Ghost of the Past

The silence of the ONI facility felt suffocating. The dim lights overhead flickered faintly as the mercenary—Marcus Gray—stood alone in the crew quarters, staring at the blank wall before him. The soft hum of the facility's machines filled the air, but his mind was far away, drifting back to a time when everything had been simpler, before the weight of war had crushed him into the man he had become.

Marcus. The name had once meant something—once held the promise of a future filled with hope, family, and peace. But now, it was a ghost, just like everything else from that life.

His vision blurred as the memories surfaced unbidden, pulling him into the past, to a time before the war, before the Covenant, before Harvest. A time when the world hadn't yet turned into a battlefield.

Harvest Colony, 2524

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the golden fields of wheat that stretched out as far as the eye could see. Marcus, just sixteen years old, stood at the edge of the farm, his hands resting on the old wooden fence that lined the property. The air was warm, the scent of earth and grass filling his lungs with every breath.

The colony of Harvest had been his home for as long as he could remember. It was a peaceful place—isolated, tucked away from the conflicts that raged on distant worlds. His parents had moved here years ago, seeking a quieter life, free from the political turmoil of the inner colonies. They had wanted to raise their family in peace, away from the looming shadows of war.

Marcus had loved it here. He spent his days helping his father with the farm, working the fields, fixing up the old equipment that had long seen better days. It was hard work, but it was honest, and it grounded him in a way nothing else ever had.

And then there was his mother, with her soft smile and warm laugh, always tending to the small vegetable garden that bordered their home. She had a way of making even the simplest things seem beautiful, of turning the most mundane moments into something special.

"Marcus!" Her voice called out from the house, pulling him from his thoughts.

He turned to see her standing in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron, a familiar smile on her face. "Dinner's ready. Don't stay out too late."

He waved back, grinning. "I'll be there in a minute."

As he stood there, staring out over the fields, he felt a sense of peace wash over him—a feeling that everything was right with the world, that he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

But that peace was shattered not long after.

A few months later...

The sky was dark with smoke. The once golden fields of Harvest were nothing but charred ruins, the ground scorched black by the heat of plasma fire. The air was thick with the stench of burning metal and flesh, a cacophony of screams and explosions ringing out from every direction.

Marcus ran, his heart pounding in his chest, his legs burning as he sprinted toward the family farm. His mind was a blur, filled with the horror of what he had seen—the Covenant, massive alien warriors descending from their ships, destroying everything in their path with ruthless efficiency.

He had been in town when the first attack hit, just a few kilometers away from home. He remembered the fear in his father's voice over the comm, telling him to stay put, telling him to find safety.

But Marcus had ignored the warnings. His family was still out there. His mother. His father. He had to get back to them.

As he reached the farm, the sight that greeted him made his stomach turn. The house was in flames, the roof collapsing under the weight of the destruction. The garden—his mother's pride and joy—was nothing more than ash and debris.

"No..." Marcus gasped, his breath catching in his throat. He stumbled forward, his legs threatening to give out beneath him as he moved closer to the burning wreckage. "Mom! Dad!"

The sound of plasma fire echoed in the distance, the familiar high-pitched whine of a Covenant Banshee overhead, but Marcus didn't care. He had to find them.

He reached the front of the house just as the structure gave a violent shudder, collapsing in on itself with a deafening crash. The heat from the flames singed his skin, but the pain barely registered. He fell to his knees, his heart hammering in his chest as the reality of the situation hit him like a freight train.

They were gone. His family—his entire world—was gone.

Present Day

Marcus blinked, the sound of the ONI facility's quiet hum pulling him back to the present. His heart was pounding in his chest, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts. His hands trembled slightly as he rested them on the table in front of him, trying to steady himself.

The memory of that day had haunted him ever since. The loss of his family. The destruction of everything he had ever known. It had been the turning point in his life—the moment when Marcus Gray had ceased to exist, replaced by the mercenary he had become.

He had left Harvest behind, joined the fight, and sworn vengeance against the Covenant. Every mission, every kill, was another step toward that goal, but the emptiness inside him had only grown deeper.

The system pulsed faintly at the edge of his mind, a constant, unrelenting presence. It had kept him alive, pushed him beyond his limits, but it had also taken something from him—his sense of humanity, the part of him that had once been capable of feeling anything beyond the cold, calculated need to survive.

He had built walls around himself, closed off everything that had once made him who he was. But now, with Alyssa and Lachlan in his life, those walls were starting to crack, if only a little. He had come to rely on Alyssa more than he cared to admit, and Lachlan's constant banter was a reminder that not everyone in the galaxy was consumed by the darkness of war.

But those cracks also left him vulnerable, and vulnerability was something he couldn't afford.

The door to the quarters hissed open, and Alyssa stepped inside, her eyes locking onto him immediately. She frowned as she noticed the distant look on his face.

"Hey," she said softly, her tone cautious. "You alright?"

He shook his head slightly, pushing the memories away. "Yeah. Just... thinking."

She gave him a skeptical look, but didn't press. Instead, she moved closer, sitting across from him at the table. "It's been a rough couple of days."

Marcus nodded, the weight of the recent mission still hanging over him. "It's not over. ONI's going to want more from us soon."

Alyssa sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Yeah. I just hope we're ready for whatever's next."

The silence between them stretched, but it was a comfortable silence. Marcus appreciated that about Alyssa—she didn't push, didn't pry. She understood the weight of war, and she knew when to leave things unsaid.

For a moment, Marcus allowed himself to think about his family again—about the life he had lost on Harvest. But this time, the memories didn't sting as sharply. They were still there, still painful, but somehow, with Alyssa sitting across from him, they didn't feel quite as heavy.

Maybe, just maybe, there was still a part of him that could heal.