Halo: Survivor's Oath

In the wake of one Spartan desperately makes his way to his only chance of escape, and struggles to process the massive personal loss he has just suffered in addition to a multitude of grievous physical injuries. But he is not the only one to survive the decimation, contrary to his own belief. 
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He wasn’t sure how he was still alive. Raking his hand through the wet sand Callum desperately pulled himself forward, inching his way up the shore. He didn’t look back, behind him was nothing but a massive inferno that had consumed everything he had in a matter of seconds. 
It was all gone. They were all gone.
His body protested as he continued to heave himself forward, screaming as the strain pulled skin split by plasma further apart and sand buried itself in the wounds. But he refused to stop, forcing himself up and onto his feet, determination burning in his eyes.
He took a step forward, and instantly collapsed.
Callum let out a cry of pain as his face met the grainy surface, then planted his hand again and struggled to get back onto his feet, not bothering to wipe away the sand now caked on his face. He could see his way out, the Calypso wasn’t far, he had to make it. Detrick’s orders had been clear. 
He staggered forward, taking each step with caution as he slowly moved up the sands. The Covenant wouldn’t be here for some time, he didn’t have to panic, but deep in his gut he felt dread at the thought of hearing a Banshee’s whine in the distance. He didn’t even consider the idea of other survivors. They were all dead.
It was only then he noticed he still had Abdul’s knife in his hand and promptly froze in his tracks. The blade was all he had of them, it was literally the only physical thing he had to remember them by, no picture, no awards, just a knife that had barely been used. It would never leave his sight.
Tightening his grip around the hilt he continued forward as shock began to wear off, and the sting of seawater in open wounds rushed over him. Unbearable agony consumed him, and as he struggled to continue moving tears welled up in his eyes. If it was from the physical pain or something else he wasn’t sure, but soon the hot tears began to roll down his cheek as he stumbled forward and collapsed into the dunes.
He was nearly there, he couldn’t quit now, but the sand was soft and warm like his bed back home. He hadn’t thought of home in some time, he wondered if his brother was okay. Jacob had been adopted almost instantly, but Callum had accepted the ONI man’s offer of revenge against the Covenant for himself as much as he had his sibling. 
The boy likely wouldn’t ever know Callum existed, god forbid his name, but maybe he wouldn’t have to feel such pain because of Callum’s sacrifice. In that moment he couldn’t be more afraid of anything than he was that his brother might have to take the same path as him.
He felt his eyes getting heavy as he thought of his brother, of the warm Eirene sun, of how wonderful it had been there. He wished that had been his life, but the Covenant had taken that from him, and he’d suffered, then he’d found Bravo, but they’d now taken that too, so he suffered. Rage burned inside him and his eyes shot back open. 
He would make them suffer, he would make them suffer like him. 
Slowly he began to push himself back up to his feet, arms shaking as they fought to get him out of the sand. Then a gauntleted hand grabbed his arm. The Spartan didn’t think, he simply propelled himself upwards and brought his knife upwards going for where the throat on a Sangheili would be. Instead of a squelching sound, he heard nothing but instead felt another hand snatch his wrist fighting to keep his blade from plunging in.
He could feel five fingers gripping him, and as he blinked the sand away from his eyes Callum saw his knife was millimeters away from the visor of an SPI helmet. Instantly he stopped in his efforts, his arm going slack and falling to his side as the other Spartan released it. He tried to say something but the words never came, instead Callum slumped forward and began to fall, only this time the other soldier caught him. 
It was all Callum could do to keep the knife in his hand as the other Spartan threw his arm over their shoulder and helped him limp the final stretch to the Calypso. He wanted to ask how many of them made it, if there were any others coming, but once again he couldn’t find the words and simply drooped his head in silence. 
“G-got another wou-wounded.” The other Spartan managed, seemingly still in too much shock to speak clearly as he practically dragged Callum up the ramp. He knew the voice from the dozens of time he’d heard it gloat when its owner picked him off from a distance and from when it groaned after he overpowered the boy in close quarters, Kyle-B115. Looking up he saw others, most still clad in battered SPI but none of them looked to be Fireteam Sierra, so Kyle was now as alone as he was.
Taking him into another compartment of the exfiltration craft, Kyle set Callum down onto a stretcher as his vision began to blur. He thought he heard Kyle say something, but he couldn’t make it out as a howl of agony echoed through the ship. Looking to his side another Spartan lay on a stretcher, crying out in pain. The boy’s left arm was completely gone, and the white-hot plasma that had taken it had also mauled their face and chest, fusing the clasps of the armor and rendering then unrecognizable visually. 
The world became darker, and the screams and talking quieter, all he could hear was his own scream of as the rage subsided, and he was left to drown in the sorrow of what had just happened. He did not want to cry, but tears still fought their way out and trailed down his face as Kyle knelt down beside him, prying off his helmet as he tried to calm Callum as pumped biofoam into one of his wounds. Callum would’ve screamed louder, as someone who had been shot clean through by plasma in multiple locations does, but his voice left him alone with his agony again.
It was all gone again, for all of them this was their second time losing all the people they cared about to the Covenant, once again they had been robbed of their families, once again they were orphans. As blackness crept into his vision, he looked up to Kyle who was too distracted ensuring he didn’t die to take note, but in his eyes Callum could tell they’d both sworn the same oath. They would not let this day go unpunished. They would make the Covenant pay.
And that was something worth living for.
Category:Spartan-D042