NOTICE AS OF PUBLICATION: My apologies for not releasing on the usual daily routine this week. I've been having issues schedule-wise in regards to finishing the draft and editing.

Episode 21

Coming Bursts

Gretznuk crawled with his goosebumps. The bug behind him was no longer the calm, collected voice that spoke in his head, but rather an irritated machine that became borderline homicidal a few times already. Several times they had stopped, turned around and crawled in the other direction.

"They know we're in here," said Gretznuk.

"That's what I just told you," said the bug.

"Well I wasn't sure-"

"Until you saw Mr. Skull peeking in through the hatch."

"Yea... Anyway, which way now? Right or left?"

"Leeeeffff- Right. Head right. I mean left."

"Right, then left? Or left then right then left."

"Just right."

They continued crawling in the ribbed shaft, ribs that helped the two get a secure grip. Gretznuk took a right at the junction and crawled toward the elbow where the shaft went vertical. He rolled on his back as the bug had instructed him, tightened his grasp on the ribs, got secure footing, and began climbing. The bug's face and "shoulders" mashed the ork's bottom, giving his companion some bottom support.

As he climbed further up, Gretznuk let his senses pick up on his surroundings. Distorted echoes rumbled through the shaft. Separating the ribs into segments were green glowing orbs. The shaft, as did the rest of the ship, smelled of a morbid cleanliness.

Every now and then the two would hear the rumble of the centipede-like Stalker (Sentinels being their specialized bretheren) crawling through a nearby shaft. Yet even with the possibility of being caught, the bug insisted the two of them keep moving. "After all, in a basic context, its generally harder to catch a moving target than a stationary."

The shaft continued going up. Forever came and when as it always did on the timeless vessel. It had been a while since the vibrations knocked Gretz and the bug around, and the continuous, uninterrupted climb had the same effect as the cell, and all the young ork could do was climb. A part of him wished he was back in the cell where he could take a nap.

A sharp pain shot through his ass, followed by another, and another. He assessed six in total.

"What are you doing down there!?"

"I heard you yawn," said the bug. "And my shiny metal ass gives no free rides! Climb carefully now, I'm about to inject some stimulants into you."

"Stimulants?"

"Chemicals like caffeine. Boosts your cardiovascular rate to keep you, I think. Or was it the other stimulant that did that? Hm. Any case, even if this doesn't work, stay awake, for our sake."

His ass burned with pain as the fluids entered, and still burned after the bug had retracted what he stuck in the orks buttocks. Gretznuk sighed and continued climbing upward, their vertical path having no end in sight.

The Sehker lowered itself to the floor and angled its head. The tip bubbled, followed by a blast of a hot white fluid that pushed away the bodily fluids surrounding the slab where the Terran was fastened into drains.

"Should I, should I not?" The temptation to reenact live the impalement of the subject was strong enough that Kophtet lowered one of his Sehkers below the Terran's anus.

"Well, for sure Nephalut will take her time."

He thought of his specimen gathering method and the orgasmic sensation a metal tentacle up an anus and out the mouth brought. "Once Azultep leaves, I'll tell Szazadrekh that I'll go solo for personal reconnaissance. I don't want any interference spoiling the fun." He moaned as he fantasized about impaling several hundred thousand organics. He didn't know how many lived on the planet before Lord Szazadrekh's fleet arrived, but he had an idea of how many would be left after the fleet left.

He looked to the Terran, who stared at him in horror.

Kophtet raised a Sehker and aimed it at the Terran's face. "You like this, don't you?"

The subject pulled at his bindings and screamed.

Kophtet giggled. "No one's going to hear you scream, no one who gives a damn."

The Terran kept screaming.

"Oh, that's right. You can't understand a word of what I am saying."

Tears rolled down the Terran's cheeks.

"You can boo hoo all you like. Just be happy your her pitiful toy, and not mine."

The Terran heard some pity in the monster's voice. "I forgive you... J-just help me..."

The Terran's words confused the Cryptek. "I would, but no, I would not. She would only continue to take my specimens to get even. To you I say no."

The xeno spoke in a raspy chatter that stung the Terran's ears. He guessed that by the /s/ sound like that of a "yessss" that the monster who had killed his companions would be willing to help him and show sympathy.

"Y-you'll help me?"

"No."

"Really?" the Terran replied in a hopeful sigh.

"Are you deaf? I just said no."

The Terran gazed into the Cryptek's multitude of eyes with a confused look.

"What part of no do you not understand?"

The Terran's face flushed red in anger. "Don't just stand there then, free me!"

"No!"

"Take me out of these bindings!"

"What part of this entire situation do you not understand?!"

