"You'll get used to it," one of the escorts behind him spoke. "These ones won't be here much longer anyway, so you don't have to worry about hearing them whine much--" The glare Sorran shot him could have killed a less steely man, shutting the guard up immediately and prompting him to edge closer to the Mglekgolo and out of Sorran's reach. "We're going to have [i]dinner[/i] with the man who sanctions this?" Sorran demanded of Ahkrin accusingly, as if his friend were the one locking the children behind steel bars. Ahkrin looked away with shame. "Jeann'ee is the only one on this station who can get us to the dreadnought undetected, and then off High Charity after that. We need to appease him, and I fear my presence no longer carries the respect it once did here. You are sure we need to see the Oracle?" "It told the hierarchs all this for a reason," Sorran affirmed stoically. "I highly doubt it was just to pass the time. We need answers from it." "You think it will just wake up after a decade of dormancy? You said Restraint told you it hasn't shown any sign of activity since that fateful period in which the current hierarchs ascended to power." Sorran remembered all the whisperings he'd heard in his dreams and mind over the past few months, and knew in his hearts that he was being summoned by the Oracle, consciously or unconsciously. There was no one else it could be, it wanted to see him. Or perhaps he just going crazy. "I'm sure," was all he said, just before they passed through the door at the end of the hall and came out into the dining area. It was remarkably civilised considering the degeneration he'd just witnessed. A small hall with a very low ceiling as common throughout the rest of the underground complex; a few paintings decorated the walls, and centred in the middle of the room was a long table with chairs situated around it in a pattern. Orbs of flame hung suspended in the air above, casting an ephemeral glow across the black sheet blanketing the stone of the table. At the head of the table sat Jeann'ee, and no other. It looked as though it would just be the three of them dining tonight. "You're all looking a good deal cleaner," the criminal leader greeted them cheerily. "We washed off a lot of blood," Ahkrin retorted sharply, the implications of his words evoking a smile from Jeann'ee. "I'm sure you did. Food will be brought out soon, prepared by my very best chef. Please, sit." They took a seat at the other end of the table, a gulf separating them from Jeann'ee. Sorran pushed a flame-orb out of his way as it drifted too close to him, easing his way into the seat and glaring down the stone path at Jeann'ee. "We have business to deal with," he spoke curtly, not trusting his tongue to run at any significant length of time. "Yes," Jeann'ee smiled, showing the long canines that lined his jaw; so sharp were they for a Sangheili, almost looking as if they belonged to a Jiralhanae. "I understand that you need a way into the Forerunner Dreadnought. I believe I can help you with that." He paused then, for dramatic effect. His smirk curved even more. "There is however, one condition." There were a few seconds after he said that until they realised they were supposed to play along with this game. "What is it?" Ahkrin demanded with contempt, hands curling to fists underneath the shroud of the table. Jeann'ee chose that moment to study a spoon closely, perhaps checking that there was still a soul behind his eyes. "Nothing too major. Hardly an inconvenience to you at all, really." "Spit it out," Sorran interrupted, moments away from an angered outburst. Jeann'ee spread his hands innocently, coughing with delicacy. "You have to take me to the dreadnought with you," he told them, and suddenly the doors behind him burst open, allowing the noise of the kitchen to spill through into silence that had instantly greeted his words. "Ah, dinner!" * [i]Tick. Tock.[/i] Surreal as it was, what bothered Jajab most about it was the faint clicking noise it made every few seconds, as if to tell him it was still active. A dim right light pulsed beneath the heavy jacket he wore, which draped over the jagged edges of the device like snow across mountain crests. [i]I'm wearing a bomb,[/i] Jajab thought for the millionth time, his brain still unable to fully wrap itself around the concept that strapped to him was an ordnance of explosives primed to blow at the touch of a button. They'd strapped it to him as if he were some expendable Huragok. Whoever 'they' were. He'd recognised Pel, and at first had hoped he'd found safety, a friendly face despite the suspicion he held. But that had soon faded away as he'd realised that Pel was garbed in the night of an Ossoona, and he'd seen all the men who answered to his command. An Ossoona. That meant he was working with the Prophets. Which confirmed that they'd been the ones to kill Restraint. And now they were sending him to find Sorran and deliver him a message. If he didn't comply, then they'd activate the explosives attached to his harness and send him to whatever afterlife there was in pieces. There had been no mention of Hem, which meant he had to be dead. Jajab felt a small pang of loss; he'd never truly considered the old honour guard a friend, but had respected him and relied upon him as a constant in his life. [i]Sorran...[/i] Jajab liked Sorran. He wasn't arrogant like most Sangheili, nor did he treat him differently for being Unggoy in a world where almost all Sangheili (including Hem) dictated to his kind as a result of their strength and perceived superiority, it was surprisingly refreshing. Sorran would notice there was a bomb strapped to him, and keep his distance. Even so, the explosives on Jajab weren't powerful enough to puncture the honour guard shielding he would no doubt be wearing they were just a deterrent to make sure Jajab didn't do anything Pel didn't want to... or a way to deal with him afterwards. But hopefully it wouldn't come to that. Jajab would deliver his message and return to Pel, who would-- [i]What, free you? With what you know? Don't be absurd, you old fool,[/i] he critiqued himself with disgust, cold logic finding a gap in the wall of terror that had been blocking his thoughts for so long. [i]The only way you're getting out of this mess is by leaving your body behind.[/i] It was an oddly reassuring thought, though. To know one's death was inevitable; after so long fleeing from it, Jajab finally realised that death wasn't a terrifying end, it was another question waiting to be answered. He didn't know if there [i]was[/i] a great journey or not, but either way he'd soon find out. Still, there was still that tiniest vain of hope. Perhaps Sorran could do something; perhaps he wasn't alone the young Sangheili was by no means a poor warrior, but Jajab couldn't imagine him besting a skilled Ossoona like Pel and forcing him into retreat by himself. Of course, the problem was actually finding Sorran to begin with. High Charity was a big place, full of places to hide that the Prophets didn't even know existed. It was knowing this that Jajab had sent out a transponder to Sorran; with Restraint's manor destroyed, Jajab had no idea whether it would work any longer, and even then there was no guarantee Sorran could or [i]would[/i] answer. But he could think of nothing else to do. He would wait an hour for the Sangheili to reply, at least. Glumly, Jajab sat down on the ground he walked near Restraint's house; he could smell the smoke coming from the manor in the near-distance, see the charred remains of the manor that had been his home for so many years. All the while the red light on his small chest beat against the still-falling rain, and the tiny clicking noise of the explosive harness filled his ears like the buzzing of an insect. [i]Tick. Tock.[/i] *