Chapter Text
04.03.037 M42. Segmetum Obscurus. Caloco Sector. Edge of the Urlos System
The ork Kill Kroozer known as “the Thumb of Mork” was pretty archetypal as far as Kill Kroozers went. It was made using an abandoned imperial cruiser, whose name had been buried under layers upon layers of red paint, as a base, it had been armoured up using tons upon tons of scrap metal, and it had been given more guns than a small fleet of imperial ships. There was one thing about it that made it unique though. And that was that at the current moment, the Thumb of Mork was currently bereft of orks.
Usually Kill Kroozer’s were packed full of orks, all jostling and fighting and getting up to the shenanigans that orks usually get up to whenever there is nobody to krump but each other. Yet if one were to search up and down the Thumb of Mork, they’d find that there wasn’t a single ork aboard the vessel. Sure there were still plenty of grots and squigs, but no orks.
There was a reason as to why The Thumb Of Mork was currently vacant of its usual occupants of course. A short while ago, the ork big boss known as Nazbog Gitkrusha had called all the orks to gather in a certain part of The Thumb Of Mork for a meeting. The part in particular was known as “The First Big Hanger”.
The original imperial cruiser that had been used as the base for The Thumb Of Mork had originally contained a large amount of hangers, from which flyers and other vessels could dock and launch to do whatever it was humie flyers did. The orks naturally had found this rather silly. Why have all these little hangers when you could knock down the walls between the hangers, creating a much bigger hanger? The orks had done exactly that and created two “big hangers”, one on the left side of the ship and one on the right.
The orks had gathered at the First Big Hanger as instructed by Big Boss Nazbog Gitkrusha. All of them were rather curious as to why he had called this meeting. Had they gotten a message from their warboss? Were they about to launch a whole new WAAAGH? Had Nazbog’s meks created some new contraption that Nazbog wanted to show off?
All these questions had racked in the brains of the orks in the First Big Hanger, including Nazbog himself, as he was unaware that he had called a meeting until a few minutes before the meeting actually began. Of course he hadn’t actually called the meeting, and so none of the orks would get their questions answered. Without warning, the airlocks of the First Big Hanger opened up and shot all of the ork occupants into space, leaving the ship ripe for the taking.
It was taken immediately by the ones who had orchestrated the meeting that had killed the previous owners: the grots. The lowly slave caste of the orks had secretly schemed and planned for this very moment, and now their plan had come to fruition. Now sitting in what had been Nazbog’s command chair was a much smaller figure, though it was debatable if he was actually weaker.
There were thousands upon thousands of tales about this figure, and many featured him dying in some horribly spectacular fashion, yet some featured him performing some great feat before dying horribly. Even so, if you had asked someone who had been present for one of these stories, even if they had seen him die before their very own eyes, they’d likely tell you that the figure sitting in that command chair was the very same figure from the stories. He was the one, the not-so-only, Red Gobbo.
“Right,” said the Red Gobbo “Da plan worked!”. A cheer went up. The bridge was currently packed with grots, all of whom had suffered at the cruel hands of ork masters, and now they were finally free from the constant kickings and beatings. The Red Gobbo held up a fist for silence, and eventually, after several minutes, the grots quieted down.
“Listen up!” shouted the Red Gobbo “I didn’t just trick all dem orks so you gitz could shout and muck about and get nofing done! Yoo’z all part of da Gretchin Revolutionary Committee now! Dat means ya ain’t just fightin for ya own freedom! It means ya fight for da freedom of all grots everywhere!”. A murmur went up from the crowd of grots, many were perplexed by what the Red Gobbo had said. Near the back of the crowd, two grots were perplexed for an entirely different reason. That being whilst the Red Gobbo had a pretty good shouting voice for a grot, he was still, at the end of the day, a grot, and so those near the back of the crowd couldn’t actually hear him
“Wot did he say?” asked Fragwit, a spanner-grot who was currently excavating the cavernous contents of his ear with a clawed finger. “Dunno.” responded Giblit, a grot orderly that was sipping from a bag of what was either humie beakie blood, or possibly dyed fungus grog “Somefing about confetti I fink?”.
“Maybe we’z gonna ‘ave a celebrashun since we krumped dem orks.” Fragwit chuckled “I definitely wanna ‘ave a party since I saw Big Mek Steeltoof’s frozen face out da window.”. Giblit was about to respond until he was shoved out of the wave by a hurrying grot, though it’d be more accurate to say that the hurrying grot attempted to shove Giblit out of the way and failed. “Oi!” Giblit shouted “Watch it! Just who do yoo fink yoo i-” the words died in Giblit’s throat as he saw exactly who had attempted to shove him.
