Halo: Another Time
Chapter I: Wake Up Call
Author's Note: Well I'm back. Hopefully better than ever. I'm really trying to make this the greatest thing I've ever wrote, and one of the main stories in the Halo section. So please leave a feedback, questions, ect. I'll try my best to answer.
"It's okay, son. You did all you could."
"No. I couldn't save you or Molly!"
"You're only human, Desmond. You did what you thought was right, I couldn't be any prouder of you."
Desmond Carmine felt himself floating, like he was in endless space. Maybe it was limbo? Where there was nothing but continuum, a continuum of nothing. At first Desmond was just surrounded by a blank sheet of white. Like snow-fall on Christmas, the beautiful kind of Christmas. Where there was only a gorgeous layer of snow, not to much, not to little. That just right amount that almost everyone could love.
But the white surroundings weren't the only thing to accompany him. A voice. Such a familiar, a voice he hears every night. It feels like déjà vu. Cause at first the voice talks to him, tells him he did everything he could. But Desmond know he didn't, at least to him. He felt like he let the people that meant the most to him down. His family. He was talking to his now deceased father. His deceased father, with his death on Desmond's mind almost twenty-four seven.
Everything else on his mind, was the other person he had let down. His sister, his beloved sister Molly. She was dead as well, they both haunted his sleep like a ghost in an abandoned mansion. Desmond knew not before long, his father would appear, a person to embody the voice.
"You have too much guilt on your shoulders." His father, Ryan Carmine announced, his body starting to fade into view, his feature so noticeable.
Desmond studied his features with an intense stare. A stare he gives his father every time he see's him in his dreams. He did it just so he would never forget his father's face. What he wore the night he died. His father was somewhat aged, not that he was old. Just from stress of work, working for ONI did that to anyone. His once lush, deep black hair was now showing strands of grey hair.
Bags under his piercing blue eyes. Deep, tan skin, that was somewhat flush. Desmond looked him right in his eyes. Feeling them penetrate his soul .
"Dad, I had bury Molly with Christopher, I held you in my arms as you died. And I could saved one of you! I made the wrong choice! I didn't react soon enough!" Desmond shouted, hearing an echo bellow out over the pure white landscape.
"You're so young. Life is all about hard choices. Sometimes you make the right choice, sometimes you don't. It's how you learn." Ryan tried to comfort his eldest son.
"And I paid the ultimate price for it." Desmond could feel emotion's running back into him. Even in a dream, he could sense his eyes tearing up. It was too much for him to handle.
Desmond stepped forward, leaning towards his father, as if looking for a shoulder to lean on. Dreams were the only time he cried. He wouldn't allow himself to cry in front of his brother Christopher. He had to set an example. But he had so much built up inside him, even if he hid it in his soft, gentle human shell. With the step he took, he watched his father seem to grow farther apart. Taking another, he grew farther apart.
"Dad!" He muffled through the choked cry. "I'm sorry!"Desmond ran, he ran like the his life depended on it. Until his imaginary lungs burned until the burning consumed his whole body. He fell to his knees, reaching an arm out as his father's figure faded out of view.
"I'm-!"
Desmond jolted up. Heavy breathing exhaled from his mouth, his lungs felt twisted, and in pain. Sweat trickled it's way down his forehead to the tip of his nose. Running his hands through his short cut, black hair, he felt his muscle's pulsate with excitement and fear mixture, it was something rather unpleasant to him at the moment. He ruffled his beard with his right hand now, it was getting longer than he usually let it.
Usually it was just five o'clock shadow, now it was bit longer than stubbles. He groaned, his head pounded at him, sweat still continued to drip, now soaking his sheets and covers of the make-shift bed. The bed itself was very uncomfortable, felt like sleeping on a rock. But, it was the best that could be made with what was available.
"I'm going fucking insane." Desmond murmured to himself, letting himself gently lay down on his rock solid bed.
