The hot Drevoran sun beat down on the wildly uproarious Bootfang Blood
Axe mob. They had smashed through the front gates of an Imperial
Stronghold and overwhelmed the skeleton unit of Guard that protected
it. They were already dropping their crude axes and slipshod sluggas to
pour over the booty of Ooman wargear. They broke into every last foot
locker and storage container, looking for the ripe cargo of
tech-know-lo-gee that was promised by their Warboss.
Ooman bodies were stripped of their uniforms, insignia was immediately
bolted to rough and tumble ork choppas, lasguns were already being
stripped of their power cells, and the hanger housing the mechanical arm
of the Imperium was being inventoried by near-drooling Blood Axe meks.
The least of which, was Dedwrekka.
Dedwrekka had never seen such a shining example of Ooman Know-wots
contained in such a small space. The lines of Ooman Sentinels,
resplendent in their clean lines and efficiency, were stirring emotions
in Dedwrekka that were usually reserved for an especially loud whirly
bit or a particularly chewy gob-squig. Brushing away a tear, he moved
to the greatest prize of them all, the massive, domineering bulk of an
Ooman Demolisher.
With a limp jaw and a soft gaze, he marveled over all the Kustomizations
he was going to make to it. He laid a coarse hamfist on the smooth,
clean surface. He moved around to the side of the tank, drinking in
every tactile sensation that exploded in his fungal brain. He
vicariously oozed through his list of upgrades: Biggur exhausts, armor
plating, a hopper for the team of grot riggers that would crew it... Red
racin' stripes... Dedwrekka fought a sudden wave of euphoria.
Suddenly, he was jerked out of his reverie by a huge metal klaw that
yanked him away from the Demolisher's body. He shook himself back to
reality as Big Mek Kopspanna thumped him upside the head with a wallop.
"Wot yer doin' here, Dedwrekka?!"
Dedwrekka hitched his thumbs into his tool belt and shrugged
nonchalantly, "Lookin over da work. Gonna' really give dis baby all da
fixuns. Job's a gud piece'a wurk..."
Dedwrekka got another smack across the head. He quietly pulled a loose
tooth and dropped it into a pouch at his hip while Kopspanna berated
him, "Dedwrekka, ya know dat da Oomie armor is fer me Orkus
Mek-an-i-kuss Krew! Your job's ta fix da Ooman artillery fer da grot
Big Gun Krew!"
Dedwrekka frowned and slumped his shoulders, "Roight. Gotcha'. No
problem, boss. Big gunz. I ferggot."
Kopspanna watched the smaller, younger mek slump away towards the gaggle
of grots that were tearing away at the Ooman lascannons and heavy
bolters with reckless abandon. Dedwrekka would be spending long nights
trying to fit all the Ooman components back together and grot-proofing
them from the curious weapon crews that were prone to pulling off shiny
important bitz.
Dedwrekka looked over his shoulder as Kopspanna's Krew converged on the
precious piece of hardware with flailing hammers, whirling spannas, and
massive burnas. Those boyz were just asking for a good gob smack--
Dedwrekka was pulled away from the scene by a small tug at his
camouflage jacket. He looked down to the eager grot that was holding a
power cell from a lascannon. It was trailing wires and other tattered
bits of metal. The grot smiled and held it aloft, "Got dis. Canna'
have it?"
Dedwrekka sighed. He snatched the power cell away and trudged toward
the pile of quickly eroding hardware, "Hey, yooze grotz! Get yer mitts
offa da dakka til I get a chance ter give 'em a looksee..."
 
That night, Dedwrekka didn't sleep well. He tossed and turned in his
uncomfortable Ooman cot. His legs splayed off both sides, and his
elbows stuck out from under the sheet. On top of this, Gork was
bellowing to him from the ethereal plane.
It was a voice seemingly softened by a half ton of gravel. It rung up
through his spine before lolling around inside Dedwrekka's pounding
skull, "Mek Dedwrekka!!!"
Dedwrekka screwed up his face and smashed his hands to his ears to try
and block out the intruding God, "Go 'way! I'z tryin' ta kop a wink ya
bastard!"
