Determining that further raids would be inadvisable, Roger and the Leopards plan to leave their desert oasis. As they prepare to do so, the serjeant will endure Cadian-style harassment, possible insubordination, and having dinner with an Eldar...

"I never knew they had so many soldiers," Roger said in mild disbelief after hearing the first observation reports on the convoys.

"They certainly have increased their protection," one of the returned Avengers answered coolly.

"Chimeras, troops riding in trucks, and even a tank? What did it look like?"

"Turret at the top of its body, what looked to be heavy firearms on both sides."

"Leman Russ'. Must have imported them from Golgotha. I guess that cutting off the food supply scared enough of the upper parts of society there to make it their soldiers issue. Not an uncommon thing I'm afraid."

"It is not an unreasonable reaction," Moire chimed in. "It is better to risk losing more ground than losing the whole war. But I would never, had I been in charge of any defense, rely on a single line of supplies, especially for something as essential as food."

"Most campaigns are not won on the brilliance of one army, but the incompetence of the opponents."

Moire nodded.

"Given the reinforcement that the convoys have gotten, I would recommend we not attack."

"Kallen wouldn't like that."

"Kallen needs to reign in his warriors. They are speaking into his ear, wanting glory but leading us to a gory death instead."

Roger raised his eyebrows at the harsh response.

"I understand his brashness, but his warriors are taught to always attack, to hit hard and run away. Yours are adaptable for anything, and the Rangers are meant for this kind of operation. You can't force someone to go against their nature and training expecting them to suck it up and move on."

"If it meant that they would possibly get us all killed, I would tell them to, as you Mon-Keigh say, "Get the hell over it."

"And where did you learn that?"

"I believe you can guess."

He would have to talk to Helene about watching her language. Whatever good that would do. Probably would laugh and call him everything but a child of the Emperor. He shook his head and blinked some sand out of his eyes.

"Alright. I'm going to agree with you, but I think we should spend another day or two watching the roads. I want us to start packing up and get ready to leave as soon as possible. Even if we stay, I don't want us risking being ambushed with our pants down."

"Why wouldn't we be dressed?"

"Nevermind. The point is, we're going to be leaving soon, so tell your warriors to get ready to move at a moments notice."

"I am glad to hear that."

One of the Rangers that had come back raised a hand and spoke.

"Additionally, serjeant, we have noticed that patrols, both from aircraft and driving into the desert, are getting closer and closer to us."

"Yes, that's another thing. It's only been a few days since we hit them, and they're probably already figuring out where the hiding spots are. I have a very bad feeling we're about to get hit. So, and this is for everyone to hear, I'm stepping up patrols and asking for further defensive positions around our base. We'll get out of here, but we need time to get everyone, especially if we still have observers out, and there's also the fact if I have to leave this oasis, it's going to be the worst victory the soldiers of Haikk will ever have."

Nods of agreement followed, but the faces were as still as stone.

"Right. There's your orders. I'm going to do what I need to do. Take care of yourselves."

Roger walked away from the gathered warriors, noting with annoyance the unspoken antagonism between the Rangers and the Avengers in the group. He had only spoken with Anya about it the previous night, but either she ignored him, or Morgyn had kept going forward with the idiotic feud. Sometimes he felt as if he was better off talking to one of the palm trees around him. At least they wouldn't look back at him in silence and give a non-answer.

"Eldar," he snorted to himself.

XXXXXX

"Fucking finally, I don't care where we're going, as long as we can leave this goddamn sandbox!"

"Why did I know you would be happy to tell headquarters my decision?"

"Because even though I've been with you less than a week, you figured out that my bullshit tolerance has hit levels that are beyond what even Bastonne could tolerate!"

Roger, standing near the door of the Wave Serpent where the Vox equipment Helene was in charge of, gave her a confused look.

"Who's Bastonne?"

The Cadian whirled around and gave him a look of shock and disbelief.

"You don't know who Lukas Bastonne is?"

"Remember our conversation at the bathing stalls? I'm a dung-covered peasant from a feudal world. I know my liege, my king, and the fact I'm a damned peasant."

Helene rolled her eyes at this and shook her head.

"Lukas Bastonne is the epitome of what being a Cadian is! He came from the upper classes, but joined as a private and rose through the ranks!"