Thoughts swiveled through his shattered mind. So much to think about, over the past couple months, everything was chaotic and just hectic, to say the least. Humanity had lost the war. The genocidal war-machine known as the Covenant, had beat them. They crushed Earth's defenses. Won on almost every front. They left the UNSC in shambles. Having humanity living like rats in the shadows. Whatever was left of the UNSC, they fought with only guerilla warfare tactics.
But Desmond supposed everything wasn't all bad. They had managed to defeat the Covenant in one battle, the battle at Instillation 00. But it came at a high cost. Miranda Keyes, Sergeant Major Johnson, both of them had died fighting. They even lost possibly the war's most valuable war-hero, The Master Chief, and the AI Cortana. Missing, gone without a trace. The only one to walk away still intact was the Arbiter and half of the Forward Unto Dawn.
Ever since, civilization just seem to crumble. The UNSC spread thin throughout the remaining planets, with the fleet constantly in motion, in hope the Covenant doesn't come knocking on their door. Desmond felt his eyeball's start to dry as he stared up at the ceiling. More memories of failed missions, dead friends, and family.. Ran through his skull. The train of thought instantly interrupted over the comm. link next to his make-shift bed.
He grabbed it and placed it his ear, hearing a hard, raspy voice boom into it. "Sergeant Major, it's Captain Mills. I need you down in the CIC. Stat."
Desmond groaned, he only had a few hours of sleep. Nightmare after nightmare kept him awake late at night, and made him rise early morning. Not that he would get much sleep serving in the UNSC marine corps. On top of all of those, how are you suppose to sleep knowing you were being eradicated and everything collapsing.
Cracking his knuckles and arching his back to shake the tight feeling that riddled his spine, he stood from his resting place. His eyes wandered to his armor and weapon, he always kept them close, never know when the Covenant would come lingering. Sure, they had probes out, scanning the area to alert them to Covenant presence. Although, the extraterrestrials had been notorious for being sly and cunning.
Desmond wasted no time quickly suiting up. Having your equipment nearby at all times had no use if you couldn't get ready quickly. Once his armor was nice and snug, he grabbed his M6G Magnum, slid the weapon into his holster, and grabbed his DMR. Moving from his make-shift room, he moved out into a hallway. A battered one at that. The UNSC had found themselves most limited when it came to option of places to hold up. Now, Desmond and the survivors found themselves constricted to a worn down, abandoned high school.
The hallways were dirty, floors littered with debris from a rotted ceiling, to papers from staff and students that once resided in the halls. A musty stench seem to slither into Desmond's nostrils as he found himself trying to hold his breath to keep the odor at bay. Crunching and crinkling echoed from his feet as his boots stepped onto paper and leftover pencils.
Passing several doors and classrooms, he found himself looking into each one he passed. Noticing many classrooms had been fitted into living quarters for the UNSC personnel. He wasn't quite sure how many UNSC survivors had taken up the high school, but he guesstimated around one-hundred-fifty at least. That wasn't to mention the number of civilians from the planet, or ones who fled from the prosecution of the Covenant, had joined them the last couple months.
In fact, they had so many refugees, they had a tough time keeping supplies at a constant. The UNSC fleet dispersed supplies through supply lines that were safe, or so they assumed 'safe'. Nothing was really safe anymore, in the sense. Desmond and other often found themselves having to run out to the deserted cities and towns for provisions. Even if there was no Covenant on this planet, or at least close enough to get picked up by their probes and scanners, danger still lurked.
Everyone was in it for the long haul, survival. Many marines, ODST and other military personnel had left, in hopes of surviving longer and fighting a lost fight. Not to mention civilians who are pretty unhappy with the UNSC's turnout over the war. Angry at them for failing to protect them. So had the survivalist or looters who would kill to survive, and they did.
It was more than one occasion that Desmond and other found themselves in a fire fight for supplies and other material goods. If it wasn't bad enough, others turned to insurgency. Joining the old as Covenant foes of the UNSC. It was a perfect time for them, UNSC and government in ruins, they could rise to power. So it was a multi-front war. You had the UNSC and it's Elite allies, the survivalist, Insurgents, and Covenant loyalist. They had a handful at all times.