The Great God Gork would have none of this. With another bone-rattling
groan that only Dedwrekka could hear, he continued, "Mek Dedwrekka!
Lissen! I'z gonna' give yer a Plan!"
"I'm not da warboss, ya stoopid Git! Me's just a mekboy!"
"Shuddup an' lissen, a'fore I smash yer like da bit ya are! I'z da
Great God Gork an' I'z gonna give YOU, Mek Dedwrekka, da PLAN!"
"Will ya sod off after givun' it?"
"Yer."
"Awright. Gimmie."
The Great God Gork, one of the two gods in the ork Pantheon, then
proceeded to narrate Mek Dedwrekka's Plan. He groaned and rumbled
instructions late into the night. Eventually, Dedwrekka got up from his
bunk and crossed to a workbench where he began to scribble the ideas
down on a piece of scrap metal. Scratching his stubby pencil as fast as
Gork's iteration echoed through his thick skull. Finally, after hours
of Gork's thrashing and belligerent possession, Dedwrekka passed out in
a heap and sunk into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Dedwrekka woke late the next morning. Someone was gently tugging at his
sheet of scrap metal that he had fallen asleep over. The mek stirred,
and then jerked awake. He snatched the scrap away from the sticky
fingers that were trying to snatch it, "Mine! Leggo!"
Dedwrekka's head ached ten times worse than any fungus beer hangover.
His whole body ached from kop to boot leather. He peered from bleary
eyes to see the small form of one of his grot crewmen, Blodgit. The
small gretchin cowered under the workbench, "Jes' wanted ta see it...
wossit?"
"S'nuffin. Go way."
Blodgit wilted and started to crawl away from his mek boss. Dedwrekka
noticed a piece of hardware sticking out from Blodgit's rucksack.
Dedwrekka grabbed the grot by the scruff and hoisted him up. He reached
into the rucksack and pulled out the hardware. He then shook it at the
grot, "Where'd ya geddit?"
The grot squirmed under Dedwrekka's gaze and pointed meekly at the
Demolisher, "Goddit frum Kopspanna's tank..."
Dedwrekka was about to beat the grot senseless with the delicate piece
of hardware, but he stopped suddenly. A thought had crawled across his
skull. It started right between his eyes. It squirmed around a bit
until it found access to a bit of think-bitz that were clustered around
the higher brain functions. After a bit of convincing, the little
thought mounted an assault on the decision making node and finally won
out through a hard fought battle of attrition.
Dedwrekka set the hardware down on the table. He then set Blodgit on
his lap and patted the terrified grot on the head, "So, Blodgit. How'd
you like to be me best mate an' help yer ol' boss out?"
Blodgit didn't like this change of tone. It had the stink of a blind
siding, "Um... wol', we's really busy wif da big dakka..."
Dedwrekka chuckled, "Aw, don' worry. I's got summfink dat you'll wanna
do. Go get all da runtz."
Dedwrekka then hoisted Blodgit off his lap and set him down on the dusty
floor of the hangar. He grinned expansively and gently patted the grot
on the head, "G'wan. Go get yer mates..."
The grot, more out of fear than respect of Dedwrekka's wishes, scurried
off to find the runt boyz.
In a few hours, while Dedwrekka tended to the new Ooman artillery, the
grots were scurrying all over the hanger. They attended to normal grot
duties, boot polishing, buckle shining, slugga maintenance and the rest,
however, an attentive ork would have noticed that every opportunity they
got, they'd snatch a piece of wargear here or a whirly bit there. The
grotz would then sneak the bit to Dedwrekka's trukk that was parked in
an obscure corner of the hanger. They'd slip the bit under the tarp
with a sly, conspiratorial glance around the base and then scurry off to
a new place to loot.
Dedwrekka watched all this go on in silence. He worked diligently on a
massive piece of artillery that looked like a cataclysm of machinery
composed of elements from a half dozen different Ooman heavy weapon
pieces. The shooty end culminated in a wicked looking point with four
plasma drivers focused around it. Dedwrekka hammered away, putting the
finishing touches on his creation.