The figure wore long robes and carried a staff made from a pipe topped with a book taken from a long dead spikey git and an ork skull glyph made of metal. There was no mistaking who this grot was, it was Sparky, the ship’s resident weirdgrot. Weirdgrots weren’t exactly common as far as grots went, and most of those that did pop up tended to explode rather quickly, unable to handle their psychic powers. Sparky was different though in that he had currently lasted three whole months without exploding, which to Giblit’s knowledge was the record for longest weirdgrot lifespan ever. He had asked Sparky how he had avoided such a fate a while ago and he had said that he “Couldn’t die yet, da job’s not done!”. Giblit hadn’t believed that was a valid reason back then, and he certainly didn’t believe it now.
“Out of da way!” Sparky shouted, crackles of green lightning forming around him as his psychic powers manifest “I gotta speak with da Red Gobbo!”. “Hang on! Hang on!” Fragwit grabbed the weirdgrot’s shoulders, attempting to calm him down as a panicky weirdgrot seemed much more likely to catastrophically explode than a calm one “Calm down Sparky! Wots got ya so riled up?”. “Its da gods!” Sparky continued to shout in the face of Fragwit’s efforts “Da gods have a message for da Red Gobbo! I’z gotta tell him! He’s got ta know!”.
Giblit scoffed at this, he was still a bit miffed at being shoved “Oh do dey now? I ain’t buying it” Giblit crossed his arms. “IT'S IMPORTANT!” Sparky screamed “I need ta talk to him! I got a message! He needs ta know wot’s coming!”. Giblit laughed at this “Yeah roight. Yooz like us! Ya can’t hear wot Da Red Gobbo’s saying and ya wanna get closer so ya can actually hear him talk!”. Fragwit tapped Giblit on the shoulder “Uhhhh, Giblit, I don’t fink it matters ‘ow close we are at da moment.”.
The Red Gobbo had ceased his speech, and now he and almost all of the other grots were looking out the massive viewport at the front of the bridge. Usually this viewport displayed one of three things: a planet the orks were about to krump, a ship that they had just krumped and were in the process of looting, or the empty black void of space. Currently it displayed the last of those three, but instead of just black void speckled with glowing pinpricks of starlight, it was slowly being covered by green lighting. “Oh zog.” moaned Sparky “I was too late.”.
“Too late for wot?” asked Fragwit, who was slowly starting to panic as the green lightning became more and more common, seeming to eclipse the infinite void of space itself “Wots about ta happen?!”. “Ya know ‘ow when ya go through a tellyporta deres a bit of a blip before ya get to da other place?” asked Sparky “Yeah?” “and ya know ‘ow when ya tellyport really far away da blip seems ta get a bit bigger, even though it ain’t actually a physical fing?” “Yeah?” Sparky looked out at the viewport which was almost completely covered in green lightning “Get ready for a really, really big blip”.
For anyone who may’ve seen the Thumb of Mork from the outside, the ship became eclipsed by energy and then suddenly vanished. For those looking into the warp, the Thumb of Mork shot across the immaterium with unmatched speed, smashing into the walls of unreality itself and passing through to the other side. And for the grots aboard the Thumb of Mork, for a single moment that simultaneously lasted both a second and an eternity, everything went green.
March 4th 2184. Federation Space. Quintus Sector. Edge of the Spherion System
The grots on the bridge eventually returned to consciousness. Moaning and groaning as they rubbed their heads. Whatever had just happened, it had managed to give them all a hangover without the prior joy of fungus brew beforehand. “Alright, well, we’z still alive it seems.” Said the Red Gobbo, rubbing his forehead “Any git know what the zog just happened?”.
“OUT DA WAY! OUT DA WAY!” shouted Fragwit, “COMING FROUGH, IMPORTANT MESSAGE ‘ERE!” shouted Giblit. The two grots were shoving their way through the crowd, brandishing Sparky the same way a planetary governor brandishes a holy symbol when the workers start asking for basic rights. The two grots dumped Sparky before the Red Gobbo, who looked upon the weirdgrot with the grin that seemed to be his resting face. “Sparky!” the Red Gobbo seemed his usual cheerful self, which was a bit incongruous with the mood of all the other grots “Seems ta me dat deez two fink yooz got somefing dat can help explain why we just went through… whatever it is we just went through. Dat true?”
