The first spotter plane had come chugging high overhead early in the day. It had circled twice and then headed away back west long before the gunners had a chance to tag it. There had been nothing since.

"Still nuffink!" Swab called climbing down from the crows nest. "But dey seen us alright, dis mornin'. You fink dey woz from da BizMork?"

Smirking furrowed his brow. "You sure it woz red?"

Swab spat. "It were Morka scum alright." Old Gorka habits died hard it seemed. "I'd've blown 'im outa da sky meself if I were on da gunz at da time."

Smirking's eyes flashed fire as the pair of formerly Morka personalities in there glowered at the little partisan. But hard as it was they had to admit that the anti-aircraft gunnery skills of the former Gorka grots in their number might be needed now more than ever.

"Dere'll be plenty'o targets for da gunz when he tells his mates where we'z at." Smirking concluded. "Go make sure dey got plenty'o dakka."

Swab snapped off his trademark salute and went about his business with a big grin on his face. Smirking walked back across to the access hatch and slipped down a ladder into the gantry way that led to the bridge of his newly named carrier, Da GitSneak.

"Wotcha hearing Goggz?" he asked, announcing his return. "Anyfing on da vox? Iz da BizMork on our tail?"

Goggz was busy monitoring the vox channels but he wasn't hearing anything. He dropped the kanz and looked up.

"Well, Boss, we left da BizMork in a propa state. Dey'll be a couple'o days getting deir engines runnin again before dey can come after us proper-like."

"Do ya reckon we'll see da Bombas any time soon?"

"Any bombas dey send will have furver to fly to get 'ere, if da BizMork ain't chasin' uz yet. An' we've been makin' good speed since dat spotta got a look. So even if dey'z comin' dey still gotta find us first."

"An' all dat meanz less time ova target when dey do." Smirking concluded trying to sound optimistic.

"Rain coming!" Kaptain UzKop announced ducking into the Bridge. He'd been eating ribs and was still picking at the gory little morsels of manflesh in his teeth. He looked fuzzier than usual. "It's me squigz." he explained trying to smooth down the hair-squigs on his face. "Dey don't like da rain."

Smirking crossed to the window and eyed the greying skies to the east.

"All da better." he thought aloud. "It just might keep any Morka eyes in da sky guessing." He knew they still needed time to prepare and it looked like Da Godz might just be giving them the chance.

"Kaptain Uzza," he commanded, "Take us right-da-zog into dat rain."

"Aye Aye, Kaptain-grot-Boss-Chosen-da Smirking One" UzKop fumbled a salute of sorts feeling a bit sheepish. That hadn't come out exactly just as officious as he'd hoped for.

Smirking rolled his eyes. "You has da bridge." He turned and stepped out.

********

Down in the dark depths of the ship's hold Smudge and GitFingaz were rummaging for parts and tools.

"I wants dat one an' dat one." Fingaz pointed out a pair of large tool boxes, their drawers all nearly filled with delicate chromed tools and human-engineered doo-dads. He liked the look of them even if he hadn't quite figured out what most of them were for.

Smudge directed a team of grot orderlies to wheel them out.

"An' all dat stuff dere." Fingaz waved a claw in the direction of a pile of pipes and hoses and wires as he quickly moved off in search of more treasure.

"Grunt." Smudge called over to his old Gorka crewmate, "Net dat lot up and haul it into da waggon, wouldja."

"An' we still needs anuvva engine." GirFingaz added disappearing behind a forklift buggy. Smudge turned to follow him but then stopped, eying the forklift. He hopped in and slapped the starter button. The engine purred to life and stretching for the pedals, keeping one eye over the dash he drove on after the old ork Mekboy.

*****

Smirking found their broken down gunship abandoned, quietly dripping oil and sea water. A pair of snotlings were busy gnawing on a rotting hand. It might once have belonged to the former pilot.

"GitFingaz!" Smirking called as loud as his little grot lungs could squeal.

"Dey've all gone down below, boss." It was Nurd. He was busy levering the lid off a large can of red paint. The old battered grot-bomb lay beside him rusting away on the deck.

"We ain't got time for dat!" Smirking complained.

"It's gonna be a fing'o beauty, boss. You'll see." Nurd enthused clearly ignoring him and still heaving and straining on the lever.

Smirking exploded, "But we need dis fing fixed! We need dat fing inside dis fing and we need both fings ready to fly, NOW!"

Nurd stared at his irate boss. Though there were few ork minds around to fuel his fire, Smirking's fury was real enough. The lid popped off the paint can under the pressure but that was all.

"Oh, fanx boss." Nurd picked up a brush he had made himself out of human bone and hair and went to work, "da lads'll be up wif da stuff soon." he explained. He turned but Smirking was already gone.

*****

"Nah, nah... It's not right." GitFingaz was ringing his hands and shaking his head. This was the fourth engine he had inspected and as far as Smudge could see it might be their last option. "It's not got da fingies, you know... Da flappy bits wot goes up an' down..." GitFingaz mimicked the motion with his hands before flopping them down in despair.



"So wot!" Smudge encouraged, "So we takes da flaps off dat one over dere and da tubes an' ... wotsits off ov dis one ere..." Smudge was floundering a bit. He could build a still for making gutrott, he'd even built one out of some of these human gubbins but big aircraft engines and that sort of thing was way out of his league.

GitFingas adjusted his little specs and poked around under a small service panel for a few seconds. "I dunno, I dunno." He wheedled pathetically.

"Well I duz!" Smirking had arrived, and he wasn't happy.

Smudge jumped out of the way clambered back up into the driver's seat of his forklift to give the very animated boss some room.

"I knows plenty!" Smirking continued hoisting himself up onto the top of the engine that GitFingaz had been poking at. "An' you know how I know's? I'll tell ya! I knows cause I'm da boss! I'm a Kaptain an' a Shaman an' a Wierdboy an' a BigMek an' a GorkDamned Rebel Grot Revolushunry an' I faced down plenty bigger an' uglier ork gitz dan you! I know ev'ryfing dere iz to know 'bout anyfing dat matterz an' if you dunno..." He continued railing on the cringing Mekboy "den I'll zoggin' well learn you!"

GitFingaz couldn't help but recall some very similar lectures he'd received from GrodMek during his former employment. Somehow the effect was no less impactful for being delivered in a squeaky voice.

"You hear me, Fingaz!" GrodMek was pissed.

GitFingaz jumped fumbling a small screwdriver that he'd been using out of his hands. It clattered noisily to the floor. He did not pick it up.

"I want dis here engine," He continued, "an' whatever it needs to make it go, up in dat snot-infested gunship right-da-zog now!"

"Y-yes, Boss." the ork stammered.

"I want it rigged an' workin'. I wants it fuelled. I want it armed an' I want it loaded wif me Grot-Bomb an' ready to launch!"

"Sure fing, Boss." Smudge enthused happily firing up the forklift and positioning it to retrieve the engine.

"Lookit dis fing!" Smirking stamped his foot on the engine, now rising beneath him on Smudge's fork-lift, "wotz your problem, eh? It's an Oomie motor for an Oomie flier! Dey're all da zoggin' same! Big 'ole on dis end, turny bitz on da ovva..."

"It got no..." GitFingaz' mumbling dropped off as he flapped his hands sadly, already knowing it was pointless to argue.

"No WOT?" GrodMek bellowed.

"Oi! Grunt!" Smudge was calling the big grot who had returned from his previous task. "Get da flapz off'o dat gubbinz over dere!"

"See dat's a fella wot gets fings done!" The tongue-lashing continued, heaping praise upon a grot who was succeeding where an ork had not. "Dat's your problem, Fingaz, you got no 'nishitive! You got no..."

The whole ship was rocked by a sudden boom. The engine rolled on the forklift tipping Smirking off. He landed inelegantly in a heap, his berating of the ork Mek-boy momentarily forgotten.

"Wot da...?"

The ship's klaxon sounded and all along the walls emergency alarm lights began to turn flooding the darkened engineering bay with roving red beams.

"Man da gunz!" Smirking called, taking to his heels. He could already feel the flood of Waaagh energy rising in him. It could only mean one thing. Orks. Enemy orks, here to fight. He grabbed a vox unit on the wall and squealed into the hand set. "All 'ands! Battle stations! We iz unda attack!"

Smirking took a deep breath. His blood thrilled and tingled at the intoxicating mix of sea foam, cordite and jet fumes. The reek and noise of battle was all around as Da GitSneak pounded it's way relentlessly through the waves, desperately fending off a murder of Morka crows swooping and clawing at them, bombs dropping, guns blazing, engines screaming for their destruction.

He stood on the high balcony in front of the bridge overlooking the forward flight deck. Anti-aircraft guns lined the deck in a cascade of fire fed by frantic crews of grots with trolleys and boxes.

"Get dat dakka out!" Smirking called, "You, over dat way!" He waved a claw and the trolley veered off course performing a U turn on the deck. The pair of ammo grots chased it off down the deck now travelling in the right direction toward the guns to the rear.

Another Bomba came diving in, screaming like a maddened trumpet-squig. Smirking looked up but the overhanging gantry above was obscuring his view. He ran to the side scanning the skies as he emerged into the sunlight.

"Gork-damn, UzKop!" he cursed. "So much for your rain storm! Hair-brained zoggin' Gak-wit."

Squinting into the broken clouds he caught sight of a spec, falling from beneath a larger speck quickly growing as it fell from above.

"Incoming!" He yelled gripping the railing. In that instant the whole ship began to pitch to one side. Smirking rode out the tossing motion, not quite sure if it was his own Waaagh energy pulling them out of harms way or if UzKop was directing evasive actions from the bridge. Either way Da GitSneak had narrowly avoided a direct hit.

There was little time to thank his lucky stars though. Another pair of Morka planes came screaming through strafing the full length of the flight deck before peeling off and climbing for another dive. Smirking felt a surge of power rising in his blood as they passed. Two could play at this game.

He turned and ran, wings whipping behind as he burst through the door into the bridge.
"UzKop, keep us moving!" he yelled leaping three rungs up the ladder heading for the hatch in the roof. "I'm going up!"

"Aye aye Boss!" Came the Kaptain's reply but he was already gone.

Ascending the next stair and another access ladder Smirking came up onto the roof. Another Morka aircraft came strafing in but it seemed to shudder and then break off, caught perhaps by some well aimed ack-ack. Smirking could see the pilot in the cockpit circling out of the line of fire almost at eye level. He could feel the ork raider's rage, his frustration, his need to attack. The power was quick and immediate and personal but he was just one ork, and he was still some distance away.

"I gotta get closer." Smirking concluded. He sprinted the short distance to the main communications mast and began to climb. The ship lurched and swayed beneath him as he clung to the ladder rungs. High atop the big carrier their motion over the rolling sea was amplified in the extreme. Another Bomba came diving in howling it's nerve-shredding cry as it released its bomb. The impact of the first successful strike upon the forward flight deck was a shock. It nearly flung him from the mast, but clinging on for grim death he found his footing once again and reached for the next rung. The offending enemy Bomba, a big red twin-engined beast was turning corkscrews in the air in celebration. Smirking reached the crows nest in time to see him disappear into the low cloud leaving a black trail of oily smoke.