His hammering temporarily stopped when Kopspanna and his mek mob crowded
around him, "See, Dedwrekka? I tol' ya dat dis wuz yer place. Aren't
ya happier 'ere?"
Dedwrekka silently offered up a forced grin through grit teeth. Through
the corner of his eye, he saw that his grot charges were taking
advantage of this distraction to boost bitz from the Demolisher. They
hastily tore away at the Ooman componentry, pulling off everything from
aerials to gearboxes. Dedwrekka's crocodile grin relaxed to a genuine
smile. He winked at Kopspanna, "Yer, much happier now dat you've seen
me work. Do ya dig?"
Kopspanna eyed the weapon critically, "S'alright... Wossit?"
Dedwrekka puffed with pride, "S'called a Zzappa Kannon. I can blast a
mega-beekie wif dis in wun shot! See here, it's a slidin' bit fer more
or less zzappa..."
Dedwrekka toggled a little switch back and forth. The mek mob around
him chuckled. Kopspanna crossed his massive grease-stained arms, "Why
ya wanna' ever yooze da lesser setting, Ded? Fer cookin' squigz?"
The meks couldn't contain it any longer. They all burst out laughing
and jeering. Eventually, they tired of the sport and headed back to
work on their Demolisher. The grots that were scurrying over it
scattered in a dozen directions when they saw the meks coming back.
After Blodgit dropped his last haul into the now over-loaded trukk--
it's bed bloated and swelling with stolen machinery that started to poke
out from under the canvas tarp-- he headed back over to Dedwrekka, who
was tugging and pulling the zzap gun towards the trukk with the help of
a few grotz. Blodgit hefted a length of chain and started to assist
Dedwrekka with the load, "Isn't da boyz goin' ta notice all da stoof we
nikked?"
Dedwrekka winced against the weight of the kannon. He stopped for a
moment and wiped his brow. "Naw, we'z gonna be long gone 'afore da sun
goez down tonight. Help me get da kannon onna trukk so we can 'get."
The crew heaved and shoved the huge kannon across the hangar floor and
finally lifted it into the gunner's seat of Dedwrekka's trukk.
Dedwrekka heaved and puffed with exhaustion and then waved over to
Kopspanna, "We'z gonna go test da new zzappa, Boss!"
Kopspanna was in the middle of hammering a delicate targeting
replacement, so ignored Dedwrekka and waved him off absently. Dedwrekka
smiled, loaded the grotz onto the teetering trukk, and hopped into the
driver's seat. In a moment, he was gone, trailing tell-tale bitz from
the densely packed bed of the trukk...
Months passed by the Imperial Compound. The Bootfang Blood Axe mob had
long given up on finding the rouge mek that spirited off with a huge
amount of the mob's gearbitz and metal sheeting. They assumed that he
had become "Fallen" and disenchanted with the Ooman mythos. It happened
occasionally. Some orks were too well wired to their Orky beginnings
and couldn't handle the responsibility and distinction of wearing the
Blood Axe colors. Being the only Orkoid purveyors of everything Ooman
was a weighty burden indeed.
Eventually, Dedwrekka was forgotten by the orks-- except by Kopspanna,
who was still stung that Dedwrekka was able to get off with such a large
amount of gear, including the targeters from the Imperial walkers. Each
day he reveled in the thought that Dedwrekka would come crawling back on
his knees, begging to be reaccepted into the mob. Kopspanna would make
sure that Dedwrekka wouldn't live long enough to be forgiven by the rest
of the warband.
The day finally came where Kopspanna could reveal his months-long
project to the rest of the mob. He and his meks had the Demolisher
obscured by big canvass screens for the past two months now while they
finished the final stages of converting the huge demolisher. Grot
assistants scurried around the camp in nervous anticipation. Ork meks
hurried to finish the last touches before the revealing. A lone, old,
Blood Axe wierdboy patiently painted the vehicle with bright, new, red
and green ork glyphs depicting the glorious achievements the massive
tank was going to accomplish in future battles.
Everything was going to plan as far as Kopspanna was concerned. NOTHING
could ruin this moment for him...
