第61页

　　Haverson  stood,  wiped  his  hands  on  his  slacks,  and  sealed  the  escape  hatch  access.  "I'm  surprised  you  even  have  to  ask,  Cor?tana."  He  heard  the  anger  in  his  voice.  He  checked  his  rising  ire.
　　ERIC  NYLUND 97
　　He  wasn't  mad  at  Cortana;  he  was  mad  at  himself—furious  be?cause  of  the  ugly  necessity  of  his  act.
　　"The  Covenant  are  imitative—not  innovative,"  he  said.  "The  Engineer  you  ordered  to  repair  the  Chief's  armor  just  got  a  first?hand  look  at  our  shield  technology,  a  technology  we  stole  from  the  Covenant  and  improved  upon.  If  it  somehow  managed  to  re?join  the  Covenant,  that  improved  technology  would  be  theirs.  How  would  you  like  to  see  that  technology  manifest  as  better  personal  shields  for  their  Elite  warriors?  Or  on  their  warships?"
　　Cortana  was  silent.
　　"Corporal  Locklear  was  right,"  Haverson  muttered.  "I  really  hate  this  shit,  too."
　　"I  understand,"  Cortana  finally  replied,  but  her  voice  was  so  cold  it  could  have  frozen  helium.
　　Haverson  sighed  and  looked  at  his  hands.  The  Engineer's  blood  tattooed  his  skin  with  tiny  pinpoints  of  blue-black.  "Do  you  think  that  the  Master  Chief  will  find  what  he's  really  looking  for  on  Reach?"
　　"What  do  you  mean  'really  looking  for'?"  Cortana  said.  Her  voice  was  still  frosty,  but  curiosity  thawed  her  tone.
　　"I  mean  the  other  Spartans."  Haverson  gave  a  short  laugh.  "True,  his  argument  to  go  to  Reach  was  valid—we  wouldn't  be  going  otherwise.  But  that's  not  what  he's  after.  He  sent  his  team  down  to  the  surface  of  Reach...  sent  them  to  their  deaths.  What  commander  wouldn't  go  back?  And  what  commander  wouldn't  hope  that  they  were  alive?  No  matter  what  the  odds?"
　　CHAPTER  ELEVEN
　　0930  hours,  September  4,2552  (Military  Calendar)  \  UNSC  High  Command  (HighCom)  Facility  Bravo-6,  Sydney,  Australia,  Earth.  Two  and  a  half  weeks  ago.
　　Lieutenant  Wagner  walked  through  metal-  and  explosive-detector  gates  and  into  the  atrium  entrance  of  the  large,  vaguely  conical  structure.  Officially  designated  UNSC  HighCom  Facility  B-6,  the  sprawling  edifice  had  been  nicknamed  "the  Hive."
　　It  was  overcast  in  Sydney.  Gray  light  filtered  in  through  the  crystal  dome  overhead.
　　He  marched  past  officers  and  NCOs  moving  with  purpose  to  whatever  destinations  occupied  their  time.  He  ignored  the  dis?plays  of  acacia  trees  and  exotic  ferns  meant  for  the  press  and  civilian  tours.  Today  there  was  no  time  for  pleasantries.
　　In  another  hour  the  apparent  calm  and  efficiency  of  HighCom  would  be  shattered  into  a  billion  pieces.  Only  a  few  of  the  brass  knew  that  the  UNSC's  mightiest  outpost,  Reach,  was  now  noth?ing  more  than  a  cinder.
　　Wagner  approached  the  receptionist's  station  under  the  watchful  eyes  of  a  trio  of  armored  Marine  MPs.
　　Keeping  Reach's  fate  quiet  was  not  the  UNSC's  biggest  se?cret,  not  by  a  country  mile.  Virtually  no  one  in  the  civilian  popu?lation  of  the  Inner  Colonies  knew  how  perilously  close  they  were  to  losing  this  war.  ONI  Section  Two  had  done  a  brilliant  job  of  preserving  the  fiction  that  Earth  forces  held  their  own  against  the  Covenant.