CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
0637 Hours, August 30, 2552 (Military Calendar) /
Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Station Gamma
“Multiple signals on motion tracker,” the Master Chief said. “They’re all around us.”
The passageway behind the Master Chief and Blue-One swarmed with blips. So did docking Bay Nine,
ahead of them. The Master Chief saw, however, not all the blips were hostiles. Four Marine friend-orfoe
tags strobed on his heads-up display: SGT. JOHNSON, PVT. O’BRIEN, PVT. BISENTI, and PVT.
JENKINS.
The Master Chief opened up a COM channel to them. “Listen up, Marines. Your lines of fire are sloppy;
tighten them up. Concentrate on one Jackal at a time—or you’ll just waste your ammo on their shields.”
“Master Chief?” Sergeant Johnson said, startled. “Sir, yes sir!”
“Blue-One,” the Master Chief said. “I’m going in. We’re going to open up theCircumference like a tin
can.” He nodded toward the Pelican in the adjacent bay. “Give me a few grenades over the top.”
“Understood,” she replied. “You’re covered, sir.” She primed two frag grenades, swung around the
pressure doors, and threw them behind the Jackals.
The Master Chief pushed off the wall—propelled himself in the zero gee across the bay.
The grenades detonated and caught the Jackals on their backsides. Blue blood spattered on the insides of
their shields and across the deck.
The Master Chief crashed into the Pelican’s hull. He pulled himself to the side hatch, opened it, and
crawled in. He got into the cockpit, released the docking clamps, and tapped the maneuvering thrusters
once to break free.
The Pelican lifted off the deck.
The Master Chief said over the COM channel, “Marines and Blue-One: take cover behind me.” He
maneuvered the Pelican into the center of the docking bay.
A dozen Jackals poured in through the passage that Blue-One had just left.
The Master Chief fired with the Pelican’s autocannon—cut down their shields and peppered the aliens
with hundreds of rounds. They exploded into chunks; alien blood twisted crazily in zero gravity.
“Master Chief,” Linda said, “I’m picking upthousands of signals on the motion tracker, inbound from all
directions. The entire station is crawling.”
The Master Chief opened the Pelican’s back hatch. “Get in,” he said. Blue-One and the Marines piled
inside.
The Marines did a double take at Blue-One and the Master Chief in their MJOLNIR armor.
The Master Chief turned the Pelican to face theCircumference . He sighted the autocannon on the ship’s
forward viewports—and opened fire. Thousands of rounds streamed from the chain-gun and cracked
through the thick, transparent windows. He followed up with an Anvil-II missile. It blasted through the
prow and peeled the craft open.
“Take the controls,” he told Blue-One.
He slipped out the side hatch and jumped to theCircumference . The inside of the ship’s cockpit was
scrap metal. He accessed the computer panel in the floor deck and located the NAV database core. It
was a cube of memory crystal the size of his thumb. Such a tiny thing to cause so much trouble.
He shot it three times with his assault rifle. It shattered.
“Mission completed,” he said. One small victory in all this mess. The Covenant wouldn’t find Earth . . .
today.
He exited theCircumference . Jackals appeared on the level above them in the docking bay. His motion
tracker blinked with solid contacts.
He jumped back into the Pelican, strapped himself in the pilot’s chair, and turned the ship to face the
outer doors.
“Blue-One, signal the dockmaster AI to open the outer bay doors.”
“Signal sent,” she said. “No response, sir.” She looked around. “There’s a manual release by the outer
door.” She moved toward the aft hatch. “I’ll get this one, sir. It’s my turn. Cover me.”
“Roger, Blue-One. Keep your head down. I’ll draw their fire.”
She launched herself out the back hatch.
The Master Chief tapped the Pelican’s thrusters and the ship rose higher in the bay—up to the second
level. The upper decks were the mechanic bays; the area was littered with ships that were partially
disassembled in various stages of repair. It was also where a hundred Jackals and a handful of Elite
warriors were waiting for him.
They opened fire. Plasma bolts scored the hull of the Pelican.
The Master Chief fired the chain-gun and let loose a salvo of missiles. Alien shields blazed and failed.
Blue and green blood splashed and flash-froze in the icy vacuum.
He hit the top thrusters and dropped down to the lower level—slammed the ship back into a berth for
cover.
Blue-One crouched by the manual release. The outer doors eased open, revealing the night and stars
beyond. “You’re clear for exit, Master Chief. We’re home free—”
A new contact on the Pelican’s targeting display appeared—right behind Linda. He had towarn her—
A bolt of plasma struck her in the back. Another blot of fire blazed her from the upper decks and
splashed across her front. She crumpled—her shields flickered and went out. Two more bolts hit her
chest. A third blast smashed into her helmet.
“No!” the Master Chief said. He felt each of those plasma bolts as if they had hit him, too.
He moved the Pelican to cover her. Plasma struck the hull, melting its outer skin.
“Get her inside!” he ordered the Marines.
They jumped out, grabbed Linda and her smoldering armor, and pulled her inside the Pelican.
The Master Chief sealed the hatch, ignited the engines and pushed them to full thrust—rocketing into
space.
“Can you fly this ship?” he asked the Marine Sergeant.
“Yes, sir,” Johnson replied.
“Take over.”
The Master Chief went to Linda and knelt by her side. Sections of her armor had melted and adhered to
her. Underneath, in patches, bits of carbonized bone showed. He accessed her vital signs on his heads-up
display. They were dangerously low.
