Chapter Text
The world of Grimskull IX was beautiful.
Not because it had forests.
Not because it had oceans.
Certainly not because it possessed anything resembling civilization.
It was beautiful because it had explosions.
The plains were carpeted with rusting wreckage from centuries of fighting. Mountains of scrap reached toward the smoky heavens, stitched together by crude scaffolding where Meks argued over whose invention exploded the loudest. Gargantuan Squigs roamed freely between burned-out tanks, while mobs of Boyz settled disagreements with enthusiastic headbutts and oversized choppas.
It was paradise.
For an Ork.
"WAAAGH!"
Thousands of green voices thundered across the valley.
Warbikes screamed through the dust, Trukks bounced over craters they had made only moments earlier, and somewhere in the distance something enormous detonated with enough force to send half a Gargant's arm cartwheeling through the air.
The Orks cheered.
No one knew what had exploded.
No one cared.
If it exploded loudly enough, it was worth celebrating.
Among this glorious chaos stood one remarkably unremarkable Ork.
His name was Gorzag.
He wasn't the biggest Boy in the mob.
He wasn't the strongest.
He certainly wasn't the smartest.
If anything, Gorzag possessed a remarkable talent for avoiding anything resembling responsibility.
While the rest of the camp charged into another massive brawl over who had stolen whose squig pie, Gorzag wandered through the scrap heaps carrying half of an engine block under one arm.
"Hmm..."
He sniffed the air.
"Smells like fightin'."
He nodded approvingly.
"Good."
Then he continued walking in the opposite direction.
Not because he feared fighting.
No respectable Ork feared fighting.
It was simply that fighting required effort.
Effort interrupted naps.
Naps were important.
Besides, the fight looked like it already had plenty of volunteers.
As Gorzag rounded a pile of discarded tank treads, he spotted salvation.
An old portable latrine sat crooked against a heap of rusted metal.
No one ever went near it.
Mostly because no one remembered who had built it.
Or why.
Or whether anything still lived inside it.
Perfect.
Gorzag pushed open the creaking door.
"Comfy..."
The interior smelled absolutely horrific.
To an Ork, this barely registered.
He sat down, rested his choppa across his knees, leaned back,
and within seconds was snoring loudly enough to rival a Trukk engine.
Several thousand kilometers above Grimskull IX, the bridge of the Imperial cruiser His Divine Judgement was silent.
"Confirmation?" Captain Marius Voss asked.
A servitor clicked mechanically.
"Xenos infestation confirmed."
Another officer stepped forward.
"Estimated greenskin population exceeds four billion."
The captain looked through the viewing port toward the filthy green world below.
"No strategic value."
"No recoverable population."
"No manufactorums worth reclaiming."
He folded his hands behind his back.
"Purge it."
The Master of Ordnance hesitated.
"Orbital bombardment, sir?"
The captain's expression never changed.
"Complete extermination."
"Yes, Captain."
Across the length of the cruiser, colossal macro-cannons rotated toward the planet.
The first shell struck like an angry god.
Half a continent disappeared beneath fire.
The second impact shattered mountains.
The third ignited oceans of promethium.
Cities of scrap vanished beneath incandescent clouds.
Orks laughed.
They genuinely thought someone had started the biggest fight they'd ever seen.
"WAAAGH!"
Thousands charged directly toward the explosions.
The Imperial officers watched in horrified fascination.
"They're... running into the bombardment."
"...Indeed."
"Should we continue?"
The captain blinked.
"Obviously."
More shells descended.
The surface became a sea of fire.
Entire Gargants toppled.
Stompas vanished.
Trukks flew through the air like children's toys.
Nothing survived.
Nothing...
Except one portable latrine.
Deep beneath several tons of collapsing scrap, something groaned.
Not the planet.
Not the ruins.
The Ork inside.
"Mmm..."
Gorzag scratched his ear without opening his eyes.
Something was shaking.
Probably another fight.
He rolled over.
The shaking became worse.
Metal screamed.
Bolts snapped.
The entire structure suddenly lurched upward.
"Eh?"
His eyes opened halfway.
The floor disappeared.
The ceiling disappeared.
Gravity itself seemed deeply confused.
"Oi."
The portable toilet had been struck by an orbital shell with such improbable precision that instead of vaporizing it, the blast had launched the entire reinforced unit skyward like a shell from a cannon.
It punched through layers of burning atmosphere.
Past clouds.
Past wreckage.
Past screaming debris.
Straight toward the Imperial cruiser.
On the bridge, warning klaxons erupted.
"Unidentified object approaching!"
Captain Voss frowned.
"A missile?"
"No, sir!"
"A boarding torpedo?"
"No, sir!"
"What is it then?"
The auspex operator stared at the display.
"...It appears to be..."
Silence.
"...a lavatory."
"...A what?"
The portable toilet struck the cruiser at terminal velocity.
It punched through three armored bulkheads.
Bounced off an ammunition lift.
Crushed two servitors.
Ricocheted through an officers' mess.
Finally embedded itself inside Hangar Bay Seven.
The entire ship shuddered.
Red warning lights flashed.
Bridge officers exchanged horrified looks.
Captain Voss slowly removed his cap.
"Explain."
No one could.
No one even knew where to begin.
Far below decks, inside the twisted remains of the portable toilet, Gorzag blinked awake.
He yawned.
Stretched.
Kicked open what remained of the door.
A dozen Imperial Navy ratings froze in place, staring at the lone Ork who casually stepped out of a smoking latrine.
Gorzag looked around the impossibly clean hangar.
"Dis definitely ain't da camp..."
He scratched his chin.
"Wonder where I am."
The ratings screamed.
Gorzag frowned.
"Bit rude."
He had absolutely no idea that, in the span of a single nap, he had become the sole surviving Ork of Grimskull IX.
Nor did he realize that every alarm aboard one of the Imperium's most powerful cruisers was now blaring the same message.
XENOS BOARDING ACTION.