"Sounds like a moron."

She stared daggers into him and continued.

"He went on to save the governor of Agrippina and was awarded no less than the Star of Terra! To this day, he stays on Cadia, awaiting the return of the great enemy from the Eye of Terror."

"Forgive my ignorance."

"Forgiven. But Bastonne is anything but an idiot. He has excellent memory and a tactically superior mind."

Roger nodded politely, wishing to the Emperor she would shut up about what seemed to him an obvious propaganda creation. He pulled the collar on his uniform, the vehicles interior getting a bit hotter, cooler than the desert outside, true, but still getting uncomfortable. Helene had stripped down to a wife-beater and her khaki uniform pants.

"I keep a picture of him in my duffel. Reminds me everyday what I should aspire to be."

"Pray that's the only reason you keep it," Roger muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing. Can you get that message out to headquarters?"

"Sure, let me get this switched over."

She turned back to the Vox equipment, and bent over to change frequencies. Roger scratched his cheek as he did so, before he found himself staring at her rear. He was about to turn away when he noticed that her wife-beater, not tucked in, revealed her lower back. More importantly-

"Is that a butterfly?"

Helene shot up, ramrod straight and put her hands over it.

"Why were you staring at my ass?"

"I wasn't. It's hard not to notice something like that."

"It's not big enough to notice at a first glance."

She whirled around to face him, her face as serious as ever, moving towards him slowly.

"You can just admit you were staring."

"I. Was. Not."

"Alright. But if you want to know, I lost a bet. It was either get that, or make a prank broadcast on our colonel. What would you do?"

"Not make a bet that risks getting a tramp stamp."

He found his back pressed up against the rear door of the Serpent, and saw Helenes arm dart to his left, her palm slamming into the door. He stared straight into her eyes as she did so.

"Surprised a feudal peasant like you would know a term like that."

"A lesson learned from years of being in the Guard."

She was something around six feet tall, taller than Roger, and given her physique, the hapless serjeant realized he may have bit more than he could chew in toying with the Cadian.

"Is me bringing it up and noticing it an insult to you? Or is there some other reason you're holding me prisoner like this?"

"Didn't lock the door, so you can walk out of here if you want."

"I would prefer so."

"Well, I don't know how to open a Xenos made door, so I'm not sure."

"As your serjeant-"

"Didn't you tell me when I first got here that rank didn't matter?"

Roger cursed himself silently. But why was she acting so damn aggressive?

"Look. I get what you're doing."

"What is that exactly-hey!"

He felt her hand run down his chest towards his pant leg.

"C'mon. You don't have to play coy. You're the only friendly human guy around here. I'm your only friendly human female. You've been with these Eldar for what, a month? Couple months? That would make even a priest feel lonely."

"You're making your own assumptions here."

"Really? Well, if it makes you feel better, I won't lie. You're a bit short for me, but I saw how you moved with that sword. You're smart too. That's a rare trait for an NCO. Hell, most guardsmen are smart as bricks, and with less personality."

"You're my subordinate."

She bent her head toward his, and gently put her lips on his. He was frozen in shock now. He felt her hands grabbing at his uniform shirt, trying to take it off. His thoughts raced. How exactly do you tell a Cadian woman to stop? And would they listen? He grabbed her hands and firmly pushed them away. She broke off the kiss, and now she looked confused.

"I thought you wanted this?"

"I wanted to make a joke about your butterfly tattoo," Roger said through gritted teeth.

"So you don't want to fuck?"

"No! Thrones sake!"

"Oh," she said, releasing him and looking more than a little embarrassed.

"Uh, I, er-shit."

"It's… alright. And don't take this as a criticism of your looks, or anything else, I just… until the missions over, I don't want distractions."

"I apologize, serjeant. I guess you weren't the horndog in this goddamn skimmer."

Roger smiled politely and laughed.

"I think I need to figure out how to talk to women better."

Helene laughed.

"Good fucking luck pal."

He laughed as well and opened the door, looking back as the heat of the desert blew in.

"Send Edmund that report. We can talk about… what just happened tonight. If you want to."

"Just talking to somebody would be nice for once. I tried with the others here. I really did! But they either don't like me, or I need to learn what they like talking about."

