(Well here's chapter four everyone. Sorry for the long wait.)
(Edits for Quality.)
I sent the ship back to the Torwinnis system with Captain Juris instructed to begin slowly converting the PDF into 'warriors.' Also apparently due to the nature of the armor form, we can survive in a vacuum for extended periods. So I took a walk. A calm, peaceful and extremely radioactive drift across the void got me to the hull of the battleship in orbit of the Ork infested world. The face of the poor Swaby next to the airlock I entered through was priceless. And with my newest disguise in place, I took a walk. The air on this ship was palpable everyone seemed so worried then again who knows when some Orks in some slapdash trashcan is going to slam through the hull and start ripping them apart.
I've been here for a week, and honestly, the constant fear around me's been getting annoying. I'm starting to hope for an enemy boarding so that something will happen. If I have to give these people any credit, it's there gruesome willingness to kill their own to prove a point whether it's to force the slave to work harder or to confirm that the one dispensing this 'justice' is scarier that whatever they are fighting. These commissars have an impressive capacity to force troops that would otherwise run to fight till death no matter at whose hands it might be.
Finally, something has happened, the ship was rocked with a momentous impact as one of the lone few Ork hulks left in orbit rammed into the battleship. The armsmen didn't stand a chance you'd swear the rock the Orks landed in was practically eighty percent nobs with a lesser Warboss leading up the charge.
I haven't seen anyone in a while I've been wondering the halls of the ship...cleaning up after the Orks. Never waste suitable biomass, I always say. It's been boring, for the most part, they seem to have killed each other evenly. The lower decks are entirely dead. I've been walking to the bridge for the last couple of days now.
"Oi' 'old up there, ya' git!" Ahh, the snack of the evening. To say that the Ork wasn't prepared to be met with five serrated blades lodged in his chest.
"Uhh, W'ut?" Was all the poor beast got out before being rent into meaty chunks with a simple flex of my 'fingers.' My armor wrapping around me within seconds as the first shoota' rounds impacted knocking small pieces out of my torso and arms. Lashing out I raked my claws across the nearest Ork. I was striking from too far away to reduce him to ribbons but saying that he died would be an understatement as he fell to the ground with a wet plop. The next brought his choppa' down on my shoulder. While it did shatter for his efforts, it managed to bury shards of itself more than an inch into my shoulder. Reminding me yet again just how dangerous even the lower end Ork boyz could be, Quickly rewarding him for his achievement by crushing his skull and watching him collapse to the ground before moving on to the last of the small group that found me. This last one now fully aware of the threat I posed did both the smartest yet dumbest thing he could have. He chucked a grenade at me. Now, this was smart because of all their weapons explosives, and power weapons would be the most likely to damage me. Now he's an idiot because he was standing five feet away when he threw it the power of fear I guess. So I got blown up, and the last thing going through my mind was my face.
I'm not sure how long I was unconscious after that. When I came too, I was a grease stain on the wall. Luckily there were more than enough bits of Orks and me scattered around to pull myself back together with a little effort shaky but otherwise alright. It's never fun to unwillingly become a liquid but no time to throw a hissy fit.
Another three hours of travel brought me to a relatively open intersection. Though something was different the barricade of random junk thrown up in a hurry was still intact, and I could see humans on the other side with my 'hunter vision' meaning at the very least this section of the hallway was still in Imperial hands. Deciding to look the part of someone that's been through hell I scrap my right arm replacing it with a cauterized looking stump with some bandages loosely tied around it along with various scrapes burns and scratches. Giving myself a quick look over in a small hand mirror I made scruffy would be a good descriptor. I was still wearing that swabbie he had long shaggy black hair adding a few days of unkempt to his face with a few minor scratches his clothes once decently cared for were ruined with the whole left arm missing converted into the bandages covering the stump. I truly am an artist making a disguise just injured enough to be believable but not too damaged as to be a written off on sight.
I slowly hobbled towards the makeshift embankments throwing a few stumbles for a bit of dramatic flair. I could hear even at this distance. Some alarm was being raised at the approach of an unknown individual. Moment of truth I just crossed into firing range lets hope someone looks before firing. One step, two steps, three… well, it seems I won't have to play dead as of right now. As I finally crossed into the human hearing range, someone called out.
"That is far enough. Identify yourself." It was an officer obviously the one in charge a commissar at that, made evident but the iconic hat and coat.
"I'… I am Jonathan Horvath sir, I'm a janitorial servant from lower engineering sir," My words were scratchy and pained but still obviously the voice of a scared young man. Young Jonathan was no more than seventeen Terran years old when I got my hands on him. The commissar was looking at me critically in some seeming attempt to suss out any falsehoods by sight alone. He seemed to enjoy the small amount of cowering I threw in to pad his ego a bit, and it seemed to work as soon after that he shouted at his men and no long after that there was a small hole made in the wall of junk that allowed me to shuffle through with little difficulty. It was as I finally made it to the other side that I found the commissar waiting for me. With him were about two dozen or so armsman all looked disheveled and tired, the commissar, however, seemed well rested and maintained. I bet he has an entire nearby crew cabin to himself. He gives me the time to find my footing on the deck plates before introducing himself.
"I am commissar Eringer Vess, acting commander of this defensive fortification. How may I ask did 'you' make it out of lower engineering? As far as I had heard, it's completely lost to the Ork filth." I knew my response needed to be worded very carefully to prevent a summary execution.
"Well, you see my lord, many of us were off duty in a section just behind the point of impact. Those thrice damned Orks seeing more of a challenge moving bridge-ward and towards the habitation and barracks sections drew the attention of the lions share of the enemy. It allowed many of us the opportunity to get away relatively unscathed. However, a small group of I and six others were making our way out of the compromised sections in some attempt of reconnecting with friendly forces until we were attacked four days ago. Only I and another managed to get away with our lives she, however, succumbed to her compounded wounds a day and a half later… this left me as the only one left up until I found this place." Grim looks crossed the faces of many as I recounted my journey from the lower end of the ship.
"Truly a harrowing tale, private Kerra show this man to a bunk for some well-earned rest." I could honestly only nod in agreement as I was shown to a rather hastily built looking barracks. And honestly, I could use the time to process a plan for when I 'wake up.'