Chapter Text
The galaxy is a big place, lots of planets and stars were everywhere, yeah. But, there's a lot of empty space between them. Plenty of space for a scrap metal fleet of ships to fill up. This was the flotilla belonging to Zurgnak Choppaleg, one of the meanest, biggest, shootiest, and flashiest Freebooter Kaptin this side of Gork's Grin. Others would argue that Kaptin Badrukk had that honor, but you wouldn't be saying that too loud around Zurgnak or his nobz if you didn't want to end up out of an air lock. Orks, the brutal green alien species that plague most planets, are usually found in tribes and klans that follow a strict 'kultur' on how to conduct war. Not the Freebooters. Orks that have been outcast for either their radical behavior, which is saying something when it comes to orks, or simply didn't want to follow a new Warboss that took power all had a place among the stars. So long as they had teef and a ship, it wasn't hard to become a Freebooter. Sometimes ork kroozers just get lost or bored and their kaptin steers them away from the warband. It's how Zurgnak grew his armada, and he put them to good use.
Humies always think the space around their planets belonged to them. The orks were there to remind them that they had first dibs. Merchant ships used by the humies of the Adolar sector always had good loot on them, and who didn't enjoy a good space fight? See, landing on the planet and giving it a good krumpin is fine and all, but then you'd have to go somewhere else to find another fight and loot. Let them come to you and the boyz get a regular battle nearly every week! It was a good sector, and the humie fleets never had too many ships, but just enough so it wouldn't be boring. Easy pickings for Kaptin Choppaleg and his lot.
Except for today, as Torka Slagfist was learning.
He had woken up this morning, from what he could tell since space didn't really have a setting or rising sun, in a good mood! A good as mood you can get for an ork like him. Torka was once a nob, a Blood Axe so he could appreciate a good usage of taktiks from time to time. Though his boss didn't enjoy the fact his kustom shoota was always the one to blast first, especially when they were trying to be sneaky. Ruining a plan with his tricked out shoota had nearly cost the boss his head and the fact he was bragging about the weapon all the time didn't do him any favors. So, Torka was kicked out and no one else wanted him in their mob if he was going to be a show boating git. Falling into the life of a freebooter flash git was easy, and his shoota had evolved into a yellow painted snazzgun after joining up with Kaptin Choppaleg. Forsaking the camouflage of his old klan, Torka wore a bright red coat in the same fashion as a humie ship officer. He had to admit, they knew good freebooting fashion. The baggy blue pants he wore clashed with the red, but it just helped draw the jealous gazes of any ork around him. That, and the heavy yellow snazzgun with twin rotating barrels. Yes, he was in a good mood because his gun was polished and the Kaptin had managed to snag info about another humie shipment from his shouty-box before the last ship blew up.
Torka had managed to brag and shoot his way onto cruising around the Kaptin's personal battleship, Dakka Fang. Loaded up with all sorts of dakka one could fit onto a space ship. That did make it awfully cramped in some places. Which Torka was doing now as he squeezed through narrow corridors of hissing pipes and creaking metal. The twin flash poles on his shoulder pads scraping against the ceiling at nearly every step. He didn't understand what bit goes where in this mess of a ship, but the meks and spanners needed to try and widening these walkways. Grots were running about at his feet carrying scrap or tightening parts. Any that got in his way were easily kicked, that always got a laugh out of him. Torka was just on his way to the telly-porta and await his Kaptin's orders. Him and his band of flash gitz were always teleported into key locations in the enemy vessel to give anything moving a right proper dakkaing. Luckily Mek Durznaw had given them a nifty device called a "return beacon" so the flash gitz could also leave the enemy ship before it exploded. Kaptin Choppaleg knew the value of the gitz, or just didn't want to spend time getting new ones every time they teleported. Soon the Dakka Fang rocked and shook, which either means the Kaptin had rammed into something, or something was firing at them. Which was odd, since the Kaptin didn't even do his daily announcement over the shouty-box like usual. Right on cue, his ears picked up the crackle and screech of the shouty-boxes on the whole ship being tapped on.
"Kaptin Choppaleg 'ere, lissen up!" A boom could be heard in the background followed by a shudder through the ship. "Dem humies got it in dere 'eads dat dey could ambush us! Battle stations, ya buncha salty squigs!" The prospect of a fight put ever greenskin into overdrive. It was strange they decided to come meet the fleet themselves this time, but no one was complaining about a chance to get stuck in. It was nice to see the humies showing some initiative.
Making a quickened dash through the ship, Torka had made it to the telly-porta. The chamber was filled with all sorts of wires, electrodes, and blinking lights all pointed at a platform. On the platform were his mates Bruuzah, Naztag, and Urgob. His mob wasn't large, but it didn't have to be when you carried enough firepower mow down anything stupid enough to stand still. Their heads, and their gitfindas, turning to Torka as he arrived.
