[i]Knock, knock![/i] the door of Zharn's new fleetmaster quarters pounded heavily. He looked over at it wearily, through the translucent medium of the bottle he held, filled with a foul tasting human alcohol. "Enter!" he shouted, wanting to turn the person on the other side away but knowing it could be important. He was fleetmaster now, after all. The tens of thousands under his command relied upon him to be their leader. And here he was, sitting in the dark and feeling sorry for himself, drinking from a bottle. Hardly the ideal role model. He was faintly surprised when he saw Orpheus standing in the doorway as the door slid open with a chime and hydraulic hiss. Even further surprised when the Jiralhanae threw two lekgolo worms in his direction. They landed on the floor in a tangled heap, very much dead. "These two were assigned by Xatan'ee prior to his death to kill any who replaced him," Orpheus stated blankly. "I found them in the vents above these quarters." Zharn stared at the shrivelled eel-like creatures for a few moments, before frowning. "You fit in the vents?" he asked with a smile, drawing out a laugh from Orpheus. Ice broken, Zharn stood up and beckoned the Jiralhanae in. "My thanks, Orpheus. Many times now you have saved my life." "That is what friends do," the Jiralhanae replied with sincerity, taking a look around Zharn's new quarters. "Well, Fleetmaster Thierr'ee. Quite the place you have here." It was indeed. Fine carpets of deepest magenta lined the floor, inlaid with gold leaf. Embedded into the walls were small ornate carvings made from white marble, each one representing a different Forerunner cliff. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, suspended by anti-gravity technology. Encircling it was a holographic representation of a sacred ring. "I hate it," Zharn confessed. "All the pompadour and ritual that comes with being fleetmaster; I never truly wanted this, Orpheus. Give me my armour, a blade and an army to face on the ground and I'd be happy." "Sometimes life takes turns we do not expect," Orpheus professed gently. "I myself expected to be chieftain of another pack right now, resigned by the Covenant to lowly duties too meagre for Sangheili. Instead, I find myself friends with a powerful Sangheili who commands a large fleet." "Strange twists indeed," Zharn agreed, taking another swig from his bottle. "But I do not deserve any of this, my friend." "Why?" Orpheus demanded. "Because you could not match another with a blade? That does not mean you are not going to be a great leader, my friend. Do not dwell too long on what is done. Ahkrin had only the best intentions--" "Do not speak his name," Zharn interrupted coldly, eyes heavy as he thought of his once-friend. Orpheus seemed taken aback. "Anything he did, he did for you," the Jiralhanae told him forcefully. "Surely you must know this." "If he cared for me at all, he would have let me die." "That's absurd," Orpheus chastised. "And you know it. I did not know your friend Sorran, but did he too not die recently? Would you really have saddled Ahkrin with the loss of another one close to him?" "He would have survived," Zharn droned. "Ahkrin always survives." "Well, now he is gone," Orpheus stated bluntly. Zharn finally tore his gaze away from the drops of alcohol trailing their way down the almost-empty inner glass of the bottle, and looked up at Orpheus with what he hoped was nonchalance. "Where?" he asked in a neutral tone of voice. "To High Charity," the Jiralhanae told him. "He's been requested. And he may not return." "I don't want him here," Zharn snorted with disgust. "In fact, I may issue a proclamation throughout my fleet stating he is not welcome." "You do not mean that," Orpheus argued with a little anger now. Zharn shrugged. "Orpheus, I appreciate you killing the two lekgolo assassins. And your concern for my personal life. Truly. But right now, I have matters of importance to attend to. Starting with you on this fleet." Orpheus looked away then, darkness seeping into his gaze. "Of course," he murmured. "This is a Sangheili fleet. I almost forgot that I am not welcome here." "No," Zharn replied, placing his hand on the Jiralhanae's armoured shoulder. "I would like you to be the Jiralhanae liaison for this fleet. Your people are an important aspect of Covenant society now, even if some Sangheili take issue with that. And we must treat your people with respect should we keep the