But there was no time for curses now. Far below he could see the fire crews at work hauling pumps and hoses into position to douse the flames. The sudden appearance of a swooping fighta turned all heads skyward. As the dakka poured on the grots scattered and took cover or died where they stood still clinging to hoses. The fighta jinked through the ack-ack, too close for the grot gunners to draw a bead on and then he was away.

Enraged Smirking closed his eyes and tried to focus. Feeling the tides of power ebb and flow. An enemy ork mind drew further away exalting in his little triumph, just as he could feel another pair of ork minds drawing in on the attack, their bloodlust and thirst for destruction rising as they climbed. The feeling was weak now but growing steadily. Sure enough a thrill in his blood was accompanied by the siren wail of their tandem dive. Smirking looked up, eyes to the skies in anticipation of the coming challenge. He felt it now, like two fists full of blood swinging for the knockout. They bombs were released. Suddenly the realisation hit that it was these and not the aircraft that he would have to attack. Hands above his head as if in petition to da Godz themselves he felt the cold metal bombshells slide upon his astral palms, turning them aside to fall with a thunderous clap upon either side of da GitSneak.

Emboldened by his success but already weakened by their swift departure da Chosen One knew that this fight really was a tricky one. The more success they had in destroying enemy aircraft the less power he could wield. And the speed with which the enemy closed on the attack and then departed gave him mere seconds to act. The fightas were back, very low this time, their engines tearing a great crest of white sea foam in their wake. They opened fire rattling the hull, the deck the tower with a liberal spray of dakka as they closed. Smirking watched as the leader broke off and bent upward into a snaking turn right over his head. Smirking swore he could almost smell the pilots foetid breath as he passed within spitting distance. He had ducked on impulse but now Smirking reached out. The plane shuddered as if buffeted by a sudden gust but ultimately slipped between his fingers. The second fighta was gone now too. Smirking cursed, he had wasted his chance.

Another burst of fire from the port-side battery alerted him to a fresh threat. It was the twin-engined dive Bomba back for another pass. Coming in this time at an oblique angle the big Morka defied the ack-ack and launched a full spread of rokkitz into the side of da GitSneak. Fire and smoke erupted from impacts all along the hull as the offending aircraft pulled up into a looping climb right into Smirking's outstretched arms. Da Chosen One felt the power waxing as the exultant ork drew close before, with all the force he could muster he slammed his hands together. The cockpit of the Bomba crumpled flat as if swatted by the hands of Gork himself. It tumbled crazily over the tower and into the sea beyond with a spectacular crash.



Smirking whooped and howled in glee at the Morka dive bomba's demise. But the dead enemy in the big twin engine machine must have been an ork of some stature. A nob if not a big-nob. His death had brought panic and confusion amongst the remaining Morkas and the impact on the amount of Waaagh energy available to Smirking was marked.

The ominous clouds echoed with the distant roar of noisy engines as da GitSneak's guns fell silent for lack of any targets. Grot fire crews redoubled their efforts tackling multiple blazes in the brief respite.

Smirking closed his eyes reaching out with his senses in an attempt to scry the minds of the enemy lurking behind the clouds. They were scattered and hard to read. Only where two or three came together could he have any real sense of them.

A lone fighta dropped low and performed a distant pass, out of reach for all but observation. His return to the clouds brought resolve. Smirking could feel them now as the flock gathered for another pass. Their unified purpose to renew the attack, fuelled by a hatred born of vengeance for the fallen brought the power flooding back.

They were forming up directly overhead now, Smirking could feel the direction of their flight. He opened his eyes. He was facing forward and knew in his blood that they would attack from dead ahead. Gathering the power in outstretched wings he pressed his hands forward. Each and every gun on da GitSneak bent to his will, turning on their mounts to focus all fire forward. Even the hoses of the fire crews were compelled to turn resulting in one particularly soggy ammo grot.

The engines roared in unified chorus now, growing distant but soon to turn. Ammo grots hefted shells into hoppers, gunners checked their sights. All was readied in anticipation of the coming attack.

And they came. Riding in from out of the orange ball of the setting sun a loose formation of four silhouetted birds grew and grew. The power tingled up Smirking's spine and into his fists. His eyes grew wide and his wings billowed in an unnatural wind. They opened fire. With the sudden outburst of violence came a rush of Waaagh. Grabbing the condensed firepower of da GitSneak like a fire hose in both hands Da Chosen One pulled hard. The first of the Morka jets was hosed from the sky swiftly followed by a second. One exploded in flames while the other spun out to splash down in pieces.

The two remaining bandits bullied on through but with each attacker lost Smirking was losing his grip. The gunners were released to fire at will as a dual volley of rokkitz came streaming in. They exploded all along the deck in a series of firey blasts. Billowing smoke obscured the view but the leading fighta emerged in a swirling wind. Guns still blazing. Smirking seized upon the opportunity like a gnasher-squig snapping at a a dakka-jet's undercarriage. He lashed out to smash it down but was caught short as a bullet struck like a hornet sting in his arm. His mind flashed immediately to a chuckling little grot riding tail gunner in the second aircraft.

"Trust a grot to spot a grot." Sleekit groaned. "Traitor!"

There was a sudden splatter of green in the ork pilot's cockpit as a last furious burst of Waaagh-fuelled rage was sent his way. His head suitably blown the plane went down to a mighty splash, grot gunner and all.

The last remaining aircraft chugged up and overhead at some distance, his last pass lacking confidence, the will to fight, lacking all Waaagh. Smirking yelled his shrill impotent rage at the retreating ork. He felt a sudden pain in his raised arm which brought him back to himself. His arm was slick with blood dripping down and pooling in the crows nest. A little trickle cascaded into the wind beneath. He crouched and peeked over the ledge down the long ladder to the roof of the tower.

"Ah gak." He groaned. This was going to be tricky.

"Two ships on Waaghdar!" Goggz called from his post in the bridge of Da GitSneak

"What has I tol' ya, Goggz?" UzKop complained, "Use da Nu Waaaghdar protokol."

"Avast ye, Avast ye." Goggz repeated without enthusiasm.

"Dat's more like it!" UzKop grinned, "Wot be on da Waaaghdar, Goggz?"

"Dey look like Gorka Kroozas on patrol, Kaptain. But dey might be shadowin' us."

"Wot d'recshun be we 'eadin?" The Kaptain scowled, "duu east, GorkaMorka bound?"

"Aye Aye Kaptain." Goggz sighed confirming his best waaaghdar navigational estimates.

"Den full ahead me groties." UzKop announced in his broadest seadogg scowl, "Yahaarrr!"

UzKop had changed somewhat in the last week aboard da GitSneak. Some thought that the power of his Kaptaincy had gone to his head. He had long since replaced the blue DeffSkullz Kaptain's hat that GulGog had given him with a filthy leather bicorn. He had made it himself from the hides of the ship's former crew. That was another possible cause for his increasingly outlandish behaviour. He had grown larger and fatter and some thought even hairier gorging himself on manflesh which by the fifth day in the tropical heat had turned quite rancid and foul.



Some of the grot crew had experienced hallucinations after eating the stuff and had moved on to the ship's store of Imperial rations, preferring a mouthful of drab paste with a modicum of sanity to the more adventurous diet.

Kaptain UzKop grabbed up the vox and signalled down to the engine room. "Avast ye bukkos!" He called.

"Ahoy-hoy!" Came the required squeaky response.

"Pour it on me bilge-squigs, pour it on!" He sang in full and rousing voice, "let's show GorGoff's grogg-sukkaz 'ow a real cutta flies! Pour it on da fire ev'ry green-hand grot'o'yas!"

"Aye Aye!" The chief engineer replied, adding a squeaky "Yaaarrr!" for good measure.

UzKop approved and gave him a hearty "Yaaaarrr!" to sign off.

"Away me grotly bukkos," he sang to the bridge crew at large, "Auto-me-grotto! 'Old da wheel fast an' itz steady az'ee goes!"

"Ahoy Kapt'n!" The little grot helmsman replied swinging from the wheel.

UzKop stepped up front to take in the view, raising a foot up on a barrel of gut-rott to strike a more heroic pose. He stuck out his chin and his beard-squigs positively bristled. "Catch uz if ye can GorGoff ye grot-livered git!" He yelled "We'z quicker'n a squig-hound an' twice as crazy! Your old Kroozas can suck on my bilge bitzkits ya scurvy overstuffed puffer-squig!"

The grots all cheered and laughed loudly. The bridge of da GitSneak had become a rather silly place.

******

"No no!" GitFingaz moaned in exasperation, "Dis one goes 'ere. Dat one goes dere!"

Smirking repositioned a big tube over his head and onto the other side as GrodMek grumbled. He hated to take orders from his old understudy even if GitFingaz did seem to know more about human technology. Work on the old gunship was progressing apace. The new engine was in, the flaps were fitted and the bullet holes, for the most part were patched and repaired. GitFingaz was up to his elbows in pipes and wiring fiddling with little fittings and connection blocks, valves, pistons, junction boxes and springs.

"Bring me da Hydrospanna." He held out a hand without even looking up from his task. He was holding a bundle of pipes in the other hand and a length of tape in his teeth. Clearly he was in no position to fetch the tool himself.

GrodMek cracked up. "I ain't your grot lackey, Fingaz!" He yelled even as Smirking dropped down off the wing to retrieve the required tool. "An' wot da zog is a HydroSpanna? Dat ain't no tool in my toolbox!"

"It's an Oomie tool, for fixin' Oomie fingz." GitFingaz explained, it's da long one wif da blue bitz on da end."

Smirking picked out the most likely item from the roll of tools neatly arranged on the deck and handed it over. GrodMek was still grumbling "Zoggin' hydro-fingys an' sonic-wotsits."

"It's for to fix da hydrollix is wot it iz, GrodMek!" The Mekboy snatched the tool and set to work. "It's Oomie know-wotz, you wouldn' undastand."

Itz Git-toolz iz wot it iz." GrodMek jibed at the hapless Mekboy "Git toolz for GitFingaz." He chortled turning to go.

"Least it'z jus' me fingaz." The miserable old ork mumbled as he applied the Hydrospanner to the task in hand. "Better'n grot fingaz, grot toes, grot armz'n legz... Grot Wings?" GitFingaz grumbled loudly cranking the tool savagely. "Wings! Wot da Zog? Who eva 'eard of a winged grot! Morkalmighty it ain't right."

He might have noticed that Smirking had not gone far, certainly not out of earshot. But GitFingaz' grumbling wasn't done.

"But it's grot-bomb GrodMek, course it iz. Flyin' grotz iz da fing wif GrodMek. Grot-Bomz, grot wingz, grotty little grot face, big grot nose, small grot brain..." He might have felt GrodMek's growing rage burning two holes into the back of his skull but he carried on regardless. "Grot-Mek! Dats wot 'ee iz. GorkDamned MorkaZoggin' grot-fer-brains GrotMek!"