"Kallen seems to understand us humans better than most, so try him. But I'll listen to you."

Helene smiled.

"Thank you serjeant."

"Keep up the good work Helene."

The door closed as he headed off to bother some of the Eldar in the camp. Standing in the back of the Serpent alone, Helene cringed a bit from the embarrassing spectacle she had just involved herself in. There was also, much to her surprise, more than a little bit of sadness. She wasn't going out of her way to get with Roger, but the fact that he had turned her down left her a bit hollow, and it bothered her that she didn't know why.

"Maybe he likes Eldar women more," she muttered to herself before laughing at the absurdity of the idea.

XXXXXX

As word spread among the Leopards about the retreat from the oasis, it did not take long for Kallen to hear, and immediately complain, about it.

"So we are just leaving? After all the time we've spent here, after all the preparations and-"

"Yes, Kallen, that's exactly what we're doing."

The two were walking around the grassy edges of the oasis, overseeing the construction of defenses around the camp. Roger was more than impressed with the Eldar and their abilities. Give a guardsman time and a shovel, you would get a foxhole, maybe a basic trench system. In only half a day, the Leopards had established a complex trench system, with dugouts complete with holes to stick their rifles and Shuriken Throwers out of. Even better, they didn't strip down or seem to need breaks. The physiology of his warriors never ceased to amaze him.

"I think it is a mistake to do so."

"Have you been on the observation teams? Have any of your Scorpions? I've seen military manuevers with less armored vehicles. We may get away with the advantage of surprise. We-good work there Alax. I almost tripped into your position."

The Ranger nodded in appreciation, Roger turning once again to Kallen.

"As I was saying, we need to cut losses and just move on."

"We could get one more raid in, I know we can!"

Roger was starting to become more and more concerned about Kallen. At first, Roger thought that he was simply trying to show the benefits and skills of his troops. But now it was getting to the point Roger sensed that he was starting to reveal a side of him that was…bloodthirsty.

"Kallen," Roger said, stopping in front of a trench.

"What?" the Eldar grumbled.

"I'm starting to worry about you."

"We are here to fight are we not? Is that why I have been stuck in this desert? To fight?"

"To observe and strike if possible, which we have done-"

"And we still can strike! It is in our name Roger! Striking Scorpions! We hit them hard last time, but we can do it again!"

"What you need to do is prepare ambushes for the inevitable moment the rebels come screaming down the dunes here to get our heads."

"I think we-"

"Drop it Kallen. That is an order."

Roger was surprised by the harshness of his voice as he said so. Even Kallen seemed surprised by the sudden amount of force he had shown. He seemed to cool down, or get back to his senses, whichever seemed better to his sensibilities.

"Very well Roger. I will consult my warriors on vantage points. I will also speak to Moire and Cruniach to find positions best suited for us."

"Wait."

Kallen turned on his heels back towards Roger.

"Kallen, are you alright?"

It was only for a moment, barely perceptible, but either through personal weakness or a lowered guard as he was speaking to someone not of his kind, Roger saw a flash of fear.

"I don't know. My…"

He looked around and saw his kin too busy to pay attention, but spoke in hushed tones.

"I… I feel angry. I feel irritated all the time. It's like something scratching at my skin, I feel pain but I find no scars, I feel anguish over things I don't understand. I feel bloodlust. Something is wrong, but I don't what it is."

Roger gritted his teeth and looked to the ground, as if hoping for an answer in the sand. He took a breath and looked up at the obviously worried Scorpion.

"Is the Mask slipping?"

Kallen showed surprise at his commanders understanding of something as delicate and vital to the Eldari as the War Mask, but given the time he had spent with them, it was probably not too ridiculous.

"It's possible. I do not know. I get lucid moments, like now, but other times, I feel like I just want to charge out there and kill anything I see. It is terrible, but I don't know what to do."

"You're Eldar, you know what's best for you. How about this, keep going as usual, and if it starts getting too much or you can barely control it, I'll send you back to Alwyn and hopefully they can help. I'll get Gwyndair to take command in your stead."

Kallen frowned and nodded.

"It would be scandalous and a bit concerning to my warriors, but I think would prefer an aware and self-admitted danger getting help than being led by an Exarch in the making."

