A/N:Nope, not dead! Yes, it's been a while, but my muse has finally returned—and a great deal of that is thanks to my absolutely incredible Beta, visitor, who was responsible for writing like 99% of this chapter on a whim. His example got me off my ass, and with his blessing (and some additions of my own) I'm posting it here as an official chapter. This story is just heating up!

In the days that followed the battle, Tim Newman did his best to to conceal how much it had unsettled him. He'd known from the start that he would likely have to fight, even kill, humans to maintain his cover, but he hadn't expected to take pleasure in it. Sure, he felt guilty about it now, after the fact, but in the heat of the moment? He'd savored every kill; reveled in the praise he'd received from his Sangheili 'brothers' for his martial skill. It damned his soul to admit it, but his treasonous alien body craved the adrenaline rush of battle like he'd never experienced as a human.

He tried to keep his mind off of such things by setting into a routine and fraternizing with the crew. Surprisingly, he found he didn't have any difficulty pretending to be Tam 'Valarmee; it was almost distressing how easily he slipped into the persona of the proud Sangheili warrior. Exchanging small talk with the other Sangheili came so naturally that Tim had to occassionally remind himself of his mission; of why he was really there.

The bigger issue was boredom. Despite it's appreciable size, the long-term crew accommodations on the Great Inspiration were rather austere, and options for entertainment were likewise limited. On a UNSC ship, he would have been frozen in cryostasis while the ship was underway until he was needed for deployment, but the Covenant apparently did not make use of that technology. Tim felt that he should perhaps be grateful for the downtime, instead of going from one battle to the next without a chance to process his situation, but in the meantime the sort of scutwork he might have otherwise been kept busy with as a human marine was now beneath his station as a Sangheili warrior.

Belatedly, Tim realized that even as a Sangheili warrior of the lowest rank, he was technically a junior officer. After a human lifetime as an enlisted marine, it was almost comical to think that his elevation in rank was a bigger adjustment than changing species. Just as well, he felt more comfortable around other Sangheili than ordering Unngoy and Kig-Yar Thralls around. The comradery between his Sangheili battle-brothers was not altogether unlike what he'd had with with old UNSC marine squad, but Tim's true loyalty to humanity prevented him from truly bonding with them, even as he learned their names and backgrounds. Except perhaps N'tho, on account of their prior history, but the other Elite didn't know about that.

Which is why he'd agreed to N'tho's offer to spar in the starboard cargo bay, which had been generously set aside for that purpose by the Shipmaster.

It was a decision he was quickly growing to regret.

"Ow," Tim said, as he was dropped to the mat for the seventh time.

All the hand-to-hand training Tim had received as a human marine was near useless in his unfamiliar Sangheili body.

"You sure you want to continue, brother?" N'tho asked, more amused than concerned.

It was tempting to say no. To take the honorable out and forget this painful embarrassment.

"I'm just out of practice," Tim lied, "Captivity may have dulled my skills somewhat."

But this was a deficiency he needed to rectify; if not for the mission, then for the sake of his pride.

"If you say so," N'tho replied with a knowing chuckle, offering an arm to pull Tim back on his feet.

Damn it, why did N'tho have to be so affable?

Tim reached out and took the arm, rising to his feet before returning to his side of the mat and entering a battle stance. "I would rather this than simply stand around and wait for our next assignment—whenever it comes."

N'tho chuckled and settled into a stance of his own. "I understand completely. I remember the last time I—" The sangheili's voice caught, his eyes wide.

For a moment, Tim feared the worst. He knew a flashback when he saw one, and if there were even the slightest connection drawn between himself and the memory he was certain was playing out... "What is it, brother?"

A moment of silence passed; after what seemed an age, N'tho clicked his mandibles and shook his head. "Memories of an old shame. I... have not spoken of it in some time. Truly, I never thought I would speak of it ever again," he said with a sigh. "I will not share it today—I fear the tale will cut as deep for you to hear as it would for me to speak it—but suffice to say, I know what you feel. Not mere boredom, but frustration. A duty left unfinished, or a stain on one's honor left uncleansed."

Internally, Tim gave a sigh of relief. Right, but for the wrong reason, N'tho. "Well then... perhaps we should continue training then. Take our minds off such things for the moment."

N'tho nodded, some lightness returning to his eyes. "Of course, brother. Prepare yourself!"

Shipmaster Khor 'Taremee looked on with approval from the upper catwalk. For everything young 'Valarmee had been through, the lad had rebounded admirably.

The boy had been visibly nervous at first, even if he tried to hide it, but could Khor really blame him? To be captured by the condemned humans was a grave dishonor, and for a scion of such a prestigious noble family as House Valarm... well, Khor had seen promising young warriors take their own lives over less.

It was fortunate, then, that he had another warrior under his command who'd once gone through a similar experience. It was no coincidence that 'Sraomee was the first friendly face to greet young 'Valarmee when he came aboard; 'Taremee had surreptitiously arranged for it, so that young Tam would have someone sympathetic to turn to as he returned to the fold.

Already, Khor could tell that Tam and N'tho were becoming close friends; 'Valarmee interacted with 'Sraomee far more frequently than any other member of the SpecOps contingent. Reports of the lad's battlefield performance were also promising, with eyewitness testimony from Tam's battle-brothers that the young warrior had gone above and beyond what was required or expected of him to wash away the shame of his dishonor.

'Valarmee had even recovered a partial navigational database before the humans could completely erase it; a true prize! The Shipmaster only hoped that it would lead to more human holdouts, or, better yet, lead them to the doorstep of the accursed Kig-Yar pirates that they'd been fruitlessly hunting for months. It was not unthinkable that such lowlifes would engage in covert heretical trade with the infidels, but he'd need to wait for the scribes to finish their work analyzing the data to be sure.

Yes, 'Valarmee would make an excellent permanent addition to the SpecOps contingent, once his transfer became official.

Although... from his vantage point, the Shipmaster could see that the boy was clearly struggling with his martial arts exercises. That wouldn't do. A thought occurred, and Khor's expression changed to the Sangheili equivalent of a predatory smile. Perhaps he should take a personal interest, and give young 'Valarmee some pointers?

Across the expanse of stars, Fischer smiled at the report in his hand; the data being gathered by Newman had already yielded valuable results. The implications of the conversation after the battle against the insurrectionists were particularly intriguing—and, to Fischer's great amusement, quite ironic. Soldiers are gullible on every planet, it seems. Lucky me...

Suddenly, a beeping from the communicator on his desk shook him out of his thoughts. Placing the report down with an annoyed sigh, Fischer pressed a button and answered. "What is it now?"

"Important message from ONI command. They want you to meet with Captain Gibson at HQ."

Fischer raised his eyebrow. This could be either very good or very bad. "What is it he wants to talk to me about?"

"OVID, sir."

After a moment's thought, Fischer cursed. "Shit... fine. Get my transport prepped. And have a full report on anything I missed by the time I get back." He sighed, switching off the communicator. Very bad, then...