"Things change," Ahkrin replied sharply. "You seem to have done well enough." "The years have been kind. But I've never worked with anyone as good as you, not in all my years since. I'm looking forward to our little mission tomorrow." "I didn't invite you, so don't act like this is my choice," Ahkrin hissed angrily. "Getting to the--" he noticed a few others walking by, and held his tongue a few moments. They nodded their heads in Jeann'ee direction reverently. Once he was sure they were out of range, he continued: "Getting to the Dreadnought will be hard enough without you lumbering along with us too." "Tell me exactly why you need to go there without lying and I'll stay put," Jeann'ee stated, his big smile saying louder he knew Ahkrin wasn't about to do that. "Sorran isn't suited for what you do. He nearly killed your men before when he saw some of your... [i]dealings.[/i]" He spoke the word with a guilty derision. "I empathise with him. I don't like the direction your businesses have taken." "If you're referring to the child trafficking, nor I," Jeann'ee confessed. "I try to make their lives as easy as I can, and take care when selecting who can buy. That is more than others would were I not the one holding monopolisation on the practice." "The devil without horns is still the devil," Ahkrin retorted harshly. "I am hardly best suited the dictate right and wrong to you, but you must draw a line." "Ah, but where to find ink? Your friend Sorran seems to serve you well." Ahkrin frowned, slowing his pace for a few seconds. "Sorran isn't my conscience, Jeann'ee. He's a friend. You make it sound as if I use him to tell me what is black and white." "A useful skill in a world drenched in grey. We could argue moral semantics all night, Ahkrin, and were this any other time I would do so happily. But I need to talk to you about tomorrow." They passed a table where a gambling game was taking place. Kig-yar were almost exclusively hunched around it, squawking and plumes all raised as they examined their opponents. Even in a quick glance, Ahkrin saw five individuals who were cheating in some way or form. "What of tomorrow? You said you had a plan to get us in," Ahkrin deadpanned. Jeann'ee nodded vigorously. "I do, worry not. Getting out... it will be harder. Once the staff realise there has been a breach, they'll come for us. You know how many lekgolo roam around that ship? Almost enough to make a Mglekgolo as tall." "Escape is my speciality," Ahkrin told the other Sangheili without a hint of irony. "Opportunities have a habit or revealing themselves only during the infiltration. I'll come up with something." "It'd be a lot easier if you'd tell me our objective." "You'll see that soon enough. I'm going to Sorran's quarters, we need to talk. I'll see you at dawn." "Sorran? He left a few hours ago." Ahkrin felt his hearts not so much skip as leap a few beats. He turned on Jeann'ee, brimstone welled up in his eyes. "Left where?" "I don't know. He left out the eastern passage, told a guard he was running an errand for you, made a few threats on your behalf until he was finally allowed by. I of course assumed you knew. Don't tell me your moral compass is in need of one of its own--" Ahkrin pushed away from Jeann'ee and began a light jog which gained momentum, as he hurtled past startled passers-by on his way to the eastern door. * A single blow to the base of the neck was all it took to drop the lone advance guard around the Janjur Qom district. The mercenary types were all the same; they wore intimidating armour and carried themselves confidently, but when thrown into a real situation they were useless. "Status," Zharn demanded as he dragged his prey into the shadows. The ugly ruins of the San 'Shyuum homeworld loomed over him, juxtaposing in an unpleasant way with the smooth decor of High Charity. San 'Shyuum appreciated beauty, but their architectural design before the Covenant had been awful. Rusted metallic spikes seemed randomly grafted on to collapsed concrete blocks, streets had no sense of order to them as if the planner had closed his eyes as he drew the city's plans; the San 'Shyuum called the area one of heritage and great religious value, but all Zharn saw was a derelict site which marred the otherwise ubiquitous luminance of the holy city. "They haven't noticed either of you yet," Orpheus rumbled over the private line. Zharn glanced to his left and stared with dislike at Imperial Admiral Grymar'ee, who seemed to have adopted a submissive attitude. The man had had numerous opportunities to call out during the infiltration, but had held his