Kallen shuddered in fear at that last part. He had the feeling it was the truth. The years as a Scorpion, the slow degradation of the mask, the lessening of its defensive properties as the cycles wore on, he may have pushed his luck too far.

"Agreed," Roger said with a bit of relief. "Don't get yourself killed or others in harms way because you over-estimated your ability to control such things."

"Thank you Roger. I will try to keep things in control."

The two silently continued inspecting the defenses, an unspoken kinship still strong after the incident that had just occurred. Talking to a Mon-Keigh, even Roger, about a sensitive subject to Kallen had initially kept him quiet, but the relief of finally telling someone his predicament was more than enough to do so. He quickly returned to his old self, and prepared to poke at Roger.

"I wanted to ask you something serjeant."

"Yes?"

"Do you know the identities-" he looked around to see he was with his warriors, no Avengers or Rangers in sight. "Of the two who are causing issues in our camp?"

Roger rolled his eyes and pointed at Kallen.

"Don't play with me. You know who they are."

The Scorpion let out a laugh and smiled.

"Oh dear. So my target of affection and the Farseers daughter are fighting over a Mon-Keigh. Khaine's Teeth, it sounds like an awful romance novel."

"It's not my choice. I did try to get Morgyn to go for you."

"And?" Kallen asked with a little too much excitement.

"You'll have to impress her more."

"Am I not impressive enough?"

Roger shrugged.

"That's up to her, not me. I barely could get those two to stop fighting before."

"What, as in came to blows? They have not done that before."

"They have. I was there."

Kallen stopped and gave an amused grin.

"Do tell."

"It wasn't much. They pulled blades, Anya that sword the Rangers carry, and Morgyn a dagger. Neither had an advantage over the other, and it was a very quick fight. I had to end it."

"And how did you do that? Talk to them?"

Now Roger grinned.

"I did a trick dad used on us when we were kids."

He grabbed his ear lobe and pulled gently.

"Grabbed them by the ears. They both dropped their weapons and went on their knees. Must've hurt like hell."

Kallen stared at him in silent disbelief before rubbing the back of his neck and looking up into the clear desert sky.

"R-Roger. I do not know how to tell you this, but grabbing them by the ear did not give the intended result, effective as it was."

"What do you mean?"

"Well… you see… erm. Come in a little closer."

Roger did so, Kallen whispering in his ear. Hearing Kallens information, the serjeants eyes widened and he slowly pulled away with his mouth agape.

"You can't be serious."

"They are very, very, very sensitive."

"So… when I grabbed their ears, they weren't in pain, they were-"

"They must have spent days cleaning their undersuits. Maybe even their armor."

"Gross."

"Must have been like a waterfall. Or a geyser."

"Eurgh."

"Imagine."

"Shut up. Please."

XXXXXX

As the suns set over the sand dunes, Roger sat in one of the outermost trenches, making a final inspection. It was beyond his hopes, half a day had given them an effective trench systems, but the better part of a day resulted in the creation of stable defense works and killzones. If, as he expected, the rebels moved forces from the nearest highway towards the oasis, they would be trapped in a hellish amount of fire before they even got anywhere close to the trenches. Even if they did, they would have to fight through a labyrinth inch by inch. And all this to buy time for the escape of just thirty two individuals. Looking over the top, he could see the PDF troops barely moving at all, having survived the ambush by the barest margin, only to find another obstacle to grind through.

"More than enough time. More than enough," he whispered.

"Impressive, aren't they?"

Roger turned around, seeing a silver-haired Eldar in Avenger armor.

"Morgyn. Good to see you."

"You as well Roger."

"What're you doing all the way out here? Aren't you on patrol?"

"I just completed it. I brought you this."

She handed him a ration pack, Eldari issue.

"Thank you, but I don't know if I can eat it. Our digestive systems aren't similar."

"I spoke with Kallen, he said that Mon-Keigh are able to eat our meals with no issue. And I believe he has had more experience with your kind than anyone else here."

Roger looked at the ration pack and shrugged.

"Well he probably knows best. I see you brought one of your own."

Morgyn smiled slightly and ran her fingers through her hair.

"I was hoping we could eat together."

He was a bit surprised at this, but decided that he had no reason to refuse. After all, he had a heart to heart with Anya the previous night, why not one with Morgyn today?