Elsewhere, a handful of miles from the compound, hidden away in a small
valley, there was another flurry of activity going on in anticipation
for another unveiling...
Lugs were tightened. A wicked rokkit rack was strapped into place.
Grotz weaved throughout the gears and wheels of a kit-bashed tank track
assembly. Rivet guns popped. Hammers pounded. A burna torch arced
blue light as its flickering tongue brushed a slab of ceramite. The
energy and anticipation was so tangible, it could be sliced with a knife
and served in squigly nuggets of pleasure.
Slowly, the noise of work tessellated off into the silent, gentle slap
of brushes applying the final coat of violent, vivid, blood-red paint.
Eventually, the valley was completely silent. Even the usual chatter of
the chirping lizard birds had stopped. Two thick, leather gloves were
pulled off two equally leathery green fists. The two fists came to rest
on two hips as the one Dedwrekka stepped back from his greatest
creation. His head silently nodded and bobbed in approval... then,
finally, "Job'z a gud'un. Get in, boyz,"
The assembled grots cheered and scrambled to their places on
"Dedwrekka'z Plan". Dedwrekka himself, now stripped of his camouflage
and adorned in more feral-looking leather vest and canvas jeans set his
burna-goggles in place as he slid into the squig-leather chair behind
the massive steering column of his new trukk. His hand came to rest on
what was once Kopspanna's Imperial Skull belt buckle. It now served as
the decorative knob to his primary stick shift and had a big "X" carved
across the face. His big black boot slammed the accelerator as he
simultaneously shifted into "furst" and jabbed the red ignition button
with his left index finger.
The huge, mechanical beast coughed, sputtered, and then roared as the
gears caught and turned over. Massive columns of black soot shot from
the exhausts high overhead. The vibration of the engine shook grots
from their perches as gouts of steam spattered from boiler plates and
rattled new hoses and tubing. Dedwrekka grinned and eased the lumbering
creation forward...
In Ooman tradition, the Demolisher was to be unveiled as the finale to a
huge, joyous parade. The stormboyz were ready with a Fantastik Firework
Rokkit Razza-Ganza. The elite Kommandos were lined up primly and in
razor-sharp formation. Bootfang himself, the mighty Blood Axe Warboss,
was assembled with his mob of fierce mega-armored nobz in the hastily
constructed grandstands that the parade would pass in front of.
Everything was ready.
Kopspanna was rushing around like a frenzied mother hen. Attending to
every last detail. Insisting on tightening screws and bolts himself,
shoving lesser meks away from the walkers so he could do it "proppa",
and generally making a vast nuisance of himself. Finally, the whistle
blew and the drums started.
Kopspanna forced himself to relax. Everything was fine. The Demolisher
was working beautifully. It loomed over the meks that flanked it on
each side in parade formation. The huge turret spun with little effort
and the ordnance was loaded for a final display where it would level a
decoy bunker that was built on a hill a half klik away.
The parade rumbled forward with squigpipes, drums, and the odd staccato
of slugga fire. Kopspanna jauntily hopped onto the boarding ladder and
climbed to his position in the turret of the Demolisher as his krew
urged it forward on its precision tracks. He nearly burbled with pride
for his great, Ooman artifact.
As the tank eased out of the hanger and into the sunlight, Kopspanna
heard a crash come from the tree line of the compound. He peered
through the demolished holes in the compound wall that were never
repaired from the raid and spotted the most massive ork trukk he'd ever
seen. It was even larger than the Demolisher! The foreign trukk's
engine easily drowned out the noise and the cacophony of the parade
musik. Great gouts of flame shot from huge exhausts while two front
wheels, as tall as orks themselves, churned over the light brush. It
teared across the clearing at a breakneck pace and rumbled towards the
compound wall.
Kopspanna panicked. He kicked the ork turret gunner below him in the
head and bellowed orders, "Turn 'tree-many degreez! Bring da turret to
bear onna' my mark! Batten down da hatches! Stop da tank! Ready ter
fire!"