Realisation dawned slowly on GitFingaz that his ranting had drawn quite an audience. Smirking being front and foremost. Da Chosen One however seemed somewhat conflicted. GrodMek was of course apoplectic with rage much to the amusement of Aaris and WazzBad. They joked and mocked the impotent Mek with glee, in full agreement that GitFingaz while not the prime example of orkishness was indeed in a better position than GrodMek. Sleekit was not laughing. He was sulking having taken the hump on principal to hear the good name of grot-kind so disparaged. He tended to agree that GrodMek had every right to shot GitFingaz right in his mouthy gob. The level head of BlackGull as ever held sway. They needed GitFingaz whether they like it or not. They couldn't afford to hit him with a propa wierdboy 'eadbanga, at least until after the job was done.

"Um... Boss." Nurd waved a hand in front of Smirking's eyes. He appeared to be struggling a little with some internal thought process that expresses itself largely in twitching and incoherent muttering. It didn't look good. Nurd risked a nudge. "Ahem, boss." Smirking blinked stupidly at him. "We're ready for inspkshun, boss."

Nurd led Smirking over to a shadowy corner of the hangar deck where a crew of keen eyed grinning riggers were clearly preparing an elaborate big reveal. For some reason it reminded Smirking of the time on da Gargantic when GrodMek had revealed...

"Da all Nu GrotBomb!" Nurd announced as the lights came on. That was Grunt's cue to do the unveiling and a big sheet was pulled away with a flourish.



The GrotBomb gleamed. It sat high atop a neat new tricycle undercarriage and sported a brilliant red go-fasta paint job. All previous animosity was instantly forgotten as GrodMek gaped in wonder at his glorious new toy. Nurd, seeing he had the boss' attention, cleared his throat and began listing the more subtle improvements that he had arranged.

"She's not just your average grot-bomb, boss. She's got all new state'o'da'art wheely gubbinz, a fresh nu look in go-fasta red wif a classic razzle-dazzle nose. We've even 'ad a butcher's round de inside. All new fuelin' system. Now wif dos Oomie stuff you do loose a bit on the old smoke an' noise, I'm afraid but what she lacks in grunt she more'n makes up for in speed an' range. An' a light'r fuel load meanz more room for da boom! Eh?" Grunt played the helpful grot assistant, swinging the nose open on cue to display a spacious interior with plenty of capacity for mass explosives.

Smirking stepped forward for a closer look but Nurd sprang into action again guiding him expertly to a little step at the side. "An' if you'd care to take a look inside..." The canopy popped open as if by magic. (Grunt was getting very good at this.) "Just climb on up dis handy access ladder we installed and inta da driving seat."

GrodMek was delighted. Never before had one of his creations been so enthusiastically endorsed and appreciated. This was truly a grot-bomb worthy of his talent. Smirking slipped inside.

"Brushed man-hide interior wif a tasteful bone trim," Nurd continued, licking his lips, "Contoured seat for your comfort and raised peddles providing a perfect grot-go-nomic driving position."

Smirking had to agree, everything was laid out just right for a grot's diminutive frame. He didn't have to stretch or shift position to reach anything and he could see out over the nose of the bomb perfectly. WazzBad was well excited. His first taste of being back in the pilot's seat of a custom made flying machine was a singular thrill. Even Sleekit could see the potential for development here.

"I will draw your attention to a few little details," Nurd laid his clipboard aside and toggled a switch on the dash, "Cabin lights for lookin' at maps an' dat sorta fing." he slapped a big red button in the centre of the dash, "turbo boosta for when you need a burst'o speed." Smirking slapped the button and gripped the stick tight in mock impression of speeding flight. "Whoa dere, Speek Freak!" laughed Nurd, performing for the crowd of highly entertained grots. Smirking grinned at them all like a big goon.

"We got screen de-mista, anti-fog, anti-smog, anti-snot." Nurd rattled off the less impressive features hoping quantity would do the job where quality might not, "Dere's a blow-heata, Waaghdar navigation, five channel vox unit, cigar lighter and..."

Smirking reached for the familiar little slot and depressed the little tab. "and a cup holda." The mechanism flipped out and dropped into place with that satisfying motion. It was perfect.

"I'll take it!" Smirking exclaimed. "Fill it, fuel it and load it up!"

"You heard da Boss!" Nurd announced to his beaming crew. Grunt, now draped aluringly over the wing, leapt to attention. "let's get dis fing ready to fly!" He clapped and his crew threw up a cheer. The call went up all around the hangar deck as the wave of enthusiasm radiated out to the gathered crowd. Smirking climbed out upon the nose of the grot-bomb and waved. Finally the plan was coming together.

The ship's klaxon wailed. The red lights flashed and the corridors and gantry ways echoed with the slapping of little green feet.

"Keep on ZigZaggin' me grottos!" Kaptain UzKop roared as they slewed to the side once again in an effort to keep the Gorka gunners guessing. The two Gorka-Fleet Kroozas had gotten bored of simply shadowing their progress and were now engaging them from afar. Another shell the size of a trukk came whooshing overhead to fall into the sea beyond. The shockwave rocked da GitSneak sending grot fire crews sprawling all along the flight deck.

"Ummm, Kaptain?" Goggz stammered looking with growing alarm at the picture unfolding on the Waaghdar screen. "Avast Ye, Kaptain!" He yelled with more conviction and intensity than he had really anticipated.

"What Ho me grotto?" The Kaptain laughed, moving over to the Waaghdar position to take a look.

"It's a line in da sea, Kap'n." Goggz' finger traced the tell tale waaaghdar signal registering like a string of pearls across their path. "It's a Gorka-Fleet blockade!"

"Gork-Damn 'em all to zog! Launch da dive bombas!"

There followed a lot of twiddling of thumbs and awkward glances shared between the various grots of the bridge crew.

Eventually Goggz took it upon himself to inform the Kaptain that...

"Erm, we don't got no dive bombas, Kaptain."

"Wot!" UzKop looked genuinely shocked, then he remembered, "oh yeah, we launched 'em already."

"Well, um... not exac..."

"I expec' dey'll be back to reload an' refuel any min't now." UzKop imagined. He was clearly losing the plot. "Get da crews out wif da fuel bowsas at da ready an' get da bombz out on deck."

Goggz sighed, "Aye Kap'n." He flicked the vox over to the hangar deck station and called down the order. "All planes to da flight deck. Load up an' prepare to launch."

Smirking came on the line. "All planes?" he snarked, "wot da zog you talkin' about?"

"It's Kaptains orders, Boss." Goggz spoke a little more softly into his sleeve, "I fink he's loozin' it."

Out in the ocean a lucky Gorka gunna finally found his range. A heavy shell plunged deep into the foredeck, exploding with a shock that was felt all through the ship. Fire alarm lights lit up all over Goggz' station as a new chorus of bells joined the continuous whoop of the klaxon.

"What woz dat, Goggz?" Smirking demanded, "wotz goin' on up dere?"

"It's a Gorka-Fleet blockade, boss. A whole line ov'em between us an' da GorkaMorka. I reckon dis iz it, Boss. Dey gonna pound us into shark bait." Goggz was beginning to sound panicked.

"We're almost done here," Smirking reassured him, "Sound da evac an' get your crew off da bridge an' inta da galleys. Let da mad Kaptain take da wheel."

"Aye aye, Boss." Goggz confirmed without irony. It was time to stage another all grotz evacuation. What was this, the third time? Da Gargantic had been a carefully planned if desperate operation, da BizMork had been a little more off da cuff but had seen similar success, but this time... They were on the move and under heavy fire. Conditions were less than ideal and there was little hope that the revolution would continue for those who survived to be enslaved by the Gorka fleet.

The incoming fire was intensifying now. A huge volley of shells impacted the ocean like a fistfull of gigantic gravel flung into a pond just ahead of da GitSneak. The Gorka blockade line drawing closer all the time, was wreathed in the smoke of their own guns. The GorkaMorka itself loomed on the horizon a shadowy mountaintop rising above the cloud.

Goggz could see the main lift bringing the fully repaired gunship up onto the flight deck. He had to admit, GitFingaz had done quite the job. It looked every bit a human invader poised to strike at the heart of orkdom. Another shell found its mark upon the hull of Da GitSneak. Smaller than the first, it seemed but deadly none the less. It was most definitely time to get gone.

"Kaptain! Avast ye!" Goggz began, hoping that inspiration would strike.

"What Ho, me Groto!" The Kaptain grinned.

"Da bombas Kaptain, dey're all gone! Shot out da sky by da Gorka boats!" He thumped a little fist down upon the waaaghdar station in mock sympathy for their imaginary fallen heroes.

"Gyaaaar! I'll skin'em all for a mizzen sheet, by Mork I will!"

Goggz had no idea what the Kaptian was talking about but he pressed on regardless. "Dat last hit, Kaptain. It destroyed our biggest forward gun!" He pointed ahead, out to the foredeck where a large hole still boiled and burned. Sure enough there was indeed no big gun out there.

Only the Kaptain was surprised. He took the bad news with a furrowed brow and a low growl, "Blast deir green gizzards! I'll wrap ten fingaz roun' GorGoff's neck, I will."

"Da Oomanz iz 'ere too, Kaptain!" Goggz made one last observation, directing UzKop's eyes to the aft. "Look, dey jus' landed."

UzKop could hardly believe his eyes. Sure enough, a big human-built gunship was sat right out there on his own deck. No doubt the humans were preparing to disembark a crack commando squad, intent on wresting control of da GitSneak from his cold dead hands.

"Don't worry, Kaptain." Goggz grabbed Auto by the arm, "We'll keep 'em busy." Auto relenquished the ship's wheel and tried to look menacing brandishing a big wrench.

Goggz gave a subtle nod to the other grots manning the various stations around the bridge and they fell in behind. "You take da helm, Kaptain, full steam ahead! Ramming speed! Us grotz'll see to it dey'll never reach you in time."

UzKop was wide eyed and lapping up the high drama. He took the wheel with crazed enthusiasm. Goggz took his opportunity to get out while the going was good.

"Gorkspeed Kaptain!" He saluted, and they all scarpered like grots from a sinking ship.

Blast 'em out'o da water!" roared GorGoff. "Destroy da Oomie scum!"

The six gargantuan guns on GorGoff's Krooza had been pounding away for ages now and only managed a single hit on the human raiders. The rising plume of smoke from the distant ship was small comfort though as their pace had not slackened in the least.

"Pour on da juice!" He bellowed to the Runtherds in the engine rooms, "Throw in da grotz if dey won't shovel no fasta!"

The guns blasted off another jaw rattling volley and GorGoff watched with grim dissatisfaction as two, four, six... Eight?

"Huh!" GorGoff nearly swallowed his own iron gob, "Who's at it!? Dat's my Oomie ship dat iz!"

He bustled his huge bulk up to the observation deck and grabbed up a big telescope. Sure enough the GorkaFleet guard was out to defend the home waters of the GorkMorka. The humans were heading right into their sights.