"All right. You'll have to tell me what tastes better and what I should throw away."

"What do you mean?

"In Guard ration packs, we are given a variety of food. Some of it is excellent, especially if you use your spice packets correctly. Other things… well, you can do everything and it will still taste like trash."

"Why would your own people not give you decent meals?"

"Cheaper. So what is this?"

He pointed a fork, a personal belonging of his that he carried since his first campaign, at what seemed to be some kind of green, leafy material. Morgyn looked at it and nodded.

"A standard vegetable ration. Grown on the hydroponics sector of Ducaish. The way we store our rations, it should taste as good as the day it was picked and cleaned."

"Look forward to it. How do you know what vegetables are? Actually, there are terms that are in Low Gothic that I barely use and all of your people can understand and say. What gives?"

"Your language is quite simple, and our minds work quicker than yours. After all, our people have existed for millions of your years. We have learned abilities that are beyond your understanding or comprehension."

Rogers eyebrows furrowed at this, but accepted it and took a bite of the vegetables. She was correct, it was probably the freshest thing he had eaten in years, maybe since he left Anglerre. He was surprised at the rather small portions of the rations pack, and quickly finished the veggies in a few bites. Sensing his confusion, Morgyn slightly coughed.

"Our bodies process and retain nutrients at a superior rate than your kind. We need less and can do more."

"Well isn't your race just bloody perfect. How are you not in charge of the galaxy, but we are?"

Roger was about to apologize, realizing that the statement was bound to pinch a nerve that a race as proud, arrogant, and haughty as hers would not refuse to fight over. But she stared out into the desert with a blank face, seeming to think about what to say.

"Pride and vanity. They are the two most dangerous words in your tongue. To my kind, they are the most fatal. It was not long ago that our people were superior to the insignificant forces of humankind. The stories I have heard, passed down from generation to generation, say that my people had no enemies, no danger, no threats, no diseases that were incurable, in essence, our empire was…"

"Perfect," Roger said. "It sounds perfect. How could you lose that?"

"With no enemies to fight, with no problems to solve, we became insular and apathetic. My kind became so bored and restless, they became more and more depraved, violent, and-"

She shuddered at the thought of what her people degenerated into.

"By the end of it, the greatest calamity in galactic history happened. Our empire fell. Your people suffered in the aftershock of our downfall."

"Is that why your people are so uptight and over focused?"

Morgyn nodded.

"The aftermath of the Fall is still felt today. It is like a looming beast, always over our shoulder, haunting and following us no matter how far we run."

"Damn."

Morgyn smiled at him.

"Do not let the longevity, psychic abilities, and physical prowess of the Eldari fool you Roger. To be one of us is a tortuous experience. One that does not allow rest or respite. We have learned in the most horrid ways imaginable that with great abilities comes even greater prices to pay."

The two sat in silence after she said that, eating slowly as the whistle of the desert breeze echoed through the valleys the dunes created.

"Morgyn?"

"Yes Roger?"

"I would like to apologize."

"For what?"

"You obviously wanted us to have some kind of nice dinner together, and I ruin it about bringing up the suffering your kind have gone through.

Morgyn smiled and moved a hand to his cheek, brushing a bit of food away.

"It is alright Roger. If anything, having someone as ignorant and unaware of our trials and turmoil is a bit of a comfort. Not having to constantly feel the weight of all that we must struggle with and be reminded of without respite is something I envy."

He moved onto what he assumed was some kind of steak, sniffing it before determining it didn't seem inedible.

"So your parents were pirates?"

He winced at another failed attempt at small talk, but to his amazement, Morgyn didn't seem bothered by the question.

"The term "Corsairs" is preferred among my kind, but yes, from what I have been told, they were the scourge of the stars."

"Really? Who did they, what's it called, rapine? Steal from?"

Morgyn gave him a somewhat embarassed look.

"Humans."

"Yes. I hear they raided whole merchant convoys. Became very rich. They did not attack your kind all the time. From what I'm told, they had more than a few associates among the Rogue Traders of your people, and even had Mon-Keigh friends, from what my adoptive family has told me."

"So your parents were quite worldly, as my people say."

