Da Cybork Menace

Chapta 3

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 Da Cybork Menace

Prologue

Chapta 1

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Chapta 7 

Chapta 8 

Chapta 9 

Chapta 10 

Chapta 11 

Chapta 12 

Chapta 13 

Chapta 14 

Chapta 15 

Chapta 16 

Chapta 17 

Chapta 18 

Chapta 19 

Chapta 20 

Chapta 21 

Chapta 22 

Chapta 23 

Chapta 24 

Epilogue 


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The cellar beneath Hazug’s new home had been used by its previous owner as a make shift fighting pit for private sporting events. However, it was cool enough that his human servant Sophie had suggested it would make a good place to store food for future use, and Hazug had promptly set about hunting squigs to be kept there. Of course things weren’t as simple as just keeping the dead animals in a heap until they were to be eaten, so Hazug had his gretchin servant Ratish installing shelves along every available bit of wall space.

The task was almost complete, though his master’s insistence that all of the shelves be level had made much more work for Ratish, and he was confident that he would be finished today. The sound of footsteps on the stairs from the hall above attracted Ratish’s attention, and for a moment he thought that Hazug was coming to inspect his work. But then he noticed that the sound was far too quiet for an ork the size of his master, which left only one other option.

“Wot do ya want git?” Ratish snapped at Sophie.

“I need to get dinner ready. Two Heads is coming over and Hazug wants me to pick out something special to impress him.”

“If ya want to impress ‘im, den don’t give ‘im any of da crap dat ya can cook,” Ratish said sarcastically and he got back to his shelf building, hammering on the nails even when they were driven fully into the wood just to annoy Sophie with the sound.

“What’s that banging sound?” Sophie said, pausing from her search through the arrayed squigs.

“I’m ‘ammerin’ ya idiot,” Ratish replied, and he struck the shelf he was working one again to make his point.

“No, there’s something else banging.”

Ratish stopped hammering, and both he and Sophie stood in silence, listening. Sure enough there was a banging sound from the shadows at the far end of the cellar where the light from the single lantern that Ratish had brought down with him did not reach.

“Da ‘atch,” Ratish said.

When they had first moved into the house, Ratish had informed Hazug that the network of tunnels that ran beneath the ork city ran close by the cellar and, eager to have an alternative way in and out of the building that could not be observed from the street outside, Hazug had instructed his servant to dig a connecting tunnel from the cellar and fit a heavy door to keep out unwelcome guests. Now someone was definitely trying to gain access through it.

“I’ll get Hazug,” Sophie said, and she ran up the stairs while Ratish stood watching the door, hammer in hand.

“’Urry up,” Ratish said as Sophie disappeared, his instinctive gretchin cowardice taking precedence over his normal unwillingness to show any sign of weakness in front of the young human.

The handle on the hatch shook as someone on the other side tried repeatedly to open it. For a moment Ratish thought he heard a voice muttering something, but the thickness of the hatch rendered it unintelligible. As the banging on the hatch continued, the gretchin began to wonder whether Sophie would return with Hazug, or if she had just run away and left him to be killed by whatever beast lay beyond. But then there were more footsteps on the stairs, this time from more than one person as Sophie returned with Hazug.

“Right,” Hazug said, staring at the door, “Unlock it, and let’s see who’s tryin’ to get in,” and he aimed his pistol at the door. Neither Ratish nor Sophie moved as the banging on the door continued.

“Well?” Hazug said, “Wot are ya waitin’ for grot?” and he stared at Ratish, “Get dat door open.”

Ratish gulped, and advanced on the door, still holding his at the hammer ready.

The key to the door hung on a nail beside it, and Ratish took it from its resting place to unlock the door. At the sound of the key turning in the lock, the banging on the outside stopped. Ratish looked back at Hazug.

“Dey’ve gone master,” he said.

“Open da door grot,” Hazug ordered, and he steadied his aim.

The door creaked as Ratish pulled it open, and Hazug stared into the dark tunnel beyond it. Suddenly a small figure dived through the open doorway into the cellar.

“Don’t shoot me!” the gretchin yelled as Hazug prepared to fire.