"Damn dat DeffSkull scrappa," he cursed "Im an' iz skull-faced lot kept uz loadin' an' fuelin'..." GorGoff slammed his big klaw savagely on the deck. He knew there no-one to blame but himself.

GorGoff's own greed might have cost him a head start on the chase but still, it had won him plenty of fuel and plenty of shells and they could pour on both with orkish abandon now.

"Waaagh!" GorGoff roared for all to hear. There was no escaping GorGoff. He was determined to catch the fleeing humans, to crush and to destroy. Nothing and no-one not even the blockade boats of his own GorkaFleet Kaptains would stand in his way.

"SkallRag! BarkYob!" A pair of SkarBoys, two of his oldest and most trusted cronies saluted in best StormBoy fashion as ever they had. Old habits died hard GorGoff mused, remembering the glory days of their misspent yoof. He the yelling-est, bossing-est, StormBoy Nob that ever there was. Them the marching-est, slogging-est, crunking-est mob of goffs that ever strapped rokkitz to their backs.

"Demz woz da days!" grinned GorGoff. "Dat woz da life!"

The two veteran Gorkas stood ready for orders, not quite sure what to make of the funny look in the Boss's eyes. GorGoff was most definitely up to something.

*********

"Right, dat's yer lot." GitFingaz smiled dusting his knees off as he climbed out from underneath the wing of the gunship. "She's as good az eva an' twice as..."

GitFingaz trailed off as the deck lift raised them out onto the deck. The wind carried the unmistakable stink of rancid squig oil and smoke. Not just the tell-tale whiff of a concentration of GorkaFleet vessels but also the more pervasive smog and grime that held sway in the vicinity of...

"Da GorkaMorka!" GitFingaz was gobsmacked. Could it be true? Were they really here to launch an assault on the GorkaMorka itself? He looked to Smirking in silent appeal.

The little bat-winged grot stood resolute at his side. Where any normal grot would be cringing and fleeing for its pathetic life in the face of the GorkaFleet barrage, the flames and smoke from their already hammered ship, and under the distant gaze of the unassailable god-machine, this one singularly strange creature stared back undaunted.

"But you can't 'urt da GorkaMorka." GirFingaz pointed out, "Da grot-bomb's big an' all but... Even wif a bomb twice da size ov wot we got..."

Smirking could already feel the power of a couple of hundred hungry Gorkas congealing in the air around him. He could almost taste their desire to crush and smash and devour the humans who they saw coming headlong like a face to their fists. He could also sense the individual minds of the two orks aboard his own ship. A little vortex of aimless madness was emanating from the Kaptian at the wheel but more peculiar even than UzKop was the ork standing next to him. Smirking eyed him with some curiosity.

GitFingaz, for all his mild mannered complicity was a seething ball of pent-up hatered and resentment. GitFingaz, it seemed hated everything. He hated Smirking and especially GrodMek, sure, that had been no secret. But what was more, Smirking noted, GitFingaz hated the orks of da GorkaFleet too; with their bully-boy bosses their big clumsy guns and even bigger even clumsier ships. He despised their ignorance, their brutality, their innate orkishness, it seemed, resenting most of all the authority that all these things naturally conferred.

As GitFingaz's eyes drew once again toward that one great totem, the distant twin faced gargantuan monstrosity glowering down upon them his frowning hatred was palpably crushed to a hard-packed core stewing in an aura of deep resentment.

"I mean...Wot's da use?" GitFingaz heaved a deep, bitter sigh, "You can't kill it. You can't win, grot."

In all the internal bickering and disagreement that occurred within Smirking's mind it was Sleekit who most profoundly recognised the ork's feelings on the subject. The Grotfather squeezed through the noise and pressed his voice to the fore and Smirking spoke.

"Of course we can't!" He blurted, "We duzzn't fink we can we win! We ain't dumb ork grunts like dat lot."

GitFingaz raised an eyebrow. He wasn't sure where this was going but he liked where it had begun.

"Don't talk to us rebel grotz 'bout da fight we can't neva win!" He continued, "Ya fink we don't know dat? You fink we got some great end game planned? Some masta-stroke to put da grotz on top fer once an' fer all?"

GitFingaz stood dumbstruck as the rant continued.

"Grox-gak we do, but you fink dat won't stop us stickin' one in da back of a Runtherd wot 'ad it comin'? Or sneakin' a slog ov da boss' gutrott when he ain't lookin'?"

"Gork No!" GitFingaz grunted, "Don't nuffink stop grots actin' up."

"Dat's right, Fingaz. Nuffink! Not shootas, not choppas, not boots or teef or claws." Sleekit was on his soapbox now and giving it stacks. "We know it's deff, it's certain deff if we'z caught but it's more, Fingaz. It's life!"

A spark of hope was kindling in the old ork's aura now. His pride was beginning to swell. What life was this?

"A grot don't live to serve! A grot only serves to live, but when he getz 'is chance, he lives da most, an' he don't give a Good-Gork-Damn for da consequences."

Another pair of shells came hurtling in, ear-splittingly close. They straddled the ship between two thunderous impacts, the shockwaves threatening to shake the ship apart. Grot crews were frantically lowering lifeboats and in some cases simply leaping for their worthless lives as the embattled ship steamed headlong into the jaws of death.

Their time was well and truely up now. It was now or never. Smirking ducked into the rear hatch, squeezing around the grotbomb to take a seat up front. To his surprise GitFingaz followed behind and joined him.

"Wotcha want, Fingaz, an encore?" Sleekit was done lecturing, it was time for action.

GitFingaz took the other seat and hit the control to close the rear hatch. "I wants to live da most." He grinned initiating the power-up sequence. "I wants to give 'em all one in da eye an' to Gork wif da consequences!"

Smirking shrugged. He was onboard, they were out of time and the only way was forward.

"Alright den." Smirking took the steering yolk in hand and pressed the throttle up. "Let's do dis!"

GorGoff stood upon the bows of his MegaKrooza willing them forward, ever faster, ever closer to the fleeing prize. The big human-built carrier loomed surprisingly large now. GorGoff hadn't anticipated quite how big it really was. His mouth watered and he could feel a phantom itching sensation from his mechanically replaced right hand; his giant steel claw, eager to crush some Oomie skulls.

His boarding party was gathering now, already strapped into their StormBoy jump packs, choppas and sluggas in hand. A trio of grots came hurrying in their wake wheeling a trolley upon which GorGoff's own great jump pack was prepared. A big twin-rokkit pack winged and adorned with his old StormBoy Nob's boss pole depicting a horned rokkit. GorGoff hoisted its massive bulk off the trolley as if it weighed no more than runt's ammo pack. He slung it onto his back and allowed the grots to complete the rigging, strapping straps and wiring wires and priming pumps.

Another volley of shells sounded now alarmingly close by. GorGoff spun around to see whence they came. They hadn't come from his own ship, nor even from the humans. Two shots fell just short of their mark landing either side of the big carrier. It rocked and rolled on the waves as if stunned almost to a standstill. GorGoff clocked the culprits. A pair of big battle barges, gunned-up to the gunwales with the heaviest artillery they could keep afloat. They stood upon the sea like fortresses walls ready to receive the assault. GorGoff spat. He'd be damned if he'd let those sea-slugs beat him to the punch.

Now whether it was a trick of the ocean or that da Godz were smiling down on him, GorGoff could feel the distance closing much faster now. He could see little figures scrambling for the life boats in a desperate attempt to escape their inevitable fate. The tall smooth hull of the carrier was rearing higher and higher now. His eye level had fallen below the level of the flight deck, but no matter.

"Boarding party!" GorGoff bellowed. The party kicked off behind him, all whoops and cheers and excitement. The big MegaKrooza rolled in close as the ork helmsman expertly swung them alongside.

"Waaaagh!" GorGoff roared, firing his rokkit pack and leaping into the air. He flew like a slingshot trukk, his great bulk rising heavily ascending to the level of the carrier's flight deck before he cut off the fuel and dropped down upon it landing steel upon steel with a resounding clank.

Immediately he saw it. An aircraft, already out on the deck and ready to fly. It looked big and tough, although of human build and what was more it was already taking off. As his StormBoys came falling in from above behind him GorGoff took off at a run.

Even as he charged, GorGoff knew... he couldn't explain what exactly but he was sure. He'd never been more sure of anything in his life. Whatever, whoever was on that aircraft, trying to get away, he had to catch them.

Picking up speed and momentum with every step GorGoff bent every fibre of his being toward the pursuit, horns lowered for the charge. He could feel it in his bones, the awesome power of the Waaagh drawing him closer, almost within reach.

There came a thunderous crash and the rending of metal as the carrier collided with one of the blockade ships. GorGoff was thrown from his course and staggered drunkenly across the deck as the whole ship slew to one side and was forced into side swiping collision with GorGoff's MegaKrooza. The three ships became entangled and locked together. Da GitSneak's desperate dash had finally come to a crashing halt.

But the fleeing gunship's afterburners were still firings and it had managed to rise up off the deck just in time. Well two could play at that, thought GorGoff. He fed fuel to his pack and whooped with sheer joy of the hunt. As the boost caught him up he paced the last hundred yards of listing deck in three great strides and then giving a final powerful kick he leapt off the deck and rocketed skyward like a missile.

******

The take off had been hairy to say the least. GitFingaz had prepared a whole routine but in the end Smirking had rushed him through the opening steps but then WazzBad, feeling the surge of Waaagh as the enemy closed had taken matters into his own hands. The whole airframe jerked forward as the engines cycled and then roared to life. There must have been a great concentration of battle-hungry orks, so strong was WazzBad's grip on the aircraft. Not even the sudden impact of Da GitSneak ramming into the Gorka blockade vessel could break the Speedfreak wierdboy's hold. The afterburners wailed and the heavily laden gunship leapt into the wind as nimbly as a gull. Smirking and GitFingaz, thrown back into their seats simply rode the takeoff with no more control than children on a roller coaster. There was a hard jink around the tallest point of the blockade ship but then they were away.

Smirking expected a marked decline in the Waaagh energy available to WazzBad as they left the Gorkas behind. He pulled himself forward gripping the controls and waited out the seconds in anticipation of the point where he would once again have to take control of flying the ship. But it never came.

Suddenly there was an almighty slam that shook the entire airframe. The gunship rattled but remained aloft.

"Woz we hit!" GitFingaz squealed, crumbling under the pressure of an actual combat flight. "Wot'z been damaged?"

GrodMek scanned the board as Smirking furrowed his brow. "Nuffink..." He muttered. No damage had been registered but they had all felt the impact.

Another slam echoed around the armoured hull followed by another and then another.

"Dat came from da back! It's da big tail fin on top!" GitFingaz was panicking. Clearly he wasn't cut out for this sort of thing at all despite his precious aspirations to start 'livin' da most'.

"Take da wheel, Fingaz!" Smirking jumped down from the driver's seat leaving his copilot grabbing for the unmanned controls. He hoped that giving the cowardly ork a job to do might help him hold it together.