"Dere ya are, boss. Was finkin' ya got sucked out into space on ya way 'ere." Naztag was always a cheeky git.
Torka joined his lads on the platform, but not before giving Naztag a green fist hello to the head. "Shut it, Naztag. We'z gotta be ready for when da Kaptin needs us."
Bruuzah rolled his red eyes. "Goin' on again 'bout listenin' to 'ordahs.' Dats dat Blood Axe in ya, gotta let it go one day!" Bruuzah responded before blowing a cloud of smoke from his squig cigar. Bruuzah had been a Bad Moon before, the rich and flashy life as a Freebooter flash git was perfect for him.
Urgob was an ork of few words, probably because his face was being held together by sheets of metal forged into a growling helmet. A painboy's attempt to try and keep his mashed head together. So, he'd just grunt.
"Just don't like it when da humies get da drop on us like dis. Orks is suppose to get da drop on dem!" Torka growled as he revved up the side grip of his snazzgun, sending the barrels spinning about. Earning him a few nervous looks from the grots in the room. "Dey only attack first if dey knows dey gonna win." Humies were never ones to risk themselves in a fight, not like orks. It was giving Torka a bad feeling.
"Ya worry too much, just be 'appy we get to shoot stuff!" Bruuzah racked the action of the snazzgun in his hands. His weapon ending in four large barrels meant to belch out the small rokkits being belt fed into the gun. "Oi, Lugit, get over 'ere wit da spare ammo!" The ork shouted, the sounds of boots hitting the metal grating and heavy panting letting him know he was obeyed.
Running up to the platform with them was a grot dragging a case filled with ammunition behind him. It was clearly too large and too heavy for the little greenskin, but none of the orks helped him. That was Lugit's job, lugging the ammo about, polishing the boots and the guns for the bosses. He was good at it, which is why none of the flash gitz have tried to eat him yet. "Sorry, boss, here I am, boss!" The ammo runt cried as he took his place among the much larger orks.
"Don't be late again!" Naztag gave the grot a kick, not too hard since they needed him to be able to carry the ammo when it came time. But, it was a lesson that Lugit needed to learn.
The groans of pain coming from the grot were drowned out by the loud crackle of the shouty-box in the telly-porta chamber turning on. "Troka! Get ya ladz ready. Gonna be telly-porting you to dere bridge! See if ya can't round up a few of da boyz we shot at 'em while ya in dere." Heeding Zurgnak's words, Torka made sure the other orks, and one grot, were prepared. Mekaniks tapped away on buttons, pulled levers, and twisted knobs as the electrodes around them hummed to life. Ork Mek work was spotty at best, but when it worked it zoggin' worked well. Torka adjusted the tricorn hat on his head as yellow sparks arched off the telly-porta's worky bits. A mek held up his hand, counting down in each finger before slamming his fist down on a red button. The built up energy struck the platform the flash gitz stood upon, filling the room with a blinding light. When the orks in the room could see again, the flash gitz had vanished.
Teleporting was something Torka never got used to, no matter how many times he did it. Either through the guidance of Gork and Mork or his lucky blue pants, the telly-porta always worked and never turned them inside out, or end up sending them into a wall, or in space with no air. They appeared in the middle of the humie command bridge in a bright flash of light. None of them had time to pull out any weapons before the orks in their midst aim their snazzguns and open fired. Cheers and hollers joined the cacophony of gunfire as bullets, rokkits, shokk rounds and kustom-mega blasts tore apart the unsuspecting humies. Some did manage to take cover behind their consoles or small walls, but it didn't take long to sheer it away with the concentrated firepower. Lasers from their shoulder mounted gitfinders scanned over the smoking wreckage left in their wake. It was hard for any ork to tell which one of the humies is the boss, since they're all usually the same height. Torka knew, thanks to his time as a Blood Axe, and didn't find the captain of the ship among the bodies.
"Dere Boss got away, scared little git." Torka motioned for Lugit to come to him. The grot loading in a fresh drum magazine of bullets into his snazzgun after giving it a bit of squig grease.
"A taktik ya gotta be familiar wif, boss." Naztag commented with a snicker.
Torka glares at the git. "Watch da doors, ya squig arse." Naztag does just that, but not without his laughter filling the room.
From within the command deck, the orks could see the state of the battle from the humie ship's windows. Just beyond them in the void of space, a large force of even bigger ships were dueling with Kaptin Choppaleg's fleet. Much larger than the escort the merchant vessels would have with them. No, this was a strike force sent to finally put an end to Choppaleg's raids on their supply lines. What they didn't count on was the ork's reckless flying maneuvers and clear lack of direction coupled with the vast array of dakka hoarded on each Freebooter ship. It was a proper good fight. The greenskins' perfect view of the battle changed when the ship lurched into a new direction.
"Oi, how's da ship still movin' if we killed all da crew?" Asked Bruuzah, kicking a nearby corpse just to make sure it was actually dead. A few trips through the warp make you double check these things.
