It's been a fair while, sorry about that. You're probably all playing ME3 (you should be!) but here's a small chapter for you anyway; thanks for reading and don't fear the reaper. Enjoy! [b]Part 37 - Daggers in a cloak[/b] "How could you do this, Imperial Admiral? You're supposed to protect these people, and yet you choke the lives that have been placed in your hands," Zharn asked of Grymar'ee as they walked along through the all-too silent streets, the gentle aftermath of an earlier storm all that played behind their voices. "Morality... it's all a matter of perception, fleetmaster," Grymar'ee answered in haggard tones, plodding alone with a hunched back some five metres ahead of them. They'd patched the man's leg up hastily, and although he still made a satisfactory whimper of pain when he put pressure on it, he could walk. Orpheus flanked his side and Zharn his rear, like they were keeping a herd of wild animals in line. "It's the one thing the poor and common can afford that men of power such as we cannot." "A line has to be drawn somewhere," Zharn persisted angrily. "Your daughter could have been amongst those dead!" "I tried to have her brought to me before this began, but... she's stubborn and resourceful, like her father," Grymar'ee answered quickly, and uncertainly, as if he were not accustomed to speaking of his personal life with others. "One of my conditions before accepting this mission was that she be kept safe. I am told she is in protective custody until I come for her." "What makes you think she wants to see you? She hasn't for the better part of a decade," Zharn cut ruthlessly. The Imperial Admiral's back hunched even further. "Savara and I haven't always... seen eye to eye, but I am her family. I'm all she has, and she's all I have. That's a bond that can't be broken." "Family's a privilege, not a right. You've got to be there for them, otherwise it's just biology." "What do [i]you[/i] know of family, Thierr'ee?" Grymar'ee suddenly barked from up front. Orpheus tensed as if expecting a moment of foolishness from the restrained Imperial Admiral. "I knew of your father; he was a fool to challenge the orders of the San 'Shyuum. It seems the son has not learnt from the father's mistakes--" "I don't need your tongue to lead us," Zharn spoke coldly, and didn't raise his voice. "One more word of ill about my father and you lose it." He meant it, too. Grymar'ee promptly shut up, and continued his walk in silence. Orpheus looked him over, before wordlessly falling back and joining with Zharn. "Why have you spared this traitor?" the Jiralhanae asked him, not accusing but simply wanting an explanation. Zharn looked to check they'd be out of ear-shot, and leant over to Orpheus conspiratorially. "I know his daughter," he began. "You remember me telling you of Sorran?" "Your friend," Orpheus affirmed, thankfully neglecting the morbid details. "What of him?" "He was... intimate with Grymar'ee daughter. I can't kill her father, it'd crush her no matter what the Imperial Admiral's done. Sorran wouldn't want that." "You're suggesting we let this murderer go because your friend had sex with his daughter?" Orpheus demanded, the respect gone now. "They loved each other," Zharn protested weakly. "Sorran wasn't just my friend, Orpheus. He was my brother, like Ahkrin. When a Sangheili becomes your brother, you don't just look after him. You look after everything he cares for too." Rain fell, seeming to concentrate into a dense shroud around Grymar'ee. Orpheus stared through the veil for a few moments, he canines protuding from his lips in an almost feral way. "I will... respect your wishes," Orpheus finally conceded. "But what do you suggest we do with him? You say he operated on the wishes of the hierarchs, or at the very least the sanctum. Even were he not, it's our word against an Imperial Admiral's." "... we'll deal with that when it comes," Zharn decided, uneasy himself. "My primary concern right now is exposing and putting an end to this vile affair, and avoiding the executioner's block." "It seems we're always running from death, my friend," Orpheus observed sadly. "Does it?" Zharn answered with mock surprise. "I was under the impression we keep rushing towards it." * Sorran clambered across the artificial beach of Lake Charity, straining to see through the heavy mist. Petrichor stained the air, the lake being gently stirred by the soft gyration of High Charity. Sangheilios' moon cast its glow down upon the water, beams of light refracted off its shimmering surface. [i]There![/i] he saw with a sigh of relief, seeing the small diminutive silhouette of Jajab carved into the fog. He doubled his pace, raising his hand in greeting. "Jajab! It's good to--" he began to speak, and just as suddenly stopped. It wasn't Jajab he saw by the waters; rather, his clothing supported by the branch of a tree, a transponder wrapped around the wood's 'neck.' [i]What is this?[/i] he wondered, approaching the loose hanging of clothes tentatively. A flash of white hung amidst the black of Jajab's overcoat; paper, hanging from a piece of thread. Such an antiquated means of communication, that alone told Sorran that something was wrong. Black runes were hastily scrawled onto the paper. He reached out and took it, noting that it was bone-dry. There had been a storm not two hours ago. The message was recent. Sorran looked at it, his scholar's mind automatically deciphering the Unggoy language. [i]Middle of the lake. Boat by the pier,[/i] was all it read, followed by a signing of Jajab's name. It was almost certainly the elderly Unggoy's handwriting, which made Sorran ignore his better judgement and look down to the pier indicated in the note. Sure enough, a boat was moored by it; a cheap, wooden thing lacking even a basic gravity-defier. It bobbed up and down in the lake slowly, a pair of paddles submerged in a pool of mist. Sorran looked out to the middle of the lake, but his eyes could not pierce the thick shrouding of fog which smothered the air. For a few moments, indecision plagued him. This had all the markings of a trap, and had Ahkrin been here he would have said the same thing and no doubt fire out several shots at the middle of the lake just to be safe before leaving. That was Ahkrin's reaction to everything, though. Paranoia was a tool his trade. Curiosity was a tool of Sorran's. "Nothing ventured..." Sorran murmured under his breath, before slowly heading on down to the wooden boat. He made sure his plasma rifle was in quick reach, with the safety off. Rot had infested the boat; it was clear the vessel had been left moored at the edge of the lake for some time. Studying it closely, it even seemed human in design; possibly a spoil of war long forgotten. Sorran gingerly clambered into it, feeling the delicate planks of wood sagging under his weight. He hoped the lake was not too deep. Sorran had never rowed a boat before; naval transport was something rarely used outside of kig-yar culture, a species whose sea-trade still thrived on their homeworld Eayrn due to bad atmospheric conditions rendering air transport unfeasible. But for most of the rest of the Covenant, their feet seldom touched water -- the skies were the only ocean they needed. Even so, he understood the principle behind it. After a few minutes fumbling around, he managed to push himself away from the pier and set off towards the centre of the lake, the wooden bow slicing its way through the fog, ripples rising and fading away into mist. He saw dark shapes move under the water, and hoped that whatever creatures lurked below were docile. It would be a shameful end to be swallowed by a fish after everything he'd been through. After what must have been nearly half an hour, finally Sorran could make a shape out in the distance. A small light illuminated the silhouette of the other boat. He could dimly see a small figure on the boat, a smudge of shadow amongst the grey. "Jajab?" he called out loudly, his mouth moist with dew and lips numb with cold. "Is that you?" [Edited on 03.06.2012 2:32 PM PST]