"Jus' keep us on track for da GorkaMorka." Smirking ordered, "and don't crash!"

Smirking went and stuck his head into one of the big observation domes at the side and looked back toward the rear of their ship. He could see no damage. The wing looked solid and even the tip of the tail fin was visible poking proudly aloft at the sky.
Far below and behind he could see, down on the ocean the tangled mess of ships all wreathed in smoke. They seemed in danger almost of falling off the line of the horizon. He shifted over to the observation dome on the other side. It had received some heavy repairs and was no longer much use as a window but what Smirking could see of the outside of the ship didn't cause him any concern.

"I can't see any damage." He reported returning to the front. "I fink we'z alright."

No sooner had Smirking taken his seat when GitFingaz screamed. Something was definitely not alright. Following the terrified ork's quivering gaze Smirking craned his neck a little to look out over the bulky navigational control unit to see out the windscreen.

He immediately wished he hadn't.



A monstrously huge claw came crashing through the glass and GorGoff came following close behind. Smirking was momentarily transfixed by the sight of GitFingaz' gruesome and bloody death. Had it not been for GorGoff's enormous bulk encumbered as he was by his great rokkit pack Smirking and all of his stupefied inhabitants might have died where they stood.

Coming to his senses in a few short blinks Smirking finally ran.

"Gork-damn you grot git!" GorGoff bellowed his rage after the little fleeing form, "You ain't no Oomans!" He didn't so much climb into the cabin as tear the roof off to better fit inside.

Smirking fumbling in the dark of the rear cargo bay grabbed the manual emergency release to open the rear hatch. Cursing his miniature grot muscles he hauled it down as hard as he could manage. The deadbolts slid in their liberally oiled grooves and the big rear hatch blew away as the air howled through the craft.

"K'mere, ya grot git!" GorGoff raged. He smashed the remains of GitFingaz out of his way followed by the seats and then a large part of the main vox unit. "I'll teach you to sneak about in Ooman fings! I'll rip you to shredz!"

Smirking had no desire to oblige and clambered up the ladder on the side of the grot-bomb quicker than an oiled squiglet. He yanked away the peg allowing the canopy to drop and close him within.

After all the noise of wind and yelling in the gunship the loudest sound inside the bomb was the pounding of Smirking's little heart. His quivering hands found familiar ground on the Grot-Bomb controls. His breathing calmed a little and the stunned community within his mind began to find their voices.

"Drop da bomb drop da bomb drop da bomb drop da bomb!" Sleekit was panicking but, tellingly, no one was shouting him down for a coward.

"Pull da release!" GrodMek chimed in authoritatively.

"I pulled it already." Snapped Aaris

"Well pull it again!"

"I'm pullin' I'm pullin'!"

The lever was thrown, the catch was released but something was still holding them in place, trapped inside a smashed up aircraft with a bloodthirsty WaaaghBoss.

GrodMek grabbed a swig of Rott from the little flask in the cupholder, the better to think through this mechanical conundrum. When Smirking clapped eyes on the obvious culprit he swallowed hard.



GorGoff had them in his steel-hard grip and by the look in his murderous eyes he wasn't going to let go.

GorGoff wanted to smash this little grot git to a mushy pulp but there was just one problem; (besides the fact of their plummeting through the sky inside an unmanned and now heavily damaged aircraft.) The thing in which the grot was hiding looked suspiciously like a very large bomb. And in GorGoff's experience very large bombs were not best defused using very large hydraulic claws.

As the wretched little grot squirmed inside the cockpit like a gnasher-eel in a pot the Gorka Big Boss's eyes fell upon a little something that just might work. A little canopy release button about the size of an ork's thumb, the thumb of a normal sized ork that is; GorGoff's own thumb was about as wide as Smirking's wrist and was almost certainly more powerful. He pressed the button hard enough to break the catch and dent the outer shell casing but sure enough, as he had expected the canopy popped open a crack. Smirking grabbed the glass and forced it down again. GorGoff chuckled, this was proving more entertaining than he had expected. He swiped at the flimsy canopy with a rough and lazy backhand but was astonished to feel his huge mechanical claw bouncing off as if it were made of stone.

"He's gonna kill us!" Sleekit squealed in Smiking's head.

"He won't kill da Chosen One!" BlackGull groaned, straining under the assault.

"We gotta zaaap 'im." GrodMek pleaded, "Y'know, like how youz all zaaapped me in 'ere."

"You want GorGoff in 'ere?" Aaris roared, "ova my dead body!"

"Well we ain't seen your dead body since you croaked it." WazzBad pointed out. "So dat's dat den."

Smirking was still holding onto the canopy by his finger nails but as the giant claw swung in for another thunderous blow he instinctively ducked.

The canopy went krunk.

Now the only thing between them was an odd sense of familiarity. GorGoff almost felt that he'd seen this strange little creature before. His moments hesitation was the chink in the armour that BlackGull needed. As their eyes locked he leapt to the assault.

But GorGoff was a formidable adversary. So great was he, so large and in charge that the very idea of defeat was anathema to his orkish psyche. GorGoff was boss, he was dominant, he knew only victory.

Yet still BlackGull crashed upon him like a tidal wave upon a stone cliff face and then fell back again. Rejoined by the mockery of WazzBad the tide came in again and then again with the pride and fury of Da Butcha, and again with the cunning and ingenuity of GrodMek. They fell again and again upon the fortress of GorGoff's indomitable will. Each time another little piece of GorGoff's insurmountable edifice came crumbling down.

Sleekit couldn't help but worry. This was taking too long. Their aircraft had been flying driverless and blind for some minuets now and there was no telling which direction they were flying if not just directly down. He reached back into Smirking's mind and gave him a nudge. It was high time they were leaving.

The release catch clicked and there came a weightless sensation as the GrotBomb slipped from its cradle and toppled out into the wind. And still clinging to the bomb, mechanical claw locked in a death grip the stupefied GorGoff was dragged out too.

End over end they tumbled, violently buffeted by the wind as they hurtled down toward the sea below. Smirking struggled to see past the orkish visions of psychic mastery playing like an action movie in his head to find the only thing that held any real hope for them now. It blinked red intermittently as they tumbled and fell. He reached for it. His little green arm fighting extreme G-force and terror in one last desperate stretch for the goal.

He slapped the big red button.

The boosters fired. The bomb shot into the wind and the controls began to respond. Smirking clung to the stick for grim death pulling up out of their downward dive. He was rising now, climbing surely and steadily away from immediate and certain demise.

Smirking heaved a sigh of relief and was suddenly aware of his new situation. He was alone again. No orks nearby, no Waaagh, no voices. The wind roared around his ears in the open cockpit and something metallic was rattling loosely on the side. He turned and found the great claw of GorGoff still clinging to the GrotBomb, the body lost, torn away no doubt by the jerk when he fired the thrusters. GorGoff was gone, and Smirking was alive, and free.

He looked to horizon and saw a familiar sight, the little string of volcanic islands he had known as home from a spawnling grot. Home, he thought, greatly tempted. He could live free, hidden away in some island refuge, far from the violent ways of orks and their wars.

He almost turned the bomb around but something stayed his hand. Or perhaps, Smirking thought, he simply stopped himself. He chose. Smirking had not often the luxury of choice in his strange and chaotic life but right now he did, and in that moment he chose for himself, to rise to the challenge, to claim his own destiny. He was Da Chosen One and this time he had chosen it for himself.

Turning away from the little islands and their furtive skulking life Smirking pointed his bomb into the smoke, into the eye of the monstrous beast.

He was diving now, fists gripped, eyes wide, screaming his wild grot vengeance into the face of the GorkaMorka.

Smirking was screaming toward the GorkaMorka.

His sense of the gargantuan god-machine island structure's true immensity was growing steadily as he hurtled nearer. So too the level of Waaagh energy was growing as his proximity to the thing and all its orkish population increased. An aura of nebulous green and yellow energy was shimmering over the grot-bomb's stubby wings as it sliced through the smoggy clouds.

As their power waxed Smirking could feel it. The engine seemed to be kicking out more power now. Even his sense of the weight of the explosives packed into the nose-cone felt somehow imbued with more gravity than before. Was it GrodMek's innate understanding of the machine coming to the fore? He felt his hands dance expertly across its controls, handling the flying bomb with a deftness of touch that could only be WazzBad's.

Soon his squeaky grot wail was joined by the now familiar chorus of orkish voices in his head. A veritable waaaagh was being called in concert with his own little maniac yell. But unlike before, when the yelling had been all confused misdirected rage, this time they all seemed united. This time there was real power in it.

And then, as if responding to his call, the GorkaMorka came alive with a flurry of activity. All manner of gunnery opened up with an impressive salvo of bullets, shells, flack and even the occasional beam of ravaging energy. The vast majority was still well out of range but the overall effect was that of a warning shot across the bough.

Smirking let out a bellow of furious defiance. Who did they think they were to attack him? Didn't they know who he was? He was GorGoff! There was a brief rupture in the flow of their Waaagh stream as GorGoff, still adjusting to his strange new reality as a ghost inside Smirking's head, briefly questioned his convictions in light of the circumstances. In the end however it made little difference to GorGoff. So fully invested was he in the conceit of his own invincibility that the flimsy skin of the grot-bomb became proof against every bullet, beam and blast arguing to the contrary.

The mangled smirk on the little grot's face became a wide grin and he laughed, though the situation was deadly serious. Smirking buckled down to the task with all the ruthless bloody mindedness of Aaris Da Butcha. He would do this thing, impose his will, though all the world be against him. And what was this world after all, BlackGull argued, but his to save, as Da Godz had declared.

Closer now the clouds of oily black flack and roving beams of fizzling energies had become a moving maze of death through which WazzBad weaved and tumbled. Tracers arced at tangents to their trajectory and even Rokkitz now were threatening to find their mark. BlackGull slapped them away like the hands of naughty grots reaching for the mushroom jar.

"Dey can't stop GorGoff!" The big Gorka goon laughed, "Nuffink can!"

"I reckon I did, dat one time." Aaris pointed out, "When I done dat deal wif GrodMek 'ere."

"Wotcha mean, 'Deal wif GrodMek'? " GorGoff asked suddenly filled with suspicious rage. "Wotz 'ee onnabout? Mekboy?"

"Well, I mean, pfff!" GrodMek squirmed, "Water unda da bridge, innit Gofferz, me ol' chum." He was evidently still more than a little scared of GorGoff's infamous wrath.

The engine sputtered and they were rattled by a bout of turbulent air. A burst of flack dead ahead rattled shrapnel off the nose cone.

"Will you lot knock it off! Snapped BlackGull, still fighting off a swarm of rokkitz from all directions. "We still got a job to do ya know!"

But Aaris, like a squig with a snotling wouldn't let it go. "It woz my Morka-Wing wot sunk your Gargantic." He insisted. "Tell'im Wazza!"

"Oh yeah," WazzBad chuckled, "He r'membas awright."

