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ERIC NYLUND
281
fighting was over, Travis and his men were dead, but it cost the
enemy six hundred lives."
"Like the Battle of Thermopylae," the Chief remarked.
"But there were survivors at the Alamo; they let the civilians
live." He turned to the Chief. "You think anyone's going to sur-
vive this fight? You think there's any way to win?"
The Master Chief tried to think of a way to fight and to win.
Thirty Covenant ships against their damaged hybrid vessel. Add
to that the need to defend Governor Jiles's crew. Could he board
one of the Covenant craft? Get Cortana to infiltrate their systems
and broadcast falsified orders? They would see him approaching.
Or was there a blind spot he could approach from? How could
he hide from the rest of the ships in their fleet, though? And by
the time he could implement such a plan, the Gettysburg would be
molten slag.
"It was a rhetorical question, Chief," the Admiral said.
"Yes, sir," the Chief replied. "Given our situation, resources,
and our enemy's determination, then, no, I see no way to win...
or survive."
"Neither do I." Admiral Whitcomb stood straight. "Cortana,
get ready to jump. Chief, accelerate to flank speed course
zero-five-five by two-nine-zero. Prepare to transition out of
normal space on my mark."
"Aye, sir," the Chief and Cortana answered in unison.
"We're leaving Governor Jiles and his people?" Cortana
asked.
Admiral Whitcomb was silent a long moment, and then he
replied, "We are. This isn't the Alamo and I'm not Colonel Wil-
liam Barrett Travis, although I dearly wish I were. No, we're run-
ning. We're trading hundreds of lives for billions."
The Master Chief absentmindedly reached for his belt pouch,
and Dr. Halsey's data crystals clinked. "Is this the right thing to
do, sir?"
"The right thing?" Admiral Whitcomb sighed. "Hell, son, it
probably isn't. Personally, I'd prefer to fight, and die fighting,
and take every one of those Covenant bastards with me. But I do
not have the liberty to make that choice. My duty is clear: to pro-
tect the men and women of Earth—not a pack of privateers and
outlaws." He closed his eyes and said, "The logic of the situation