His passage throughout the school seemed blurred as he found himself lost in deep thought once again. Like he was in a trance his entire way down to the CIC. Which, in general, was just the main office of the school. Desmond gripped the handle and walked in. His eyes wandered the room. The main office was big enough for Captain Mills and his crew to put equipment to run the CIC in it, and fit them. By all means it wasn't spacious, but it'd do.
"Sergeant Major!"
Desmond jolted his head over to the location of the raspy voice that had contacted him over the comm. There stood Captain Mills, the leading officer on the entire planet, since most higher ups went into deep space with the fleet. Leaving officers planet-wide far and few in-between.
The Captain's still dark feature's looked just as grave as they ever did. His bald head gleamed in the light, with jagged scars running parallel on his face. The man was well into his late fifties, but with all the current stress that fed into his veins, he looked like he was already dead.
Desmond snapped a short salute. Knowing he didn't need to, the Captain wasn't all into that anymore, he just liked to run a tight ship.
"Took you any longer, and I might have been in a wheel chair."
Desmond let out a smirk, he had gotten to know Mills very well since his recent promotion to Sergeant Major. He was tough, stubborn, very strong willed. Just never judge a book by it's cover, Desmond learned that very quickly. Mills showed a great deal of compassion and respect for his men. Something you didn't find to often in officers with stress levels as high as mountains.
"What's going on Captain?"
"As you already know, we keep getting more refugees. And we're running low on supplies. Our next shipment of supplies isn't due for another week. We're already running on reserves. The reserves won't last that long. I'm going to send you and a small convoy attachment to into Vekta."
Desmond's brain felt like the matrix as he processed all this information. Data just seem to expel from his mind and projected an image into his head. Vekta was the largest city on the planet, which wasn't that big considering the nature of the planet was backwater itself, but still very sizable. It would be filled with survivalist and possibly even Insurgents if they were here.
"How big of a detachment will be accompanying me?" Desmond question, his voice unshaken.
Mills cleared his throat. "Two squads, five men each. You'll be leading the operation as well as first squad Alpha. Were bravo squad will be headed by 1st Sergeant Brinn. You'll be taking two warthog's for fire support if you run into unwanted help, and shall be loading three warthog troop transport for the supplies."
"Yes sir." Desmond blurted out. "When are we leaving?""ASAP, Sergeant Major. I've already assembled the squads and had them prepare the vehicles for transport. They'll be waiting for you outside in the back parking lot."
Desmond needed no more. Simply nodding to the Captain, and walked out in haste. Desmond hoped everything would be smooth sailing, hopefully no trouble, and be able to find supplies rather easy. He had a gut feeling that he wasn't going to be so lucky.
Wind whipped into the Sergeant Major's face as the cool breeze seem to stiffen his facial expression. The air outside was a nice mixture of chilly, but warm air. It was perfect as the convoy of green jeeps sped down the broken highway. It was mostly intact, save for destroyed cars, and chunks of concrete missing from the road. Potholes made the ride bumpy and very uncomfortable. He kept a tight grip of the wheel as maneuvered around a turned over school bus.
Darkness made everything eerie quiet, save for the roar of the warthog engines as they churned through the dust infested highway to the city of Vekta. The big city wasn't that far out from the high school their base of operations took place at, maybe a forty minute drive, forty-five at the most.
"Got a visual on the city." A voice called over the comm. Just the tone of the voice felt, angry, so full of rage. Desmond couldn't blame the voice.
Desmond looked back over his shoulder to the gun emplacement on the back of the warthog. Where a marine manned the heavy weapon, his brother. Christopher Carmine, younger than him, being his only family left in the universe. Christopher had become so angry at the universe, himself, aliens, friend or foe. The one thing he was angry at the most; himself.