GorGoff was wracking his brain but he had to admit he wasn't very good at recalling his defeats, if in fact there had ever been one. That laughing voice did sound eerily familiar though.

"We 'ad a few words at da time," WazzBad recalled, "you woz 'ungry fer a torpedo."

There was noticeable drop in their power this time as GorGoff, clearly rattled, struggled to reassert his rightful attitude of top BigNob. He cast around for a blistering retort but instead was caught up short as ,through a Zzapp-sliced cloud they caught a jaw dropping sight.

Close now, frighteningly so, the leering twin faces of the god-machine atop the shoulders of the world. The very images of Gork and Mork themselves; Their steel-wrought eyes seemed alive with malevolent rage in the flashing of explosives and tracer fire.

Momentarily transfixed by the sight Smirking had forgotten himself. They had flown too straight for too long allowing a lucky gunner to land a dead-eyed shot. It tore a wing from the grot bomb sending them spinning crazily out of control. Smirking was disorientated, Sleekit was terrified, but Aaris was furious and BlackGull was resolute. GorGoff reasserted his natural supreme confidence and knocked WazzBad into shape. The Wierdboy pilot regained control, shaking off the damage as though it were just a scratch, he'd had worse before after all.

"Hey GorGoff!" A voice squeaked through the wind and raining fire, "remember how da Gargantic woz just sittin' dead in da water when da Morkas showed up?" It was Sleekit and his voice had a bitter edge that no one liked the sound of.

"Kan it, grot!" Aaris commanded,"Now ain't da time."

"You don't wanna hear about da Revolushun?" Sleekit feigned offence like an executioner loading a pistol. "I rekkon you orks could all do wif a timely reminder."

"Knock it off, grot," GorGoff had never heard the like of it. Such insolence! "Who diz dis grot fink ee iz?"

"I'm da Morka-Zoggin' Grotfather, ya gitz." Sleekit announced, pulling a bunch of cables from beneath the dash. GrodMek gulped; the main trunk fingamy gubbinz!

"An you're all Zogged!" Sleekit yanked the cabling savagely against a ragged edge of the console housing and it shore clean through. "Long live da grotz!" He yelled and before Smirking or any of the rest of them knew what was happening they were tumbling out, head over heels in the wind.

Sleekit had betrayed them all once again. Smirking had jumped.

Smirking was falling, tumbling through a death strewn sky. Again.

The abandoned GrotBomb, with no one at the controls and without the defensive efforts of BlackGull only flew on for a couple of seconds before it was caught in a heavy crossfire and exploded in a spectacular shower of debris.

Smirking spread his wings and began to fly. He wasn't just battling the wind, barely controlling his fall but he was actually flying, no doubt with the help of WazzBad, who still appeared to be humming engine noises.

"Wot da Zog woz dat!" The recriminations began with exasperation from Aaris, directed as usual at Sleekit, the Grot gumming up the works of the orks' best laid plans.

"Who let dat grot in 'ere?" grumbled GorGoff, who hadn't until now realised Sleekit was around.

"E's wrecked my GrotBomb, 'e 'as!" GrodMek complained.

"You're welcome!" Sleekit snapped, "if it wozn't fer me we'd all be toast!"

WazzBad pulled them up and around a puff of flack as if to highlight the significance of the part he had played in their preservation. All his concentration was engaged in keeping them flying and he couldn't spare more than a passing nod to the argument. Anyway, it didn't seem like he was missing much of a scrap and he was enjoying the flight too much to be too bothered.

"But I woz winning!" moaned GorGoff.

"Da Chosen One woz winning." BlackGull corrected.

"Same fing!" the Gorka BigBoss argued, "I always win!"

"Oh not dis again!" Aaris groaned, "I tol' you already, Gorka..."

"Stop all dis belly-achin'" commanded BalckGull, "Da Chosen One is all wot matterz! Not your paffetik squabblin'."

"Yeah, an' Da Chosen One is still alive!" Sleekit added pointedly, "no fanx to you lot an' your suicide attack plan. Zoggin madboy zealots!"

"So change ov plan den?" WazzBad enquired, still weaving between the odd whiff of smoke and hoping for some plan if action or at least a direction to be decided upon.

The majority of the gunfire had ceased with the destruction of the GrotBomb but they had now come alarmingly close to the shoulders of the GorkaMorka. Smirking could see Individual orks now skulking around the gun batteries. Some still ogled the empty sky sadly. If they saw Smirking at all he might have looked like a particularly large gull, a likely enough target for a sullen ork deprived of anything better to shoot at.

WazzBad caught a warm thermal rising up the sides of the mechanical mountain and allowed himself a brief respite.
"Ang about... Where's me bomb-jet!" He cried, only now realising they were flying unaided.

"Da Grot blew it up!" GrodMek sulked.

"Oh 'ere we go again." Sleekit began, "Typical orks, always blame da Grotz when yer half-cocked plans go boom!"

Smirking flapped a little in the air slowly realising they were no longer rising. But neither were they falling. In fact they were no longer moving at all. Everything was eerily quiet. Even WazzBad had stopped making his jet-plane noises.

"Errm... Wot da..?"

Smirking looked up and down and out to sea. He had become stuck somehow, suspended in the air. He flapped and twisted in an effort to turn around to face the GorkaMorka; if any threat was coming for them it would likely be from that direction.

He turned around but instantly wished he hadn't. He was floating right smack dab in front of one of the eyes of the GorkaMorka. A great round void held them in its gaze.

"De eye of Gork!" GorGoff gasped.

"It'z da Gaze of Mork, you dumb Grox's rear." Scoffed Aaris.

"I 'ope not." GrodMek balked, "you eva seen one'a dem big zzappas in akshun?"

"Yeah! Right before da GrotBomb went boom!" Sleekit reminded them, "an' seein' as how we're so close I could spit in Mork's eye..."

"Don't you dare, grot!" growled Aaris.

Sleekit ranted on regardless, "... I got us outa dere not a moment too soon! So neva mind ol' gokky gob ova dere." The GrotFather's irreverence was jaw dropping. "Let's quit 'angin' around an' find us a way outa here. WazzBad, Wotcha waitin' for, a wink an' a nod from da big fella?"

"I ain't flyin' dis... dis " WazzBad shuffled a bit sheepishly, "dis grot." He concluded weakly, "we got no flap nor nuffink."

"Well we ain't fallin' down." Aaris was getting impatient. "BlackGull?"

"It ain't me." The shaman confessed, "it'z da Godz."

"Oh for zog sake!" Sleekit sighed, exasperated, "course it is! It's always da Godz wif dis guy!"

"Iz 'e gettin' closer?" GrodMek had been watching the eye growing steadily big and bigger as they inched closer. He thought he could see now behind the smoke-grimed glazing a machine of some kind. Something he almost recognised.

"It'z not da Godz, it'z a Morka-Zoggin' traktor kannon!" GrodMek yelled, "an' it'z pullin' us in!"

Smirking turned, flapped, clawed and swam in the torpid air but for all his effort he wasn't gaining any distance from the all-seeing eye. WazzBad was at a loss, and BlackGull showed no will at all to resist the power of da Godz now that their gaze was turned upon their Chosen One at last.

There was nothing Smirking could do. He was being drawn within, into the machine.

Smirking landed on the floor like a sack of wet Groxturds. The room felt dark and close and oppressive after the brightness of the open sky. He tried to get up to better assess the situation but a heavy hand fell hard upon his ankle and hauled him upside down. Smirking squealed in alarm as he was roughly inspected by an apparently dissatisfied assailant.
"It'za zoggin' Grot dis iz!" The ork complained, "I carn't eat no stinkin' Grot."

He examined Skirking's wings one at a time with some annoyance.
"Izziss some kinda joke!"
Smirking's big toothy grin did little to convince the ork otherwise and he promptly grabbed a handful of the leathery hide and ripped it from Smirking's back.



The old whale-hide wings, though tattered and mouldy by now still had a fairly good grip on his scarred skin which they tore in strips as they came away.

The sharp pain shocked Smirking out of his complacency. He reacted on wild impulsive instinct thrashing out with tooth and claw at the offending ork. He grabbed a tusk and twisted his body round to look the startled ork in the face. Their eyes met with a burning gaze that turned the big greenskin's brain to hot molten mush. The smell was not pleasant. His body jerked and quivered violently for a few seconds before his grip on Smirking's ankle finally gave. They collapsed in a heap on the deck. Only Smirking got up again.

It was quite a shock to have lost his wings after all this time. It was true they weren't always much use, in fact often they were a downright liability, but he had grown quite fond of his wings all the same. WazzBad in particular was bereft."Me wingz!" The Speedfreak wailed clutching the ragged tatters from the floor. "E'z took me wingz! Gorkdam'im ta zog!"

"Neva mind dat, warp'ead." BlackGull consoled, "We're 'ere now. We'z finally 'ere. Da very seat ov Da Godz! We don't need no wings."

Smirking arose and they looked around. The place was a real mess. Bits of junk and scrap filled every surface, overflowing the benches and pooling on the floor. Gubbins of all varieties were skulking in the corners and leaning against the walls like a lifetime of idle projects awaiting their moment of need. The big traktor kannon sat front and centre at the enormous round window. And the feathers. Black feathers, everywhere.

"It's da gulls!" Gasped GorGoff, sudden understanding dawning like an orange glow at sunset. "He catches da gulls an' eats 'em."

"Nuffink get past dis guy." Sleekit winked sarcastically.

"He don't eat zog now." Aaris gruffed to a chorus of approving chuckles. He spat upon the dead ork for good measure.

The room itself was oddly shaped as if formed of a space between other more important spaces, and unless some of the scrap hid a door or a hatch of some kind the ork appeared to have been all alone up here with no way in or out. But what was he doing? Apart form catching grots with a traktor kannon instead of gulls.

"He woz a watcha." GrodMek offered with some authority. "Wot watches fings."

"A Wotzit?"

"Nah, a Wotcha." A feeling of swelling pride warned everyone of GrodMek's impending Mek-splaining. "See, when a Big-Mek gets big 'nuff: When 'iz gubbinz get big 'nuff, I mean, 'e sometimes gets one'v 'iz Spannas to keep an eye on fingz."

Sure enough, there was a bank of gauges, a screen and a big rack of dials and switches arrayed at the ork's bench. They inspected the whole lot without much interest. Nothing was blinking. There were no warning signs or alarms or even a big red emergency button.

"So dis fella's jus' a Spanna den?" Aaris sounded less than enthused. "I wasted good spit on a paffetik good-fer-gak spanna?"

"Not jus' any old Spanna!" GrodMek's tone was a little too controlled to sound genuinely horrified.

"He looked pretty old to me." Observed BlackGull.

"Course 'e's old!" GrodMek scoffed, "Cause 'e's a Vet'run!"

"Hmmphf!" GorGoff huffed, "He weren't no scarboy dat's fer sure."

"Dis fella woz way bigga dan a measly spanna!" GrodMek continued hoping to rekindle the interest of the grumbling bosses. "Dis 'ere is a presteejus posishun!"

