Roriks was crouching behind the treeline, looking at the centurion in the middle of the clearing. The centurion had his back turned to Roriks, and was unaware of his presence. Roriks thought about attacking him. It would be best for him, as the centurion could accidentally find him and call for back-up. He couldn't sneak forever through what he believed to be one of their "exclusion zones".

Yes, he would kill him, yes. Kill the centurion. Run at him, stab him in a weak spot, let the pressure escape out of his suit, and the cabal would be dead real quick. After that, take anything of value, and find his base. Steal a ship and get back to the Reef, hopefully without much trouble.

Roriks checked his shields and readied his sabers, the feeling of the leather covering the grip familiar to the claw. How many had he not slashed aside to get where he was today, how far had he not come with what he could get in his hands. Maybe his sabers would get him back to the reef again, where his new, rich and glorious life was awaiting him. A pinge of doubt stung him for a moment at the thought, but he quickly squashed the feeling. The centurion had to die first.

Roriks readied his legs, and with a leap he burst from the bushes, charging the unaware centurion with his saber raised high. Unfortuntately, the centurion was instantly notified of the incoming attack, and he turned around to counter the threat.

The centurion faced the fallen captain head-on. He counter charged Roriks, blunting the enemy attack. The centurion quickly followed up with an overhead strike on the head, attempting to exploit his strenght advantage as much as possible.

Roriks stumbled back from the hit to the head, and he instinctively teleported to the side. With a sleight of hand Roriks swapped his sabers out for his shrapnel gun, and unloaded it on the centurion.

The centurion however was heavily shielded, so the molten slag did little more than annoy the centurion. The centurion responded in kind with a barrage of explosive rounds. Roriks took heavy hits and, under the cover of the dust and and smoke created by the bombardement, he quickly teleported away back behind the treeline.

Roriks appeared behind the trees, and he immediately fell to his knees, a sharp pain stinging up his back. He shouldn't have teleported in such quick succession. Roriks took a look at the power pack on his back. It was fried, signified by the sparks coming off it. Roriks grew worried. From now on he couldn't recharge his shock cores and shields anymore, so he better conserve what arc-charge he had left now. Especially his lack of shields was going to be a problem. He would have to rely far more on his stealth and wits from now on.

Roriks refilled his shrapnel gun with the last cannisters he had left and looked over the bushes. The centurion was still firing at his former location, this time from on top of the ridge. Where he had stood just moments before was now a no-man's land. He could see the earth being thrown up by the impacting rounds and the grass being burned by the high-explosives.

Roriks thought about what he would do now. There was no way now that he could defeat the centurion. After all, He had lost the element of surprise, which was supposed to make up for his inferior strenght and lack of adequate firepower. Fighting was out of the option.

Roriks slumped against a tree and began thinking. Roriks thought about fleeing. He could run, it would be easy to hide in a forest such as this one, but what then? The centurion would alert his brothers of his presence, which would make it a lot harder to steal one of their ships, or to even get into their bases. Furthermore, they would kill him on sight, if this was one of their "exclusion zones". In fact, they would relentlessly pursue him if he was really in their exclusion zone.

So, if he couldn't fight, if he couldn't flee, what would be left to do was to either die or...

"Surrender..."

Roriks started thinking about it. Yes, he could surrender. Wave a flag and hope they would capture him. That way, he would be taken to their camp, where he maybe could steal a ship and get back home, or at least live just a bit longer. After all, if he fought them they would kill him, if he ran from them he would most likely be too busy hiding to escape, which would be his death through asphyxation. But if he surrendered they would try to keep him alive, in a cell. He would at least be alive, hopefully long enough to have a chance at escaping.

Roriks ripped a large piece of green cloth off his cape, and bound it to a thick branch he found laying next to him, the sounds of bombardement still in the background. His cape, the pride of a captain, the pride of his new patron. A green banner with a white sigil. The sigil of an ancient house, a rising house. Roriks laughed wrily. He was already ripping his honor to shreds for survival. Dreg strenght indeed. Roriks inspected his flag. It was mostly green, but a few lines of white in the far upper left.

Roriks crawled back to the bush, and peeked over it. He saw the last few shots landing on the field. Roriks saw the centurion standing at the top of the ridge, standing there for a short moment before retreating behind the top of the ridge. This was his chance. Now he could come out and wave his flag.

Roriks moved to step out of the bush but he held his feet. What if the cabal would just shoot him. He couldn't take a few hits like before anymore, he would be blasted to bits if they shot him. Do the Cabal take prisoners? What could Roriks possibly offer them for his survival? Would the Cabal even recognise his attempt at surrender?

