The summer is over, we are now way into fall and only now am I releasing something. I had to work all summer, my computer broke and I lost all my previous stories (hence Fall of Churnya being removed) and have been going nuts to butts at University. I've already written the first couple chapters for this story, and I plan on simplifying things a little as well as make the plot move a little faster. Any ways, thanks for the continued support, and hope you enjoy. I will try and update as regularly as possible, but I'm way past making any promises.

The Sentinel groaned to a halt, the momentum of the massive mechanical leg finishing it's movement before slowly settling into the mud. Gun smoke, laying thick and heavy across the ground, swirled about the now unmoving legs of the fighting machine. The engine sputtered and died, an uncomfortable quietness filling the air. The distant pop of discharging las guns and echoing thump of artillery became distinct and discernible.

Inside the fighting compartment of the imperial vehicle the driver flicked the ignition switch off and on. There was a cough as the engine fought desperately for life, but was quickly replaced by silence. With an angry groan, muffled by a rebreather mask, the Sentinel operator slammed his fist on the console.

Lifting himself up with the creak of leather and the squeak of military boots on knurled metal, the driver grabbed his las pistol and opened the roof hatch of the fighting machine. The comforting glow of the green interior lamps was replaced by the cold grey light of the sky. Making sure his rebreather mask was securely in place, the driver pulled himself out of the hatch.

Around the unmoving vehicle mud stretched as far as the eye could see, with little change in elevation, and few objects to break up the monotony aside from the occasional patch of barbed wire or battlefield debris. What looked like a trench was visible off in the distance, cutting across the mud and craters.

Rory straightened his black beret before climbing down the ladder mounted to the hull, moving around the outside of the vehicle towards the engine compartment. Steam rose from just below where the exhaust pipes connected to the vehicle, and the young soldier opened the hatch.

He was blinded momentarily as steam fogged up the goggles of the rebreather mask. Using the back of his sleeve to wipe them clear, he leaned in to inspect the engine. Steaming liquid spluttered from a red corrugated pipe, which he identified as the main coolant line. Rory let out a groan of dismay. The vehicle couldn't run without coolant; the powerful engine wouldn't be able to work at a functional temperature for hours, and even then he would only be able to move a short stint.

All imperial equipment was made from standardized templates, so a replacement pipe of the correct diameter wasn't uncommon. But there was little hope of finding one in the wasteland that was the battlefield. His radio antenna had been shot to bits by a strafing attacker, which he had been lucky hadn't completely ripped his lightly armoured vehicle apart, so there was no chance of contacting regimental command.

He pulled back his beret and pushed his sweaty brown hair off his forehead. His options were to stay with his vehicle and wait for help to arrive, which could be never, or venture out and try and scavenge the necessary pipe.

Considering the likelihood of assistance and enemy contact were about equally high, Rory quickly decided on the latter. He clambered back into his vehicle, grabbing what supplies he would need: las pistol, canteen, satchel with some food and tools, a Thermos of tea and a flash light. He didn't plan on spending more than a few hours searching, and wanted to be back before nightfall.

Regretfully exiting the vehicle, Rory slid down the cabin, and dropped the two metres, boots squelching into the deep mud. He checked over his gear, making sure that everything was in place, before taking off at a stride. The most obvious destination was the trench which he had spotted from on top of the Sentinel. If he was lucky there would be a Mechanichus dugout, or perhaps a machine he could salvage parts from. But he would have to be very lucky.

Each step forward was tiring, the mud tugging at his boots. He guessed it was about half a click to the trench, although it felt farther. It was a boring walk, and he spent the time listening to the distant sounds of battle. He could make out explosions in the distance, the flashes muted by the smog.

Twenty minutes later Rory was standing at the top of the earthworks, looking down into the trench. It was about three metres deep, and a metre across. The sides were supported by wooden planks and sandbags. Duck-boards lined the floor of the trench, in some places submerged by puddles.

Rory dropped down into the trench. He landed with a crunch on the wooden duck-boards, and they visibly sunk a little. He began to make his way along the trench, creeping as quietly as he could. He could feel water beginning to seep into his standard issue boots, and he avoided the deep, dirty looking puddles that lined the trench floor.