Sparky gave a so-so gesture. “I fink so? I got a message from da gods.” the crowd of grots mumbled at this, if he had a message then this was one hell of a way to deliver it. “Well, spill it out for us!” said the Red Gobbo. Sparky took a deep breath before relaying his message. “Gork and Mork ‘ave been having an argument.” the grots nodded at this. For some races their gods having an argument could spell disaster, but for orkoids it meant they were being oddly calm if they were arguing instead of fighting.
“Dey was talking about WAAAGHs and how da orks ‘ave krumped all sorts of other gits in many different WAAAGHs. But dey wanna know if da krumping is cuz of da WAAAGH, or cuz of da orks. Gork says dat ya can’t have a proppa WAAAGH without orks, but Mork says ya can.” The Red Gobbo raised an eyebrow at this, the idea clearly intrigued him. “Mork says dat grots still gotz da WAAAGH in em, and so dey can do it, but Gork finks dat rubbish. So dey’s figured they’d resolve it with a challenge, namely a challenge for yoo.” Sparky raised a finger and pointed at the Red Gobbo “Dey want yoo ta do a proppa grot WAAAGH, no boyz, no nobs, no orks wotsoeva. Just grots, squigs, and wotever we can find.”
“Gorks right.” Sparky jumped as he heard a voice from behind him, he turned to spot Snikit, a kommando grot had snuck up on him whilst he was talking. Whether he had done this specifically to spook Sparky or he was just sneaking on instinct was unknown. “We can’t do a grot WAAAGH. If we try, soon as any orks find out, dey’z gonna come and paste us. Even if no other orks catch wind of us, our spores will just make new orks who will inevitably take over.”.
“Ah, well.” Sparky raised a shaking finger at Snikit “Da gods saw dat coming and made some… balance changes. Firstly, we aint gotta worry about new orks popping up, cuz dey aint gonna.” The Red Gobbo tilted his head at this “Wotcha mean?” “I mean dey’z changed us, modified our spores so we aint gonna make any new orks. We’z on our own from now on”. The grots started muttering to each other. They had figured that this freedom was both glorious and ultimately temporary, inevitably new orks would come along and they’d be back to the old ways, but now that didn’t seem the case. “And secondly we ain’t gonna ‘ave ta worry about other ork warbands finding out about us, cause we’ve gone to a place where dere ain’t any orks, dats wot da jump was for.” Sparky gestured to the viewport. The stars definitely looked different to how they had before the jump.
“And dis place iz…?” Snikit asked Sparky who just shrugged in response “Dunno, just know it’s a place dat aint got orks.”. “Let’s say I accept dis challenge.” said the Red Gobbo “Wot do I get if I win?” “Ya get a place without orks.” replied Sparky “A place where grots can be grots without getting kicked by orks.”. The Red Gobbo nodded, he definitely liked the sound of that “And wot if I lose?” “Den ya get krumped by da gitz dat live ‘ere.”
“And who iz dey?”. A ping echoed across the bridge. The eyes of every grot swiveled to one of the consoles on the bridge. On its screen was a radar, with the Thumb of Mork at its center, and several dots slowly approaching from its rim. Sparky turned to the Red Gobbo and said “I fink we’z about ta find out.”
Captain Henry Robinson of the S.E.A.F Liberty-Class Crusier “Coruier of Family Values” looked upon the objected that had dared to intrude upon space belonging to the glorious Federation Of Super Earth. It had manifested a few minutes ago near the edge of the Spherion system. The object was massive, measuring well over four kilometers long, dwarfing some of even the larger of Super Earth’s space stations.
It definitely wasn’t made by Super Earth though. Their creations were mighty and glorious, as were all things produced by Managed Democracy. This… thing, was seemingly cobbled together from random pieces of scrap metal. Maybe it was a construct of the vile socialist Automatons? No. He had seen videos and pictures of the Federation’s campaign against those filthy clankers from the Ministry of Truth, and whilst their creations were clearly inferior to those of Super Earth, they at least seemed to have some thought put into their construction.
“Progress on the scan report?” Captain Robinson asked his assistant, a wiry man named Lieutenant Helmer Green. “We’re still not getting much. It all seems like junk data. I mean, look at this!” He pointed at part of the scan of the unknown construct “Apparently this jumble of pipes are all weapons! I think our scanners are on the fritz.”.
