Managed to get this written between revision for my exams. Hope you enjoy. [b]Part 30 -- Honour[/b] "You're getting good!" Hem told Sorran as they sparred, their two swords clashing in a flurry of sparks. The flickering cobalt lights cut through the quiet dawn, casting faint half-shadows across the wall of the training room. "Really?" Sorran wheezed as he met a thrust of Hem's, creating a discharge of energy which nearly blew him over. Hem suddenly leapt forward and in three graceful moves, had his sword out of his hand; the fourth knocked him to the ground. The older Honour Guard's blade descended mere centimetres from his armoured throat, and Sorran could feel the dangerous heat even through the mail he wore. "No," Hem told him blankly, deactivating his sword and reaching out a hand. Sorran begrudgingly grapsed it, and was hoisted up to his feet. "But at least you're not entirely awful now. I swear, I'll make a swordsman of you yet, Sorran." "Swords are antiquated relics of a time long passed," Sorran muttered bitterly, rubbing the side Hem had smacked with no little force painfully. "Do not speak so ignorantly, my pupil. They symbolise a Sangheili's honour, and there is little more important in this world than honour," Hem began to lecture, and Sorran groaned inwardly. Not the honour speech again. Half an hour later, he finally stopped talking, and began to remove his armour. The practice had taken its toll on him; that much Sorran could see by the perspiration blanketing his wrinkled skin, which was as tough and enduring as hardened leather beaten by the mid-day sun. Pel was watching them absently from a corner. His injuries had almost healed, but Restraint had insisted he stay until he was back in peak condition. The Minister had chosen not to let the zealot into their little circle of heresy, and although Sorran felt bad for concealing the truth from Pel, he knew it was the only thing that could be done. "You've been training hard lately," Pel observed as Sorran walked over, grabbing a drink from an amused Jajab. "What for?" Sorran took a long swig of water, taken from deep below the planet High Charity was currently stripping. It was an arid world and water was scarce and dirty, but thanks to the seemingly infinite power of the Forerunner Dreadnought it could all be purified without so much as denting the energy reserves. He then looked down at the Sangheili he had saved, who seemed to be reading a book. "Just training," he replied engimatically, taking a seat next to him. Pel smiled. "Of course. You know, it's kind of odd that an honour guard needs combat training," he observed in an odd tone of voice. Sorran blinked. "I'm not too experienced. Restraint likes to recruit his guards when they're green, so he can have Hem beat them into younger versions of himself without any other habits getting in the way," Sorran laughed. Pel nodded slowly. "Right. Restraint has been kind to me," he commented, with a tinge of regret in his voice for some reason. "Don't feel like you're imposing," Sorran told Pel sincerely. "Trust me, he has done far more for myself. You're a good man, Pel." "... maybe," Pel smiled softly, staring down at the ground. For a few moments there was nothing but the sound of birds chorusing through the early morning, until Pel finally spoke, haltingly. "Listen, Sorran. There's something I should tell you." "Oh?" Sorran asked, looking at Pel now. He seemed troubled by something, that much was clear. "Speak freely, friend." "I--" Pel started, when he was suddenly cut off by a sharp whistle from Hem. "Sorran! This isn't a tea break, boy! Get over here, and this time at least try to block my attacks!" he barked over, and Sorran rolled his eyes, crying inside. He took one last drink and moved to get up, but not before turning back to face Pel. "Sorry, what were you saying?" he asked softly, tightening the straps on his armour. For a moment Pel looked as if he would spill, but finally settled into a taut smile and shook his head. "It's nothing, never mind. Go, train," he said, brushing Sorran away with his hand. Sorran looked at him for a few moments, before nodding himself and turning to run towards Hem. Pel watched him go, fidgeting nervously. He knew no amount of training would help him in the end. * * * "[i]Xatan'ee has rightly inherited control of the fleet; he was sub-commander, remember. The previous fleetmaster obviously trusted him,[/i]" placated Supreme Commander Thel Vadam'ee over the holographic communication interface, a link made private by Ahkrin. He, Zharn and Orpheus sat clustered around the small visual representation of the Supreme Commander grimly. "And with all due respect, great one, the previous fleetmaster fell off a platform and broke his neck," Ahkrin retorted bluntly. "So you'll forgive me if I don't completely believe in all of his actions." "[i]My hands are tied, I am afraid.