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Da Boss Of Da Dead Chapta 1 | |
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Da Boss Of Da Dead Chapta 1 |
Several million years later… Gorgoga Ironface looked out of his window at the mining settlement he ruled. The sun had risen several hours earlier and by now the orks were hard at work extracting the valuable metals from the mine below the ground. As Gorgoga watched he saw a lone figure approaching the entrance to the mine. It was clearly an ork; it was far too large to be a gretchin. But the way it continuously looked around suggested that whoever it was wanted to know if they were being observed. The figure began to turn towards Gorgoga but then looked away before seeing the ork nob watching. But the figure had turned enough for Gorgoga to identify it. It was Mek Cognailer, the peculiar ork mekboy who had arrived along with a warband from the capital city of Warboss Kazkal Kromag and then stayed on when the warband had left. Cognailer had rapidly gained a reputation for oddness. Where orks were general loud and boisterous, Cognailer was quiet and withdrawn. Even the other meks knew little of him and he worked only when asked rather than continuously ‘improving’ the machinery around the camp like a normal mekboy would. Gorgoga wondered what the mekboy could possibly want down the mine. Digging for metal was work for gretchin and ork boys, not oddboys like meks. For a moment Gorgoga considered that a piece of machinery could have malfunctioned down the mine and Cognailer was going to fix it, but all breakages were supposed to be reported to Gorgoga himself so he could punish the responsible party. Then Cognailer passed through the mine entrance and vanished into the darkness. Shrugging, Gorgoga stepped away from the window. Whatever the mekboy was doing it was his own business. Unless it interfered with the smooth running of the mine of course. In that case Gorgoga would deal with him personally. Mek Cognailer knew the way by heart. To begin with he headed deep into the mine, to the deepest parts of the workings. The orks he encountered ignored him, like their leader they had become used to him refusing to respond. Most didn’t even look at him as he ran past them. It was only when he reached a boarded up shaft that Cognailer came to a halt and looked around to ensure that he was alone in the tunnel. The last thing he wanted was for another greenskin to see him as he lifted the concealed flap he had installed when he had erected the wooden barrier to keep others out of the tunnel behind it. Slipping through the gap in the barrier he let the flap drop shut behind him and waited for a moment while his bionic eye adjusted to the pitch black of the tunnel before continuing down it. The tunnel had been disused since well before Cognailer had sealed it off. The barrier was just a precaution in case someone decided to have another try at digging down here. He was more concerned about gretchin doing this than orks. The smaller creatures well known for sneaking into places with the intention of doing things that they would be stopped from doing if an ork were present. In fact the first time he had come down here he had found a pair of gretchin scarping at the walls. He had killed both of them of course, their decomposing bodies still lay in the tunnel and even the other gretchin had made no comment about their disappearance. Nobody cared about gretchin. What Cognailer sought lay near the end of the tunnel. There was a section of the dirt floor that he had been excavating for several weeks now. The hole was about shoulder deep when the piles of dirt dug out and piled around it were taken into account. But the floor of the hole was not made of dirt. Instead it was a dulled silver metal, covered in arcane carvings that meant nothing to an ork such as Cognailer, even with his link to the alien skull. Their meanings were irrelevant to the task at hand so the skull did not bother to tell him what they said. He jumped down into the hole and set down his bag. Then he removed the object it contained and placed it on the dirt edge of the hole, at about the right height for him to be able to look directly at it without bending down. The metallic skull had a bundle of crude orkish battery packs attached to it, providing the energy needed to power its systems. SOON. The word appeared as if it floated in the air in front of Cognailer. The skull made use of Cognailer’s assorted neurological and optical implants to project the letters into his mind. START DIGGING AT THE LEFT OF THE HOLE. THE SIGNAL COMES FROM THERE. Cognailer reached out and took hold of the