“Evidently so.” groaned Captain Robinson. When their sensors had detected an unknown object manifesting near the edge of the Spherion system, He, as the highest ranking officer present, had ordered all of Spherion’s vanguard fleet to intercept the object. Granted this wasn’t much. Spherion was a frontier world far from the frontlines of the war, and thus didn’t have much to defend it. But he’d be derelict in his duty if he didn’t fight the enemies of managed democracy with everything he had. But now that he actually saw his quarry…
“Tell me, Lieutenant. Do you think we could colonize this object?”. Lieutenant Green raised an eyebrow at this “What do you mean by that Captain?”. “What do you think I mean?” he gestured at Green’s report “It’s clearly mechanical in nature, and whilst whoever originally designed it was clearly a dissident on multiple illicit substances, perhaps we could repurpose it to serve the cause of managed democracy?”. A slow grin began to split Lieutenant Green’s face “I think I see what you’re getting at Captain.”.
Robinson waved his arms in a grand gesture as he spoke “The Spherion Space station! Vanguard of liberty! If we get some engineers to shave off the superfluous elements, patch it up, get some proper systems running on it, We’d have a fortress no dissident could ever hope to destroy! We’d turn Spherion from a frontier world into a major military stronghold! We’d-”. Captain Robinson never got to realize his vision, infact he never got to finish his sentence. Whilst he had been talking, the “jumble of pipes” Lieutenant Green had pointed out had taken aim at the Courier of Family Values, and opened fire.
“DAKKA DAKKA DAKKA DAKKKA DIE DIE DIE!” Shouted the grot manning one of the Thumb of Mork’s many, many guns as he obliterated the approaching vessel. The other vessels that had arrived alongside it didn’t fair much better, as other guns tore them apart. They managed to get a few hits on the Thumb of Mork, but they had unknowingly flown into range of almost every single one of the Thumb of Mork’s various weapons, and thus were quickly mowed down by what was essentially a wall of bullets.
Eventually the guns quieted down as there was nothing left of the ships but scrap. The Red Gobbo clapped his hands together. “Right, looks like we got da jump on dem. Question iz, who exactly did we get da jump on?”. Fragwit looked at a scan they had gotten of one of the enemy vessels before they had shredded it “Looks a bit like stuntie tech. But it definitely aint stunties. Maybe Humies? Dey’z got pretty similar stuff to stunties, but I’z never seen any humie tech like dis, and dey really don’t like getting creative.” Fragwit scoffed “No imagination.”.
“I can fink of how we might find out.” The Red Gobbo scratched his chin and turned to Fragwit “Ya any good at nicking data?”. Fragwit chuckled darkly “Back when I worked unda Big Mek Steeltoof, my main job was nicking data from any cogi-wotzits Steeltoof had found, ta see if dey had any good schematics on em.”.
The Red Gobbo clapped his hands and began to rub them together “Right den. First, we’z gonna take every bit of scrap deez gitz had. Keep an eye out for any ‘ard drives, databanks, cogi-wotzits, and anyfing of dat nature. Second, we’z gonna fly out into da black and hide for a bit whilst we figure wot it iz we’z dealing with. Lastly, we’z gonna get a propa grot WAAAGH going, and kurmp all deez gitz! WHOSE WITH ME?!”. A cheer went up from the surrounding grots. Evidently, all of them where with him. “GORK AND MORK WANT A PROPPA GROT WAAAGH? DEN LETZ GIVE IT TO EM!”.
March 7th 2184. Federation Space. Quintus Sector. Void between systems
The Red Gobbo sat slumped over a hololithic console. He and Fragwit, who had been effectively promoted to little big mek, had been pouring over the data they had gathered, and the picture it painted was not very good. One of the first things that they had figured out was that the galaxy they were currently in wasn’t the same galaxy they had originally come from. There were all sorts of new gitz in this galaxy.
There was a group of Tinboyz called the “Automatons”, which seemed like the result of a mekboy with far too much time on their hands. There was a group of bugs called the Terminids, who apparently turned into something called E-710 when they died, which fueled a type of engine called an Alcubierre drive. This Alcubierrie drive was both safer and faster than the usual warp drive, and thus heavily appealed to the grots. They had managed to salvage one of these Alcubierre drives from one of the destroyed ships and used it to replace the Thumb Of Mork’s old warp drive, but their supply of E-710 was quite limited. There had also apparently once been this group of squids called the Illuminate, but they had been krumped by the last, and most terrifying of this new galaxy’s factions, the so called Federation Of Super Earth.
When they first looked into Super Earth, they seemed alright for a group of humies. They said they fought for freedom, liberty, and something called “managed democracy”. Whilst the Red Gobbo wasn’t familiar with the last of those things, he heavily approved of the first two. But after five minutes of looking into how Super Earth operated, Fragwit was wondering if he should call for Giblit given how ill the Red Gobbo was looking.
