Beady yellow eyes gazed through the forestation's undergrowth, watching the small squad of Spartans and Elite enter the overgrowth. The native herbivore's observed over the intruders for any dangerous movement. Loud voices interrupted their observation, causing the small animals to flee in terror.
Michael looked to his left as the small flock of four legged herbivore's galloped away from them into the forest undergrowth. They had startled him, again.
"Calm yourself human, the Yer'klgo will not trouble you; they are a peaceful race that enjoys solitude over violence, let your fear pass like the seasons" The Royal zealot spoke softly, noticing the green Spartan's discomfort.
The Spartan nodded, letting peace govern his mind; which was difficult due to the past hour's events that featured violence and near disaster.
"So, Mort'ang; you mind telling us what the hell is going on?" Gabriel asked bluntly, carefully walking over the undergrowth ferns.
The zealot waited a moment, listening to the forest's natural whisper before replying, "The agreement between our races is hindering upon collapse."
Michael almost coughed out-loud at this news.
"Lack of respect on both sides has brought upon an age of fear between our races, we aren't united under a common survival instinct anymore – we are simply fearful of the years of war to come, the carnage we could and would do to your race." Mort'ang continued, calm in his face but anger in his voice.
"What do you think?" Michael requested slowly.
The Shanghalli paused then spoke, "What our alliance lacks is trust, in order to prosper and live in progress we must simply respect our allies and having senior figures governing our own will and words is a challenge to our own mentality and strength."
Lucifer was listening intently, making no comment as the Spartans asked questions from the logical and wise Shanghalli.
"After the great incursion between two significant members of both our races, it was believed that Human and Shanghalli could share this universe in a peaceful and beneficial manner."
Gabriel stopped him, "Wait, are you talking about the Master Chief and Arbiter?"
"None other, what the Spartan and the Arbiter had in common was a simple amount of respect; they accepted and treated each other in unified friendship. This is something that apparently could never be seen again."
"Because of Storm?" Michael asked quietly.
Mort'ang stopped in his massive steps, turned around and looked confused, "I wasn't aware that humans knew that title."
"We don't" Gabriel said, confused in what Storm could mean.
Michael continued, "Storm is the rouge faction of covenant that controlled the shield world Requiem after the great Schism."
"Well well, I'm impressed, you must have been present on board the human vessel 'Infinity'." The Royal zealot spoke slowly.
The green Spartan nodded, allowing the other Spartans to stare at him in wonder.
They all entered the pelican together, seating themselves around the Shanghalli in order to ask him more questions.
The pilot looked confused, "Where's the rest of your party, and why the hell is there an elite on my bird!"
Michael replied for them, "They stayed back, and don't talk about him that way, his name is Mort'ang, nothing else", anger coursed through his words as he defended the Elite; Gabriel nodded his approval from the side.
The pilot paused and decided to say nothing, instead completely focused on flying his pelican accurately.
The Royal zealot watched over the Spartans, pleased with their company and having them as allies in the universe. His mandibles drew forward, the closest an elite could get to a smile.
"Thank you Friend, I will make sure to repay the favour to you one day."
Michael gleamed over his new title of Friend; it was the greatest compliment he had ever received. He had been referred to as 'Spartan', 'demon', '701', 'rookie' and 'failure' his whole life; somehow talking to this elite helped him feel more human than any conversation in the whole universe.