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They had been called the UNSC’s “super soldiers.” The military brass had assured her that the boost tomorale was worth the compromised security.
At first she had protested. But ironically, the publicity had proved convenient. With all the attention onthe Spartans’ heroics, no one had thought to question their true purpose—or their origin. If the truth evercame to light—abducted children, replaced by fast-grown clones; the risky, experimental surgeries andbiochemical augmentations—public opinion would turn against the SPARTAN project overnight.
The recent events at Sigma Octanus had given the Spartans and MJOLNIR the final push it needed toenter its final operational phase.
She slipped on her glasses and called up the files from yesterday’s debriefing; the ONI computer systemonce again confirmed her retinal scan and voiceprint.
IDENTITY CONFIRMED. UNAUTHORIZED ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE UNIT DETECTED.ACCESS DENIED.
Damn. ONI grew more paranoid by the day.
“Déjà,” she said with a frustrated sigh. “The spooks are nervous. I need to power you down, or ONIwon’t give me access to the files.”
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“Of course, Doctor,” Déjà replied calmly.
Halsey keyed the power-down sequence on her desktop terminal, sending Déjà into standby mode. This,she thought, is Ackerson’s work, the bastard. She had fought tooth and nail to keep Déjà free from theprogramming shackles ONI demanded . . . and this was their petty revenge.
She scowled impatiently until the computer system finally spit out the data she’d requested. The tinyprojectors in the frames of her glasses beamed the data directly to her retina.
Her eyes darted back and forth rapidly, as if she had entered REM sleep, as she scanned thedocumentation from the debriefing. Finally she removed her glasses and tossed them carelessly on thedesk, a sardonic smirk on her face.
The overarching conclusion of the finest military experts on the debriefing committee: ONI didn’t havea clue as to what the Covenant were doing on Sigma Octanus IV.
They had learned only four solid facts from the entire operation. First, the Covenant had gone toconsiderable trouble to obtain a single mineral specimen. Second, the pattern of inclusions in thatigneous rock sample matched the signal that had been sent—and intercepted by theIroquois . Third, thelow entropy of the pattern indicated that it was not random. And fourth, and most important, UNSCtranslation software couldn’t match this pattern to any known Covenant dialect.
Her personal conclusions? Either the alien artifact was from a precursor to the present Covenantsociety . . . or it was from another, as yet undiscovered, alien culture.
When she had dropped that little bombshell of a speculation in the debriefing room yesterday, the ONIspecialists had gone scrambling for cover. Especially that arrogant ass, Colonel Ackerson, she thoughtwith a cruel smile.
The brass was not happy with either possibility. If it was old Covenant technology, it indicated they stillknew virtually nothing about the Covenant culture. Twenty years of intensive study and trillions ofdollars of research and they barely even understood the alien’s caste system.