It didn't take a mek boy to figure out the bullet holes through the humie gubbinz had forced the ship into moving into some random direction. Unfortunately, it was taking them away from the battle!
"C'mon, lets get outta 'ere." The orks and grot pile in as close as they can to Torka. He could care less if they left Lugit behind, but he did have most of their ammo and he didn't want to spend the teef to get more. Pulling out the return beacon and pressing the button with this thumb, the flash git is rewarded with a spark and smoke erupting from the device. Of course the mek gadget broke at the worse possible time. "Zoggin' junk!" He threw it at the door that opening, the metal box smashing against the helmet of a humie. These ones were more armored than the ones they just killed, carrying their little humie zappy guns in their hands. A perfect way to vent out his frustration. "Waaagh!" He bellows.
The humies take cover behind the walls of the door, thick enough to withstand the hail of dakka as the orks pelt their position with it. Orks didn't need cover, it meant you were too afraid of getting shot. That's something only cowardly grots did, which Lugit was proving by keeping his head down behind a few broken consoles. While ork aiming left much to be desired, the gitfindas attached to each flash git helped changed that, even if it was by a small margin. It kept the ship's defenders from poking their heads out, even making sure they couldn't take pot shots with their tiny guns. The door opposite of them opened, revealing even more armored humies that shot at them with red lights. Urgob and Bruuzah wouldn't have even known they were there if a few bolts of red didn't singe their hides. Humie shootas were weak, and Urgob and Bruuzah showed them what real dakka looked like when they wheeled around to face them. Not even taking a second to let go of the trigger.
With their fire split between the two doors, humies were able to brave the orkish barrage and slip into the wider chamber. Torka also guessed it had something to do with the humie in the coat and hat showing up. While orks were very tough, the steadily growing amount of lasgun fire was starting to cook his skin. Best way to flush out humies from cover? "Lugit!" The grot next to him perks up. "Stikkbomb!" Holding out his hand to the grot, the ammo runt pulls out a shaft of wood with a fragmentation grenade on top. Torka made sure he was holding onto the correct end before pulling the pin out with his sharp teeth and tossing the stikkbomb at the humies. They scatter like snotlings away from the explosion, a few ending up with bodies full of shrapnel. Scrambling to escape the stikkbomb made it easier for Torka to add some bloody holes in their bodies.
It was a right proper shoot out, the ammunition in the ork's snazzguns never seemed to run out as the fight dragged on as more humies poured in. Guess they really wanted their deck back. Too focused on turning a humie into meaty chunks, Torka hadn't even noticed the humie with the big hat coming up at his side. This one had some kunnin' in them as they charged at Torka with a glowing blue choppa in their hand. Now, just because Torka was a flash git and enjoyed throwing his dakka around when he had the chance didn't mean he wasn't used to choppa work. All orks were just as dangerous close up, and Torka was much larger compared to the humie. Finally letting go of his trigger, Torka side steps the first swing at him. Power weapons weren't something to mess around with, he'd seen plenty of orks lose limbs or their heads from them. The big hat humie spun on their foot to slash at him again, the power choppa digging into the side of his snazzgun. Not enough damage to keep it from working, but how dare this humie hurt his prize gun!
"You little zogga!" Just as the choppa was raised up, Torka grabbed the humie by the wrist. With a firm grip in one hand, he flings his opponent about like a rag doll, slamming them against the important humie gubbinz and worky bitz that made their vessel move through the void. He didn't care about the damage, he just cared about dealing out some punishment on the humie. Torka would have continued, but the arm of the humie finally tears off, flinging the body off somewhere on the bridge while he's left with a bloody limb left in his grasp. "Dats wot ya get!"
In typical humie fashion, they all started to flee back out the doors when their boss was reduced to a bloody bag of pulverized meat. Though the glowing purple light coming from the windows of the ship might have helped. Looking out the window, the humie ship they were still on was going to jump into the warp! Torka let out a growl of frustration and starts to mash any button he could find, but none of them were stopping the transition into the Immateirum. "Where's a zoggin' mek boy when ya need one?"
"Maybe dis'll work?" Bruuzah pointed his snazzgun at the big chair the humie kaptin is suppose to sit in and launches a barrage of mini-rokkits into the gubbinz. Even after the rousing display of destruction, the violet screaming portal in front of the ship continued to grow bigger.
There wasn't enough time to travel into the bowels of the ship and blow up their generators, they didn't even have time to go find a humie transport or escape pod the large orks could attempt to squeeze into. All they could do is watch the fore of the humie vessel touch the swirling madness as the blast shields for the windows slowly drew closed. The raging conflict around them was so chaotic, no Imperial or Ork would notice the ship making an emergency warp jump out of the battle. The purple maw swallowing up the hull until it eventually closed and realspace closed back up like a zipper.