A very Zharn/Ahkrin centric chapter. There will be some Sorran loving in the next. [b]Part 31 -- Vistations to the past[/b] The 'anti-gravity' port was abuzz with the thousands who were seeking leave from High Charity. A warm violet glow spilled over the edge of the device that contained the beam, which was streaming down and touching the rolling cobalt hills of southern Sangheilios. Every second, the unique sound of the boosted gravity propulsion drive sounded as it ferried people to the ground. "I don't want to leave you, Minister," Hem protested vehemently. Restraint shook his head and rolled his eyes. "My friend, you will be gone a mere week. I've doubled the regular guard to compensate for yours and Sorran's absence," he assured, motioning to the dozen vigilant Honour Guards standing behind him. "And I keep a plasma pistol on my bedside cabinet just in case." "Old friend, you'd more likely melt your own face off rather than any assassin's if you tried to use it," the older Honour Guard chuckled. "Still, I am loathe to leave you. Especially now that you are taking a more... outspoken approach to life." "Hem, you haven't seen your family for years. And I'm sure Sorran could benefit from Master Katoth'ee's instruction. I'm ordering you to go." "... It [i]has[/i] been a long time since I last saw my grandchild," Hem conceded, wrestling with the decision in his mind. Finally, his shoulders sagged. "Very well, Minister. Try not to burn the manor down." "You still haven't let that go," Restraint muttered. He then turned to me. "You've been to Sangheilios before?" "Not since I was a child," Sorran confessed with a little shame; it was not right that he had forsaken his birthplace so. But every time High Charity had stopped at Sangheilios in the past, he'd been too engrossed in scholarly duties to even think about asking for leave. "Then you will enjoy your time on the planet. There are few non-Sangheili there, as any other member of the Covenant save hierocracy officials require permits to visit. The planet is mostly unchanged from what it was pre-Covenant." "We'll be visiting the capital, San," Hem told Sorran with a smile. "I'll introduce you to my house. It is not a large or important one, but it will make you feel welcome. Do not think this will be a vacation, however. My mentor will be tutoring you." "... your mentor is still alive? Surely he must be the oldest Sangheili in the galaxy," Sorran commented with a sly smirk, which earned him a cuff on the ear from Hem. "Do not speak to Master Katoth'ee like that, Sorran. He is not nearly as kind and understanding as myself--" [i]Boosted gravity propulsion drive free. Please proceed to descension areas,[/i] the recorded voice of a bored-sounding Sangheili sounded across the hall. Hem nodded, and looked one last time at Restraint. "Remember, Minister. Incense candles are all well and good as long as you remember to--" Hem began, and was cut off by Restraint. "Yes, yes, I learnt my lesson. Now go. Would that I could join you, but alas my health..." the Minister stared wistfully out the viewing windows down at Sangheilios, before shaking his head. "I'll see you both soon," he concluded, reaching out an arm to Hem. The older Sangheili took it like he would with a brother-Sangheili. Such connections were incredibly rare between Prophets and Sorran's kind. Next Restraint grabbed Sorran's hand, fondly, but lacking the bond Hem and he shared. That was to be expected though. "Stay safe, Minister," Sorran blessed formally. Restraint responded to this ceremonious gesture with a laugh. "You too, my boy. After all, if anything happens to you, who will carry on this terrible secret we share?" "Assuring as always, Minister... if I may be so bold, Restraint, could you perhaps..?" Restraint looked up skyward in despair, nodding. "I will have someone keep an eye on Savara whilst she is on this station, yes. Now is there anything else?" "No," Sorran answered, reassured that she would be safe. He may be dead, but would certainly do his best to always protect Savara from beyond the grave. "Then go, both of you. I will meet you when you arrive back." * * * Ahkrin walked across the length of their quarters towards Zharn solemnly, a dagger unsheathed in his outstretched hands. He knelt before the Sangheili Ultra, offering the shining blade up to Zharn, who blinked with surprise. "What's this for?" Zharn asked weakly. Ahkrin continued to stare down at the floor. "You seem to be suicidal, Zharn. What I'm offering here is a far quicker and less painful death than the one you will suffer at Xatan'ee's hands come dawn," Ahkrin murmured in that deadpan-serious tone he sometimes joked in that Zharn hated. He rolled his eyes and batted the blade out of the stealth Sangheili's hand. It hit a fruit