D+76:18:56 (SPARTAN-117 Mission Clock) /Commandeered Banshee, on approach to thePillar of Autumn .

The Banshee screamed through a narrow valley and out over an arid wasteland.

The assault ship’s shadow raced ahead as if eager to reach thePillar ofAutumn first. The Master Chief felt the slipstream fold in behind theaircraft’s nose and tug at his armor. It felt good to be out of twistingcorridors and cramped compartments if only for a short while.

The first sign of the ship’s presence on the ring world’s surface was thehundred-meter-deep trench theAutumn ’s hull had carved into Halo’s skin.

It started where the cruiser had first touched down, vanished where thevessel had bounced into the air, and reappeared a half klick farther on.

From there the depression ran straight as an arrow to the point where thestarship had finally come to rest with its blunt bow protruding out over theedge of a massive cliff. There were other aircraft in the area as well, allof which belonged to the Covenant, and they had no reason to suspect theincoming Banshee. Not yet, at any rate.

The Spartan, who was eager to make his approach look normal, chose one ofthe many empty lifeboat bays that lined the starship’s starboard side, andbored in. Unfortunately the engine cut out at the last moment, the Bansheehit theAutumn ’s hull, and although the Spartan was able to bail out, thealien fighter fell to the rocks below.Not the low visibility arrival he hadhoped for. Still, given Cortana’s plans for the vessel, his presencewouldn’t remain secret for long anyway.

“We need to get to the bridge,” Cortana said. “From there we can use theCaptain’s neural implants to initiate an overload of the ship’s fusionengines. The explosion should damage enough systems below it to destroy thering.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” the Chief commented as he made his way towardthe tiny air lock. “I don’t know who’s better at blowing things up—youor me.”

The moment he stepped outside he saw a cluster of red dots appear on hismotion detector and knew some nasties were lurking off to his left. The onlyquestion was,which hostiles did he face—the Covenant or the Flood? Given achoice, he’d take the Covenant. Maybe, just maybe, the Flood hadn’tlocated the ship yet.

The passageway ended to the right, which meant he had little choice but toturn left. But, rather than run into the Covenant or the Flood, the Spartancame under attack from a flock of Sentinels.

“Uh-oh,” Cortana said as the noncom opened fire, “it looks like theMonitor knows where we are.”

I wonder if he knows what we’re up to,the Chief mused.

A robot exploded, another hit the deck with a loud clang, and the MasterChief shifted fire to a third. “Yeah, he’s after my head, but it’syouthat he really wants.”

The AI made no reply as the third machine exploded—and the Chief made hisway down the hall using the lifeboat bays for cover. Two additionalSentinels appeared, were blown out of the air, and turned into scrap.

Soon after that they arrived at the end of the corridor, took a right, andspotted an open maintenance hatch. Not ideal, since he didn’t relish thethought of having to negotiate such tight quarters, but there didn’t seemto be any other choice. So he ducked inside, found himself in a maze, andblundered about for a while before spotting a hatch set flush into the deckin front of him. That’s when a group of infection forms swarmed up out ofthe hole, and the Chief’s question was answered. It appeared that theFloodhad located theAutumn —and already taken up residence there.

He swore under his breath, backed away, and hosed the Flood with bullets. Heeased forward and looked down through the floor hatch. He saw a carrierform, and knew there were bound to be more. He dropped a plasma grenade downthrough the hole, backed away, and took a certain amount of pleasure in theensuing explosion.

The maintenance tunnels didn’t seem to be taking him where he needed to go,so he dropped through the hole, crushed a handful of infection forms, andshot two more. The blood-splattered corridor was messy but well lit. Hepried open a wall-mounted locker, and was pleased to find four frag grenadesand spare ammo. He quickly stowed them, and moved on.

Two Sentinels nosed around a corner, opened fire with their lasers, and gotwhat they deserved. “They might have been looking for us,” Cortanaobserved, “but it’s my guess that they were assigned to Flood control.”

The theory made sense, but didn’t really help much as the Master Chief wasforced to fight the Sentinels, the Flood,and the Covenant, while he made hisway through a series of passageways and into the ship’s heavily damagedmess, where a large contingent of Elites and Grunts were waiting to have himfor lunch.