Back home there was a kind of humie in the Imperium called snivillians, a vast underclass of humie who were responsible for keeping everything else running, and they were almost as oppressed as the grots. But the thing about how the Imperium treated snivillians and how orks treated grots was that at least it was honest. Why did the snivillians toil away in factories day in and day out? Cause the humie boss said so. Why did grots constantly have to deliver ammo and be emergency rations? Cause the ork boss said so. The boot was on your neck, but at least it was honest. You asked it why it was pressing down on your neck and it said “Cause I’z a cruel black hearted git dat finks I’z better dan you. So shut ya trap and do wot I say.”
But Super Earth? Super Earth didn’t even give you that courtesy. It chained you up and said you were free. It sent you off to “freedom camps” when you questioned it and said you had liberty. And this “managed democracy” thing was the most obvious sham any of them had ever seen. The boss decides your vote? Well what a surprise! Everyone voted for the boss! Who could have foreseen this? It made the Red Gobbo sick to his stomach.
They had taken freedom, the concept for which he had given his life over and over again, and twisted it to become the very thing he fought against. And they truly believed the oppression they were spreading was freedom. Lies constantly told by the so-called “Ministry of Truth” saw to it that everyone in the Federation of Super Earth truly believed that they were free. And if they dared to question any of this, the “Ministry of Unity” shipped them off to a freedom camp and did Mork knew what to them.
Currently, the Red Gobbo was in a meeting with a group of grots that had, via chance, physical prowess, and in one case a game of cards, become “High Command” of the GRC. He had been relaying their current situation to the GRC, who seemed to be taking it quite well. After all, their main enemy had gone from the infinitely more vast orks to the infinitely more vast Super Earth, So not much of a real difference. The Red Gobbo suspected they lacked the revolutionary spirit to see the truth of Super Earth’s crimes.
“Okay, we getz it.” said Snikit “Dese “Supa Urth” humies got a big empire, got some fancy dakka, and dey iz an insult ta proper ‘onest tyranny. So wot exactly are we’z gonna do?”. Fragwit tapped some buttons on the hololith, bringing up Super Earth’s current map of the galaxy. Their home planet, which was named Super Earth as to be expected from a race lacking any proper imagination, was at the center, and two coloured clumps existed to its west and to its east.
“Dis,” Fragwit pointed at the planet in the center with a piece of piping “iz da planet Supa Urth. Dey gots more dakka den a whole chapta of beakies and den sum. Current calculashuns say dat if we tried to krump em with just da Thumb of Mork, we’d get blown ta bitz in between 3 ta 3 and a bit seconds.”. Giblit raised a finger and spoke “In my medical opinion, let's not do dat. Dat seems rather… unhealthy.”
Fragwit nodded and pointed to the yellowish blob facing galactic east “Right, so da second plan is dis. Dis is where ta termi-wots em live. Apparently Supa Urth wuz farming em but den dey got out and wrecked a bunch of stuff. If we head dere, we might be able to nick a bunch of da stuff dey wrecked, including sum more of dat E-710 stuff. Den we can fly off out into some place Supa Urth hasn’t gotten to yet, and maybe find some weaker gitz we can launch a WAAAGH against.”
Sparky shook his head “Dat ain’t gonna work. If we do dat, even if we do find some weaker gits and do a WAAAGH, eventually Supa Urth is just gonna come and paste us!”. He turned to the other assembled members of GRC “high command” “I know we’z grots, so running away iz in our nature, but if we runs away now, we aint gonna be able to run away later!”. Fragwit let out a sigh “I thought one of ya might say somefing like dat.” he gestured to the Red Gobbo “So we’z got one more idea.”.
The Red Gobbo stopped slumping and straightened his hat before speaking “Right, so, right now, we aint krumping Supa Urth. Da Thumb of Mork iz big, bigger den almost anyfing deyz got. But deyz got a lot more ships, and we aint gonna be able ta pull dat trick we pulled when we first arrived again. Deyz eventually gonna catch on and just shoot us on sight. So fighting em alone in space is not an option.”.
He tapped some buttons on the hololith and the map disappeared, replaced by two figures. The first was a human wearing white clothes and blue armour akin to that of the typical imperial guardsman. The second figure was another human, but this one was wearing black and yellow armour, and had a flowing cape. Snikit remembered a while ago he had encountered a special kind of guardsman called a “kasrkin”, and that encounter hadn’t exactly been pleasant. If these ones were anything like kasrkin, he’d rather not have to fight them thank you very much.
