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The star chart vanished in a wink, and a map of the Eridanus system appeared with tiny triangles representing Covenant ships now encircling the perimeter. The map turned to a side profile and revealed half a dozen additional ships scattered along the nadir and zenith of the system.
Admiral Whitcomb stared at the map and shook his head. "You know the story of the Alamo, Chief?"
"Yes, sir. A famous siege with a handful of defenders holding off overwhelming forces."
The Admiral smiled. "Texan defenders, Chief—there's a big difference. Colonel William Barrett Travis with one hundred fifty-five men held off more than two thousand Mexican invaders. They hunkered down inside a tiny fort and fought like wildcats. Travis got a handful of reinforcements later—thirty-two men." The Ad?miral's smile faded. "You know there were fifteen civilians in?side that fort, too?" He looked at the map again. "Well, when the
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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 approach?ing. 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