Remember the good old days, when a chapter was one post long? You have no idea how long this took to format, let alone write; I hate the 10,000 character-limit with a passion. A Sorran-lite chapter here, but he'll be back in force in the next. It's all going down. Thanks for reading, you're all my muse. [b]Chapter 38 - Gods and their weapons[/b] High Charity was clothed in a black dawn; light spilled across the great expanse of the city, but didn't touch any of it. Fear and suspicion clouded the air; doors remained closed, the streets remained empty and the only air traffic was that of banshees and other tools of the prophets hovering in the sky. Ahkrin watched as Jeann'ee's men scurried about the small makeshift hangar, making the final preparations. A phantom sat in the centre of the bay; purple, military, and Ahkrin's heads-up-display registered it as emitting a Covenant IFF. "You stole a phantom?" Ahkrin asked of Jeann'ee as he heard the other Sangheili move up beside him. "You'd be amazed at what the Covenant leave just lying around," Jeann'ee smirked, his eyes telling a more macabre story. "It should take us where we need to go undetected." "Have you seen the amount of traffic in the sky, Jeann'ee?" Ahkrin demanded, pointing beyond the one-way shield which barricaded the exit of the hangar at the open air of High Charity beyond. The dreadnought sat ubiquitous in the distance, from here but a small triangle on a colossal landscape. "Surely we'd be better on foot." "On any other day, yes," Jeann'ee replied, self-confidence emanating from him in every respect. "The Covenant usually keeps a tight leash on anything in the air, even if it registers as friendly. But on this morn, the last thing they'll care about is a phantom heading towards a restricted area. They won't even notice... for a while, at least. They're busy searching for--" "Sorran, I know," Ahkrin muttered, mixed emotions of anger and regret flooding him. He reached into his pocket and felt his hand wrap around the violet crystal inside. It hadn't so much as flickered, no matter how much he'd tried to coerce activity out of it. "He made his choice. He can live or die with the consequences." "That's the Descol'ee I remember," Jeann'ee smiled broadly, clapping Ahkrin on the back with a heavy hand. The man took in a deep breath, as if savouring it. "I look forward to our little adventure, old friend. Perhaps it may be the first of many more." "Not a chance," Ahkrin breathed, shrugging away Jeann'ee hand. "And I'm not your friend." "Then who is?" Jeann'ee taunted, breaking off from the conversation before Ahkrin could retort. He began to move down the stairs towards the phantom. "I'm going to make sure everything's good to go. Grab your gear, we leave within the hour." Ahkrin entered his quarters a few minutes later, and felt a weight press on his shoulder. As quick as a blink he drew a gun and spun around, pressing its barrel into whoever was behind him. Recognition flashed in a blend of violets, neon blues and pinks, and he slowly stowed the gun away. "Restraint's Huragok?" he asked, and saw the floating creature begin to move its tendrils slowly in signed reply. He shook his head. "You need not do that, I understand your tongue." The Huragok seemed hesitant for a moment, and then began to contort its mouth and exert gas from its sacs to produce the whistles and clicks its kind communicated in. "Sorran," it stated, sounding out the letters of Sorran's name in its own language. Ahkrin waited for further elaboration, but received none. "You want to know where Sorran is?" he guessed, taking a step towards it to close the distance. He saw the Huragok flinch, and frowned. It seemed to struggle for words. "Yes," it finally answered. Ahkrin assessed the Huragok's body language for a few moments; he noticed traces of fear in its stance, but ultimately concern seemed to win out. "He's gone," Ahkrin replied bluntly, walking away and moving to take his equipment. As he moved his hands and legs into his light armour, it melded itself around him like a second skin. He noticed a gash in the chest from where he had first been attacked by Hem in Restraint's manor. "Gone..." the Huragok seemed to wrestle with the word. Ahkrin began to attach his folded weapons to the clasps on his armour; a plasma rifle hung just below the belt, adhesive grenades hid inside a closed container on his shoulder. "I don't want to speak of it," Ahkrin concluded resolutely, fastening on his helm; its technology interfaced with the implants he wore, painting the world in sharper colours. A warning spiked in the top left of his vision; his blood pressure was almost dangerously high. "Gone... where?" the Huragok insisted, its voice more frantic now. Ahkrin sighed with impatience, his fists closing. "I know not; to his death, most like. You stay here, I will return and figure out what to do with you." "You won't," the Huragok insisted. Ahkrin turned his head, glaring at the fragile creature. The next words he had to grind out. "When I give my word, I keep it. I [i]will[/i] return." Ahkrin stormed out, wondering what little integrity he must have if even a Huragok doubted his word. If his adopt-father could see him now... well, he'd certainly have a few strong words for him. Words the man's blood-son would no doubt batter to him as well. But for now Zharn was safe in his little fleet high above, oblivious to the world-changing game being played below. And that was probably for the best - the game needed players who understood how the cheat it, and Zharn was not nearly deceitful enough to be one.