pick that he had left down here. Stolen from one of the ork miners its loss, along with the shovel he had also taken had been noticed but blamed on a gretchin that had been dismembered as both punishment and entertainment. Lifting the pick high above his head, Cognailer began to hack away at the compressed ground at the side of the hole, breaking off chunks that fell around his feet. Then he put eh pick back and instead took up the shovel to clear the hole of what he had just broken loose from the side. He repeated this, widening the hole at one side until when he looked down he saw that there was a perfectly straight crack in the metal. “Something is here.” He said with far more effort to his pronunciation than other orks. THAT IS IT. CLEAR IT FULLY. Cognailer got down on his hands and knees and began to scrape at the dirt with his bare hands, hurling it carelessly over his shoulder. As he pulled more away he unearthed corners in the crack that revealed a pair of parallel edges to whatever he was digging up. KEEP GOING. Cognailer did as he was told and pulled handfuls of dirt from the side of the hole until he reached more turns in the crack that brought the edges back towards one another. Before long he found himself looking at a perfect square, each side having a length about equal to Cognailer’s standing height. “Now what?” he asked, staring down. The reply from the skull did not come in the form of the written commands that he had become used to. Instead there was a shrill burst of sound and Cognailer roared as he clamped his hands over his ears in a vain attempt to keep the noise out. The sound came to an abrupt halt and there was a dull ‘clung’. Looking back down at the square he saw that it had dropped down into the ground and there was a grinding as it slid backwards to reveal an empty space below. PICK ME UP. WE MUST GO IN. Cognailer did as the skull commanded him, picking it up and then jumping down through the square hole. When he landed Cognailer found himself in a metal passageway with wall lined with similar carvings to those on the metal he had dug out in the mine tunnel. Unlike the damp air of the mine tunnels, the air in the passageway was dry though it was just as cool. As in the tunnel, he had to rely on his optics to allow him to see, but this was not a problem for him. GO RIGHT. QUICKLY. Cognailer turned right and headed down the passageway at speed. The floor ran at an angle and Cognailer knew that he was getting deeper into the ground. STOP. Cognailer ground to a halt beside what looked like a shallow alcove in the wall of the passageway. HOLD ME UP. He held out the skull towards the alcove and there was another shrill blast of sound that caused Cognailer to drop the skull as he once again clamped his hands over his ears. As soon as the sound ceased he reached down and picked up the skull. At the same time there was a rumbling and the wall of the alcove split down the middle and slid open. ENTER. CAREFULLY. Cognailer advanced through the now open doorway into a chamber lined with what looked like statues. Each of the figures stood a head taller than Cognailer and in their hands they clutched what looked like hand axes with long narrow shields mounted on their other arms. There were two rows of such figures, one along each side of the room stood facing one another. Cognailer kept going, walking between the rows of unmoving figures. Ahead of him he could see a massive ornate looking throne mounted on a dais on which a bulky figure sat. Looking at the figure Cognailer at first took it for another statue but then he saw that set into its heavily armoured head was a face of mummified flesh. CLOSER. Cognailer approached the throne and its unmoving occupant. STOP. SET ME DOWN. Cognailer placed the skull on the dais and stood up. There was a third burst of sound, once again causing Cognailer to clamp his hands over his ears until it stopped. At that point he looked around to see what had opened up this time. But the walls each side of the room, though partially obscured by the rows of figures remained intact and he turned back toward throne. Where the figure sat on it had opened its eyes and was staring at him. The figure’s eyes were not the soft fleshy orbs of living beings but instead tiny glass globes that glowed with green light, similar to ork bionics but much smaller and more sophisticated. Even in the darkness Cognailer knew that the figure could see him as well as he could see it. “Krork.” The figure said slowly as it got to its feet, all the time staring at Cognailer. Though he did not understand the word, Cognailer felt that he should. As if it were something he had heard