Hazug stared at the gretchin cowering on the floor in front of him.

“Shut da door Ratish,” he said as he tucked his pistol into his belt, then he spoke to the newly arrived gretchin, “I knows ya, don’t I?”

“Y-Y-Yes lord,” the gretchin stammered, “I wos Dok Brok’s helper.”

“Wos?”

“’E’s dead lord, orks killed ‘im while ‘e wos lookin’ at dat boy ya gave ‘im. Dey ‘ad metal bit in ‘em just like da body ‘ad,” then the gretchin held up a metal cylinder and a complicated looking brass object, “Da dok took dese out of da lad ya gave ‘im, so I brought ‘em to ya.”

“’Ow did ya know about me cellar door?” Hazug asked, a secret door wasn’t much good if everyone knew about it.

“I didn’t lord,” the gretchin said, “I wos just told dat ya lived around ‘ere, and found da nearest door I could, I didn’t know it wos in ya ‘ouse, ‘onest.”

“Dat’s alright grot,” Hazug reassured the trembling gretchin, “now bring dat stuff upstairs and tell us wot ya know. Ratish, get dat door shut again.”

Hazug lead the way up the stairs into his kitchen, followed by Dok Brok’s assistant.

“Put dat stuff on da table,” Hazug said, “and grab a chair.”

Hazug and the gretchin sat down, the metal objects carried by the gretchin were put on the table between them.

“Right den, wot’s ya name?” Hazug asked.

“Hoggot,” the gretchin replied.

“Right Hoggot, now wot’s ‘appened to Dok Brok den?” Hazug asked.

“’E’s dead.”

“Yeah, ya said dat, but wot ‘appened?”

“Well, e’d been cutting up wot wos left of dat ork ya gave ‘im, when more like ‘im turned up and killed ‘im. I wos ‘idin’ in da store room at da time though, so I didn’t see much.”

Hazug now turned his attention to the objects that Hoggot had brought with him.

“And ya say dat dese things wos inside da lad in mega armour den?”

“Dat’s right. Dare wos two cylinders in ‘is chest, and da other thing wos in ‘is ‘ead.”

“Wos dare anythin’ else?” Hazug enquired as he held up the brass framework.

“Dunno,” Hoggot replied, “Da dok wos still cutting ‘im up when ‘e sent me to put dese away for ‘im.”

“Right den,” Hazug said, getting to his feet, “we is goin’ to ya boss’s surgery to take a look around,” then he faced the door to the cellar, ”Ratish!” he yelled, “Get up ‘ere, we is goin’ out.”

 

Mid morning the streets of the city were crowded with orks going about their daily business, and it was only the complete disregard for other road users that all orks possessed that allowed Hazug to drive his truck at anything other than a walking pace. Instead he trusted to the ability of all but the slowest and most dim-witted of orks to be able to dive out of the way when they saw or heard his vehicle bearing down upon them.

There were a few shouted insults from both those who had to get out of Hazug’s path, and by those they collided with, but the sight of a nob driving a vehicle with an automatic weapon mounted on it deterred any physical attack between Hazug’s house and the surgery of the late Dok Brok.

“Ratish, watch da trukk,” Hazug said as he climbed down form the truck, then added, “Hoggot come with me,” then pistol at the ready Hazug entered the surgery.

Inside he found that he was not the first to come in since Dok Brok’s death. Gretchin were rummaging through everything, searching for anything that they could recycle and sell, already the shelves were empty and now the looters were searching for anything not left in plain sight. Some of the furniture was nailed down, but that would only keep it in place until a gretchin stole the nails.

“Get out!” Hazug yelled as he batted aside gretchin in the waiting room and strode towards the surgery itself. There he found more of the same, gretchin were plundering the tools and supplies left behind by Dok Brok, regardless of their own inability to put the equipment to its intended use. On the window ledge opposite Hazug saw one gretchin delving into a large ceramic jar and scrapping out the purple paste contained within and shoving it all into his mouth, apparently unaware that his skin was turning the same colour as the paste. Two others were fighting over a medical instrument with a purpose that was unknown to Hazug, and perhaps also to anyone but Dok Brok.