Rory was on edge, but had little faith in anything being alive out here. Just as he was thinking this he rounded a corner in the trench and came face to face with the business end of a las gun. He threw himself back around the corner, heart beating and hands scrambling at his holster for his las pistol. It took him a moment to realise that if there had been an enemy holding the weapon he would probably be dead.

Peeking around the corner he took in his assailant. The corpse of a guardsman was propped up on a firing step, las gun held at the ready in the dead man's firm grip. There was a massive hole in the soldiers chest, and intestines spilled out of the gap.

Rory felt a mixture of nausea and relief wash over him. The goggles of the dead man's rebreather mask were fogged up, and what skin was visible was pale and colourless. The man had been dead for a while, probably more than a day. Gingerly stepping past the corpse, Rory carried on down the trench.

A short communication trench led downwards, until Rory was standing in a deep open area, about five metres square, and perhaps four metres deep. Dugouts were dug into the walls of the area, and Rory let out a whoop of joy when he saw a Mechanicus skull over the entrance to a concrete tunnel. Ignoring the dugouts on either side Rory strode up to the entrance to the bunker. The solid blast door hung open ajar, and after getting a solid grip the Sentinel operator put all his might into pulling.

There was a loud groaning, and the sound of metal grinding on concrete. The solid door slowly swung outwards, until there was enough room for the soldier to fit through. Flicking on his lamp, Rory swept the beam up and down the dark stairways.

Daylight filtered downwards, picking up the dust floating in the air. Water dripped from the sealing, forming a tiny trickle that ran down the stairs and pooled at the bottom. Different coloured moss and fungus grew along the walls and algae had built up along a crack in the ceiling.

Rory began his descent, one hand keeping the torch beam level, the other gripping his pistol. At the bottom of the stairs, the ground flattened out. A hallway ran a short distance, with two rooms branching off on either side. It was pitch black, and cobwebs drifted lazily from the slight breeze cause by the open door.

The first room contained shelves holding jerry cans and drums of fuel. Most of the drums were empty, but Rory managed to find a couple of almost full jerry cans. He propped them up against the wall by the exit so that he would remember to grab them as he left. The next room was almost entirely empty, save for a cracked desk and empty filing cabinets. There were papers scattered across the floor, but they were all in either high Gothic, which Rory had never learned to read, or machine code.

The third room held a small alter to the machine god, as well as a generator. After propping his flash light against the alter, Rory set to work pulling the generator apart. He wasn't entirely sure how the machine worked, but he knew that if he could find a pipe of the same diameter as the broken one, it should work.

He had brought the cracked coolant line with him, and began pulling the generator apart, comparing the parts he found to the broken hose. After about ten minutes of straining his eyes in the less than adequate light, he finally found a pipe that was not only the same diameter, but also almost the exact same length. It smelled of promethium, but after rinsing it out with some of the water from his canteen he was sure it would serve its purpose.

Just as he was about to leave, Rory heard a slight crack from the hallway. He spun around, pistol levelled.

"Who's there?" He said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. The only reply was the reverberation of his voice off the concrete walls. He began edging sideways towards the lamp. When he felt the alter against his boot, he dropped to one knee, scrambling with his hand for the light.

There was a clatter as the light span off his shaking fingertips and began rolling across the ground towards the door. He cursed his own clumsiness and began moving towards it. Again his fingers wrapped around the metal torch. For a second his eyes glanced downwards, towards the light.

There was a flurry of movement, of armoured feet pushing off concrete. Rory brought his las pistol up but it was too late. The gun discharged and a figure collided with the tall man, sending him sprawling backwards. The flash of the gun revealed his assailant. A figure clad in white armour, a red mane spreading out behind it.

Before Rory knew what was happening hands were clutching at his throat, fingers pressing down on his neck, choking him. He struggled against his attacker, but his arms were firmly pinned under slim legs.

"Please!" He coughed and wheezed through his blocked windpipe. His vision was covered in stars, and the almost pitch darkness was becoming darker. The masked face stared down at him, emotionless. His struggling weakened, and he went limp, eyes closing shut beneath his rebreather mask.

Rory groggily came too. His neck hurt and he had a pounding headache. He instinctively reached for the canteen in his satchel, but found that he couldn't move his hands. He opened his eyes and stared up at the cloudy grey sky. A single rain drop landed on the exposed skin of his forehead between his mask and his beret.