Kopspanna continued to kick the gunner in the head, making it all the
harder for the poor ork to hear the orders. The turret swung wildly and
the tank's driver, surprised by the outburst, leaned on the
accelerator. The tank suddenly lurched forward at a surprising rate as
squigfuel injectors burned a higher octane through the motor. Shocked
Kommandos dove out of the way and scattered as the excited heavy bolter
gunners in the sponsons started firing rounds off in random directions.
The parade dissolved into chaos.
Dedwrekka's massive battlewaggon finally reached the compound wall and
crashed through an opening that wasn't quite big enough for it-- huge
sprays of debris splayed out in all directions. A huge, solid-metal ram
plate that looked like the toothy grin of an ork complimented the two
burning searchlights that glowed yellow above it. To Kopspanna, it
looked like the Great God Gork himself was bearing down on his now
dwarfed vessel. Kopspanna stopped kicking the turret gunner as the air
was sucked from his lungs in horror. The turret gunner, finally in
control again, grunted an order to the driver. The driver stopped the
tank and the gunner swung the turret to bear. With an orky bellow, the
huge Demolisher's cannon shuddered and released its deadly payload
towards the rattling battlewaggon.
The shell screamed forward. Dedwrekka winced and braced for impact as
the shell exploded just in front of his waggon. The concussion threw
the huge tank backwards a half dozen yards. Some grots were thrown free
while others scrambled to damaged areas. Dedwrekka wiped dirt from his
face and pulled a large piece of flak from the running board. He
slammed the accelerator. The engine spun freely. It didn't catch. The
vehicle was immobilized. Dedwrekka bashed the console and bellowed
orders to his grot team.
Kopspanna saw that Dedwrekka's trukk was stopped. He laughed
uproariously and pointed at the frustrated Dedwrekka, "Haw-haw-haww!
Yooze not so great after all, Dedwrekka! Dat'z wot ya get when ya got
runtz fer crew!"
The taunting continued while Blodgit and his "Pit-boyz" scrambled over
the screaming engine. Arms had broke loose and pistons were flailing
helplessly. Blodgit took charge, "Zodgit! Batten down' da pumpy-fing!
Hatchit, you konnect da hose back to da roota-fing! Grimble, take dat
spanna out of yer gob an yooze it ta tighten dat boily-plate inna'
place!"
A particularly obstinate grot sneered at Blodgit, "Whut're YOU gonna
do?"
With the seriousness of an Imperial Arbitrator, Blodgit pointed to the
zzap kannon that was mounted high in the crow's nest, "I'm gonna' teach
dem weedy gitz wot'z wot when ya shoot at da 'S.S. Dedwrekka'z Plan'..."
With that, Blodgit turned and scrambled towards the loose zzapp gun at
the top of the battlewaggon.
Kopspanna was having a great time. His sponson gunners were peppering
the front end of the battlewaggon as Dedwrekka idled there helplessly.
This was a perfect testing ground for his ded 'ard Demolisher. Finally,
he got the signal from the turret loader that the cannon was almost
ready to fire again. Kopspanna rubbed his hands menacingly and urged
the loader to hurry. He looked up to Dedwrekka's battlewaggon. He saw
the zzapp gun swiveling around on the crow's nest. He guffawed and
pointed, "Look boyz, 'ees gonna cook us some squigz! Haw-haw-haw!"
Blodgit swiveled the gun around and brought it to bear on the
Demolisher. The Ooman-built-and-Ork-modified sensor array had locked on
the tank and was tracking the easy, unmoving target. He leaned on the
power toggle and shoved it up to maximum. He then screwed his eyes shut
and prayed to Gork and Mork that this first official test of the weapon
would be successful. With a pull of the trigger, he was jerked back by
the recoil. He barely maintained his grip on the pommel of the weapon.
A lightning quick beam of light stabbed out from the zzap gun and
connected with the Demolisher's turret. Nothing happened. It only made
Kopspanna laugh harder. What he didn't see was that the intensity was
growing. With every second, the plasma drivers were increasing at an
exponential rate and focusing the beam tighter and tighter until it
finally burned a hole through the tough outer armor. The beam triggered
an inner explosion and flashed through the mechanics of the gun's
workings. The turret exploded.