There were a lot of them, too many to handle with the assault weapon alone,so he served up a couple of grenades. One of the Elites was blown to piecesby the overlapping explosions, another lost a leg, and a Grunt was thrownhalfway across the room.

They’d come full circle—he’d blasted Covenant troops apart before thecrash landing, and here he was again.The enemy just didn’t learn, hethought.

There was a survivor, however, a tough Elite who threw a plasma grenade ofhis own, and missed by a matter of centimeters. The Master Chief ran and wasclear of the blast zone by the time the device went off. The Elite charged,took the better part of a full clip, and finally slammed into the deck,dead.

It was a short distance to the burned-out bridge, where a Covenant securityteam was on duty. Word had been passed: They knew the human was on his way,and opened fire the moment they saw him.

Once again the Spartan made use of a grenade to even the odds—then crushedthe head of an Elite with his fist. The alien’s head was turned to pulp andits body collapsed like a puppet with no strings. The armor gave him enoughstrength to flip a Warthog over. Then, just when he thought the battle wasdone, a Grunt shot him in the back. The audible went off as his armor soughtto recharge itself. A second shot, delivered with sufficient speed, wouldkill him.

Time seemed to slow as the Master Chief turned toward his right.

The Grunt, who had been hiding inside an equipment cabinet, froze as thearmored alien not only survived what should have been a fatal shot, butturned to face him. They were only an arm’s length away from each other,which meant that the Master Chief could reach out, rip the breather off hisassailant’s face, and close the door on him.

There was a loudclick followed by wild hammering as the Chief made his wayforward to the spot where Captain Keyes had issued his orders. Cortanaappeared over the control panel in front of him. Everywhere the AI lookedshe saw burned-out equipment, bloodstained decks, and smashed viewports.

She shook her head sadly. “I leave home for a few days, and look whathappens.”

Cortana brought a hand up to her semitransparent forehead. “This won’ttake long— There, that should give us enough time to make it to thelifeboat, and put some distance between ourselves and Halobeforedetonation.”

The next voice the Chief heard belonged to 343 Guilty Spark. “I’m afraidthat’s out of the question.”

Cortana groaned. “Oh, hell.”

The Chief brought his weapon up but saw no sign of the Monitor or hisSentinels. That didn’t prevent the construct from babbling in his ears,though—the AI had tapped into his comm system. “Ridiculous! That you wouldimbue your warship’s AI with such a wealth of knowledge. Wouldn’t youworry that it might be captured? Or destroyed?”

Cortana frowned. “He’s in my data arrays—a local tap.”

Though nowhere near the bridge, the Monitorwas on board, and flitted fromone control panel to the next, sucking information out of Cortana’snonsentient subprocessors with the ease of someone vacuuming a set ofdrapes. “You can’t imagine how exciting this is! To have a record of allour lost time. Oh, how I will enjoy every moment of categorization. To thinkthat you would destroy this installation, as well as this record . . . Iamshocked . Almost too shocked for words.”

“He stopped the self-destruct sequence,” Cortana warned.

“Why do you continue to fight us, Reclaimer?” Spark demanded. “You cannotwin! Give us the construct—and I will endeavor to make your deathrelatively painless and—”

The rest of 343 Guilty Spark’s words were chopped off as if someone hadthrown a switch. “At least I still have control over the comm channels,”

Cortana said.

“Where is he?” the Chief asked.

“I’m detecting taps throughout the ship,” Cortana replied. “Sentinelsmost likely. As for the Monitor—he’sin Engineering. He must be trying totake the core off-line. Even if I could get the countdown restarted . . . Idon’t know what to do.”

The Spartan stared at the hologram in surprise. This was a first—and itmade her seem more human somehow. “How much firepower would you need tocrack one of the engine shields?”

“Not much,” Cortana replied, “a well-placed grenade perhaps. But why?”

He produced a grenade, tossed the device into the air, and caught it again.

The AI’s eyes widened and she nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”

The Spartan turned and started to leave.

“Chief!” Cortana said. “Sentinels!”

In unison, the machines attacked.

Major Silva stood at what amounted to parade rest, feet spread, handsclasped behind his back, as he looked out over the landing pads while themen and women under his command made final preparations for the assault onthe Covenant shipTruth and Reconciliation .

Fifteen Banshees, all scrounged from different sites across Halo’sembattled surface, sat waiting for the order to launch.

