* "Thierr'ee's fleet is still up there," one of the guards made small talk to another, glancing at the ceiling nervously. The other grunted. "It poses no threat to our plans, so long as that charlatan of a fleetmaster does not learn of the true face of operations here," the second guard assured, kicking his foot against the wall abstractly; some guard, to leave his back exposed to danger. "Why do you think the hierarchs are so hellbent on apprehending this... this [i]librarian[/i] and some stripped-name criminal?" the first guard quizzed of his colleague. Zharn peered at them both around the corner, taking little notice of what they were saying. He glared back at Grymar'ee, giving him a stare which read 'I'll kill you if you do anything.' "Who knows why the hierarchs do anything?" number two replied, seeming uncomfortable to discuss the subject. "It is not for us to speculate." "I don't think even the Ossoona knows," the first continued, oppressive in his speech. Zharn heard an audible sigh from the second guard. "And if not even he, right arm of the prophets, is privy to such information, then for us to speak of it will no doubt earn us the cold embrace of irons. Let us just stand here as we are paid to do, my friend." "What a waste of time this is," the first guard lamented, staring up at the leaking ceiling; a steady drip of water fell through the breaks in solid stone, a pool building up on the floor. A mass of tiny flies gathered about the stagnant water; first-stage Yan'me, perhaps. "It is good money," the second argued. Zharn was taking advantage of their distraction, swinging around the corner with his weak camouflage engaged. Had the two guards been paying attention they'd notice the distortion straight away, but busied as they were in their conversations, they did not see. "We didn't become mercenaries for money, brother," the first guard countered. "If that was our goal, we could have followed out our father's wishes and joined the army as officers and be trapped behind desks until we were old and greying like he. We took up this mantle for adventure, and there is very little of it in here." The second guard seemed to have grown tired of his blood-brother's talk, for then he suddenly turned around and found himself staring at a very clear haze in the air. The Sangheili brought up his weapon with a startled cry, but already it had been wrested from his grip; Zharn delivered a sharp blow to the neck with his other hand, and the second guard fell into the puddle of fouled water. Before the first guard could even register Zharn's active camouflage being deactivated, he already found himself rushed against the wall; an arm pressed in the guard's neck, a knee dealt a heavy blow to his abdomen and a blow to the base of the head sent the man's brain smacking against his skull. He dropped with a muffled cry. Zharn turned to find Grymar'ee holding a knife in his hand, preparing to slit the second guard's throat. "Stop!" Zharn whispered harshly, drawing the Imperial Admiral's attention with the sudden appearance of his plasma pistol. Grymar'ee turned his head. "It's just a knife, Thierr'ee. Not even sharp enough to penetrate your shielding; I just thought I'd help clear up after your... impressive show." "It is not the weapon I am concerned about, it is what you are going to do with it. Leave them be." Grymar'ee stared with dull eyes up at him for a moment, before chuckling arrogantly and letting the guard's head fall back to the ground in an unconscious daze. "You are a strong warrior, but you are too soft. It will be your undoing one day," Grymar'ee lectured, falling back into line in front of Zharn. "If there comes a day where mercy brings my end, then it will be a world I will gladly leave behind. For a man who might not live to see the end of this day, you certainly know not how to keep your mouth shut." "What is an Imperial Admiral, but a politician for the military?" Grymar'ee asked in rhetoric, looking down at the path that lay before them. "I know the layout of this temple. It is likely the Ossoona will be located in the clergyman's quarters; is are the most private and comfortable room in the building. We are not far from it." Zharn nodded, grateful for Grymar'ee's direction despite what the man had done. It had been a good move to bring him along, even though one of the motivations for doing so he hadn't revealed to Orpheus was that he was concerned if the Imperial Admiral was left with the Jiralhanae, the former would end up in the latter's stomach. Grymar'ee had killed many innocent Jiralhanae, and Zharn had seen how Orpheus' eyes were awash with cold rage at that. "Help me hide the bodies and be gentle about it. Then we carry on. If you carry on being a help as you have been, then when this is over I will help you find your daughter. But after that, you go into exile." "That is fair," Grymar'ee agreed reluctantly. "So long as I can say my piece to Savara. Truth be told, I grow weary of the affairs of the Covenant. I am too old; my values too traditional." [i]He's certainly been considering what he has done,[/i] Zharn mused as they shifted the unconscious guards so they would be out of sight. [i]Exile might be too kind a punishment for him, but in light of who's father he is it is the most I can do.[/i] "Still, let us not get too far ahead of ourselves," Zharn murmured. "There is still a strong chance our heads will end up on spikes." * Ahkrin tackled the invisible runner to the ground, holding whoever lay beneath the illusionary veil in a deadly vice. One flick of his wrist and whoever it was would die. "These last words had better make me reconsider killing you," Ahkrin breathed in the camouflaged Sangheili's ear. A few moments later he heard a wheezed reply. "It's... me," Sorran's voice emerged despite the mouthful of street he was currently being subjected to. Ahkrin drew back from his 'prey' instantly and helped Sorran up to his feet. The active camouflage fell away like a robe dropped to the ground, the gold-red of Sorran's honour guard armour shining in the embryo of early dawn. "What do you think you are playing at, boy?" Ahkrin demanded, painfully aware of how much younger than he Sorran was when he said that last word. "You take off from safety without so much as a word spoken to me, then-- you're hurt. What happened?" "A Jiralhanae patrol," Sorran muttered distractedly. "One broke off from the pack; I killed him, but listen--" "You killed a Jiralhanae?" Ahkrin queried, smiling despite himself with pride. "You certainly have changed, young scholar. But even so, you can't just go wandering off alone with all the Covenant arrayed against us--" "Jajab's dead," Sorran interrupted with a croak, his eyes moist as he spoke. Ahkrin frowned for a few seconds, then the memory hit him. "Restraint's unggoy?" Ahkrin quizzed, and saw fire flare in his friend's sad eyes. "He was no-one's 'unggoy!'" Sorran snapped, clenching his fists. "He was a person with a name, hopes, dreams, family--" "Yes, you're right," Ahkrin apologised before Sorran could rev his tirade into full gear. "That was inconsiderate of me to say, I'm sorry for your loss. How did he...?" And so Sorran explained the message he had received from Jajab, how he'd been lured out to the middle of the lake and given the fatal news regarding Savara and her imprisonment by Pel. At the end of it all, Ahkrin threw his hands up in the air with exasperation. He lost himself in thought, considering what he'd just been told. "Listen to me now, Sorran. I know I said to you we'd find Savara and flee the station with her, but I had no idea Pel had her. You want to rescue her; I would feel the same in your position, but that is exactly what Pel wants." "I intend to oblige him," Sorran vowed, cracking his knuckles together. He blazed with foolish passion and intensity. "If we go to find Savara, they will stop us, and they will execute us!" Ahkrin attempted to batter through to Sorran's love-struck brain. "Leave her, for now at least. This is the perfect time for us to infiltrate the dreadnought. The last thing in the world they'll expect is for us to--" "I care not about dreadnoughts or oracles," Sorran snapped back angrily, looking as though he could believe what Ahkrin was saying. "The woman I love is being held hostage, by a madman no less. I'm going to the Janjur Qom district, with or without you."