peace. With your help, I would like to take the first step towards that respect." Orpheus was stunned for a few seconds at the fleetmaster's suggestion, before breaking out in a great grin and nodding profusely. "It would be my honour, fleetmaster," he thanked, sinking down to one knee. "I pledge my allegiance to you." "I welcome it," Zharn replied. "I will discuss the details of your position later, my friend. For now, I must co-ordinate with the supreme commander and plan where we shall next strike the humans." "I hear very little was discovered on Eridanus II," Orpheus input. "The Cole Protocol," Zharn uttered with distaste. "One day I shall take great pleasure in spilling that man's innards on the floor. Until then, we will work with what we have. Small colony by small colony, we will one day find their homeworld." "And this war shall come to a swift and decisive end," Orpheus concurred. "Then perhaps we can return to seeking the sacred rings." "Salvation for all," Zharn agreed. He turned to leave, pushing all thoughts about Ahkrin and his shattered honour out of his mind. That was the past. Now he had new honour to forge. * * * Ahkrin looked at his two escorts; both Jiralhanae, their fur stinking of heavy musk. Not long ago he would have refused to walk alongside any of their kind. That had changed in recent times. Even so, he still had the feeling that the two taking him to meet the hierarchs were not nearly as sophisticated as Orpheus. "When was the last time you were at High Charity?" one demanded of Ahkrin brutishly, gristle hanging from his teeth unpleasantly. Ahkrin pushed the nasty connotations he instantly associated with that out of his mind. "Some months ago," he reminisced sadly. "My friend was accused of heresy, and sentenced to execution." "What was his name?" the other Jiralhanae demanded bluntly. Ahkrin ground his teeth together. "Sorran," he replied, looking at the corridor he walked through to avoid thinking about his late brother. It was as nondescript as any corridor on High Charity; purple of course, in keeping with much Covenant aesthetics. Several lights cast some small radiance upon the narrow strip, reflecting off the polished armour of the honour guards, most of whom had probably never fired a weapon in live combat in their life. At the end of the corridor, a large set of heavy doors sat which would open into the inner sanctum of the hierarchs, where they conducted private meetings. Suddenly, he heard nostrils flare from either side of him. "He was the one who killed one of us to save a human," the Jiralhanae escort on the left leered, the venom thick in his voice. Ahkrin tensed a little. "Something like that," was all he replied. "He was your friend?" the one on the right smirked, fists curling with anger. Ahkrin reached around his back and felt his fist wrap around the hilt of a knife he had managed to sneak past customs. "That he was," Ahkrin stated boldly. "And what he did was no heresy. I would have done the same if I had been him, with one difference." "Oh?" the Jiralhanae on the left demanded huskily. "I wouldn't have let myself get caught," Ahkrin smiled. The two Jiralhanae's fists balled then, and they wheeled around angrily. Before Ahkrin could do anything, five honour guards were already there. Staves raised, inches away from the Jiralhanae necks. "Know your place, curs," one of the guard spoke angrily. Ahkrin smirked at the Jiralhanae as they looked about with shame, wondering if they would be killed within the next few seconds. "I'll walk the rest of the way alone, thank you all the same," he told them, walking away from the cluster as the Jiralhanae were roughly escorted out by the Sangheili body guards. [i]What possible reason could the hierarchs have summoned me for?[/i] Ahkrin wondered as he walked down the hall. [i]Surely they must know I harbour no love for them. They killed my father, and my friend.[/i] Already he was regretting accepting the summons. Perhaps Orpheus had been right; he should have indeed stayed on High Charity, tried to reconcile his friendship with Zharn. [i]No, forget him. If he places honour above an entire lifetime of brotherhood, then I care not for him,[/i] Ahkrin tried to tell himself, but knew that wasn't the case. Even now, he knew he would still take a bullet for Zharn. Well, there would be plenty of time to make amends later. After he had completed whichever task the hierarchs would ask of him. * * *