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Haverson's expression was carefully neutral, but the Chief still bristled at the further mention of his team—and at the at?tempt to manipulate him. He remembered his order sending Fred, Kelly, and the others to the surface of Reach, thinking that he, Linda, and James were going on the "hard" mission.
"Listen to the El-Tee," Locklear said. "We deliver a little something for the R-and-D eggheads and maybe buy some shore leave. I vote for that plan." He saluted Haverson. "Hell yeah!"
"This isn't a democracy," the Master Chief said, his voice both calm and dangerous.
Locklear twitched but didn't back down. "Yeah, maybe it isn't," he said, "but last time I checked, I take my orders from the Corps— not from some swabbie. Sir."
The Sergeant scowled at the ODST and moved to his side. "You better get it together, Marine," he barked, "or the Chief'11 reach down and pull you inside out by your cornhole. And that'll be a sweet, sweet mercy ... compared to what I'm gonna do to you."
Locklear contemplated the Sergeant's words and the Master Chief's silence. He looked to Polaski and then to Haverson.
Polaski stared at the Marine with wide eyes, then turned away. Haverson gave him a slight shake of his head.
Locklear sighed, eased his stance, and dropped his gaze. "Man, I really, really hate this shit."
"I hate to interrupt," Cortana said, "but I find myself agreeing with the Lieutenant."
The Chief clicked on a private COM channel. "Explain, Cor?tana. I thought our mission was what you were built for. Why are you backing out now?"
"I'm not 'backing out,' " she shot back. "Our orders were
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given when the UNSC had a fleet, and when Reach was still an intact military presence. All that has changed."
The Master Chief couldn't disagree with what she was say?ing ... but there was something else in her voice. And for the first time, John thought that Cortana might be hiding something from him.
"We have intact ship-scale plasma weapons and new reactor technologies," Cortana continued. "Imagine if every ship could maneuver with pinpoint precision in Slipspace." She paused. "The UNSC could be just as effective in space as you are in ground engagements. We could actually win this war."
The Master Chief frowned. He didn't like the Lieutenant's or Cortana's arguments—because they made sense. Aborting his mission was unthinkable. He had always finished what he started, and he'd always won.
As a professional soldier, John was ready to give up anything for victory—his personal comfort, his friends, his own life if that's what it took—but he'd never considered that he'd have to sacrifice his dignity and pride as well for the greater good.
He sighed and nodded. "Very well, Lieutenant Haverson. We'll do it your way. I hereby relinquish my tactical command."
"Good," Haverson said. "Thank you." He faced the others and continued, "Sergeant? You, Polaski, and Locklear get back down to the Pelican and grab whatever gear wasn't smashed to bits. Look for a field medkit, too, and then get back up here, double time."