Smirking had moved over to the window to take in the view. It was truly an awesome prospect and it reinforced GrodMek's point somewhat. Surely one with such a commanding view, a Godz eye view in fact, must be an ork of some distinction, one who should command some respect.

They looked at him, his face contorted in a death grimace one part surprise, one part agony the overall impression being all idiot.
"He shoulda never've took me wingz." WazzBad grumbled. They looked back out the window suddenly struck by the import of the fact. Without their wings they might be stuck up here.

Smirking slumped down and leaned out over the lip of the window. The gulls were wheeling their perpetual acrobatics around the head of the GorkMorka. He zapped one with a lazy blast of Waaagh energy from his fingertip. There was certainly no shortage of that. The gull exploded in a surprisingly satisfying burst of feathers and viscera. A riot of scavenging gulls immediately swooped and battled for the scraps as they fell.

So this was it, he mused. Da Chosen One had arrived at the top of the pile. He was his own boss at last, left to his own devices and possessed of apparently limitless powers thanks to the mountain of industrious greenskins atop which he now resided. He saw through the very eye of da Godz overlooking the world from on high. The sheer drop beneath him, all riveted metal, shuttered workshops and defensive weapon platforms sprawled out to a clutter of huddled industry around the feet of the machine, all servicing countless shipyards, ports and little airfields. Apart from the lingering smell of explosives in the air there was little to suggest that an all-out war on humanity had been instigated. The orks for all intents and purposes were still just going about their business.

He Waaagh-zapped another gull, more out of boredom than anything else. It got tiresome quickly and the sea breeze at this altitude was bitterly cold. Having no wings to wrap around his freezing arms he retreated back within, a little bored and disappointed.

Smirking moped around listlessly. He ran a lazy finger over the watcher's station tapping some dials and flicking some switches at random. Smirking sighed. He had though the inside of the head of the great GorkaMorka would've been a bit more interesting than this.

"Well dere's gotta be some place better'n dis to go!" WazzBad complained.

"Some scrap to get into."agreed Aaris.

"But dere ain't no way out," GorGoff yelled, "We can't smash froo da wallz. We'z a grot!" He thumped on a solid steel wall half heartedly.

"Well not if you don't say we carn't!" BlackGull explained. As ever the powers of Da Chosen One needed belief as much as Waaagh and without his massive orkish frame, GorGoff's self confidence was as low as WazzBad's without his wings. "We needz to believe in ourselves. Believe in Da Chosen One."

"An' wot?" Aaris snapped, "den Smirking can jus' click 'iz 'eels togevver an' we just tellewotzit outa here?"

"Well.... Maybe..." BlackGull wasn't exactly full of confidence himself. Truth be told each of these former ork bosses felt like a small green fish in a much larger bowl than they were used to.

Only GrodMek had any real enthusiasm for their situation, surrounded as they were by a veritable treasure trove of scrap and mechanical gubbins of all shapes, sizes and function.

"K'mon ladz!" GrodMek nudged, "Dere oughta be summink 'ere I can whip up."

"Yeah! Old GrodMek'll get us out'v'ere." Sleekit added, sliding into his old role of GrodMek's stooge a little more easily that he felt comfortable with. But still, Sleekit knew that in every Mek-yard and workshop across the galaxy it was the same story; the Mek was the ideas-man but it was the floor boss "wot got fings dun" as they said in the business. And that dead spanna bleeding into a bed of gull feathers over there didn't look too keen for the job so, as usual, Sleekit would have to be it. "Well don't just sit dere mopin' about! Find da Big-Mek some gubbinz!"

Soon enough Smirking was rummaging around, happier than squig at a Kroot-shoot. There were oodles of interesting doodads and niknaks just littering up the place. Anything that took GrodMek's fancy was gathered into a pile on the floor and before very long he was bodging and building... something.

"Find uz a generatah." He ordered.

"Like da one in dat kannon?" asked Sleekit a little concerned that cannibalising some perfectly serviceable and vintage tech, from the very eye of Mork no less, might be anathema to the Big-Mek's philosophy.

"Wot, ya 'ungry for gull-meat?" GrodMek grunted, "Ave at it, grot!"

Smirking toiled for hours. Assembling, disassembling. Splicing, bolting and hammering until in the end he stepped back, his little green heart swollen with MekBoy pride. The thing was complete.

"Be'old!" GrodMek announced, "it's finished it iz." he concluded rather anticlimactically.

"So wot izzit, MekBoy?" GorGoff demanded recalling GrodMek's grand ceremony aboard the Gargantic over what turned out to be a grot in a flying bomb.

"Well, it's obvious innit..." GrodMek laughed nervously. He tended to do the work first and leave the thinking part to later. These things had a way making their uses apparent without much need for a whole lot of forethought.

"An' 'ow's it gonna get uz outa dis." Aaris grumbled. "Izzit gonna smash an 'ole froo da wall?"

"Yeah...well, I mean...pfff." GrodMek inspected the machine for smashy bitz. "You'll see."

Smirking took a few steps hoping another angle would reveal the nature of the contraption they had just built. It had a large whirly-gig up top with a powerful looking coil and engine in the centre. A fat cable supplied the juice shunted directly from the GorkaMorka's own supply and down below coming out of the back of the thing was a long pipe with a flared open end.

Sleekit stared at the thing, a very uneasy feeling growing in his gut. Although no two ork-built machines were ever quite the same he felt sure he'd seen something like this before, something nasty. Slowly a sickening recognition dawned upon him.

"It's a zoggin Shokk-Attack gun!" He squealed, utterly horrified.

GrodMek beamed with pride. "Taa Daa!"

"Are you out of your great green gourd?" Sleekit wailed, "You maniac!"

"Oh 'ere we go." GrodMek grumbled. "Typical gobby grot always 'as a betta plan."

"Well wot izzit?" demanded GorGoff.

"You wanna hear a grot's plan over mine?"

"No! I wanna know what it iz!" He was pointing at the machine they had just built. "Da zoggin Shokka-wotzit!"

"Shokk-Attack..." Sleekit began.

"I'll do da talkin'." GrodMek butted in, "it's my plan after all, innit."

"Well gerronwif it!" Yelled Aaris.

"Da Shokk-Attack gun is real corker." GrodMek began, not quite sure where he was going with this as he'd never really built one before. He wished he'd paid more attention to the gossip around the dockyard taverns about the things other Meks had been building but nothing had ever really impressed him quite so much as his own brilliant mind.

"He don't know." Sleekit pointed out.

"Do too!" GrodMek protested. "You turns on da juice and dis spinny bit goes spinnin' around..." that much was obvious, "an' dis 'ere big unit in da middle converts da spinny energy into Waaagh energy..." Why not, it certainly was a powerful looking bit of kit.

"An' dis 'ere?" Sleekit was pointing at the big open ended sucking tube.

"Well you go ahead an' tell'em since you're so keen!" Snapped GrodMek. "Finx he knowz it all ee duz."

"Alright I will!" Sleekit couldn't wait to expose the MekBoy for the blundering idiot he really was. "Dats were we go in! It sucks us into da machine, and zzapps us to Gork-know's-where. See dey normally only use snotlings fer..."

"Fan-zoggin'-tastic!" GrodMek grinned, "innit? An' a'fore ya can say 'Ere we go, 'ere we go, 'ere we go, we'z already gone! Like a wierdboy wot vanishes by da par ov da Waaagh."

WazzBad nudged BlackGull. The old Shaman shrugged. He was none the wiser but it all sounded legit.

"So does we need to sing da song den?" WazzBad enquired sheepishly feeling he should know this one already.

"But, but..." Sleekit was exasperated, "but dis is madness! Da snots dey shoot come out frantic an' terrified! Warp-crazed dey call it!"

"Oh knock it off, grot!" Aaris grumbled, "Do I look terrified? "

"You'll look like WazzBad in a minute!" the grot retorted.

"Kan we just gerronwif it!" Bellowed GorGoff, "I'm fast runnin' outa zoggs to give 'ere, GrodMek. Eiver gak or gerroff da pot!"

That settled it as well as any argument. Smirking hopped over to the big circuit breaker and threw the lever to turn on the juice. The result was startling. The machine flew into motion on grinding bearings. The spinning orbs up top began to glow and spark furiously. Things inside the room shook and rattled, falling from shelves and worktops. Gull feathers where whipping around the room as the air became a vortex of noise and motion.

"Wot now MekBoy?" GorGoff called, eager for the real show to begin.

GrodMek spied a big trigger shaped gubbinz next to the sucky end and gripping it with both hands squeezed it tight. Something shifted redirecting the vortex in the room down into the big big vac. It sucked hard. All the air, the feathers, even a few hand tools and bits of loose scrap went down the shoot.

"Ere we go!" GrodMek yelled, preparing to let go.

"Ere we go, 'ere we go, 'ere we go!" Everyone sang on cue.

Smirking let go of the handle and was sucked down the pipe. In a dazzling flash of green and white they were blasted into the warp.

Smirking opened his eyes to a truely gobsmacking sight. He was flying in a nebula of astral energies. His essence or spirit or astra projection flew at the heart of a bustling green tide. Yet his body was real or felt so. Other objects too from real world he recognised whirling in their midst. Nails and gull feathers from the workshop, bits of scrap and hand tools all had accompanied Smirking into the warp.

But now he saw his companions too, the communion of Da Chosen One were all there. Five great ork figures he saw, impossibly huge and another lesser being who shone no less brightly. They were marching together, charging through the warp with Smirking at their centre. It was a stupefying reality.

All around, sounds or echoes of things screamed and wailed. This place was a nightmare-scape of twisted faces, all teeth and tongues, many-eyed and hungry. These hellish denizens of the warp were drawn toward him by an unquenchable thirst for power. They fell upon the orkish band like ravening wolves, come to prey upon their wretched and terrified souls.

But the orks were in their element, undaunted and sparring for a proper scrap. GorGoff, whose spirit was by far the mightiest led the charge with a great thunderous Waaagh. He crashed pellmell through all and sundry, giving nary a second glance to the shattered and dispirited creatures he left trampled in his wake.

Aaris was a power of a different kind. Only too cruelly did he consider his victims. Taking sick delight at the slaughter and suffering he caused them. With ruthless malevolent contempt he targeted eyes and ripped out tongues. He rent his victims limb from writhing limb all the while scoffing pitilessly at their misery.

WazzBad it seemed was a red wind of fire. He whipped in maddening loops and dives confusing and defying his enemies. His laughter was the roar of engines and the cheering of crowds. It mocked and belittled their demonic pride crippling their will leaving them desolate and hollow with only the bitter taste of WazzBad's dust on their thirsty tongues.

BlackGull was a shield of hide so think and tough as to turn the most savage of claws, the sharpest of tongues and the hottest of flames. He stood as atop a fortress of stone plucking gull feathers from the air. They became shafts in his mighty hands to be launched upon the hapless foe. His curses fell like bolts from a storm cloud.