He didn't blame Desmond for his father and sister's death, he saw Desmond at least trying. While he was at sitting in a medical bay being treated for second degree burns on his right bicep that he received from an angry jackal during a firefight. It was quite ironic, two brothers, both blaming themselves for their family's death. One angry. The other stricken with grief and swallowed in pity.
Desmond looked back to the front view as he peered out the windshield of the vehicle. It was true, they had finally reached the outskirts of Vekta. Desmond had already implemented a plan of some sorts. He wanted to hit the center of the city, were business use to bustle on a day to day basis. He hoped to find food, medicine and any other goods of use. He also wanted to stop at gas stations and try to get any fuel that was still available.
But he doubt anything would be left. Not to mention his gut feeling was still peppering his stomach with nervousness. The last time he had went out on a supply run, it had resulted into casualties on his side, and four other civilian deaths that had taken upon themselves to try and steal there findings. He prayed to whatever god was out there, that it wouldn't happen again. He became even more stricken with guilt after those two men had died.
His still fairly new promotion made him nervous. He had led men before as a Corporal and Staff Sergeant, just not entire operations. He feared for his men every time they went out. The trust his men had in him had been thrown up into the air, and was split fifty-fifty. Marines like his brother had the utmost respect for him, while men like Sergeant Brinn had a foul taste for him and fought for his control or to overrule him at every turn.
"Prepare yourself marines. Back into hostile territory. Safeties off, only return fire. Repeat, only return fire." Desmond ordered through the comm.
Acknowledgements ran through the headset, with only a grumble from Brinn. Desmond wouldn't be up for his mouth today. He needed everyone's complete focus and attention. Including his own so he wouldn't slip up.
The convoy rolled into the city at last, only to be met by empty buildings, homes, totaled cars, and a breeze that carried dust right into Desmond's face. He hacked and coughed as dirty particles entered his lungs. Water filled his eyes a little as he kept as much focus on the road as he could. Shaking his head clear, he continued his detour through the city.
Noticing signs of fire fights and skirmishes had taken place. Cars would have bullet holes, even a few plasma burns scared on them. Small craters were grenades had detonated, dry blood on the walls of buildings and painted on the street. It wasn't a pretty sight for once being the biggest city on the planet.
Desmond didn't see any alien corpses, so he assumed the Covenant hadn't been to this planet, at least not anytime soon. Most people probably just packed up and left, figured it would get hit eventually, and being in a major population center during a Covenant invasion was never good. That's probably when looting and robbing was at it's worst, and gradually died down when most people either got killed, or left. Which only left the strong to survive and prosper however they could.
"We're coming up to the middle of the city. They're should be plenty of places to start our search there."
Desmond was correct, they arrived in the center of the city within a matter of minutes since his broadcast to the others. Surveying the area, Desmond noticed pros and cons of the landscape that was set before him and the other marines. Some of the pros, the buildings where pretty high up, so he could set one or two of the marines into great sniping positions.
The center itself, except for the buildings, was pretty clear of cover, so anything out in the open would get chewed to bits by the warthog guns, if they were out in open though. One the other hand, there were small alleyways and back ways behind all the buildings it seemed. Great opportunity for flanking and a surprise attack. Sighing, Desmond dismounted from his vehicle, finally being able to stretch his legs.
The other dismounted too, except for the warthog gunner's Christopher, and another marine who's name Desmond didn't quite know, but was sure he'd learn it in due time. Everyone formed around him, while the gunner's kept a sharp ear turned to his direction.
"Here's the plan, I want two men to set up in the building over there." Desmond pointed to the tallest building in the square, looking like a normal bland office building, but held the greatest height advantage of five stories, including the roof. The building was about fifty meters down the street give or take.
Desmond switched his view over to Brinn, he looked mighty displeased with Desmond barking out orders. "Brinn, take the rest of your men, and clear the left half of this street. I'll take the right."
