"WAAAGH!"
Ururu's roar made the mushrooms in the fields tremble. Ururu loved peace, but now he was going to kill these bad Ummies who couldn't farm, only destroy!
Yet just as he was about to charge into the crowd, a towering giant blocked his path. Ururu didn't hesitate, roaring "WAAAGH!" as he charged, only to be beheaded. The Ork's headless body ran another dozen paces before crashing to the ground, its blood soaking the mushroom field he had so carefully tended.
Mortal warriors followed the Primarch in silence, heavily equipped with flamers. Jets of flame engulfed entire fields of mushrooms. Black ash drifted on the heat; the air thick with acrid smoke.
Wherever Orks go, their spores follow. Reach was already contaminated beyond easy remedy; burning a few fields was a drop in the bucket. But if left alone, countless mushrooms would sprout in days, more abundant than before. Before the Primarch's arrival, the mortal Auxilia had also cleared wild mushrooms in front of their positions to create a buffer zone.
Under the Primarch's leadership, the Auxilia had now advanced beyond their lines, clearing surrounding Ork territory. By controlling Ork numbers like weeding, and periodically eliminating Warbosses and Nobs, the threat could be greatly reduced. Even if new Orks arose, their technology would regress to the Stone Age. Leaderless Orks would focus on infighting, significantly reducing the local threat.
This was a long process, requiring constant monitoring of Ork activity and immediate elimination whenever a Nob emerged. Otherwise, Orks, under a Nob's leadership, would experience a technological explosion, leaping from the Stone Age to an interstellar civilization within half a year in ways humans couldn't comprehend. This process would birth more Orks, more Nobs, and eventually a Warboss. Ultimately, under a Warboss, the Orks would launch a galaxy-shaking WAAAGH!
But Ork evolution wasn't without limits. Powerful Orks required massive populations as support. For an Ork Boy to become a Nob, other Boyz had to think he was very WAAAGH! For a Nob to become a Warboss, other Nobs had to think he was very WAAAGH, and he also needed the blessings of Gork and Mork.
Rahn knelt on one knee. "My Lord, the camp is secured."
"My Lord," Diaz's voice came over the comm. "The kill team has found another Ork camp 57 kilometers northwest. At least five times larger than this one, with at least a dozen Nobs fighting."
"The kill team suspects a new Warboss may be emerging there."
Dorn said, "Prepare a shuttle. I will go personally."
The Imperium had previously resorted to orbital bombardment out of desperation; massive Ork gatherings risked overrunning the mortal defensive lines.
Now that the Primarch was here, the Imperium no longer needed to violently destroy the fields. Besides, decapitation was unparalleled in cost-effectiveness. Decapitating Ork Nobs with mortal lives was far cheaper than orbital bombardment.
...
"WAAAGH!"
Gruk's fist smashed into a red demon's face. More horned demons were pouring into the ship. The Boyz behind him were already in a frenzy, grabbing choppas and shootas, yelling "WAAAGH!" They'd been itching for a fight!
"HAHA! Gruk likes fightin'! Gruk da strongest!"
Gruk pinned a demon and pounded its head into mush. Grabbing its arm, he hurled it, roaring "WAAAGH!" as he charged the demons in the corridor.
Gruk had launched a glorious WAAAGH! crusade under Gork and Mork's blessing, but the voyage was tedious. Long periods without fighting. Orks decorated their ships with various totems; these were just decorations, but Orkish belief enveloped the ship in a WAAAGH!-energy shield. Orks didn't understand the principles; they just knew WAAAGH! worked. Only Meks studied Warp travel theory.
Occasionally, demons entered their ship, a delightful surprise that thrilled the bored crew. Orks would band together with WAAAGH! cries, turning the dull journey into a lively party. The demons flooding in didn't seem to expect such a warm welcome. They were almost immediately overwhelmed by the green tide. The Orks, in the chaos, grabbed choppas, wrenches, teeth, even other Ork corpses, and beat them to a pulp.
Orks didn't know where the demons came from, what they were, or how many there were. Who cared? As long as the fight was good!
When the last demon was torn apart, the Orks, still wanting more, began eyeing each other. Someone threw a punch with a "WAAAGH!", and soon the compartment was filled with a merry atmosphere. Until the next demon incursion, or until they returned to reality, they needed some fun!
Gruk didn't fight. These Boyz were too weak. "Me wants to fight da golden big 'Un! Give me da biggest, fastest, loudest, most WAAAGH! engine!"
