"As for friends," Orpheus continued thoughtfully, "he's not exactly a friendly person. Outside his two Sangheili brothers, he keeps most at a distance. And now both of them dead... I worry he'll fall back into his criminal ways without their influence." "He was a criminal?" Grymar'ee questioned sharply. "If there's a law, chances are he's broken it at some point. Or forced the Covenant to create new laws. He used to be an assassin-for-hire, with Relic's Shadow." [i]Relic... there could be something there,[/i] Grymar'ee realised then, thinking back on all the crime reports he'd ever read about High Charity. "That cult was eradicated years ago," Grymar'ee lectured the Jiralhanae, pacing in thought. "But one of their lieutenants founded another syndicate, which by all reports controls the underworld of High Charity. I've had petitions to wipe it out, but the hierarchs tolerate its presence - better thieves and killers are bound by a creed than renegade. If Ahkrin was truly in the Relic, then he must have contacts there." "Do you know where they're based?" Orpheus asked. Grymar'ee shrugged with nonchalance. "Most everyone does. They all but have a blessing from the hierarchs; the constabulary don't touch them. I think it'd be our best bet to find your friend, but it'll be dangerous." "What isn't on this accursed station? Is it far?" "Not especially, but a vehicle wouldn't go amiss. I saw a depot of spectres as we came into the district. I think we can take one." "A roadtrip," Orpheus smiled slightly, walking with Grymar'ee towards the district's exit. "Glad to see we've made such good friends already." [i]That remains to be seen.[/i] * "I cannot thank you enough for this," Puis said once again, taking Sorran's hand and shaking it firmly. "I'll have my men enact this new evacuation protocol you've drawn up instantly." "It was no trouble," Sorran replied, feeling no small satisfaction in the man's gratitude. "Truth be told, it was good to know my skills as a thinker haven't been dulled by the toils of war." "If you ever tire of the honour guard, you would make a brilliant commander," Puis told him sincerely. "I've met Imperial Admirals less able to think under pressure than you." "I don't think I'd make a good Imperial Admiral," Sorran disagreed, smiling. "I hate shouting." [i]And I'm not exactly on great terms with the Covenant right now.[/i] "A pity," Puis replied absently, moving back to his console and manipulating the hard-light screen it projected. "Support for this war is ailing; it could use more decent men like you. " "I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm content to spend my days serving my minister," Sorran said, putting an end to the discussion. "Now, about that banshee I mentioned..." Puis looked up, looking as though he was wrestling with a decision. "It's yours," he decided finally, smiling. "Your new protocol will do more good than one banshee could have ever done. I'd be a little happier if you'd tell me why you need it." "Business of the guard," Sorran lied deftly. "It's nothing serious, but I'd be breaking my oath if I divulged my minister's personal business." "I understand," Puis said, sounding a little disappointed. The major fished around at his side, and threw an object to Sorran. He caught it and held it up for inspection; a set of keys. "Banshee's parked out in the back. No one else is out there aside from a few Huragok; they won't bother you." "You have my thanks, Puis. You're doing a good job here, keep at it. If the sanctum do not promote you after this, I will have my minister write them a scalding letter." Puis laughed, and moved to show Sorran out. They reached the door, and it opened to reveal a scarcely populated hangar bay with no aircraft save for a seraph in poor repair, and the banshee that would soon be Sorran's. "I'd appreciate it," he said from the door, as Sorran walked down the stairs. "Oh, and Sorran?" "Yes?" Sorran asked, pausing in his tracks. There was a silence between them for a few moments, and finally Puis spoke. "This is awkward, but I was just sent a general alert and... well, you wouldn't happen to be the same Sorran wanted by the sanctum for High Councillor Restraint's murder, would--" Sorran drew out his gun and threw himself back towards Puis, jamming the pistol in the man's neck and driving him back inside the office. Puis simply stared at him with calm. "You don't know how much I wish you hadn't said that," Sorran told him ruefully, knowing the only way he'd get out of this would be to kill Puis, something he was extremely loath to do. "I'd look down before doing anything rash," Puis told him in an steady voice. Frowning, Sorran glanced down and saw it. The hilt of an energy sword hilt, inches from his stomach. "You really do need a promotion," Sorran admired the man's skill. "And you need to leave, before another constable comes in here and recognises you," Puis told him firmly. Sorran frowned. "You're letting me go?" he asked, puzzled by the man's actions. "If you really had killed Restraint as the sanctum says, you wouldn't have taken a few hours out of your evil day to help a constable save some lives," Puis reasoned. "You'd be on the run, and you'd be killing anyone who got in your way. I won't pretend to know what's really going on, and I don't want to know, but I don't think you murdered a High Councillor, Sorran. If I'm wrong, then that guilt will be on my head and I'll have to live with that. But I'm willing to bet that possibility on the belief you didn't." "I didn't," Sorran affirmed, looking him squarely in the eyes and lowering his weapon. The two stepped away from each other. "I swear to you on my father's grave, Puis." "You're wasting time," was all Puis said, ushering him back out into the hangar. "Just promise me one thing, okay?" "What's that?" "If they catch you, don't mention my name. I have a family to care for." "Not even with my dying breath," Sorran swore, a little overwhelmed by the trust Puis was putting into him. They walked together towards the banshee. "Whatever it is you're doing, Sorran, I wish you luck. As I said before, there aren't enough truly decent men in this world. And if you ever sort this mess out, seek me out again. I would know you better, given the chance." "May that chance come one day," Sorran wished, grasping Puis' hand once more. "Good luck." "And you." Sorran clambered into the banshee, his muscle memory recalling simulation and easing onto the controls as if it were instinct. He kicked it alive, and took off through the roof into the skies of High Charity. *