Pelicans, three of the four that the humans had left, squatted ramps down asheavily loaded Marines filed aboard. Each of the surviving 236 leatherneckswas armed with weapons appropriate to the mission at hand. No long-rangestuff, like rocket launchers or sniper rifles, just assault weapons,shotguns, and grenades, all of which were lethal within enclosed spaces, andwould be effective against both the Covenant and the Flood.

Naval personnel, and there were seventy-six of them, were armed withCovenant plasma rifles and pistols, which, thanks to their light weight, andthe fact that there was no need to tote additional ammo, left the swabbiesfree to carry tools, food, and medical supplies. They had orders to avoidcombat, if possible—and concentrate on running the ship. Some, a group ofsixteen individuals, had skills considered to be so critical that each onehad been given two Marine bodyguards.

Assuming that Cortana and the Master Chief were able to complete theirmission, they would take one of theAutumn ’s remaining lifeboats andrendezvous with theTruth and Reconciliation out in space. Annoying thoughshe sometimes was, the officer knew Cortana would be able to pilot the alienvessel, and get them home.

Failing that, Silva hoped that Wellsley, with help from the Naval personnel,would be able to take the cruiser through Slipspace and back to Earth. Anevent he had already planned for, right down to what he would wear, and ashort but moving speech for the media.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Wellsley chose that moment to intrude on theofficer’s reverie. The AI, who rode in an armored matrix slung fromSilva’s shoulder, was characteristically unapologetic. “Lieutenant McKaycalled in, Major. Force One is in place.”

Silva nodded, remembered that Wellsley couldn’t actually see him, and said,“Good. Now, if they can lay low for the next couple of hours, we’ll be ingood shape.”

“I have every confidence in theLieutenant ,” the AI replied plainly.

The implication was obvious. While Wellsley had faith in McKay, the AI hadconcerns where the Lieutenant’s superior was concerned. Silva sighed. Hadthe artificial intelligence been human, the officer would have put him inhis place long ago. But Wellsleywasn’t human, couldn’t be manipulated inthe same fashion that flesh-and-blood subordinates could, and like the humanon whom he had modeled himself, tended to speak his mind. “All right,” theMajor said reluctantly, “what’s the problem?”

“The ‘problem,’ ” Wellsley began, “is the Flood. If the plan issuccessful, and we manage to take theTruth and Reconciliation , there willalmost certainly be Flood forms on board. In fact, based on what Cortana andI have been able to piece together, that’s the only reason the vesselremains where it is. All of the necessary repairs have been made, andCovenant forces are trying to sterilize the ship’s interior prior tolifting off.”

“Which answers your question,” Silva said, struggling to contain hisimpatience. “By the time we take over, most of the Flood will be dead. Onceunderway, I will dispatch hunter-killer teams to find the survivors. Withthe exception of a few specimens which I will place under heavy guard, therest will be ejected into space. There, are you satisfied?”

“No,”Wellsley replied firmly. “Were a carrier form to escape ontoEarth’s surface, the entire planet could fall. This threat is as dangerousas, if not more so than, the Covenant. Cortana and I agree—no Flood formcan be allowed to leave this system.”

Silva took a quick look around to make sure no one was close enough to hearhim and let the anger enter his voice. “Both you and Cortana have atendency to forget one very important fact—I’min command here and youarenot . And I defy you to find anywhere in my orders that identifies athreat to Earthbigger than the goddamned Covenant!

“Your role is to provide advice. Mine is to make decisions. It’s my beliefthat we could find better ways to combat the Flood if our scientists hadlive specimens with which to work. More than that, our people need toseethis new enemy,know how dangerous they are, andbelieve that they can beconquered.”

Wellsley considered taking the debate one step further, by pointing out thatSilva’s ambitions might well have clouded his judgment, but knew it wouldbe a waste of time. “That’s your final decision?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Then God help you,” the AI replied gravely, “because if your plan fails,no one else will have the power to do so.”

The compartment, a space untouched by the fighting, had once served as aready room for the ship’s Longsword, Pelican, and shuttle pilots. Now, withno modifications other than the installation of some crude sleepingaccommodations, a back table with some food on it, and crates of supplies,the room functioned as an unofficial HQ for Covenant forces stationed aboardthePillar of Autumn .

