Chapter 1 - The Hunt Begins
Trees. An endless green sea of tropical trees.
John didn't like trees. Jungles were a soldier's worst nightmare. They were dark, difficult to manoeuvre, and provided endless cover for enemy forces. Not to mention that they brought back memories of his childhood training, memories that he'd rather leave untouched. The soldier sighed and turned away from the window, moving back to his seat. The passenger bays in the UNSC's stealth drop-cabs were always cramped. His knees almost touched the seats opposite from him. They just weren't equipped for his size.
The tinny voice of the pilot crackled through the intercom.
"We're preparing to hit dirt Chief. You ready?"
John responded quickly. "I'm ready." His voice was stone-cold.
He reached down and pulled a DMR up from under his seat, swiftly cocking the rifle with a sharp click.
"Hold onto your butt, we're going down."
John braced himself, as a whooshing sound enveloped the ship. His stomach lurched and he tensed his jaw as he looked out at the passing jungle through the window. There was a dull thumping noise from under the ship as they reached ground level, and the sickening feeling quickly subsided. The large solider silently stood from his seat, moving his hand up to punch a large red button above his head. The bay doors slid open with a steady hiss, and he stepped out onto the soft grass.
"I'm out. Thanks for the ride."
The ship retracted its landing legs and boosted the engines once more.
"Anytime Chief. I'll see you back at the station."
The ship rose vertically into the air until it was high above the jungle, before taking off into the clouds.
With the heavy hum of the drop-cab now gone, the thick sound of insects took its place. John could already feel the humidity reaching him beneath the confines of his armour. With a steady exhale he narrowed his eyes from within his helmet, looking around at the tropical foliage. As expected, there were no actual paths through the thick jungle. The nature looked completely untouched.
"Looks like I'll have to find my own way." He spoke quietly to himself, lowering his head and focusing his senses to his armour functions.
Using his nerve-powered HUD mission directory he opened up his mission details on his visor display, sifting through an endless list of old objectives, until he reached his most recent entry.
Master Chief /117,
Your assignment is simple. Find and eliminate Brute Chieftain Hictoius, and evac before the Covenant can send reinforcements. Hictoius' team have set up camps around the southern hemisphere of the planet. We have no intel on his whereabouts within the planet, so do what you do best and use your initiative. Search the camps for any leads.
Best of luck out there.
Fleet Admiral Lord Hood.
The mission seemed simple enough. The Covenant Remnant had been causing the UNSC a huge bag of trouble. Unlike the former Covenant, these new elitists didn't stick to their old orthodox methods. Their forces were spread far and thin across the galaxy. Large war-fleets were a thing of the past; nowadays they clustered in camps on remote planets and moons.
They were certainly devoted to their cause. But their break of mass numbers and wide distribution meant that Covenant squads could be easily outnumbered, and were vulnerable to well-planned attacks. And the Master Chief was definitely a good planner.
His first mental objective, get to higher ground and evaluate the surroundings.
In the bottom left corner of his visor's heads up display was a virtual compass. According to his pilot, a small plateau was situated northwest from his location. He examined the tropical terrain one more time, before heading northwest, pushing aside some ferns and treading into the thick of the humid jungle.
The Spartan waved his hand, swiping an alien insect off his visor. The hum of thousands of insectoids was heavy in the jungle, and many of the winged vermin could be seen zipping between cracks of sunlight. Perhaps they were relatives of the Covenant Drones he'd come to loathe? He dismissed the casual thought and ignored the irritating creatures, keeping focus on his surroundings. The terrain ahead was visibly elevated, and soon he felt the tell-tale strain on his legs of a hill. He was definitely nearing the plateau.
The Spartan continued to the top of the hill. He pushed through a palm bush and found himself on a small platform of flat orange rock. He'd reached the plateau.
Thankfully, it was as good a vantage point as he'd hoped. The jungle was vast, covering the flat land way into the distance. He capped his visor with a hand and scanned the horizon.
He noticed some heat disturbance in the air some way ahead. It appeared to be a thin trail of blue plasma vapour snaking into the azure sky. Perhaps one of the Remnant camps.
John returned his arm to his side and peered over the edge of the plateau. There was a steep drop below. But there were plenty of thick plants and vines that he could utilise. It would take time to head back the way he'd come and walk around the cliff, and time wasn't something he had to spare. His only option was to go down.
Reaching out to grab hold of a thick vine, the armoured soldier stepped off the plateau and pulled himself over the drop, pushing his feet into the rugged cliff wall. He took a sharp breath and bent his knees slightly. He gave himself a moment's rest, before beginning to hastily abseil down the cliff face, feeding his hands down the length of the vine.
It didn't take much effort to scale the cliff, and once the vine ended he simply released and dropped the last ten feet to the ground, bending his knees to take the impact. He hit the grass with a heavy thud, turning back to more jungle.
Peering up through a crack in the leaves he could still see the vapor trail ahead. Taking note of its direction on his compass he began to head toward it, ducking under a branch and pushing on through the thick jungle.