"Stop your yapping and free me!"

"What part of my grotesque body makes you think I dispense freedom and bliss like their some ENDLESS RESOURCE?! Technically I can, but you're a test subject. Yes, you are a person, but I could give less of a C'tan's damnation if you want to leave. There would be no point. Most of your vitals are already fucked, so you'd die the minute you tried leaving that slab."

"Kophy, are you really arguing with a subject you know for a fact can't understand a word your saying?" the audio glyph echoed. "Or are you arguing with yourself again? I can get Basep to come over and comfort you right now."

"Shit," the Terran said. "She's already here."

"Well, I'm done cleaning," Kophtet said. He shoved the head of his Sehker down the subject's throat and pumped the Terran's stomach full of the blue oil. When the Sehker pulled out, the Terran collapsed unconscious.

Kophtet looked toward the observation room. "I was hoping to get some work done after a quick polish, but I suppose that isn't in our options currently." He passed through the reflector curtain and climbed up the ramp leading to the observation room.

Nephalut opened the door and Malat leaped through her legs down the ramp as she passed by him. "It's recording already. Khelat is willing to take over if you don't feel like watching."

"Khelat can do it then, because I'm no longer in the mood for testing. I suppose I can catch up on Szazadrekh. I want to see what he and that old king are up to." Kophtet passed through the observation room where a scarab glowing red sat in front of the glyphs, ready for the next command.

Kophtet approached the lab doors, the blades seperated, and he left the room.

The Inquisitors hovered around the oven door as the lead pulled the wooden palette out of the oven and set it down on the counter. The cake on the palette steamed, filling the kitchen with a sweet scent.

Cut-face raised the knife and aimed to slice.

"Inquisitor."

He turned to the lead. "Yes?"

"I am the one who cuts."

Cut-face rolled his eyes and gave the knife to the lead Inquisitor.

The lead Inquisitor set the knife into the soft cake, cutting six slices. One large half, and five parts of the other half. He grabbed the larger half, broke off a chunk, and shoved it into his mouth. He chewed for a moment, stopped, and spat at the chef's.

"It's too damn sweet! So damn sweet it's borderline heretical!"

The other Inquisitors didn't touch their slices.

"We kissed your ass and kneaded our dough as you commanded," said the short one. "So don't you start blaming us for your problem-"

"You forgot to add salt!"

"Of course, you said to use sugar in the place of salt," said the tall one.

"Heresy!"

"Tall boy over here remembers right," said Cut-face. "It's hard to be mistaken about being forced to modify a recipe at gun point."

"Why didn't you do anything then?! Resources were wasted!"

"Gunpoint," said the quiet one.

"Exactly," said the short one. "See? Quiet boy over here has the idea. I'm thinking he should be in charge-"

"There's salt somewhere on board. There has to be"

"I-I'm afraid n-not, s-sir," said a chef. His companions inched away from him.

BLAM!

The chef's headless body sunk to the floor and smoke seeped from the tip of the lead Inquisitor's barrel. The other chefs grabbed cleaning materials and started to wipe up their companions remains.

The lead Inquisitor watched them. He reached into a belt pouch and pulled out a cylinder marked, 'FRAG', and pulled the pin. "Hey, I found a spray can of cleaner. It should clean the stain out real well. Catch!" he said and tossed the cylinder to the chefs.

One the chefs grabbed it.

The Inquisitors turned away and fell to the ground behind the lead Inquisitor, who threw his hat aside and let the rest of his wet hair fall around his face.

The chef looked closely at the device. "Wait a minute, this isn't a-"

A fireball consumed the remaining chefs. Pots and pans clanged around the room and the lead Inquisitor's hair blew aside revealing his cold, brown eyes in the thick shadows under his brow. Roasted comets of flesh whizzed by the orgasmic grin stretching across the Inquisitor's face.

Limbs, flesh, and organ flew left and right, painting the kitchen red. The combustive radiance peeled off the thick cloud of grey billowing across the room.

The four other Inquisitors rose in the dark cloud of smoke. They turned to the silhouette lead, facing away from them.

Cut-face reached over to a stove and flicked the switch, activating the smoke ventilation. The grey veil pulled away, and the lead Inquisitor turned to them. His head hung low and he looked under the ridge of his brow to his companions. "So who's ready to find me some salt!" he shouted, raising his hands in the air, optimism written across his face, covered partially by his drooping hair.

He rose upright. Meanwhile the four looked to each other.

"Well, who's it gonna be?!"

"All of us," said the short one. "You made yourself pretty clear." He elbowed and grunted at his companions.

"Good. As we all know, obedience is the key to happiness!"

The four knew he was bullshitting.