The command staff, or what was left of it, sat slumped in the uncomfortablyalien chairs, many too tired to move, and stared up at their leader. Hisname was ’Ontomee, and he was confused, frustrated, and secretlyfrightened. The situation aboard theAutumn had deteriorated dramatically. Inspite of all the efforts to stop them, Flood forms continued to trickle intothe ship.

The disgusting filth had even managed to seize control of the ship’sengineering spaces before anew enemy, one which was inimical to Covenant andFlood form alike, sent an army of flying robots into the ship and tookcontrol of the Engine Room.

Now, as if to prove that ’Ontomee was truly cursed, stillanother threat hadarrived on the scene, and he was reluctant to share the news with thealready exhausted Elites arrayed in front of him.

“So,” ’Ontomee began lamely, “it seems that a human crashed a Bansheeinto the side of the ship, and is now on board.”

A veteran named ’Kasamee frowned. “ ‘Ahuman’? As in, asingle human? Withrespect, Excellency, one human more or less will hardly make a difference.”

’Ontomee swallowed. “Yes, well, normally I would agree with you, exceptthatthis human is somewhat unusual. First, because he wears special armor,second, because it appears that he’s on some sort of mission, and third,because he singlehandedly killed every member of Security Team Three, whichhad responsibility for the command and control deck.”

Unnoticed by those in front of him, the seemingly lethargic officer known asHuki ’Umamee started to look interested. He sat up straighter, and began topay close attention. Having chosen a seat in the last row, ’Zamamee foundit difficult to hear. The discussion continued.

“Onehuman accomplished all that?” ’Kasamee demanded incredulously. “Thathardly seems possible.”

“Yes,” ’Ontomee agreed, “but he did. Not only that, but havingaccomplished whatever he entered the control area to do, he left, and issomewhere else on board this ship.” The Elite scanned the faces in front ofhim. “Who has the skill and courage required to find the alien and killhim?”

The response came with gratifying speed. “Ido,” ’Zamamee said, now on hisfeet.

’Ontomee peered into the harsh human lights. “Who is that?”

“ ’Umamee,” the Elite lied.

“Ah, yes,” ’Ontomee replied gratefully. “A commando . . . Just the sortof person we need to rid ourselves of this two-legged vermin. The mission isyours. Keep me informed.

“Now, turning our attention to these new airborne mechanisms . . .”

Later, as the meeting ended, ’Kasamee went looking for the volunteer, fullyintending to compliment the younger officer on his initiative. But, like thehuman the Elite was supposed to find, the Elite officer had disappeared.

Having fought his way clear of the bridge, the Master Chief made his waythrough a series of passageways, ran into more Flood and gunned them down.

Cortana figured that they could access the Engine Room via the cryo chamber,and that was where the Chief was headed. The problem was that he keptrunning into jammed hatches, locked doors, and other obstacles that kept himfrom taking a direct route.

After he moved through a large, dark room strewn with weapons, the Chiefheard the sounds of combat coming from the area beyond a closed hatch. Hepaused, heard the noises die away, and slipped out into the corridor. Bodieslay all about as he slid along a bulkhead, saw some spikes sticking up overa cargo module, and felt his blood run cold. A Hunter! Or more accuratelytwoHunters, since they traveled in pairs.

Lacking a rocket launcher, the Chief turned to the only heavy-duty firepower that he had: grenades.

He threw two grenades in quick succession, saw the spined behemoth go down,and heard a roar of outrage as the second Hunter charged.

The Spartan fired just to slow the alien down, backed through the hatch, andgave thanks as the door closed. That gave him two or three seconds that heneeded to plant his feet, pull another grenade, and prepare to throw it.

The hatch opened, the fragmentation grenade flew straight and true, and theexplosion knocked the beast off its feet. The deck shook as the body hit.

The Hunter attempted to rise but fell under a hail of armor-piercingbullets.

The Master Chief gave the corpse a wide berth as he left the room, andpassed back into the hall. As he made his way through the ship’s corridors,he saw blood-splattered bulkheads, bodies sprawled in every imaginableposture of death, blown hatches, sparks flying out of junction boxes, and aseries of small fires, which thanks to a lack of combustible materialsseemed to be fairly well contained.

He heard the sound of automatic weapons’ fire somewhere ahead, and passedthrough another hatch. Inside, a fire burned at the point where two largepipes traversed a maintenance bay. He was close to the cryo chamber, orthought he was, but needed to find a way in.