“Did you do it?” she whispered. “Get the database?”
“Yes. We got it.”
“Good,” she said. “We won.” She clasped his hand and closed her eyes.
Her vital signs flat-lined.
John squeezed her hand and let go. “Yes,” he said bitterly. “We won.”
“Master Chief, come in.”Captain Keyes voice sounded over the COM channel. “ThePillar of
Autumnwill be in rendezvous position in one minute.”
“We’re ready, Captain,” he answered. He set Linda’s hand over her chest. “I’mready.”
The instant the Master Chief docked the Pelican to thePillar of Autumn , he felt the cruiser accelerate.
He took Linda’s body double time to a cryo chamber and immediately froze her. She was clinically dead
—there was no doubt of that. Still, if they could get her to a Fleet hospital, they might be able to
resuscitate her. It was a long shot—but she was a Spartan.
The med techs wanted to check him out as well, but he declined and took the elevator to the bridge to
report to Captain Keyes.
As he rode inside the lift he felt the ship accelerate port—then starboard. Evasive maneuvers.
The elevator doors parted and the Master Chief stepped onto the bridge.
He snapped a crisp salute to Captain Keyes. “Reporting for debriefing, sir.”
Captain Keyes turned and looked surprised to see him . . . or maybe he was shocked to see the condition
of his armor. It was charred, battered, and covered with alien blood.
The Captain returned the Master Chief’s salute. “The NAV database was destroyed?” he asked.
“Sir, I would not have left if my mission was incomplete.”
“Of course, Master Chief. Very good,” Captain Keyes replied.
“Sir, may I ask that you scan for active FOF tags in the region?” The Master Chief glanced at the main
view screen—saw scattered fights between Covenant and UNSC warships in the distance. “I lost a man
on the station. He may be floating out there . . . somewhere.”
“Lieutenant Hall?” the Captain asked.
“Scanning,” she said. After a moment she looked back and shook her head.
“I see,” the Master Chief replied. There could be worse deaths . . . but not for one of his Spartans.
Floating helpless. Slowly suffocating and freezing—losing to an enemy that could not be fought.
“Sir,” the Master Chief said, “when will thePillar of Autumn rendezvous with my planetside team?”
Captain Keyes turned from the Master Chief and stared out into space. “We won’t be picking them up,”
he said quietly. “They were overrun by Covenant forces. They never made orbit. We’ve lost contact with
them.”
The Master Chief took a step closer. “Then I would like permission to take a dropship and retrieve them,
sir.”
“Request denied, Master Chief. We still have a mission to perform. And we cannot remain in this system
much longer. Lieutenant Dominique, aft camera on the main screen.”
Covenant vessels swarmed though the Reach System in five-ship crescent formations. The remaining
UNSC ships fled before them . . . those that could still move. Those ships too damaged to outrun the
Covenant were blasted with plasma and laser fire.
The Covenant had won this battle. They were mopping up before they glassed the planet; the Master
Chief had seen this happen in a dozen campaigns. This time was different, however.
This time the Covenant was glassing a planet . . . with his people still on it.
He tried to think of a way to stop them . . . to save his teammates. He couldn’t.
The Captain turned and strode to the Master Chief, stood by his side. “Dr. Halsey’s mission,” he said, “is
more important than ever now. It may be the only chance left for Earth. We have to focus on that goal.”
Three dozen Covenant craft moved toward Gamma station and the now inert orbital defense platforms.
They bombarded the installations—the mightiest weapons in the UNSC arsenal—with plasma. The guns
melted, and boiled away.
The Master Chief clenched his hands into fists. The Captain was correct: there was nothing to do now
except complete the mission they had set out to do.
Captain Keyes barked, “Ensign Lovell, give me our best acceleration. I want to enter Slipstream space as
soon as possible.”
Cortana said, “Excuse me, Captain. Six covenant frigates are inbound on an intercept course.”
“Continue evasive maneuvers, Cortana. Prepare the Slipspace generators and get me an appropriate
randomized exit vector.”
“Aye, sir.” Navigation symbols flashed along the length of her holographic body.
The Master Chief continued to watch as the Covenant ships closed in on them.
Was he the only Spartan left? Better to die than live without his teammates. But he still had a mission:
victory against the Covenant—and vengeance for his fallen comrades.
“Generating randomized exit vector per the Cole Protocol,” Cortana said.
The Master Chief glanced at her translucent body. She looked vaguely like a younger Dr. Halsey. Tiny
dots, ones, and zeros slid over her torso, arms, and legs. Her thoughts were literally worn on her sleeve;
the symbols also appeared on Ensign Lovell’s NAV station.
He cocked his head as the symbols and numbers scrolled across the NAV console.
The representations of Slipspace vectors and velocity curves twisted across the screen—tantalizingly
familiar. He’d seen them somewhere before—but he could not make the connection.
“Something on your mind, Master Chief?” Cortana asked.
“Those symbols . . . I thought I had seen them somewhere before. It’s nothing.”
Cortana got a far off look in her eyes. The marks cycling on her hologram shifted and rearranged.
The Master Chief saw the Covenant fleet gathered around planet Reach. They swarmed and circled like
sharks. The first of their plasma bombardments launched toward the surface. Clouds in the fire’s path
boiled away.
“Jump to Slipspace, Ensign Lovell,” the Captain said. “Get us the hell out of here.”
John remembered Chief Mendez’s words—that they had to live and fight another day. He was alive . . .
and there was still plenty of fight left in him. And he would win this war—no matter what it took.