The sentinel pilot slowly turned his head back and forth. He was back in the trench, in the area surrounded by dugouts. It took him a second to notice, but the white armoured figure was nearby, standing on a fire-step and looking out over the wastes, red mane blowing in the stiff breeze.

He could tell that it was a girl. She had a slim figure and held her head high. He could also tell that it was xenos, part of the species that they had been fighting. Eldar. He turned his head to the side and cursed, muttering a prayer to the Emperor.

The creature turned around, regarding the soldier lying on the wooden planks. Its mask was expressionless, but it cocked its head inquisitively, as if trying to pick up what the soldier was saying. It dropped down from the fire step, landing lightly and began walking towards the tied up guardsman.

Rory found that his legs hadn't been tied, and began pushing himself away from the alien, desperately trying to scramble for safety. He got to the edge of the pit and pushed himself up as best as he could. It got closer and looked down at him. His chest heaved up and down in terror, and he pressed his head as far back against the dirt wall as he could.

It reached down a hand and unceremoniously grabbed him by the collar. Rory squirmed in its grasp, but was lifted to his feet. He thought about running, until he saw the strange pistol she carried. He had seen first hand what the Eldar weapons could do, tearing men apart with vicious efficiency.

The xenos placed a hand on his back and gave him a soft but forceful push towards the communication trench. Rory noticed that he still had his satchel, so presumably the pipe, but his las pistol was not in its holster. The xenos picked up two of the jerry cans, which he wasn't sure what to make of, and indicated for him to start walking.

It was difficult to navigate the trench without the balance of his hands. Twice he tripped, falling flat on his stomach. His green and ochre camouflage uniform, which had been quite clean aside from sweat and a bit of mud on the pants, was now filthy and his ribs hurt from the falls. Each time he went down, the xenos girl wearily dragged him back to his feet. Each time he would curse at her, muttering prayers to the Emperor in forgiveness. He wished he could spit at her, but the rebreather mask rendered that impossible.

Rory was terrified of what was to come. Why was she keeping him alive, and why was she carrying the jerry cans? Was she planning on practising some terrifying alien ritual on him, involving burning promethium? Maybe this was some kind of twisted game the Eldar played with their captives. Rory had heard stories of the alien species cruel and sadistic ways.

Soon they came to the end of the trench, where Rory had first entered. He thought wistfully back to the half hour ago. He had felt so trapped and alone then, but that all seemed blissful compared to his current situation.

They began walking across the muddy ground, the sentinel was visible off in the distance. It was just starting to rain, and large acrid drops were landing around them. Rory felt anger rise, what did this xenos want with him? Why couldn't she have just killed him already?

A plan began to formulate in his mind as they began the twenty minute walk across the mud. If he couldn't escape, he could at the very least die trying. As they passed by a particularly large crater Rory looked down. Sure enough, amongst the water and debris at the bottom of the deep crater were a couple of Imperial bodies, and more importantly their las guns.

After a few more steps Rory feigned misplacing his foot, and dropped sideways. He tumbled downwards, rolling over rocks and sliding through mud. The crater was larger than it had looked, with a radius of at least ten metres. Finally he came to rest at the bottom, his lower half in the filthy stagnant water. He lay motionless on his back, bruised and bloodied from the fall. But he had succeeded, at least the first stage of his plan. The bayonet of a las gun pressed painfully into his back, and he began sawing slowly and carefully at the ropes around his wrists.

Without moving his head he looked up. Silhouetted at the top of the crater stood the Eldar warrior. The red hair danced in the wind as she began to wearily descend, carefully placing one foot after another.

He felt the ropes snap, and he curled his hands around the las gun, tensing his body in preparation. As soon as the xenos looked down he sprang into action, rolling onto his belly and levelling the rifle. The alien moved impossibly fast, and even though Rory had gotten the drop, she had her pistol trained on the prone soldier almost instantly.

They stared each other down, neither showing emotion through their masks. But where the aliens pistol was steady and calm, Rory's gun shook with fear.

"Please!" He pleaded. "Just let me go. If you shoot we both die." He fought to keep disgust out of his voice. Disgust at the alien, and disgust at himself. He was communicating with the xenos, something that he had been raised to never, ever do.