"I think it is why I am more tolerant when it comes to you and your kin. Some Eldar are violently anti-human. Ducaish is quite friendly compared to most as well."

"That's a depressing thought."

"Don't worry, I am a friend. You will be fine with me."

"Did you ever think of becoming a Corsair yourself?"

She looked up into the night sky and pondered the question.

"There is not a cycle that goes by without me thinking about it. Instead of just being some warrior slogging in the trenches, waging and witnessing horrors, traveling the vastness of space and fighting for whatever you want, taking what you want…"

Roger could see Morgyn daydreaming about the idea. He felt sympathy, having dreamed as a child of being a Rogue Trader, or even just a captain in the Navy. Adventure, being ruler of a steel and plastcrete kingdom that could wreak untold havoc with a broadside, even now it gave him a sense of wonder.

"But I have no ship, and my parents lost all their wealth and status when they were killed defending Ducaish."

"Can't you run on your parents reputation?"

"I could. But Ducaish is my home, it is all I know. To turn my back on it and her people would be unforgivable. Still…"

"I can see it."

"What?"

"You standing on the bridge over a plundered victim, darting away while a fleet of Imperial Navy ships tail you in hot pursuit, getting away and vanishing into the void."

Morgyn giggled at the thought.

"If I do find myself a Corsair, I will need a good crew. And having a Mon-Keight to translate and negotiate would be useful…"

Roger looked surprised.

"I don't know about that. I get Warp-sick."

"Webways are more efficient. If it does happen, either I will get you to volunteer or impress you into my crew."

He rustled into his uniform and brought out a silver flask, raising it in salute.

"To Captain Morgyn, scourge of the stars!"

The Avenger smiled and tapped her own canteen, or whatever the Eldar called it, on the flask and took a sip. Having finished the swig, Roger continued eating, oblivious to the Eldar watching him as her thoughts and daydreams involved him in a variety of ways, some thankfully kept to herself.

"Me, a pirate. That would be something," he chuckled.

"By the way, I hear we are leaving this desert."

"Prince Edmund believes we have served our purpose well enough here. I tend to agree with him. And yourself?"

"I have grown tired of the constant heat, then cold, then heat again. And the sand-"

"You don't need to tell me about the sand."

"I will be glad to be rid of this place."

"Agreed. Now-"

Having finished the rations and dusted the crumbs off his hands, he took a deep breath and sighed.

"I wanted to talk about you and Anya."

Morgyn stopped eating, seemingly frozen.

"Roger, I did not try to start anything. When you told us to stop, I stopped. She decided to escalate things! I swear!"

"Alright, alright, don't get hysterical. Please."

"I wanted to keep it between us, but then she had to bring in the rest of the Rangers. Then in response, my brothers and sisters in arms stepped in to defend me. It became, what do you like saying? "A right mess?" I did not intend to get anyone else involved."

"I see. So you are trying to de-escalate and it isn't working."

Morgyn frowned and nodded.

"It is failing miserably."

"Great. So I'll have to talk to Anya about-"

A whistling in his ear stopped him immediately. It was a high priority alert from one of the observation posts.

"Wessyng."

"Serjeant, Alax here. I was watching Highway Two and I have contacts. Very unwelcome ones."

"Describe unwelcome."

"What do you call the vehicles with large weapons and treads?"

"Tanks," Roger said in disbelief.

"Yes, multiple tanks, and a few of those Chimeras you spoke of. And one-"

There was a moment of silence and what sounded like a curse. Morgyn could hear it and frowned.

"What did he say?"

"A prayer to Isha."

"Alax, what else?"

"Most of the tanks are relatively small, three or so weapons, but they have one very large one. I am counting eleven weapons."

"Fuck me," Roger said, surprising Morgyn with his rare usage of coarse language.

"Do you know the vehicle?"

"It's a goddamned Baneblade from what you're telling me. Are they stopped on the road or continuing to the port?"

"They all stopped. More importantly, they're turning to face the direction of the oasis. I believe they are preparing for an attack."

"Understood. Get back here. Now. Tell the other teams the same."

Roger looked at Morgyn, his face serious and firm as stone.

"They're coming for us. And they're throwing everything they have. Are you ready for that?"

Morgyn smiled.

"Our foes certainly will not be."