Gruk kicked open a hatch, roaring "WAAAGH!" and punching a Mek Boy's workbench. The Mek Boy screamed maniacally, grabbing an oily choppa and charging at a stunned Weirdboy in the corner.
Expertly removing the Weirdboy's brain, the Mek Boy stuffed it into the engine core, a mess of rusted pipes, exposed cables, and unknown metal, like installing a part. The Weirdboy was a spare, but the boss wanted faster and louder, so they'd use more brains!
"Me gonna paint dis red!"
The Mek Boy muttered, grabbing a bouncing Squig to use its blood for paint. Red would make it faster! Efficiency would definitely improve. Wear and tear would increase too, but the Mek Boy had plenty of spare Weirdboy brains!
"No fightin'! So borin'!"
The Warp made Gruk uncomfortable. He squatted in the hold, idly drawing on the floor. No real fights. No good soil for mushrooms. Just endless whispers he couldn't understand, so annoying!
Gruk drew an Ork face, then a golden big 'Un. If the Ork face beat the golden big 'Un, the biggest, greenest Ork face would reward him! Gruk looked forward to meeting the rumored golden big 'Un who had killed Gobjaw. If he could kill that golden big 'Un, he'd become bigger, greener, more WAAAGH!
"Gork above! When me find da golden big 'Un, me gonna fight him to da death!"
...
"WAAAGH!"
Nobs were engaged in bloody combat, hacking at each other with choppas. Surrounding Boyz formed a circle, excitedly waving weapons and cheering for their bosses. Whenever a Nob killed an opponent, the victor visibly grew bigger and greener amidst the Boyz' cheers. The dead boss's Boyz, with no loyalty, immediately pledged allegiance to the victor, cheering for their new boss.
"Look! Boss Grakgul killed anotha!"
"Boss is big! Boss is green! Now dat's a proppa boss!"
The Boyz erupted in cheers. When they felt their boss should be bigger and greener, he became bigger and greener. Grakgul had now defeated seven Nobs, his size increasing by a third, making him a full head taller than the other Nobs. The Boyz' cheers grew more unified:
"GRAKGUL! GRAKGUL! GRAKGUL!"
Soon, after defeating the last three Nobs, Grakgul would become the new Warboss.
Just as the Nobs were in the heat of their melee, a Grot squeezed through the circle, screaming, "Bosses! Stop fightin'! Da Ummies are here! Dey brought a golden big 'Un!"
"Wot? Golden big 'Un?"
Grakgul punched his opponent away, spat a bloody gob with broken teeth, his face alight with savage joy. "WAAAGH! Good timin'! Kill da big 'Un, make me da most WAAAGH! Warboss!"
"Kill da big 'Un! Kill da Ummies!"
The Boyz erupted in thunderous cheers. The Nobs stopped fighting; their infighting instantly transformed into a fanatical unified hatred. They all wanted to kill the golden big 'Un, that could make them surpass Grakgul! All the Nobs swelled in size. Grakgul was now only a meter shorter than Gobjaw.
Many Warbosses were only that size. But Grakgul wasn't a Warboss yet. He hadn't defeated all the Nobs, nor killed the golden big 'Un. Only an Ork who killed the golden big 'Un truly deserved Gork and Mork's blessing as Warboss!
"WAAAGH! All Boyz! Follow me! Kill da Ummies!"
Grakgul raised his blood-stained, rusted claw. Thousands of Boyz surged in a green tide, wielding choppas and crude shootas, charging towards the sounds of explosions and gunfire. The fiery blasts illuminated the golden big 'Un's towering figure. Grakgul gave an excited war cry, "WAAAGH, big 'Un! Me is Grakgul! Me challenge you to single combat!"
...
Dorn led his assault teams, recruited from Invictan phalanx soldiers and mortal Auxilia, landing in seven Avenger light transports. Simultaneously, orbital troop ships precisely dropped an entire Auxilia regiment to the coordinates.
Auxilia with grav-chutes descended like heavenly soldiers, immediately engaging Orks in fierce firefights upon landing.
Dorn's transport landed right in the middle of the battlefield. Though mortal transports were lightly armored, Ork shootas weren't very powerful. The hatches burst open. The Primarch's towering figure, like golden thunder, charged into the Ork horde. Mortals could barely see his sword move, but each swing reaped scores of Orks. His guards fought desperately to keep up, to fulfill their role. Whenever they cleared a space, more Orks surged from all directions, filling every gap. They could only watch in despair as the Primarch was surrounded.
"Maintain formation! Don't panic! I need no rescue!"
Dorn's voice came over the comm. He could see his guards' anxiety and didn't want them to lose composure.