Brinn frowned and took his remaining men immediately. They disappeared inside a building as Desmond noticed the first crack of light starting to appear over the rooftops. He wanted to use the darkness to there advantage, so they wouldn't have to long before their veil of shadows would vanish.
Desmond grabbed his two other men, leaving behind Christopher and the other gunner from Brinn's squad behind. Not mention the two other marines that had hopefully taken up position inside the giant office building. He didn't know the other two marines that had accompanied him into the small grocery store they walked into.
They entered the dark, cold store with very little visibility. Desmond ordered for flashlights on. One by one beams of bright yellow light illuminated the store. The flashlight swept the area before. Just about everything had been thrown around or just knocked down. Empty cans beleaguered the tiled floor along side with scattered news papers probably that dated months back.
A horrid odor filled the area as they stepped in closer, gallons of once spilled milk were now rotten and chunky and smelled way past over expiration date. But it wasn't the worst smell. One of the marines spotted blood, using his flashlight to follow the trail, it led them to a body over the counter. A women, middle aged, with light brown hair laid in awkward position. Her arms were twisted, her mouth dangled open and eyes in wide awe, but the pupils had worn down to a dull grey.
A bullet wound in the woman's forehead, dry blood and brains littered the area around the corpse. It was disgusting, Desmond felt like puking, not so much from the body, but from the rancid smell, he just never got use to it, even more so to bodies that had never been properly cleaned up and milled about over time.
"Come on, marines. We still have a job to do. We'll come back and give this woman a proper burial."
Stepping away from the scene, he ordered for them to spread out, and grab whatever that could be used. Desmond scanned the isle as he proceeded down, his footsteps echoing throughout the near deserted store. He could hear the other's boots sounding off against the aged tile. Desmond let the DMR hang loosely from the strap he had place on it. It nudged his side every time he moved as it continued to dangle.
Desmond repeated his process of looking through racks on the isle. His flashlight illuminated the shadowy areas of the shelves. Cobb webs and dust were mostly what he had found. But his search wasn't in complete vein, he managed to find a couple packets of batteries, and a twenty four pack of water. He loaded the batteries into his sack and took the water up front while he awaited for the others.
Placing the water on the dusty counter next to the register, he looked back over the counter to the body. He felt so miserable. It shouldn't of happened liked this. What made it even worse, was even with the human race closer to extinction than ever, humans still found the capability to kill one another to cold heartedly. At times, he wondered if the human race was still worth saving.
But the Master Chief was a symbol for that, Sergeant Major Avery Johnson, Commander Miranda Keyes, all those who dead or presumed dead had sacrificed everything to save humankind. So they must of saw something in civilization that Desmond didn't. No matter the reason, if it was good enough for them, it was good enough for him. His eyes still locked onto the corpse as his eyes, and the dull, unfocused eyes of the deceased woman met.
He felt vomit flip and fill his throat, only to be forced back down by his own will. The woman needed a proper burial, everyone did. Ever since he joined the UNSC and began his fight against the Covenant. He had watched countless men, women and children get slaughtered by the extraterrestrial juggernaut. Flashbacks of death exploded across his brain as he seem to relive the entire war over again.
After witnessing so much death, watching the Covenant win over and over. But that wasn't the worst part of it. The worst part was what happened to the survivors. Most of the leftovers from war became almost cold, sadistic and barbaric as the Covenant. They did anything to kill the Covenant, he had seen an ODST use a squad of marines as bait. They never stood a chance.
It was at those times, Desmond swore to never let his own humanity disappear just to kill more Covenant. What was pointing in fighting if you gave you were trying to save? War wasn't in black and white as many people saw it. It was complicated, with multiple shades of grey on all sides of the spectrum.
Another flash back ran across his mind, one he would like to forget the most. One that had made him weep. He had lost so many friends, the flashback felt like a mirage as it started to form, only to be tersely intervallic.
"Carmine!" His comm. Screamed to life of the angry voice of Captain Mills. "We have a fucking situation."
