Oblivion
"Don't look back, soldier." John whispered to Kelly, who had raised her right hand into a trembling salute. He nodded to Sam, the torn look clear in his dark brown eyes.
Sam watched the two of them turn away and run together down the hall. He closed his eyes and coughed hard, red blood spattering against his gloved hand.
"I'll be okay." He called hoarsely after them, more for his own benefit then for anyone else's. Obviously he wouldn't be okay. But it was his job to hold the Covenant at bay until the countdown ended, and the missiles exploded. And he didn't have a lot of time.
Sam-034, soon to become the first official Spartan casualty of war, lifted his assault rifle and stood, bracing himself against the purple-hued wall of the alien ship. Muffled scratches came through from the other side of the locked air-tight door to his left. Sam spread his feet for balance, locking himself into a braced position. The scratches grew louder, quickly turning into a dull roar. Sam's arm shifted behind his back, and his hand reemerged clutching two armed fragmentation grenades. His last two.
If he had to go out, he was going out in a very loud way.
The door abruptly began to slide open. Sam chucked the grenades hard into the narrow opening. Startled screeches rang out on the other side as the frightened aliens tried to escape.
Both grenades detonated. Bright purple and blue blood exploded from the doorway opening. Sam went over and peered inside. Alien gore covered the narrow hall beyond. Nothing moved. Sam returned his assault rifle to its clasp on his back and began prying the doors apart, the seconds still ticking down in his head.
There was a skidding sound, then an angry roar. Two sharp pains impacted against Sam's upper torso. He gasped and fell onto one knee, still straining to pry open the doors. Another shot impacted against his helmet visor. Shards of plastic alloy erupted into his face. All he saw for several seconds was a bright, multicolored shine, due to the light caught by hundreds of shards of crystalline alloy.
Sam collapsed hard on his back. A tall, black shape materialized, looming over him. A slender alien hand grasped a plasma rifle. The being made a series of guttural clicks and motioned to the side. A duo of grunts appeared, nervously chattering in their own language.
The imposing alien lowered his head, beady eyes catching Sam's.
"One less Demon to kill later." He growled. The translator chip in Sam's helmet caught it that time.
Despite the bleak situation, Sam smiled.
"One less fucking ship to destroy." He whispered. A series of sudden booms shook the small Covenant ship. The alien regained his balance, shouting orders to the grunts under his command. Sam tried to lift his rifle, but his arms were strangely weak. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly and closed his eyes. The various screams and shrieks from the grunts and the panicked shouts from the Elite were like sweet music in his ears.
The alien craft rocked again. The aliens were thrown to the ground in lifeless heaps. Sam felt himself slide to the right, but he kept his eyes tightly closed. His hand grasped the butt of his rifle until it had gone numb. The numbness crept up his arm, than spread along the entire length of his body.
Before the whiteness took over his vision, Sam dreamed he saw his friends running back to get him. Then the brightness took over, and he saw absolutely nothing but a sheer, crystal-clear oblivion.