long ago and then forgotten. Then, in the orkish language the figure added, “How did you get here?” I BROUGHT HIM HERE. The transmission from the skull was not really intended for Cognailer, but the broadcast was still picked up by the mekboy’s bionics. The figure looked down. I HAVE NO MORE NEED OF HIM. At that moment the skull severed the link between it and Cognailer, immediately returning to the mekboy the free will that had been lost the moment he had mistakenly attempted to access the knowledge contained inside the skull. “I’ll kill ya all!” Cognailer bellowed and he lunged towards the figure. The figure reacted quickly, lashing out with a blow that sent Cognailer flying backwards through the air, landing between the rows of armed statues. Cognailer began to get back to his feet, but a pair of the statues either side of him had come to life as rapidly as the seated one had and they stepped out of their neat rows and stowed their axes at their waists before taking hold of the ork’s arms. Held fast in the iron grip of the guards, Cognailer roared in frustration and licked at the guards restraining him. A third guard stepped out of line and marched up to where Cognailer was being held, standing behind him. The figure from the throne approached Cognailer, all the time staring into his eyes. “So this is an example of the mighty warriors our enemy plans to use against use? This savage?” THEY RULE THIS WORLD NOW. “Look at me Krork. I am Mazakatek and I am the true master of this world. Not you, not the eldar, nor any other slave species of our enemy.” “Dis world belongs to da orks! We aint nobodies’ slaves neither!” Cognailer yelled, “Ya ‘as already lost.” Mazakatek stopped and looked back at the skull lay beside his throne. “You say he is of no further use to us?” NO MY MASTER. Then Mazakatek turned back towards Cognailer. “Kill it.” He said and the guard standing behind Cognailer brought his axe blade down onto the ork mekboy’s head and cleaved him in two down the middle. As the mekboy’s organ’s spilled out onto the floor the guards let go of his arms and let him drop. “Now,” Mazakatek said as he walked back towards his throne and picked up the skull, “tell me how long I have slept. And tell me what I have missed. Then I will decide what I will do with these krork. And you.” As darkness fell over the city a cluster of orks stood around the massive tube shaped construction mounted on the roof of the workshop. One by one they bent down at the end and looked into a much smaller tube mounted there. Those not taking their turn looking into the tube instead looked up into the night sky. “So wotcha all lookin’ at den Batrug?” Hazug Throatslitter, last of the Blood Axe clan on the planet asked. “Ah, ‘ello Hazug.” Mek Batrug replied, looking back at Hazug. As one of the leadership caste of the orks know as nobs, Hazug towered over Mek Batrug and most of the other mekboys present also, “Wotcha doin’ ‘ere?” “Dat’s wot I just asked.” Hazug replied, “Dat’s wot da boss sent me to find out. ‘E ‘eard dat dare was a bunch of ya up ‘ere and wants to know wot ya is all up to. ‘E don’t like it when loads of meks get together like dis. Stuff tends to explode when ‘e aint ready for it.” “Wots dat Blood Axe git lover doin’ ‘ere?” another of the meks demanded. This one was larger than the others, almost as large as Hazug himself. The term ‘git lover’ was a common term of abuse for members of the Blood Axe clan and was derived from their well-known habit of associating with humans, or ‘gits’ on a sometimes equal footing. Most orks would deal with humans providing the aliens recognised the innate superiority of orks but would never seek a mutually profitable outcome from any negotiations. On the other hand the Blood Axe clan had a history of doing such deals. Occasionally they would even go so far as to open trade with representatives of the Imperium, the galaxy spanning governing body of most humans. Hazug looked at the big mek. “Da warboss sent me.” Hazug replied, “If ya got a problem den we can both go and see Kazkal about it.” Kazkal Kromag was the largest and thus most powerful ork on the planet. He had gained his position as warboss the same way all orks did – he killed everyone in his way – and he held onto the position that way too. To oppose an emissary of the warboss was to oppose the warboss himself and not considered a sensible course of action for anyone with plans that extended beyond the next two minutes or so as humans would measure time. The big mek frowned, stuck between showing weakness by backing down or risking the wrath of Kazkal Kromag. Pretending nothing had happened he instead turned back to the