Desmond snapped up his head from the female corpse as his thoughts vanished. "What is it Captain?"
"One of our probes just went silent. We have eyes on pieces of a large object falling from the sky. That's our probe. We've looked at it's trajectory, and calculated a general area where it's falling. Have the supply hogs' come back, and take the others and-"
"Sergeant Major!" Another voice cut in over the Captain's voice. "We've got tangos! Across the square in buildings!"
He couldn't identify the voice who called out to him, most likely one of the marines he posted up in the office building. Desmond's gut tighten as he clenched his fist, his feeling was right, and everything was going to shit all at once. His throat tightened as he cued his comm.
"Marines, take up defensive positions. Probably just people just scouting." Desmond found himself trying to lie to himself. "Remember, only return fire."
He switched over channels. "Captain, we have a slight problem over here as well."
Mills let a low growl out. "We have potential tangos scouting us. No engagement yet. Send over the coordinates, and we'll reroute there after I defuse the situation."
"If defuse is the proper word for it, Sergeant Major. I'm sending another squad to the probes touch down location. Get there ASAP. Mills out."
Static played in his ear. He watched as the other two marines in the store with him ran to the door, peeking out nearby windows to survey the area. Grabbing his DMR from it's dangled position, he ran over to the window to join the others. He crouched as he huddled by his marines and peered out the glass.
The air was at a stand still, his brother and the other warthog gunner examined the other side of the square with their three pronged barrels. The sunlight had finally broken through the darkness, making it much easier to see far distance, but it worked both ways. He could defiantly could see movement of shadows and fidgets of movement in the buildings. It was a bad situation. He had no idea how many of them there were, or how well equipped the opposition was.
While the enemy had no idea how many of them they had, except for the two gunners, the tangos could assume they are well equipped, from the warthog turrets, and the fact they are UNSC marines. It was a tricky situation.
"Carmine, give us the word to open fire. We need to hit them before they hit us."
Desmond growled as he heard Brinn's voice finally pop up, Desmond was surprised it took him this long to open his mouth.
"No. Hold fire unless they fire first. We don't even know if they're hostile."
Brinn growled over the radio as he unleashed hot breath. "Damn it, Carmine. We need to strike before they hit us. We could be in this Mexican stand-off forever!"
Desmond sighed, Brinn had a point. They could be in this situation for a while, they couldn't sit here and play each other like chess. Lurching back, he thought for a split second and made up his mind.
"Hold fire. I'm going out there. I'm going to try and reason with them. Something must be holding them back from opening up on us since they haven't already."
"That's because they see two huge guns staring down their throats. Those babies would tear them up." The marine next to Desmond whispered, he finally got a chance to glance at his Friend-or-Foe tag, Corporal Gerald Igo.
"What the fuck are you thinking Carmine?" Brinn bellowed. "Sure way to get yourself killed. What if they have snipers? Just let us tear em' up!"
Desmond snarled, feeling his frustration rise. "Brinn, I told you fucking no. Now shut the hell up and follow orders. Besides, if they have snipers, they would of blown the heads off our gunners already."
Desmond gulped at that thought, watching his brother's head get blown off would probably break him to the point of no return. His stomach clenched even more, he winced in pain as he got closer to the door. He constricted his lip, and went outside, his DMR in a death grip. He scrambled to behind the warthog Christopher had manned. Christopher and Desmond's eyes locked, Christopher nodded.
"I got your back." He whispered.
Desmond edged forward, starting to feel sweat forming at his forehead, he steadied his helmet as he stood up from his cover.
"I'm Sergeant Major Desmond Carmine, if we could just talk, I'm sure there is some-"
That's when the bullets started to fly.
Well, what do you guys think? Yes? No? Maybe so? Let me know! I would love to hear from you, if I should continue, stop, and what improvements I need to make to make this story top notch. Oh, I'm also looking for people to proof read the chapters before I post them, if you're interested, please let me know, I'd love to send the chapters through several people first.