your throat?" Duncan asked with all sarcasm.
"No." O'Reilly assured. "That was her Uncle. We just weren't working out so I dumped her. She wasn't too happy about it. As it turned out, her uncle was a gangbanger and she called in a favor." This time he traced his finger along a long scar running the length of his left arm. "I think you can fill in the blanks from there."
Duncan gave a long exhale. "That's, uh, that's um…how long ago was all this?"
"Last year." O'Reilly said. "I don't have pictures for all of them but if you'd like to see what the others left for me to remember them by…"
Once Duncan saw him start to take off his shirt he quickly held up his hands. "You're good pal."
O'Reilly could only laugh at that. Then he shook his head, his tone suddenly a bit more solemn. "I haven't had the best of luck in life, D, honestly. I hope maybe I can have one day what you have with Erica, ring and all. I just don't know if I'll have enough life left ahead of me to pull it off."
"Don't say that man." Duncan said, slapping him reassuringly on the shoulder. "If everything goes the way it needs to then we'll be able to hold our own out there."
O'Reilly nodded, though hesitantly. "Do you think we really have a chance? Against the likes of the Covenant?"
Duncan washed down the last of his food with some soda. "I think we might, and I'm willing to stake our chances of winning on the same chances that you'll find a girl who won't try to murder you after two months."
"Oh, I wouldn't do that, mate. In that case the Covies might as well be here."
"Come on man, aren't you supposed to be a leprechaun. They're lucky right?"
"Stereotypes, my dear boy. And they don't even exist."
"Well who knows, maybe we'll have a change of fates. It's possible even down to the last minute, right? I mean, me being here is a prime example of that."
O'Reilly chuffed at that. "Hmph, I hope you're right."
"I hope I'm right too." Duncan said and held up his cup. "Cheers?"
O'Reilly did the same.
"To survival." Duncan said.
"To finding the right girl." O'Reilly exclaimed.
Duncan raised an eyebrow at him, curious as to what that had to do exactly with surviving. The Irishman shrugged. "Same difference."
Duncan thought it over and gave a shrug of his own before knocking his cup against O'Reilly's.
"Cheers."
Inferos - Hell