“Stop wot ya is all doin’ now!” Hazug shouted, and a gunshot echoed around the room as he fired his pistol into the ceiling to emphasise his point. Every gretchin in the room immediately stopped their scavenging and dropped what they were holding to the floor. The jar of purple paste smashed, and its remaining contents began to spread across the floor.

“Hoggot, do ya know any of des grots?” Hazug asked the gretchin cowering behind him.

“No lord, dey is strangers.”

“Wots goin’ on?” Hazug shouted, glaring at each of the trembling gretchin in turn.

“’E’s dead,” one of them suddenly said, “everyone round ‘ere ‘eard da fightin’, and we just came to see wot da others didn’t take with ‘em.”

“Wot others?” Hazug demanded.

“Da other gretchin,” another gretchin said, “da ones dat came with da boss wot ‘ad ‘is lads kill da dok.”

As Hazug was taking this in the purple gretchin spoke.

“Ooo,” he groaned, clutching at his stomach,” I don’t’ feels well,” and then he exploded. Purple flesh promptly splattered across much of the room, while the unfortunate gretchin’s skeleton collapsed in a heap with the organs within forming a pile of slowly liquefying purple goo.

“Wot wos in dat jar?” Hazug asked Hoggot.

“Dok Brok wos workin’ on a cure for somethin’.”

“Wot, not turnin’ purple den explodin’?”

“I dunno, maybe.”

Hazug turned his attention back to the gretchin looters.

“Now tell me about dese other lads,” he said.

“Dey arrived in a covered trukk,” one of the gretchin began, “den two of ‘em got out and wos ordered to kill da dok.”

“Ordered to?” Hazug said.

“Yeah,” another gretchin answered, “dey ‘ad a boss in da trukk who got out after da fightin’ started. ‘E only went in when it sounded like it wos nearly over.”

“And ‘e took some gretchin with ‘im,” another gretchin added, “Den dey started bringin’ stuff out.”

“So ya saw all dis from outside in da street?” Hazug asked

“Dat’s right,” the first gretchin replied, “we wos  clearin’ up, and when da trukk left we decided to come inside and see if dare wos anythin’ left to loot.”

“Wot ‘appened to da body?”

“Which one?” the first gretchin replied again, “Da dok or da one in bits?”

“Da one in bits.”

“Da others took ‘im,” a gretchin that had not previously spoken responded, “we just got rid of wot wos left of da dok. Which wosn’t much, da others ‘ad even pulled out all ‘is teeth.”

“Now wot’s our ‘elp worth?” the first gretchin said.

“Nothin’,” Hazug replied with a puzzled look on his face.

“Why?” the first gretchin asked.

“’Cause ya ‘ave already answered all me questions ya stupid bunch of runts,” Hazug snapped, and he turned to leave the surgery, “Come on Hoggot, dare aint nothin’ more for us ‘ere.”

In the street outside, Hazug handed a tooth to Hoggot.

“’Ere ya go grot,” he said, “ya can bugger off now and find ya self a new boss.”

Grinning, the gretchin took the tooth and ran off down the street.

“Wot now master?” Ratish asked as Hazug climbed back into his truck.

“All dat we ‘ave left is dem bits wot Dok Brok took out of da cybork,” Hazug said, “So we needs to find out where dey came from. For dat we’ll need a mekboy.”

“Batrug master?”

“Aye grot, dat’s right, Batrug,” and Hazug drove off, oblivious to the gretchin watching him from an alleyway across the street.

 

“Wot ‘appened ‘ere?” Hazug asked as he climbed down from his truck to speak with Mek Batrug. The mekboy and his gretchin staff were searching through the large pile of rubble where Batrug’s workshop had been the last time Hazug had been here. The buildings either side of the workshop had also been destroyed and others nearby badly damaged.

“Ah Hazug,” Batrug said when he saw the Blood Axe nob approach, “if ya wants me to ‘ave another go at makin’ ya a battery for dat alien choppa ya will ‘ave to wait until I gets me self a new workshop. Dis one’s blown up.”
”I can se dat Batrug, but ‘ow?”