Roriks looked at the flag in his hand. It looked pathetic. He felt pathetic. For hesitating. Hesitation could get you killed, either by the enemy or by your captain. It has been a long time ago since he was a lowly dreg. He did not fear death, because there was nothing worse than being a dreg. Now he was a captain, and now he feared death, because he had so much to lose. Or did he?

He was alone, his crew most likely dead by now. If he got back, what then? He lost his crew, his skiff, everything. All he had left was the banner he had torn, the equipment he broke and his own wits. He had left his crew behind, deep inside that cursed asteroid. What would Elder Variks think of him? Roriks desperately searched for an excuse to survive, anything to allow himself to fight to live another day.

"I am a marvel with ten thousand arms."

The words echoed through his head, in this dark moment of his. The story of how even the lowest may ascend. How a kell may have everything taken from him, and how the dreg may regrow his arms.

Maybe he lost his arms that day. And today he would grow his first arm back.

Roriks gripped the tattered flag tighter, and stepped out into the open, choosing to stand on top of the spot the centurion had bombarded with explosives. He would do anything to survive, to one day be that marvel with ten thousands arms. He was willing to dock and regrow his arms countless times for that. As long as he just survived, he would get there. Dreg strenght indeed.

Roriks looked around him, while holding his flag as high as he could. No sign of the cabal yet. Maybe there was a bigger threat somewhere else. Roriks stepped closer to the cliff, marveling in how it was bigger than him. He supposed he could walk away right now and continue his original pla-

But before Roriks could finish his thought he heard the sounds of a cabal jump-jet flying overhead. The centurion had seemingly decided to fly over him to land right behind him. Roriks quickly put his hands and flag in the air and turned away from the centurion to look less of a threat. The centurion aimed his projection rifle at Roriks and spoke in a deep, raspy voice.

"Drop your weapons and flag. Do exactly as I say or you will be neutralised."

Roriks was surprised. The centurion spoke Human. Why he didn't know, but it was a pleasant surprise. Now he could try to influence the brute to his advantage. It would have been even more ideal if it spoke Eliksni, but he guessed he could talk back in Human.

Roriks dropped his flag and weapons. His visual weapons that were. He kept the concealed shock daggers and pistols underneath his "decorative" strips of cloth. If things went awry, he could at least try to distract him and run past the centurion.

"State your allegiance, rank and purpose in this area."

Roriks smirked. All was going better than expected. Roriks had it all planned out now. Offer himself as an "informant" with this cabal as liaison. Be taken into their camp. Then steal a ship from their camp. He would have to find out how to pilot their ships though, maybe simply ask one of those dumb brutes. Anyway, no matter how bleak, he would find a way.

First things first though, the centurion. He would have to respond in his best Human, as he had learned shuffling boxes for the awoken.

"Eliksni, House Judgement. Captain, reaver-class. My purpose here, is to survive, yes?"

The centurion didn't move, most likely thinking about what Roriks had said. Roriks grew worried. He had hoped he would take him back to his base for further questioning. If this centurion either got all the information he wanted right here or he would think that he did not have any information of value, then he might kill him right here. Roriks had to give him only little bits of information, to entice him to take him back for further questioning.

"Elaborate. Why are you surviving here? Are there any others with you? Why did you surrender?"

"I fled from battle. Lost my crew to the vex. Surrendered as it was my best chance at survival."

Roriks grew tense. He knew the centurion stood right behind him. At any moment the centurion could decide to pull the trigger. If things turned for the worse, Roriks wouldn't come out on top without a scratch.

Then he spoke again, but he raised his voice and he spoke at a higher pace. This worried the Eliksni only more, but in a different way.

"Where did you fight? Why did you engage the vex? How did you get away?"

"I fought in the Reef. We were ambushed. I left crew behind, fled into Vex portal."

An alarming, yet interesting thought went through Roriks's head. The centurion sounded and looked afraid at the mere mention of the vex. What if this centurion was alone? What if his crew was dead? That would explain the absence of legionaries and the centurion's obvious paranoia.

But if that was true, then there was no guarantee that he could get to their camp to find a way back to the Reef. In fact, they would be in a far more desperate situation. Both of them stranded in some unknown location.

Roriks was sure the centurion was panicking now. the centurion spoke even faster now, and with a certain urgency in his voice.

"Where are they? Where are the Vex? What happe-"

But before the centurion could finish his sentence, a yell could be heard in the distance. A human yell. And a high-pitched one at that.

Author's note:

If you are going to review it, please be very critical. I know I made some mistakes, and I want my story to eventually reach its full potential. So please, be critical. :)