[/i]" "Can't you just remove him from power?" Zharn demanded, the fresh memories of the humans Xatan'ee had executed en masse at breakfast whilst eating at the same time still haunting him. "You're the Supreme Commander, now." Vadam'ee laughed. "[i]Were it so easy,[/i]" he muttered. "[i]My hands are tied, ultra. I hope you realise that [/i]I[i] can do nothing.[/i]" Zharn sighed, nodding slowly. "Very well," he exhaled. "Thank you for your time, Supreme Commander. We know you must be busy." "[i]I always have time for noble Sangheili such as yourself... Jiralhanae too[/i]," Vadam'ee answered, before turning around and murmurring a few words to someone behind him. "[i]I'm sorry, I must go; Regret has returned from whatever recent failure Truth is so livid with him over, and I must receive him onto my ship. You must not spread this news, but I hear the Arbiter is dead as a result of his actions.[/i]" "Truly?" Ahkrin asked skeptically. "Demons?" Thel laughed bitingly, before saying with what almost seemed like awe: "[i]No, just a lone man. I do not grieve; it is an Arbiter's mission to die. And this particular Arbiter was not one I cared for, anyway.[/i] "Whoever this man was, we should get him up hear to deal with our own pain in the rear," Ahkrin muttered. Thel laughed at that, before nodding. "[i]Would that we could. Unfortunately, you're on your own. Good luck with Xatan'ee, all of you. I hope you'll do what's right.[/i]" The holographic interface closed, leaving Zharn, Ahkrin and Orpheus alone in the quarters Zharn had been assigned. They were spacious, well-befitting an officer of his rank. But even this far away from the main battery, they could still feel the terrible shuddering of the plasma cannons as they tore their way into the flesh of the planet below. There was silence for what must have been a minute, as they all sat back despondently in their chairs. "It will be hard, being under the command of a madman," Orpheus finally spoke, breaking the silence. "And I hear he harbours no love for my kind." "But what can we do?" Zharn asked hopelessly. "My command lays vested on the ground, not here in the stars. Ahkrin is barely respected due to his status as both a stealth Sangheili [i]and[/i] member of a disgraced house--" "Thanks," Ahkrin butted in with mock indignation. "If anyone needs me, I'll just be slitting my wrists." "-- and Orpheus is a Jiralhane," Zharn finished, not even dignifying Ahkrin's sarcastic interjection. "Vadam'ee was our last hope." "I say we kill him," Ahkrin suggested. "That's your solution to everything," Orpheus replied bitingly. Ahkrin shrugged. "I find it works well. But no, there [i]is[/i] a way we can kill him legitimately... well, Zharn can." "I'm not about to challenge my superior, Ahkrin," Zharn cut in sharply. "No matter how insane he is, there are some things more important. Honour, loyalty and duty; these are what make us Sangheili." "True," Ahkrin conceeded. "And Xatan'ee is besmirching all of these traits. Vadam'ee told us he could do nothing, and stressed the 'I' part multiple times." "You're reading into it far too much," Zharn muttered darkly, folding his arms. "He hopes we'll do the right thing, Zharn. You know what that means." * * * The gravestone was but one of thousands, scattered across the fields of mourning in the morgue of High Charity. An unassuming shaping of blue light, a chalis holding the stasis-ball which held within Sorran's ashes. Savara wrapped her hands around the ball tightly, tears streaming down her face as she did so. The touch sent an impulse to her brain, stimulating the thalamus and trawling through the network of syapses. Subtly, memories of Sorran rose to the surface; almost every moment she'd spent with him played in her mind in a montage of reminiscence. The first time she'd set eyes upon him, knowing he was indecent but not averting her gaze. Their first courting, a walk through the ship ending at the aft observation deck, where they had held each other in the warm gaze of the stars. A kiss, warmth cutting through the cold of the room and setting her hearts aflame. Their passions had continued, feverishly making their way back to her quarters.