The Red Gobbo pointed at the first of the two humans “Dis is wot dey callz a “seaf troopa”. Silly name I know, but deyz still got a good amount of dakka, and plenty of bodys to throw at whoever dey want. Dey iz like da guard humies from back home essentially. But dey isn’t da ones I’z worried about.”. He pointed at the second human, the one in the black armour and flowing cape.
“Dis is apparently wot dey calls a ‘elldiver.” the Red Gobbo tapped some more keys on the hololith and the image started to change. It began to display a video of a group of helldivers fighting various bugs, mowing them down with an ease that the grots had only seen before in orks. “Become part of an elite peacekeeping force!” a narration spoke as two Helldivers fired round after round into a bug that looked to have died 7 reloads ago. “See exotic new life forms.” the narration continued as a Helldiver fired a rocket into a bug the size of a squigoth, killing it almost instantly. “And spread managed democracy throughout the galaxy.” a group of Helldivers pinned a still living bug to the ground with a Super Earth flag, seeming to take delight in its suffering.
“Become a hero.” two Helldivers high fived each other whilst a plane zoomed past, dropping a barrage of bombs that obliterated a group of bugs. “Become a legend!” a Helldiver posed whilst a laser beamed down from the sky, incinerating any bug unfortunate enough to touch it. “Become a Helldiver!”. The grots looked on in awe and terror. Snikit had changed his mind, he’d much rather fight a kasrkin than any of these Helldiver gits. He turned to the Red Gobbo and asked “How many of dese diver gitz do dey ‘ave?”
The Red Gobbo seemed grim as he gave his answer. “Hard ta say, we’z only going off of what Supa Urth sayz, and dey aint exactly a reliable source. But if even a quarter of wot dey say is true, deres billions of em out dere.”. The grots took a collective gasp. Grots were known for killing enemies via sheer force of numbers, but even if each grot aboard the Thumb of Mork were to kill ten helldivers before dying themselves, the deadly arithmetic of war would still see the grots wiped out before long. The Red Gobbo nodded at the grot’s fearful expressions “So fighting em on da ground alone ain’t an option either.”.
“So wot do we do?” asked Snikit. “We can’t fight 'em either in space or on da ground. How iz we supposed ta krump em?”. A sly grin began to cut across the Red Gobbo’s face as he raised a finger. “I didn’t say dat. I said we can’t fight ‘em either in space or on da ground alone.”. He tapped some keys on the hololith and the picture changed to the map they had seen earlier. The Red Gobbo snatched the piece of piping Fragwit was holding and pointed at the cluster of red in the galactic west.
“See dis red bit?” the Red Gobbo asked the GRC, who nodded one by one “Dis is where da Automaton gitz are. Fragwit! Remind me, wot do we know about da Automatons?”. Fragwit let out a cough as all the grots turned to face him “Well, it’s been hard ta figure out who dey really iz, wot with Supa Urth constantly lying to itself, but I fink I’z managed ta put together a good idea.” Fragwit typed on the hololith and an image of a humanoid robot appeared. It looked like what you’d get if you combined a necron tinboy and a humie mekboy, but shaved off any of the fluffy bits.
“Dey’z a bunch of tinboyz wot were apparently made by some humie mekboyz called da Cyborgs on a planet called Cyba-stan. Right now Supa Urth currently controls Cyba-stan, and have got da Cyborgs working in da mines. Naturally da Automatons don’t like dat, and so dey wants ta march ta Cyba-stan and free it.”. The Red Gobbo nodded at this “A very respectable goal, spreading actual freedom and wotnot.”
Fragwit continued “Dey is apparently socialists, wotever dat means. Supa Urth says dat dey don’t actually fink or ‘ave emotions, being creatures of just logic. But apparently dey can feel fear, so that means dat dey do ‘ave emotions, Though I still fink dey iz pretty logical. Dey got dere own fleet which apparently showed up from outside Supa Urth’s map a while back, and ‘ave been fighting Supa Urth eva since.”.
Snikit turned to face the Red Gobbo and asked “So… wots ya plan? Ya gonna go up to dem and say “Ello mista murder tinboy! Could ya please give us ya dakka so we can krump Supa Urth? Pretty please with a squig on top”?”. The Red Gobbo shrugged in response “Somefing like dat yeah.”. Snikit slammed his head against the hololith.