The Auxilia assembled into standard tactical squads, their searing firepower mowing down waves of charging Orks. Heavy weapons teams set up heavy incendiary and plasma guns, sniping Ork elites, easily spotted by their larger size. The mortals' clever tactics negated the Orks' numerical advantage, seizing the initiative quickly.
Dorn's gaze passed over the Ork horde, fixing on the largest Nob. He understood Orkish. And he chose to meet the challenge.
"Come!"
Dorn walked forward silently, his pace quickening to a charge. Waves of Ork Boyz howled past the Primarch, choppas and shootas raised, charging the Imperial lines. The Nobs also stopped, tacitly forming a circle. Only by defeating the golden big 'Un in single combat could they earn Gork and Mork's true blessing!
Dorn swung his sword. Grakgul laughed, blocking with his claw. But unexpectedly, there was no clang. Grakgul caught the blade, but it kept moving, slicing his hand in two.
The gap between a Nob and a Warboss wasn't just size. Every Warboss had Gork and Mork's acknowledgment. A five-meter Nob might be stronger than a four-meter Warboss, but a significant qualitative difference remained. Grakgul's single eye widened in shock, staring at his neatly severed hand. Gobjaw could do it. Why couldn't he?
Dorn gave him no time to think. His blade turned, aiming for the Nob's throat. Grakgul scrambled back but couldn't dodge. His head flew high. His face froze in shock and confusion, still not understanding why his claw had failed. The squig-hair on his scalp screeched and leaped away, fleeing in the spray of blood, only to be trampled by other Nobs.
"Me turn. Me name..."
The Nob was still introducing himself when Dorn, now in god-mode, beheaded him. Within seconds, all the Nobs were warm corpses.
The Boyz stopped in unison. A Grot darted from the crowd, screaming, "Run, boyz! Our bosses got krumped!"
...
HUM!
"Alert! Warp fluctuations detected!"
The Indomitable Will's augur arrays suddenly blared. Tech-priests' mechadendrites flew over cogitators, screens showing cascading data.
"They're breaching the Veil! General quarters!"
"Load macrocannons! Calibrate fire control!"
"Lower blast shields! Avoid looking directly at the breach!"
"Warn Reach immediately! Notify the Primarch!"
A breach split the void silently, like a cauterized scar. The wound's interior glowed with the Warp's eerie light, staining the entire starfield a sickly red.
"Ork fleet! At least two hundred, still emerging!"
On the tactical screen, red dots representing enemy ships multiplied exponentially. Crude hulks squeezed from the breach like pustules, trailing greasy black smoke.
The Ork hulks, barely out of the Warp, surged forward like sharks sensing blood, charging headlong into the Imperial minefield. One hulk exploded. The sympathetic detonation, silent in the void, tore the junk heap apart.
Love, "Lock onto the largest signal source! All ships, full salvo!"
Decapitation was equally decisive in void warfare. The largest hulk was surely the Ork flagship. Destroying it would throw the Ork fleet into chaos. The Imperial fleet was outnumbered ten to one, but time and position favored them. The Orks, just emerged from the Warp, hadn't raised their shields. They were at their most vulnerable. And the Imperial fleet, lying in wait, had already calibrated fire!
In an instant, the Imperial ships shuddered. Macrocannons roared; lances blazed. Macrocannon shells punched through Ork ships in the way; lances struck and pierced targets, causing catastrophic explosions. This was an inherent flaw of Ork hulks, hit them, and they'd sympathetically detonate. Usually not the magazines, but engines or power systems. Ork technology, trustworthy.
Love, initially delighted, expecting success, saw no chaos. The Ork fleet remained remarkably organized, charging the Imperial lines. More Ork ships emerged from the breach, including many comparable to the ones they'd destroyed, and even a Space Hulk hundreds of kilometers wide!
Love's heart sank. The Hulk was the real threat. It dwarfed any Imperial ship. Love couldn't imagine how to destroy it. On the tactical screen, Ork ships multiplied. Hundreds now surrounded the Hulk.
Love ordered, "All ships, retreat! Stay mobile!"
"Avoid direct engagement! Use hit-and-run tactics!"
"For Humanity!"
"For the Emperor!" The captains answered in unison.
The Imperial fleet scattered like startled fish. The Ork fleet was still in the minefield. They returned fire; Ork guns were powerful, but accuracy was laughable. Only a few shots hit Imperial ships, failing to penetrate void shields.
Imperial fire shifted from salvos to precise shots, targeting smaller Ork ships on the flanks.
...
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