GrodMek too was in the charge but his was a peculiar gift. He plucked things from the wake of the assault. A severed limb, a broken will, a nail and a tooth became a great battle-axe for GorGoff. Some empty pride he filled with a firey temperament and giving it wings of gull feathers and a metal handle to grip he bestowed the whole onto WazzBad. The Speedfreak whooped with a fresh acceleration and exhilaration. Many-limbed beings GrodMek wrought of Aaris's malignant play. Bodging and remaking them and delighting in turning them back on their own. Little mockeries in orkish form, born of destruction and wreaking destruction.

Sleekit too was a being of wondrous resource. He would slink through the melee supplying weapons to the warriors and fuel to their fires with wit and wile and cunning. Heat that GorGoff stole from the hatred of a proud and ancient thing Sleekit pumped as fuel for WazzBad's fire. The teeth plucked by Aaris Sleekit strung as bullets for GorGoffs guns. Sleekit was everywhere providing support where needed with a ready supply of wit and encouragement. He gave and took away and so decided the fate of many a foul thing though he struck nought with his own hand.

And Smirking at the heart of all, the chosen of Da Godz steered their ship with an eye to the horizon. From the eye of the storm he saw everything unfolding, and he at the centre untouchable and alone, the unlikely heart of the Waaagh.

One thing in this moment seemed strange to Smirking. He had wings here. Though his physical wings were gone he flew as a gull on wondrous wings of astral feathers. It reminded him of a dream he once had, a recurring nightmare where he as a screaming black gull flew wildly upon a hot wind in a fiery sky.

Smirking awoke with a jolt. He was back in the real world. Though his eyes were open all was dark. And apart from the frantic beating of his tiny heart and his shallow panicked breathing all the world was deathly silent.

Smirking was alive.

He had emerged from the warp, from the great astral rampage apparently unharmed but alone. They were all gone. No voices in his head, no sense of the power of da Waaagh. He didn't even have his wings anymore. Smirking was again no more than just a grot in the dark. He felt really very small indeed.

He fumbled around in the pitch black tripping over and bumping into things. He couldn't decide if the place felt huge and cavernous or tight and claustrophobic. A deep monotonous drone resonated through every surface with a vibration that buzzed into his little bones as if he were in the engine room of a great battleship or aboard some monstrous eight-engined bomba. It was wearying and disorienting in the extreme.

"Best place fer a grot." Smirking said to himself, trying to sound like Aaris. He didn't really capture the full extent of the Kaptain's pitiless contempt. "Grots iz meant to work engines."

"We knows all about engines we do." Smirking lied in his best GrodMek voice. "We knows where we iz..."

"He don't know zog!" Smirking snapped.

"Shut yer trap grot!" Smirking retorted savagely.

He grabbed his empty head. It just wasn't the same. Where had they gone? And what was he doing here? Wherever here was. Was this it for him? Stuck in some hole gone mad and talking to himself?

Smirking knew what BlackGull would say.

"Pull yerself togevver!" he gruffed in a thick BlackGullish tone. "You iz Da Chosen One."

Smirking wasn't so sure that was such a good thing after all. He wished they'd chosen some other hapless grot for their sacrifice or their saviour or whatever he was supposed to be. Nobody scolded Smirking for his lack of faith or his feeling sorry for himself. Or even his bad impersonations. Truly, he was all alone.

Squeezing between heavy steel supports and slipping under pipes he tested the limits of his captivity for some time, discovering to his dismay that there seemed no way out that he could find. Eventually returning to a raised step with a blocky object in the centre he sat down and pondered.

"If we 'ad wings we could fly up!" He suggested trying to mimic WazzBad's maniac drawl. He even flapped a bit as he spoke but his arms felt skinny and light.

Maybe he could climb.

Standing he turned toward the object in the centre and immediately slammed his nose into something hard. With a little more caution he felt around and discovered that a face on one side appeared to be lower than the rest. Climbing on top he was surprised to discover a cushion. A hard cracked squig-hide seat had once been set into the thing. Had he climbed into a massive chair? He stood and was met with a clatter of wiring that hung down above the seat. Following the wires his fingers discovered a helmet of some sort. Smirking shrugged and dropped it onto his head.

All at once there was light. Banks of dim red glowing panels lit up all around the room showing six great pillars each adorned with a great icon of the ancient ork tribes. The Snakebites, Evil Sunz, BadMoonz, Goffs, Blood Axes and DeffSkullz. They circled Smirking's chair which stood in the centre like a temple altar.

The little grot's brow furrowed. He looked over his shoulder for a shaman with a knife waiting to sacrifice him. There was no one there but he did find a big red button. It was mesmerising, and appealing in the way that only a big red button can be. There was no question in Smirking's mind whatsoever. He reached up and pressed it hard.

Suddenly a shaft of daylight split the room and with the squealing of age rusted gears the gap began to open up becoming a gaping maw, opening a window onto the wide world.

Smirking was given a view as from the smokey peak of an island volcano. He sat in awe and knew at once where he was.

Ghostly images began to appear before his eyes. The helmet on his head, still wired to the machine was feeding him all sorts of information. There were icons again, familiar ork glyphs laid out in display before him. Smirking saw a little mushroom glyph that he liked the look of and found it was but the work of a thought to make his selection. A rubber tube appeared to drop down from the side of the headrest and began to ooze thick brown liquid. It smelled great and Smirking sucked it up hungrily. He couldn't remember when last he had eaten and the mushroom gloop was a most welcome delight. He sucked and gulped, gulped and sucked again. Sweet Nectar of da Godz this stuff was good!

Smirking heaved a huge sigh of satisfaction and slumped back in his chair. His head was swimming. Wow, he thought, that stuff was potent. He couldn't help but recall Smudge's Gut-Rott brew. He selected the Mushroom glyph and enjoyed some more.

"Engines iz gettin' hot, Boss! We'z nearly ready fer akkshun!"

Smirking jumped and nearly choked on his soup. Who said that? It sounded like WazzBad.

"Ev'ryfink's runnin' a treat, Guv'na." Came another familiar voice. That was GrodMek!

"Let's zoggin' smash summink!" Aaris sounded eager for violence as ever.

Smirking's heart raced with excitement. Never would he have thought in a million years he'd be so happy to hear this motley crew again. Then again, that might just be the mushroom brew talking he admitted a little drunkenly.

"Who built dis hunka crazy metal?" Sleekit complained, "I neva seen a more tangled mess'ov systems in all me life!"

An icon that roughly translated as "Know wotz" illuminated as the Grotfather spoke. Smirking noticed that each of their voices had corresponding icons on his display. The engine cog for WazzBad. GrodMek, the spanner glyph of course, what else for the Mekboy? Aaris was represented by the icon of a bloody choppa and GorGoff the triple stacked dakka glyph. BlackGull it seemed was an armoured fortress.

"Oi! Grot!" GorGoff yelled, "where's me loadaz?"

"All me ammo Grots is busy reloading BlackGulls defence rokkitz" Sleekit reported "You'll have plenty o' dakka to shoot by the time we gets anywhere near a target."

"Aaargh" GorGoff yelled but he couldn't see anything but GorkaFleet ships in sight stretching far away to the horizon. "Soon as I sees a target da gunz betta be loaded an' ready." he gruffed with impatience.

"Engines is runnin 'ot!" WazzBad whooped. His icon was flashing insistently. "We'z ready ta rumble!"

Smirking felt that maybe it was up to him to do something. He was in the driving seat afterall, wasn't he? He selected WazzBad's engine icon.

"Ready when you are boss." WazzBad called.

Smirking gave the nod and their world began to quake. Screaming metal, grinding gears and roaring engines erupted into a cacophony of enormous magnitude as the main body of the GorkaMorka stirred to life. Damage icons illuminated in tandem with BlackGull's armour glyph.

"Neva mind dat." The Shaman reported. "It's nuffink, jus' a scratch."

GrodMek jumped in. "Me lads'll 'ave it bodged up good'n proppa in no time. Don't you worry 'bout a fing Guv'na."

Smirking wondered if they knew who was in the driving seat. He shrugged, why spoil the moment? He was in control now. At last, Smirking smirked, he was the master of his own fate.

"Let's rip da world apart!" Aaris roared his icon flashing an angry red.

Smirking thought that sounded like a great idea and gave the Kaptain a big thumbs up. A massive arm ripped itself free of the cluttered ork shanties clinging to the sides of the machine. The arm wielded a chainsaw the size of a mega-Krooza which began to rumble and clank as Aaris da Butcha chuckled evilly.

He could feel the god-machine moving now. It lurched violently and swayed this way and that as WazzBad found his feet. The first thundering footstep sent out a wave that rocked every ship in port and beyond. Their horns were already blasting. A chorus of orkish mania was sweeping through their decks. Da Godz had come and now walked amongst them again! Another step and another and the GorkaMorka was in motion. WazzBad whooped and laughed. Aaris took practice swings at cranes and warehouses in the port as they stepped on into the ocean.

"Taking on water in da lower decks!" Sleekit announced. Smirking hit up GrodMek's glyph.

"I know's 'ow ta seal a hull, boss! Me burna-boyz'll button'er up."

"Dispatching grot riggers to support." Sleekit added.

"MorkaWing!" Called GorGoff. Sure enough a great cloud of orkish aircraft were burning in through the sun-scorched sky. "Where's me Gork-damned Dakka?" GorGoff bellowed.

"Dey're wif us ya great lummox!" BlackGull advised. "Standin' down defence rokkitz."

Smirking was enjoying the view from his lofty seat as a hundred little ships below, the Kroozas and the mega Kroozas of the GorkaFleet, fell into their positions, an honour guard flanking the advancing Great Gargant. High overhead the bombas and fightas of da MorkaWing looped and dived, spinning cartwheels and putting on a real show. Da Waaagh was on! Waaaagh GorkaMorka had come at last.

Soon their giant feet came free of the ocean floor and the whole machine bobbed as they began to doggy paddle.

"Switchin' drive to da main screw." WazzBad called. There was a momentary lull as the heavy clanking gears of the legs stopped moving before a deep resonating note thrummed through the machine.

"Ere we go ere we go ere we go." GorGoff broke out into the traditional GorkaFleet anthem as the great bulk of the floating machine began to move through the waves.



"Alright Boss." Sleekit came on the line. "Where we headed?"

Smirking selected Sleekit's 'Know Wots' icon and was presented with a map. He recognised much of it from GrodMek's plans back on Da BizMork. He indicated the general direction back the way they had come. That was where the humans were afterall.

"GulGog's landings!" GorGoff laughed, "we'll suck da DeffSkullz oilfields dry..."

"Load up on all 'iz best gear..." GrodMek added.

"Nick all 'iz ladz for da Waaaagh!" suggested Arris.

"An' go smash some Oomies!" roared BlackGull.

Smirking gave the green light to every suggestion across the board. It seemed like everyone had the situation well in hand. He sat back and sucked on his mushroom tube. This was the life, he thought. Free drinks and a front row seat to the greatest show on the planet! Smirking Da Chosen One indeed!