bowl on the other side of the room, spearing a ripening plum taken from Eridanus II's surface before it was glassed. Purple juice oozed out of the wound. "How metaphoric," Ahkrin remarked, amused as he stared at the plum. Zharn took a few moments to grasp what he was saying, and punched his friend lightly on the shoulder. "Hilarious, Ahkrin. It's lovely to know you have so much confidence in me. I am good with a blade, you know." "Xatan'ee is better," Orpheus suddenly spoke in his deep baritone, breaking his often-long bouts of silence. "When he was younger he competed in tournaments, and won most of them--" "I've seen the 'casts," Zharn grumbled, folding his arms and frowning. "But he is not so young now." "Neither are you," Ahkrin chuckled. "The females seem not to think that when we are out on reprieve, and you are left alone at the bar whilst I--" "This is not the time for your banter," Orpheus interjected forcefully, great chest heaving as he breathed heavily. "... let me fight for you, Zharn." "That is not the Sangheili way," Zharn lectured drolly. "And I don't want you sneaking into his quarters in the middle of the night and cutting his throat either, Ahkrin." "Please, Zharn," Ahkrin uttered with indignation. "I would not be so crude as to use a blade; I would use poison--" "No," Zharn reinforced, before leaning back in his chair heavily and brooding. "Every warrior who has passed underneath my gaze has been taught by me the value of honour and integrity. I will not abandon those morals out of cowardice. My father's memory would be shamed. I will meet Xatan'ee in the duelling ring tomorrow, and by the time the duel is over either his head shall be in my hands or mine in his." "And you call Jiralhanae barbaric," Orpheus smiled, shaking his head. "If you win you'll be fleetmaster," Ahkrin mused, a smile already crossing his face as he no doubt thought about the profiteering that could be gained from having a friend in such a position. "Yes... just as father always wished to be," Zharn reminisced sadly. "He perhaps could have been one if he hadn't adopted a Sangheili from such a shamed house as mine," Ahkrin sighed with guilt, looking away. Zharn grabbed him by the shoulders, and stared him in the eyes sincerely. "He never once thought like that, my dear friend. You were like a son to him. When you left, he was devastated. And exhausted considerable time and wealth searching for you." "I did not want to be found; I was young and foolish, Zharn. Would that I could speak to your father one last time -- I would ask his forgiveness." Zharn shook his head. Orpheus watched the personal exchange uncomfortably. "You would not have needed to. He loved you from the day he took you home to the day he ascended to the journey as one of his own, Ahkrin. And if he were here today, he'd be proud of you." "Of us both, I think," Ahkrin affirmed, and the two exchanged that brotherly grip of the Sangheili that Orpheus could still not fathom. There was an awkward silence for what seemed like hours, and finally Zharn's shoulders sagged. "I cannot sleep tonight," he complained, tapping the gleaming armour sheathing his scarred arm anxiously. "Tomorrow I will either lose and die, or win and be trapped in the stars for the rest of my life. Neither prospect is very attractive to me." "But the latter is the better one," Orpheus laughed. "Do you wish to spar some more?" Zharn looked down at the blade resting limply in his hand. It cast a dull glow on the floor, and hummed almost like the wings of a Yanme'e. He touched the Forerunner glyph reading 'deactivation' lightly, and the plasma retreated back into whatever source within the blade it came from. "No. I have used the blade all my life; a few hours now will not help in any way, only tire me. Let us talk some more. Ahkrin, go make tea." The stealth Sangheili was aghast. "Why me?" "Because you're not fighting a duel to the death tomorrow or too large to fit properly into the kitchen," Zharn said candidly, staring at Ahkrin behind barely veiled amusement. Finally the other Sangheili's shoulders sagged with resignation, and he nodded. "Fine!" "Milk, two sugars," Zharn called after him as he left the lounge of his quarters to enter the small food preparation area. Ahkrin whistled, and the kettle switched on and began venting recycled plasma throughout its magnetically charged shell to heat the water within. "So, Ahkrin left when he had sixteen standard years," Orpheus commented nonchalantly, leaning back. Zharn nodded. "That's right. And in the same day I lost my brother and dearest friend. I never thought I'd see him again." "How did you reunite, then?" Zharn looked sideways out of the window, staring for a while at the Banshees and Seraphs flying past the [i]March of Righteousness.[/i]