"Smart choice freak," one of the marines said smugly. He would not be so smug were he facing Sorran on an open battlefield, him with a sword in hand. "Tell us then, what do you know?" the Ambassador whispered. Gone was the smile, replaced by a frown. Sorran felt afraid. "Human, until but a week ago, I was a librarian upon High--" Sorran stopped himself, realising he had nearly revealed the name of the holy city, "upon a ship in our fleet." he lied "I know little of the Covenant's plans." "A librarian? Hard to imagine you stacking books you monster," the same aggressive marine taunted, and Sorran growled a warning. The human was beginning to try his patience. "What is your rank in the Covenant Elite?" Ambassador Errand asked. "Minor Sangheili." Sorran replied curtly. "Sangheili? What is that?" "The name of our species." "Ah, I see. Who do you command, if anyone?" "The lower caste of the Covenant; Unggoy, Kig-Yar, Yan'mee, Mglekgolo, Jiralhanae. Not other Sangheili, nor the Prophets." "Whoa there, slow down. I didn't understand anything what you just said, speak English. I'll hold up photos, and you'll identify them for me." And so the human held up images for Sorran, which he promptly identified. He felt like a traitor, selling out these secrets, but what else could he do? "So," Errand said, once Sorran had finished, "let me get this straight. Grunts are called Unggoy, Jackals are called Kig-Yar, Drones are called Yan'mee, Hunters are called. . . bloody hell, I can't pronounce it..." "Mglekgolo." Sorran filled in for him. "Right, and the Brutes are called Jiralhanae, and your race, the Elites are named Sangheili. Is that right?" The Sangheili nodded. He felt sick. "Good, good. We're making progress. This information will be very helpful, thanks. And, one more question, what is a 'Prophet'?" Sorran perked up. The fools didn't know what a Prophet was, they had no image of one. He decided to play dumb. "Prophet? What do you mean?" The Minor pretended not to know. "Don't play coy with me alien, you don't want to see me angry. Before, you mentioned a Prophet. What did you mean by that?" The Ambassador retaliated angrily. "I know not what you speak of." Sorran replied tartly, hoping the human wouldn't be able to detect he was lying. Errand narrowed his eyes, although what that signified amongst the humans was unknown to Sorran. To the Sangheili, it showed suspicion, perhaps it meant the same for the humans too. "You're a liar alien, I can sense it. You said Prophet, we've got proof on tape. Sergeant Harper, beat the truth out of our guest would you?" Errand asked of one of the marines, who grinned wickedly, and walked over the Sorran. "What's a Prophet eh?" The man asked, and Sorran shook his head. "What do you mean?" Sorran replied uncertainly, and was rewarded by a punch to the jaw. It hurt, and Sorran tasted blood. "What's a Prophet?" "I don't know." Sorran repeated, and was hit again, this time on the temple. Before he could collect his thoughts, he was asked the question again. "What's a Prophet?" "I don't --" Smack! Sorran was hit once again, and felt himself get pushed out of his chair. He hit his head on the hard ground, and all turned blurry. A voice called again, asking the same question. Sorran gave the same answer, albeit slurred, and was this time kicked in the side. He doubled over in pain. Maybe he should just tell them. What could it hurt? It would give respite from the pain. No! He could not betray the Covenant; not again! He would remain silent, take the information to the grave if he had to. Fear was replaced by anger. He was a Sangheili, not some common Unggoy! Why was he allowing himself to be abused like this? The anger surged through his body, filling him with adrenalin. "What is, a Prophet?" The human named Harper emphasised once again, leering down at him, but this time, he received a kick to the stomach as an answer. Sorran heard the man gasp with shock and pain, and double over. The Sangheili stood tall, and faced the rest of the humans angrily. They were staring at him with newly found fear. They raised their weapons nervously. "Freeze!" one shouted, and Sorran's anger faded as quickly as it came. He grew afraid again, afraid of the weapons aimed at him and the bullets they would fire out, ending his life. He froze. "Stand in the corner, and put your hands on your head!" Sorran complied with the order, and one of the other marines went to go check if the Sergeant was alive. "He's got a pulse, he'll live, but he's gonna have one bad ass headache when he wakes up." "[i]Poor Sarge[/i]." Gun barrels remained trained upon Sorran. Ambassador Errand stood. "Ah, violence, how I hate it. I think we have enough information for now men, let us depart. Elite, I will question you once again in the morning. This time, I think I shall bring the Spartan in with me." "Yes sir Colonel Errand." one of the marines spoke, and Sorran stared. The man had lied; he wasn't an Ambassador at all. Sorran had been duped, and worse, he had fallen for it. The humans scooped up Sergeant Harper and left, slamming the door and leaving Sorran alone in the room. He gently caressed the side of his jaw. Pain shot through him; it was probably broken. His side hurt too, where the human had kicked him. Sorran felt his eyes go moist. What had he done to deserve this cruellest of punishments? [Edited on 08.21.2009 8:01 PM PDT]