“Okay just ‘ear me out for a second!” the Red Gobbo waved his hands in desperation. He had a plan, he just needed to get his fellow grots to see the vision. “Da Automatons iz logical right? So wot we needs ta do is show em dat working with us is da logical choice.”. The Red Gobbo typed on the hololith and the image returned to the map, before zooming in on one of the red sections, displaying a planet labeled “Malevelon Creek”.
The Red Gobbo pointed at the planet as he spoke “Dis is Malevelon Creek. Supa Urth and da Tinboyz ‘ave been fighting on dis planet and it’z turned into a propa meat grinda. Dey’z been throwing trooper, diver, and tinboy at eachother over dis mudball for ages now. Supa Urth looks like dey might be winning at da moment, so I say, lets fix dat.”.
Snikit raised an eyebrow “Care ta elaborate on ‘ow we do dat?”. Evidently, the Red Gobbo did care. “Da whole planet is covered in jungles, ponds, fog, and most importantly for us, mines. Back before da Automatons showed up, Supa Urth was digging all over da Creek for rhodium. But now dat da fighting’s started, nobody’s in da mines no more. Sounds like just da place for us.”
The Red Gobbo clapped his hands together before continuing “Here’s da plan. First: we go ta Malevelon Creek and dump all da grots we have on it before blowing up da Thumb of Mork. Don’t want Supa Urth ta get deir mits on it after all. Second: We do a Blood Axe kinda war against da humie’s whilst we get our numbers up. We hit a supply depot ‘ere, ambush a convoy dere, but we don’t attack da tinboyz. We’z got ta show em we’z got da same enemy. Third: once we got our numbers up, we start hitting em ‘arder and ‘arder. We muck up deir operations on da ground, letting da tinboyz muck up deir operations in space. Third and a bit: we go up to da Automaton’z big boss and say “Oi, we’ll ‘elp ya free ya mates on Cyba-stan if ya help us krump Supa Urth”. It’z a long shot but it just might work!”
The assembled grots considered the idea. It did have a certain appeal to it. And an idea that may or may not work was certainly more appealing than just sitting around waiting to get krumped. Sparky however, raised a hand in objection. “But dat ain’t a WAAAGH.” he said. “If we do dat, den we iz just joining da Automaton’z war against Supa Urth.”.
The Red Gobbo raised a finger in response “Gork and Mork challenged us to do a WAAAGH using just grots, squigs, and wotever we could find. I’z found da Automatons and deir war against Supa Urth, so I’z gonna take dat war and turn it into a propa WAAAGH”. Sparky narrowed his eyes at this “Dat’s cheating.”
The Red Gobbo scoffed “Of course it’z cheating! We’z grots! Iz you really gonna tell me dat Gork and Mork gave a bunch of grots a challenge and expected dem not ta cheat?”. Sparky looked like he was about to say something, but then paused to rub his chin. He had to admit, not even the thickest of orks would expect a grot to not cheat when given a challenge, and Gork and Mork were far from thick mentally.
“I’z in.” Sparky nodded. “I’z in aswell!” yelled Giblit. The assembled grots chorused their agreement. Sure it wasn’t the greatest plan, but it sure was a plan. And who knows, it might actually work. The Red Gobbo stood up on his chair and shouted “Dem Supa Urth gitz fink dey know wot real freedom iz! I say we show em wot freedom really looks like! Dey wanna spread managed democracy? Den lets go spread managed anarchy! WAAAGH!”. “WAAAGH!” chorused the grots. And without anyone else knowing, the battle for Malevolon Creek had just changed dramatically.
March 9th 2184. Federation Space. Severin Sector. Malevelon Creek
Colonel Jackson Stromwell of the Super Earth Armed Forces let out a sigh as he sat at his desk. Oh how he longed to be out there with the troops. Spreading glorious Managed Democracy to those filthy clankers. Crushing undemocratic scum beneath his boots. He wished he had gotten that transfer to become a Helldier. But alas, The Ministry of Defense had said he was better suited to a command role, and command came with mountains of paper work.
What was he supposed to write again? Ah yes, a report on that incident that had happened yesterday. He shook his head. He knew from what the Ministry of Truth had said that the Automatons weren’t the brightest, but if they had actually expected him to buy that trick they were dumber than he thought. He cracked his knuckles and began to type.
INCIDENT REPORT M-0RK-1854
DATE: March 9th 2184
SUBJECT: Unknown orbital anomaly and surface intrusion
AUTHOR: Colonel Jackson Stromwell, S.E.A.F, Malevelon Creek Theater.
