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This was...interesting.

That it was interesting made the situation even more interesting, which in turn made Fero 'Oramee even more interested in the subject of interest itself. He hadn't reacted to his assignment with much interest at first, the Prophet of Truth having assigned him to the role of 'warrior diplomat' as part of a meeting with an alien race called the pfhor, but upon meeting the aliens, disinterest had given way to interest and...

The sangheili shook his head. He had a headache coming on for some reason.

"Are you alright?" asked one of the aliens before him, his voice conveying sympathy of the kind that 'Oramee knew wasn't genuine. "You seem a bit...flushed."

"I'm fine..." murmured the sangheili, trying to take his mind off a certain adjective. "It's been a long trip."

"Ah yes. I understand. Such is the price of neutral ground."

Neutral ground, specifically that of a deserted world orbiting a dying star? These aliens had such a concept? This kept on getting better and better.

Of course, as what little diplomatic sense 'Oramee possessed reminded him, "alien" probably wasn't the best term to use, even in thought. Destroying the physical and by rifle and sword, the Major Domo had done his fair share of it. Destroying ideas was another matter however and while the blasphemous idea that humanity had that destroying Forerunner relics instead of properly venerating them was the best course of action wasn't such an issue, given that their heresy would die with them, these...pfhor, were here to stay, at least for the time being. And as per his interest in their similar style of ranks, dividing their warriors into Majors and Minors and colouring their armour accordingly, that didn't seem like such a bad thing.

Well, it won't be provided I can get back to our crusade before long...

Of course, that was where the similarities ended. The pfhor were slightly shorter than the sangheili, albiet taller than kig-yar and even humans, not to mention their trinity of red eyes, making 'Oramee wonder which two he was supposed to meet, or whether he should shift his gaze on a regular basis. That the alien who called himself C'mar was the only pfhor who had removed his helmet was a bonus, but with the rest of his kind wielding shock staffs and rifles similar to the pop guns the humans' warriors bore, he couldn't help but be reminded of his enemy.

"So, you are representative of the Covenant Empire, currently engaged with a race that we've never heard of and, if the tales are true, will probably never encounter either," declared the pfhor Major, as if reading the sangheili's thoughts. "Seems a waste really, but I suppose you will do as you see fit."

'Oramee decided he liked C'mar. While the alien was ignorant of the barbarians' intentions and heretical ideals, he was at least willing to accept practicality and not engage in idle pondering about vague concepts such as morality. Still, given what Truth had told him about C'mar's kind, that probably wasn't that surprising.

"You would want them as slaves then," murmured the Major Domo, making his words part of a statement rather than a question. "You would wish for us to spare some of our foes for your purposes."

The pfhor shrugged. "If you are inclined, then yes, we may consider seeing what this mystery species has to offer." He bore his gaze up to the sangheili's. "But that's not why you're here, is it?"

'Oramee growled. The mgalekgolo in the room had been brought to centre stage.

Then again, if it wasn't for the proverbial behemoth that existed between the Covenant and Pfhor Empire, the sangheili doubted he would have even been here. No doubt the Prophet of Truth hadn't given him all the details, but from what he understood, the pfhor's advanced technology (albiet not applied to their weapons. Must have been a shared human fetish) stemmed from an extinct race they called the jirajo. A race that the san 'shyuum theorized, might be one and the same as the Forerunners, just going under a different name in pfhor culture. A culture that, instead of venerating the relics as they were meant to, simply applied the devices to their own ends and followed their own blasphemous religeon.

Not unlike the humans really...thought 'Oramee bitterly, remembering the utterances he often heard his victims utter before he decapitated them. How can we walk the Path if the galaxy is so full of heresy?

Truth be told, the answer lay in simply converting the pfhor over time, provided the Hierarchs deemed them worthy of embarking on the Great Journey in the same manner as the rest of the Covenant's client species. However, before any further actions were taken, it at least behoved the san 'shyuum to examine some "jirajo" relics, to see if they were indeed one and the same as the Forerunners. If not, then the pfhor were merely ignorant. If so, they were committing heresy and that...well, that would be interesting and for all the wrong reasons.

Well, let's find out...

"As you said, you know why I'm here," declared the sangheili. "I'm here to take some...jirajo artefacts with me back to my superiors. In turn, we are willing to provide you with appropriate compensation and-..."

"No compensation is required," interrupted C'mar. "Only information."

"Information?" asked 'Oramee in surprise. "I'm not sure what I can provide you with, but-..."

"Don't toy with me you overgrown lizard," snapped the pfhor. "I know about your fairy tales about Great Journeys and Forerunners and all manner of legends that while undoubtedly false, no doubt contain grains of truth. I'm sure there is much we could learn from each other. However, since taking slaves in return would not put us in your good graces, my superiors have requested something else. Something very specific."

'Oramee remained silent. And given the growls of his fellow sangheili, their anger building over the pfhor's casual insults, he was clearly an exception to the tense atmosphere developing.

A Prophet should be here...thought the sangheili bitterly, keeping his hand clenched on his plasma pistol, but resisting the urge to actually use it. If they can deal with the likes of jiralhanae, then they could certainly deal with these barbarians...

Well, no matter. If C'mar wanted information, he'd give it to him. And having uttered that fact, the pfhor proceeded to name his terms.

"As I mentioned, you seem to have the humans on the run," began the Major. "A species that seems to be on its way to extinction. A species that, as I understand, you first encountered at a world orbiting a star they call Epsilon Indi."

"Yes, that's correct," murmured 'Oramee, sicked at the thought of the monsters actually naming something. "What of it?"

"Epsilon Indi? Technically nothing. However, you came to realize how many worlds the species inhabited, worlds that stretched across tens of light years. Worlds that still lie in human hands in some instances. And in the interest of seeing what this race has to offer to our empire before you render it extinct, all I ask is that you provide the co-ordinates of the star system of one of these worlds."

'Oramee remained silent for a moment, then nodded. It seemed a strange request, but he couldn't see any harm in granting it.

"I can do that," said the sangheili. "Which star system are you referring to?"

'Cmar grinned. His eyes glowed. His hands clenched. His...well, he gave away multiple hints of his eagerness, his body language betraying all of them. But when he spoke, it was far more direct...

"...Tau Ceti. Give us the co-ordinates of Tau Ceti..."

A/N

The original basis for this was how both the pfhor and sangheili use a Minor/Major system for their warriors (and other Covenant species I guess). Still, it quickly became clear that the similarity wasn't enough to base a oneshot around, hence branching out to other aspects. Luckily, the Halo and Marathon series are clogged with similarities and references. Or unluckily I guess, considering how they've given rise to the moronic theories of them being in the same universe. Meh. Still makes for good writing opportunities though.