Hesitant to jump through the flames unless it was absolutely necessary, hetook a right turn instead. The sounds of combat grew louder as the hatchopened onto a large room where a full array of Flood forms were battling aclutch of Sentinels. He paused, shouldered his weapon, and fired. Sentinelscrashed, carrier forms exploded, and everyone fired at one another in a madmelee of crisscrossing energy beams, 7.62mm projectiles, and explodingneedles.

Once the robots had been put out of action, and most of the Flood had beenneutralized, the Chief was able to cross the middle of the room, climb aladder, and gain the catwalk above. From that vantage point he could lookacross into the Maintenance Control Room, where a couple of Sentinels werehard at work trying to zap a group of Flood, none of whom were willing to betoasted without putting up a fight. The combatants were too busy to worryabout stray humans, however, and the noncom took advantage of that to workhis way down the walkway and into the Control Room.

Andthat , as he soon learned, was a big mistake.

It wasn’t too bad at first, or didn’t seem to be, as he destroyed both ofthe Sentinels, and went to work on the Flood. But every time he put one formdown, it seemed as if two more arrived to take its place, soon forcing himonto the defensive.

He retreated into the antechamber adjacent to the Control Room. The humanhad little choice but to place his back against a locked hatch. The largerforms came in twos and threes—while the infection forms came in swarms.

Some of the assaults seemed to be random, but many appeared to becoordinated as one, or two, or three combat forms would hurl themselvesforward, die under the assault weapon’s thundering fire, and fall just asthe Spartan ran out of ammo, andmore carrier forms waddled into the fray.

He slung his AR, drew the shotgun—briefly hoping there would be a lullduring which to reload—and opened fire on the bloated monstrosities beforethe force exerted by their exploding bodies could do him harm.

Then, with newly spawned infection forms flying in every direction it wasclean-up time followed by a desperate effort to reload both weapons beforethenext wave of creatures attempted to roll over him.

He dropped into a pattern of fire and movement. He made his way through theship, closer to the engineering spaces, pausing only to pour fire into knotsof targets of opportunity. Then, he quickly disengaged, reloaded, and ranfarther into the ship.

The noise generated by his own weapons hammered at the Master Chief’s ears,the thick gagging odor of Flood blood clogged his throat, and his mindeventually grew numb from all the killing.

After dispatching a Covenant combat team, he crouched behind a support strutand fed rounds into the shotgun. Without warning, a combat form leaped onhis back and smashed a large wrench into his helmet. His shield dropped awayfrom the force of the blow, which allowed an infection form to land on hisvisor.

Even as he staggered under the impact, and pawed at the form’s slick body,a penetrator punched its way through his neck seal, located his bare skin,and sliced it open.

The Spartan gave a cry of pain, felt the tentacle slide down toward hisspine, and knew it was over.

Though unable to pick up a weapon and kill the infection form directly,Cortana had other resources, and rushed to use them. Careful not to draintoo much power, the AI diverted some energy away from the MJOLNIR armor, andmade use of it to create an electrical discharge. The infection form startedto vibrate as the electricity coursed through it. The Chief jerked as theFlood form’s penetrator delivered a shock to his nervous system, and thepod popped, misting the Spartan’s visor with green blood spray.

The Chief could see well enough to fight, however, and did so, killing thewrench-wielding combat form with a burst of bullets.

“Sorry about that,” Cortana said, as the Spartan cleared the area aroundhim, “but I couldn’t think of anything else to do.”

“You did fine,” he replied, pausing to reload. “That was close.”

Another two or three minutes passed before the Flood gave up and he couldtake the moment necessary to remove his helmet, jerk the penetrator out fromunder his skin, and slap a self-adhering antiseptic battle dressing over thewound. It hurt like hell: The Spartan winced as he lowered the helmet backover his head, and sealed his suit.

Then, pausing only to kill a couple of stray infection forms, and stilllooking for a way to gain entry to the cryo chamber, the Chief made his waythrough a number of passageways, into a maze of maintenance tunnels, and outinto a corridor where he spotted a red arrow on the deck along with thewordENGINEERING .

Finally, a break.

No longer concerned with finding a way into cryo, the noncom passed througha hatch and entered the first passageway he’d seen that was well lit, freeof bloodstains, and not littered with corpses. A series of turns brought himto a hatch.