construction. “So wot is dis?” Hazug asked Batrug, “Is it some sort of kannon?” Mek Batrug snorted. “A kannon? Where d’ya reckon we’d stick da shell?” “I can think of a place.” Hazug replied, looking at the big mek, “So wot is it?” “Its for lookin’ at stuff far away.” Mek Batrug replied, “Makes ‘em look closer.” “Like dat thing da tau made?” Hazug asked. Some time ago he had recovered a device made by the alien species known as the tau. Mek Batrug had identified it as a viewing and recording device. Since then Hazug had used it often to spy on things, especially when the light was poor and the alien device’s night vision function was needed. “Sort of.” Batrug said, “But dis is for lookin’ a lot further away and it don’t record anythin’. But we is buildin’ another bit to do dat.” “So wotcha lookin’ at?” Hazug asked. “An ‘ulk.” Batrug told him and Hazug stared at the mekboy. “An ‘ulk?” he repeated, “Is ya serous?” “Aye.” Batrug said, “Go see for yaself.” Hazug strode towards the crude orkish telescope, pushing meks out of the way as he forced a path to the eyepiece and looked into it. He saw nothing. A puzzled look appeared on his face and he looked up at Batrug. “Its just spots. I can see dem just by lookin’ up.” He said, referring to the tiny spots of light in the sky. “Stupid git lover, don’t know wot ‘e’s lookin’ at.” The big mek commented and there were laughs from the crowd. “Ya needs to look at da spots wot is movin’.” Mek Batrug explained as he walked closer to Hazug. He knew that the Blood Axe did not appreciate technical explanations, so he decided to keep it simple, “Da stars is so far away we can’t see ‘em movin’. But da ‘ulk is closer so it looks like its movin’ across wot ya is lookin’ at.” “Like da kroozers in orbit den?” Hazug asked. The space immediately around the planet was littered with ork spacecraft, multi-mile long capital ships and comparatively smaller gunships and vessels intended to ram into enemy vessels and disgorge massive numbers of ork boarders. Many of these vessels were visible from the ground at night as their drives were fired to avoid collisions and occasionally when arguments between two or more of the ork ship bosses got out of hand and the orks on the ground were treated to a spectacular fireworks show. “Yeah, dat’s it.” Batrug answered. Hazug looked down again into the tube. This time he noticed that a large blob was slowly drifting across the picture. “So ‘ow big is it?” he asked. “Real big.” A nearby mek said, “About an ‘undred times ‘eavier dan a kill kroozer.” “It’ll fit loads of lads.” Another added. Then Hazug noticed another moving point of light. It was much smaller than the hulk, but moving more quickly. “Wot’s dat?” he asked, “Is dare two ‘ulks?” There were more laughs from the meks and Hazug calmly reached out and smacked the closest of them. The rest quietened down. “Dat’s one of our ships.” Mek Batrug said, “It’s a ramship wot saw da ‘ulk when it came out da warp. It’s ‘eadin’ in closer to take a look at exactly wot we’ve got.” “Why aint ay told da boss yet den?” Hazug asked, “Dis is important. ‘E needs an ‘ulk if ‘e’s goin’ to start a waaagh.” “Cos we don’t know exactly wot we got yet.” The big mek said, “If it aint no good den da boss’ll kill whoever wasted ‘is time by tellin’ ‘im dare was an ‘ulk ‘ere. Dontcha know nought?” Hazug glared at the big mek briefly and as he did so he moved a hand down towards the pistol he kept tucked into his belt. But rather than draw the weapon he instead subtly rubbed his fingers over part of the weapon that he had just oiled. Then as he stood up he brushed his fingers over the eyepiece. “I reckon its ya turn again den.” He said to the big mek, knowing full well that regardless of whether it was or not the big mek would take a turn. Sure enough as
Hazug walked away the big mek returned to the eyepiece and looked through
the telescope. Then he lifted his head up again to reveal the large black
ring around one of his eyes and the other meks began to laugh. Grinning, Hazug just nodded at Mek Batrug as he headed towards the ladder off the roof. The meks were quite correct in their evaluation that Kazkal Kromag would be incredibly displeased if someone told him that a spacehulk had entered the system only to be told later on that it was no use. He did not shoot messengers, but he did make sure they never got the opportunity to deliver any more news, good or bad to anyone again. So Hazug would simply inform him that there was no need to panic, the meks were not about to blow up a large chunk of the city. At least not yet. As he began his climb down to the ground Hazug looked up at the night sky and paused. As well as