“Some thievin’ grot tried to break in last night,” Batrug said, and Hazug knew what was going to be said next, “and ‘e must ‘ave triggered me anti-nickin’ device.”

The device of which Batrug spoke was a large explosive device that he set before leaving each night. Anyone who tried to force the door without first disabling the bomb would trigger it off. Hazug had seen the bomb several times, and he was somewhat surprised that any part of the street had survived.

“Well I just needs ya to take a look at some stuff wot I found,” Hazug said, “I needs to know who made it.”

Batrug grinned, most of the work Hazug brought to him was of this nature, and it normally involved something interesting and alien.

“Great, four teeth,” Batrug said.

“Two.”

“Three, we aint in me workshop so its an ‘ouse call.”

“We aint in me ‘ouse either, and ya aint got a workshop no more. So two.”

“Okay two, now lets ‘ave a look at wot ya got dis time.”
Hazug beckoned for Ratish to bring him a box from the truck. Inside were the metal cylinder and frame that Dok Brok had been able to remove from the body before his death. Hazug took the box and passed it to Mek Batrug.

“’Ere ya go,” he said, “dese wos inside some lad wot I ‘ad to kill yesterday.”
Batrug put the box down and pulled out the brass frame.

“Nought special about dis,” he said, “it’s a bit fiddly, but any mek could make it,” then he shook the frame, “Is dare something inside it?” he asked.

“Could be a brain,” Hazug said, “it wos where ‘is wos supposed to be.”

Mek Batrug nodded slowly, and then he put the frame back in the box and took out the cylinder.

“Now dis is more interestin’,” he said.

“Light innit?” Hazug said, “Yet it feels like metal.”

“Dis is git metal,” Batrug said, “dey ‘ave dis funny metal wot is dead light and aint very strong. Dey use it for all sorts of things. Dunno why cos it’s a pain to find and breaks dead easy,” then he looked closely at the centre of the cylinder. “I think dat it opens up,” he said and he twisted both ends. There was a grinding sound as the two halves unscrewed before separating completely. As they did something soft and fleshy fell out. Both orks bent over to take a closer look.

“Dats a lung,” Hazug said.

“Ow d’ya know?”

“When ya ‘ave ripped open as many chests as I ‘ave ya gets used to wot da insides of orks look like,” Hazug said. Batrug nodded and took a look inside the two halves of the cylinder.

“Dare’s bellows in dis ‘alf,” he said.

“Wot would dey do?” Hazug asked.

“When dey expand dey would make da inside smaller, den make it bigger again when dey contract.”
”So da lad could breathe,” Hazug said.

“Err, maybe, I don’t know dok stuff,” Batrug replied.

“So do ya know who built it den?” Hazug asked him.

“No mek made dis,” Batrug told him, “da two ‘alves go together and come apart again without any strength needed to force ‘em, and of course I’ve told ya about da metal.”

“So who did make it den?”

“A git of course. Dey still ‘ave several meks of dere own workin’ up dare in Git Town. Dey use a lot of dis sort of metal cos we ‘ave taken most of da good stuff.”

“Well some ‘ow dis got inside of an ork,” Hazug said, “Do any meks ya know buy stuff off da human meks?”

“Nah,” Batrug said, shaking his head, “we don’t even bother with ‘irin’ ‘em as workers, dey think dey is too good to do things da proper orky way. If ya wants to find out who made dis, den ya is goin’ to ‘ave to go into git town and try and find ‘em dat way.”

Hazug took a pair of teeth from his pocket and handed them to Batrug, who put the two halves of the cylinder back in the box before taking them. Hazug put the lung in the box also and picked it up.

“Right den Ratish,” he said, “looks like we is off to Git Town.”

“Is dare any other way master? Ratish ‘ates gits,” Ratish replied.

“We is goin’ ome first,” Hazug said as he loaded the box onto his truck, “ya can stay dare if ya wants to, I reckon Sophie will be more use anyway.”

Ratish frowned at the suggestion that Sophie was going to be more helpful than he was.

“Ratish’s place is with master,” he said, “so Ratish will go to Git Town with master.”

“Thought ya would,” Hazug said, “now get in da trukk.”

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