Kopspanna was thrown free with a yelp. The turret became a fireball of
gears and metal flak. The Demolisher tank had been adequately neutered.
Blodgit cheered and shook his small fist at the now smoking tank. He
looked down to the assembled grots that were furiously repairing the
engine, "I diddit! I diddit! Didja see!?"
The grots grinned in affirmation then dove back into their work.
Suddenly, the engine sputtered to life and blasted oily smoke and steam
in all directions. The grots flew back as the engine regained it's
footing and once again, roared to life. They cheered as the
battlewaggon lurched forward. They scrambled for their positions at the
rokkits and big shootas that bristled off the "Dedwrekka's Plan".
Dedwrekka's baby was running again. With a yelp of joy, he pounded the
gas and charged forward. His grot crew started throwing out a hail of
fire from the guns-- fending off the recovering ork mob that was
starting to regain it's senses and was assembling stikkbombs to deal
with the threat. Dedwrekka steered straight for the Demolisher. He
worked the secondary levers that lowered the reinforced prow of his
trukk. He threw the gears from "third" into "lotz" and smirked. Time
to see "Da Plan" pay off...
Kopspanna rolled over in pain. He leaned up on an elbow and watched
Dedwrekka's battlewaggon rush towards the Demolisher. With a
devastating SMASH, the trukk barreled through the tank like it was
tin-foil. Ork tank crew and reinforced plates were thrown in hundreds
of directions as the giant, red, lumbering battlewaggon drove through
the wreckage, gunz blazing. Slugga rounds and shoota bolts glanced
harmlessly off the side armor of the trukk as it carved a gap through
the mob of ork boyz-- sending them chaotically sprawling away in a
million individual escape routes. After turning a donut through the mob
of terrified Kommandos, Dedwrekka spotted Kopspanna. He shoved it into
high gear and powered straight for the lone Mek Boss.
Kopspanna struggled to get up. He staggered away as fast as he could,
but stumbled on a piece of wreckage and fell flat on his face.
Dedwrekka slammed the breaks and ground his vehicle to a halt just
inches from Kopspanna's head. He set the shift to "Stop" and pried
himself up out of the cockpit.
Kopspanna could only see the massive, leering, ceramite gaze of Gork
heaving and rattling just over him. He whimpered in fear as Dedwrekka
jumped down from his great, red battlewaggon and hefted a big hammer
from a toolbox nearby. He put it up on his shoulder and stood over the
simpering mek boss.
"Gork tol' me I hadda' skrap yer tank. Gork tol' me we'ze Blood Axes
'ave gone off a bit too far. Gork sez Oomanz are weedy an not wurf deir
weight in squig. Gork sez I'M da boss mek now."
Dedwrekka then patted the huge, metal, grinning, ram plate and smiled.
Kopspanna nodded numbly-- completely out of his gourd in terror.
Dedwrekka then grinned smugly and dropped the hammer into Kopspanna's
gut, knocking the wind out of him, "Good. I'm glad we see eye t' eye on
dat. Now... da heavy gunz need a bit'a attention. See if ya can have
dem fixed by night fall."
Kopspanna wheezed the affirmative.
Epilogue
Dedwrekka, achieving Boss Mek status, was held in pretty high regard in
his warband. He was highly respected and carried much weight with
Warboss Bootfang-- except when it came to the Blood Axe sensibilities.
Dedwrekka could never come to terms with the Blood Axe fascination with
Ooman wargear and eventually left the mob when they joined up with
Gargrazz' Kamp for a few years. When Bootfang parted ways with
Gargrazz, Dedwrekka stayed with the Goff warboss-- where he was held
with great respect for his close association with the Great God Gork.
To this day, his lumbering "S.S. Dedwrekka'z Plan" is still a fixture of
Gargrazz' Kamp and still carries on the charge of Gork's Plan that was
handed down to Dedwrekka by the Mighty Ork God-- to forever proove the
superiority of Good, Old-Fashioned Orky Know-Wotz over weedy Ooman
machinery.
End.
|