the tiny points of lights that were the distant stars and not so distant orbiting spacecraft, the relatively large disc that was the planet’s sole moon could be clearly seen tonight. Normally it was a pale grey but tonight Hazug saw a green light flash briefly. He watched for the light to appear once more, but there was nothing so Hazug put it out of his mind and continued down the ladder. Mazakatek had spent hours just walking through the corridors of his palace. Once this place had been a brilliant hive of activity, but now thanks to those damned primitive eldar it was a darkened tomb where a few hundred necrontyr had spent an unknown length of time. Now he wanted answers and Mazakatek headed for the one place he could get them. Five machine figures stood clustered around a column, each one with a single glowing green eye set in the centre of his forehead that was focused on the rapidly shifting data screens in front of them. “What can you tell me?” Mazakatek asked. The five figures slowly turned their heads towards him. “We have slumbered long.” One said, “Cryptek Shazarak has been determining how long.” And the figure looked at one of the others. “Thank you Cryptek Astrast.” Sharazarak spoke, bowing his head. Then he looked at Mazakatek, “Lord we have been in stasis for over sixty million years.” “This is not unexpected.” Mazakatek said to the five crypteks, “But what can you tell me about the state of our empire?” “Little my lord.” A third cryptek said, “There is no indication of activity in any nearby system and we have no access to long range sensors. This is in accordance with what he has told us.” And the cryptek looked across the room to a plinth on which the head brought to Mazakatek’s palace rested. Now instead of a bundle of crude ork batteries, a necron power source had been attached while a swarm of insect like machines worked to recreate the body previously destroyed at the hand of the orks. “The krork rule this world lord.” Astrast said, “There are millions of the creatures here. But…” and he trailed off. “But what?” Mazakatek asked. “They are not what we expected lord.” Spoke a fourth cryptek. “Explain Ibon.” Mazakatek ordered. “The first encounters between our forces and the krork when our enemies created them indicated that they were designed to be a highly ordered society almost equal to our own.” “The creature that came here was a savage.” Mazakatek said. “Indeed lord.” Ibon responded, “At first we assumed that it was an aberration.” “An outcast.” Astrast added. “But this is not the case it would seem.” Ibon went on, “The krork have degenerated massively. They are feudal and primitive. Their only real strength is their numbers. Numbers that are vastly greater than ours.” “What do we have at our disposal?” Mazakatek asked, dreading to hear the answer just in case the crypteks told him that he had no army left at all. The final cryptek stepped forwards. “You still have over two hundred soldiers lord.” He said as if that was good news. A few hundred against millions, “Plus your honour guard and inner circle, all of whom survived both stasis and revival. Added to this we have several transports as well as the machines used for maintaining our systems that can be pressed into service.” “What of our other installations on this world?” Mazakatek asked. “Nalloshtek?” Astrast said, looking to another cryptek, “What have you found?” Nalloshtek
paused before giving his answer. “And?” Mazatek enquired as Nalloshtek paused again. “Nothing my lord. There has been no response to the signal. We suspected that the eldar had destroyed the other outposts on this continent but now we have confirmed not only their destruction but also that of the primary city on the other one. Again this fits with the information given to us.” Mazakatek looked down at the floor, then back towards the crypteks. “Is that all?” he asked, “When we went to sleep I had an army tens of thousands strong and hundreds of war machines. Now I have barely enough to even guard my front door. What if the krork attack en masse?” If the crypteks had mouths with which to smile, then Astrast would have done so then. “Have no fear my lord.” He said, “For I have checked on the palace defences and while we slept our servants have repaired them all.” Now a smile did appear on the face of mummified flesh that Mazakatek still possessed. “Is it true that there is a nest of krork above us?” he asked. “It is.” Astrast told him, “Several hundred strong.” Mazakatek walked over to the plinth where the necron’s new body was nearing completion. “Lord Izzatek,” he said, “I have a job for you.” |
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