1. INCIDENT RECAP:
On March 8th 2184 05:20 Standard Super Earth Time, an unknown mechanical object manifested in low orbit above Malevelon Creek. The vessel, hereby referred to as Bogie-1 had no IFF signal, nor did it respond to any hails. Bogie-1’s construction was of a size unseen by anything previously encountered in the Automaton’s fleet, measuring at roughly 4.5 kilometers long and 1.1 kilometers abeam. It also bore no aesthetic similarities to any known faction, looking more like the result of a dissident on illicit substances being given access to a scrapyard and a welding torch, painted mostly red, with large portions of bare metal visible.
From 05:21 to 05:26 Standard Super Earth Time, Bogie-1 appeared to commence a total evacuation. Flyers, escape pods, drop pods, unidentifiable objects, anything that could theoretically be used to get someone from a spaceship to a planet’s surface was used. The distribution of these pods seemed largely random, though concentrated at various sites, all of which were formerly Rhodium mines that have since had to be abandoned in face of the war.
At 05:30 Standard Super Earth Time, Bogie-1 experienced multiple internal explosions across the entire vessel. Turning the entire structure to scrap. The scrap either flew off into deep space, burned up in the atmosphere, landed in points that were of no interest to anyone, or was shot down by S.E.A.F/Automaton artillery.
At 12:16 Standard Super Earth Time, The first scouting party arrived at the drop site of one of the evacuation clusters. Their reports indicate seeing disassembled remains of drop pods, escape pods, and flyers. Though further analysis of the remains has raised the question of if any of these devices could’ve ever worked in the first place. Multiple tracks were sighted, including:
- Small clawed footprints (approximately size 4-5, though the depth of the tracks indicates they were left by something that was rather light)
- Small bootprints of a similar size and depth
- Claw prints from several undetermined species
- Vehicle tracks consistent with tires and treads
All of these tracks eventually lead into an entrance to one of the old rhodium mines. Scouts were ordered to go no further, as the rhodium mine network is currently considered unstable, with regions likely to collapse at any moment. Other scouting parties arrived at different landing sites and reported similar findings.
2. ANALYSIS OF INCIDENT
Current analysis indicates a high likelihood of this being a false flag operation by the Automatons. The vessel was constructed in a manner that was both haphazard and attention grabbing. This is because it was meant to be something the Automatons slapped together to attempt to divert our attention away from their more critical operations.
The prints at the landing sites were likely made by unknown Automaton units designed to mimic organic beings/vehicles. The tracks lead into the rhodium mine network because the Automatons want us to go on a wild goose chase thinking that something is down there. They want us to divert units from more important missions to go into an unstable mine network chasing an enemy that doesn’t exist.
The vessel’s self destruction was also part of their plot. If we could have further analyzed the structure, we surely would have detected the hallmarks of its Automaton design, rendering the entire plan pointless. By destroying it, they have forced us to at least ask the question. Though the answer is still obvious to any loyal follower of managed democracy.
The alternative theory, that this was an invasion by an unknown alien race, is clearly nonsensical. Why arrive with only one ship? Why self destruct instead of running away? Why hide in an unstable mine network? None of it makes any sense. The only logical explanation is that this was a deception by the Automaton Legion. A deception we will not be fooled by.
3. RECOMMENDATION FOR FURTHER ACTIONS
It is the recommendation of this officer that no further resources should be given to investigating this incident. Patrols in affected sectors are to continue as normal, engaging any hostile forces they encounter following standard standing orders. Any anomalous signals from the mine network are to be treated as an Automaton ambush force unless proven otherwise. No soldier is to be ordered to head into the mine network, lest they die in a pointless cave in, instead of giving their life in service of managed democracy.
This event is to be classified as an Automaton deception tactic and will be logged, tagged, and archived accordingly. The clankers attempted to trick us, but we will not fall for any of their lies. Not their lies about Super Earth, not their lies about freedom, and certainly not this bold face lie. We will continue to fight against the Automaton Legion as we always have.
FOR SUPER EARTH! FOR MANAGED DEMOCRACY!
Colonel Jackson Stromwell. 287th Orbital Battalion. Malevelon Creek Theater.
Jackson let out a sigh of relief as he finished his report. He leaned back in his chair and patted himself on the back on a job well done. These clankers couldn’t fool him. There was nothing in those mines but rock and rhodium. If the Automatons wanted to waste their resources trying to trick Super Earth into thinking there were little green men in the mines then let them. Super Earth would not be fooled.