Again, she cocked her head inquisitively. But she didn't move and the gun stayed trained on him. She motioned for him to stand, and Rory slowly and shakily got to his feet. The fall had hurt badly, and his legs felt like they couldn't support him.

They faced off, both standing now. The alien began moving down the slope, keeping her eyes locked on the wavering soldier. Ryan followed her movement with his eyes and the shaking barrel of the las rifle. He tried to decide if he fired the gun whether she would get a chance to shoot back.

His decision was made easy. As the warrior lowered her weight onto a rock, it gave out. With a mechanical sounding cry of, what Rory realised was fear, she tumbled. Before he knew what he was doing he squeezed the trigger. The las shots tracked the alien, vaporizing mud and rocks but failing to land on target.

Before she had even rolled over once she was twisting in mid air. A somersault led into a lunge, and before Rory knew what was happening the white armoured xenos was flying through the air towards him. He tried to bring the las rifle to bare but she moved impossibly fast.

He felt the air knocked out of his lungs as she barrelled into him. He coughed and groaned in pain as she landed on top of him. His body tried to howl in frustration but all that came out was a muffled wheeze. But he wasn't going to give in this easily.

Rory brought his knees up, colliding them with the aliens back. She lurched forwards and he spun onto his stomach, sliding his knees up under body. She was obviously surprised that her initial attack hadn't knocked her opponent out, as he managed to wrap his arms around her knees, pinning her to his back with his biceps. Before she could respond Rory threw all of his weight backwards, roaring in anger and desperation as he did so.

He lifted his legs up, making sure that all of his weight was directed downwards onto her torso. He heard her cry out in pain as they landed just above the pool of water at the bottom of the crater. Rory knew that the alien was much faster than he was, but he was fairly certain that he could out muscle her, and his only chance was now while she had the wind knocked out.

He rolled the dazed alien onto her stomach and sat on her back, wrapping his arms around her neck in a choke hold. The pain was slowing him down, but he began to tighten his grip. Almost subconsciously, he began chanting the Emperor's litany.

The xenos girl began fighting back, scrambling desperately with her small hands at his forearms, trying to pry them off with no success. Rory grimaced as he pulled as hard as he could on the xenos's unarmoured neck. There was another cry of pain, and through his rage he could hear her saying something in her language, pleading.

It was then that he felt the hands on his head. He had been so focussed on the choke that he hadn't notice her reach around and grab the back of his hands. It was too late, and with a sharp motion she slammed his head into the back of her helmet.

Rory let out a howl of pain as his unarmoured forehead, right above his rebreather mask, slammed into the strange, tough material that made the aliens armour. She slipped out from beneath him, and Rory scrambled to his feet.

The two faced off, silence filling the air. Rory noticed the sounds of distant battle for the first time in a while, but didn't care. Raindrops were falling around them. All he cared about was his fight, his desperate need to win. The alien rubbed her throat. He couldn't imagine she was feeling great after that choke, Rory thought with a humourless grin.

"C'mon xenos. Let's have a go at it." Rory said, raising his fists. It was at that moment that Rory realised that the aliens sword was well within her reach, probably just over a metre away, but she was making no effort to go for it. Why wasn't she just killing him?

He didn't ponder on it too long. With a roar he sprinted at the xenos. He brought his fist forwards towards her centre of mass, but she easily parried. His other fist came around in a sucker punch, but again she danced lightly out of the way. Her leg came around and impacted with the back of his knees, a split second before her fist landed on his stomach.

It was as if she danced, keeping at a distance, while still landing hard punches. A fist connected with his cheek, then a leg with his back. Rory stumbled backwards, pain coursing through his body. She came upon him again, fists and feet landing on soft, unprotected spots, always getting past his blocking hands. If he hadn't been so desperate for survival, he would have simply collapsed and admitted defeat.

An especially heavy punch landed on his temple, and Rory dropped like a stone. His vision went black and a high pitched noise filled his ears. He opened his eyes and he was on his front, the alien girl sitting on his back. She was tying his hands together. Rory desperately wanted to fight back, to escape capture, but he couldn't move, his entire body was in agony. All he could muster was a whimper.

The alien rolled him onto his back, and Rory moaned with pain and anger. She sat down facing him, her legs crossed. The sun was beginning to set behind the dark rain clouds, and in a state of complete exhaustion Rory passed out, dark dreams haunting his sleep.