tongue. Probably because he wanted to keep it. "You know I would bring you with me if I could, Orpheus, but you would stand out," Zharn apologised to his friend yet again, before turning on the traitor. "You'd better not be lying about those access codes, Grymar'ee." "I know them," the Imperial Admiral assured him, stripping the guard he had neutralised of armour and donning it himself. "I am concerned, fleetmaster. Pel said I would hear from my daughter three hours ago. Threats are not my only motivation now." "Yeah, you're a real hero," Zharn droned sarcastically, motioning to him with a pistol to head to the energy barrier's controls. Grymar'ee squared his shoulders and stalked off towards the console, carrying himself with a stooped bearing. "Many would say so," Grymar'ee replied distractedly as he focused on the monitor embedded by the shield barrier and began working. "I've had Arbiters themselves kneel out of respect in my presence." "Hardly great judges of characters, for they too have sinned. You need not bludgeon me with your accomplishments, I am well versed in them. You were a case study at the officer's academy... I admired you." That seemed to give the Imperial Admiral pause. He turned his head ever so slightly as if to say something, but thought twice and returned back to the task at hand. "There," he finally finished, drawing back from the console. He sounded relieved as the barrier faltered, opening the way into the district-proper. Answers stretched out before them like a road, and there were no turns. "Act like we belong," Zharn murmured to Grymar'ee as they walked through the gate. He noticed a few snipers watching them from a rooftop, and nodded curtly in their direction. They returned the gesture, before looking away. "I'm not inept, fleetmaster. I [i]am[/i] an Imperial Admiral, you know," Grymar'ee protested, a tinge of annoyance colouring his voice. He wore a pistol strapped to his side, but it was only for show; the battery had been depleted before Zharn gave it to him. "Being born into power does not make one strong," Zharn droned tiredly. He'd had to put up with men like Grymar'ee all his working life, aristocrats who wore their positions like they were a right. They almost universally loathed officers 'from the rank' such as he. "Nor does beating an insane man in a duel," Grymar'ee retorted, and laughed slightly when Zharn seemed surprised. "I know how you won your title, Thierr'ee. It was no small thing beating a man so skilled with the blade as Xatan'ee, but it doesn't make you a leader." [i]He doesn't know how right he is,[/i] Zharn thought inwardly, shadow shrouding his eyes as he walked along, downcast. He'd reconciled with the fact that his besting of Xatan'ee had been a false one, but the knowledge still burned like a mark of shame. Crude Forerunner runes were carved into the walls of this ruined Janjur Qom city, their design sharp and unseemly. The San 'Shyuum had had no respect for the articles of their lords, until the Sangheili had shown them the proper way to worship and revere. The dead ground cracked with age, supports all that were holding up the remains of buildings. Zharn always wondered why the San 'Shyuum clung so to the ruins of their now-gone homeworld; so few of them ever came here, and any potential Forerunner artefacts had been stripped from the land long before their first contact with his people. Only the old temple of the sacred rings ahead remained in decent condition, and even it was falling to pieces. Still, it seemed to be the place where most of Pel's men gathered around; a large number were sat down, playing games of logic or drinking. Most telling that they were not military. "That looks like their base of operations," Zharn murmured quietly to Grymar'ee, who grunted in affirmation. "I've brought you this far, Thierr'ee. Why do you keep me still?" "Because I don't trust you not to run to the nearest guard and highlight my presence. You're staying in reach of my knife-arm, Grymar'ee. One move and I'll sink a blade so soundly into your back that hardly a drop of blood will escape. Besides, I might need your access codes." The Imperial Admiral didn't reply, but seemed to accept the ultimatum. For such a high-ranking man, he was a very timid one and easily threatened. "How are we getting in the temple, then?" he asked, back to business. Zharn studied the entrance for a few moments, looked at their uniformed selves and shrugged. "We'll walk straight in," he said, moving to head towards the guards outside the main entrance. Grymar'ee blinked for a few moments, before following after him.