“Engine Room located,” Cortana announced. “We’re here.”

The Spartan heard humming, and knew that 343 Guilty Spark was somewhere inthe vicinity. He had already started to back through the hatch when Cortanasaid, “Alert! The Monitor has disabled all command access. We can’trestart the countdown. The only remaining option will be to detonate theship’s fusion reactors.That should do enough damage to destroy Halo.

“Don’t worry . . . I have access to all of the reactor schematics andprocedures. I’ll walk you through it. First we need to pull back theexhaust coupling. That will expose a shaft that leads to the primary fusiondrive core.”

“Oh, good,” the Spartan replied. “I was afraid it might be complicated.”

The Chief reopened the hatch, stepped out into the Engine Room, and aninfection form flew straight at his faceplate.

The attack on theTruth and Reconciliation came with mind-numbing speed as awing of fifteen Banshees came screaming out of the sun, attacked the nearlyidentical number of Covenant aircraft assigned to fly cover over thecruiser, and knocked half of them out of the sky during the first sixtyseconds of combat.

Then, even as individual dogfights continued, Lieutenant “Cookie” Petersonand his fellow Pelican pilots delivered Silva, Wellsley, and forty-fiveheavily armed Marines into the enemy cruiser’s shuttle bay, where the firstleathernecks off the ramps smothered the Covenant security team in a hail ofbullets, secured all the hatches, and sent a team of fifteen Helljumpersracing for the ship’s Control Room.

Conscious of the fact that occupying the Control Room wouldn’t mean muchunless they owned engineering as well, the humans launched a nearlysimultaneous ground attack. Thanks to the previous effort, in which theMaster Chief and a group of Marines had entered the ship looking for CaptainKeyes, McKay had the benefit of everything learned during that mission,including a detailed description of the gravity lift, video of the interiorcorridors, and operational data which Cortana had siphoned out of theship’s systems.

Not too surprisingly, security around the gravity lift had been tripledsince the previous incursion, which meant that even though McKay and herforce of Helljumpers had been able to creep within meters of the hill onwhich the gravity field was focused, they still had six Hunters, twelveElites, and a mixed bag of Grunts and Jackals to cope with before they couldboard the vessel above.

Having anticipated that problem, McKay had equipped her fifteen-person teamwith eight rocket launchers, all of which were aimed squarely at theHunters.

The Covenant-flown Banshees had just come under attack, and the spinedmonsters were staring up into a nearly cloudless sky, when McKay gave theword: “Now!”

All eight launchers fired one, thentwo rockets, putting a total of sixteenof the shaped charges on the aliens, so that the Hunters never had a chanceto fight as a series of red-orange explosions blew them apart.

Even as gobbets of raw meat continued to rain out of the sky, the launcherswere reloaded, and another flight of rockets was sent on its way.

Three or four of the Elites had been killed during the initial attack, whichmeant that some of the survivors were targeted by as many as two missiles,and simply ceased to exist as the powerful 102mm rounds detonated.

Those who survived the volley, and there weren’t many, fell quickly as therest of the team hurled grenades into the enemy positions, and hosed themwith automatic fire. Total elapsed time: 36 seconds.

A full minute was consumed racing up the hill and greasing the guard at thetop, which meant that 1:36 had passed by the time the murderous humansappeared inside theTruth and Reconciliation , slaughtered the Grunts onguard duty, and deactivated the lift.

Jenkins was chained between a pair of burly Marines. McKay waved the trioforward. “Let’s go, Marines. We’re supposed to take the Engine Room—solet’s get to work.”

Jenkins, or what remained of Jenkins, could smell the Flood. They werethere, hiding in the ship, and he struggled to tell McKay that. But the onlything that came out was a series of grunts and hoots. The humans had takenthe ship, but they had taken something else as well, something that couldkill every single one of them.

’Zamamee ushered Yayap into the heavily guarded Covenant CommunicationsCenter—and gave the Grunt a moment to look around. The space had oncehoused all of the communications gear associated with thePillar of Autumn’s auxiliary fighters, shuttles, and transports. Human gear had been rippedout to make room for Covenant equipment, but everything else was pretty muchin the same configuration. A team of six com techs were on duty, all withtheir backs to the center of the room, banks of equipment arrayed in frontof them. A constant murmur of conversation ............