Severin' in da' Sewa'

Big Rok Sewaz. A place loved only by the parasitic or business-minded, infested with everything from rats, to giant spiders, to squigators. However, if you needed to get merchandise from one point to another, without having to worry about boyz trying to loot half of your shipment, there was no better way than the sewers, which had naturally been born from no-longer functioning fuel lines.

Gorasho growled at their squad, a mixed bunch of regular polees orks, sniffin' squiqs and a trio of couriers from the Sewer Corps, the largest and most successful shipping company on the Big Rok, partly because they could be trusted not to loot half of the shipment. They were ahead of the main group, their specialised armours fully-sealed, due to a lack of natural orky resistance.

"So, captain," Johnson, the leader in red armour, "how do you like our daily routine?"

"Iz could imagine a betta' way ta' spend me day, Iz think."

"I was like that on my first shift, too. But the place grows on you. Sometimes literally."

"Say no more," the kaptin turned his head around, "senior kadet Snogrot!"

Snogrot was an honorary member of the squiq squad, partly because the other handler had been eaten the day before. His squiq was of the aggressive attack variety, completely black and sporting a mean set of teeth.

"Yeh, boss?" he answered, the squiq viewing the surroundings from the top of his scalp.

"Wot ya doin' ta' dat squiq? Put it down."

"But it likez sittin' dere, kaptin'! It likez me."

"Fer dinna', maybe."

"Oh, lil' Ugu would neva' do dat!"

The squiq seemed to nod, its tongue licking its lower jaw.

"Eh, woteva'," he turned back to the couriers, "we close yet?"

"Just a few more corners, captain."

An hour later, they finally reached their destination, where a part of the fuel lines had been fused into a crossroad. The group stopped and Johnson spoke:

"This is where we lost contact with Joe's courier. We should search the area for any-," a nudge to the side and a pointing finger, "what is it, Graves, I hate being in- oh," not too far from them, there was a large hole in the fuel lines, just above the flowing mixture around their feet, "well, there's our problem."

"Wasn't here two days ago, I can vouch for that."

They approached the entrance, squiqs and guns first. The sniffin' squiqs caught wind of something and were reluctant to approach the door. Johnson turned to the biggest ork:

"You have any flamers, captain?"

"Wot?"

"Dat meanz burnaz, kaptin."

"Fankz, Snogrot. Yeh, we 'ave one."

"Good. As my father used to say, always bet on fire."

"Yer daddy was a smart git."

"That he was. After you, captain."

The tunnel was just large enough for them to pass in pairs and headed downwards, through both metal and rock. No other entrances or pathways, just one long hallway. The further in they went, the more the squiqs wanted to run, except for Ugu, who remained unfazed. After a few minutes, the walls then became unnatural, covered with some sort of slimy, squishy material.

"Well, that's just great," Johnson commented.

"Yeh. Dis 'ere be bug land. Gobby, keep dat burna' ready."

"Got it, kaptin."

Snogrot tilted his head slightly upwards, trying not to make Ugu fall:

"Bug boyz, kaptin? But Iz fought we'z taken care a' dose. Yearz ago."

"Seemz like wez missed sum. Keep yer eyez open."

The tunnel finally came to an end. The chamber beyond did not seem any more inviting. Expansive and dark, yet seemingly empty. That could only mean there was an ambush waiting. There was always an ambush waiting. Shootas, sluggas and choppas clenched tightly, they took step after step inside, forming a circle.

Mid-way into the room, growls sounded. The horde appeared from hidden paths in the darkness, a throng of rather small, multi-limbed beasts and gnashing mouths.

"Zog dem up!" came the kaptin's orders.

Shots lit up the darkness, followed by a miniature sun as Gobby unleashed hell. The squigs went into an utter panic and attempted to flee, but most met their end within the horde. The creatures leapt, even shot strange projectiles. A couple of the polees orks fell, prompting Gorasho to charge into the fray in earnest. Bessy proved to be immensely effective, if only because she was as big as her victims.

The onslaught paused, the creatures retreating into the darkness. Gorasho counted the loses. Four orks, five squiqs and an unnamed courier, the poor sod. Seven left, including their last squiq. Not an ideal count, to be sure.

The second wave was announced by a horrific roar. An abomination appeared, several feet taller than even Gorasho, flanked on all sides by nob-sized warriors. Flame was unleashed, but the bio-tank didn't even seem to notice, its massive talons slicing poor old Gobby in two. While the rest of the group contemplated retreat, the bravest among them prepared to strike. After making sure he had good footing, he leapt up at the beast, aiming right at its monstrous face.

As the black squiq's razor-sharp teeth bit down, the bio-tank roared in agony and went into a rampage, trying to throw little Ugu off. It twisted and turned, its tail smashing into its allies, who were sent flying in every direction. Finally, blinded as it was, it slammed head first into a wall, Ugu managing to let go at the last second.

The rest of the squad approached what was now a carcass, the little squiq standing triumphantly on its back. Snogrot spoke up:

"Told ya 'e was gud. Can Iz keep 'im?"

"Only if ya promise ta' take good care a' 'im."

"Yeh, kaptin, Iz swear!"

"Very gud, den. Now, time ta' go get more boyz and burn dis place up."

Just then, they noticed one of the small bug boyz, walking slowly towards them, only to stop a few feet away. It growled at them and Ugu jumped off his trophy, only to growl right back. They all watched the exchange, Snogrot more intensely than the rest.

Ugu then turned to his companions and emitted another such set of sounds. Snogrot spoke up:

"Deyz don't wanna' fight."

"Wot? 'Ow ya' know dat?"

"Well, kaptin, Ugu said so."

"And 'ow ya' know dat?"

"Iz fink I'z on da' same spirituul level as he, kaptin."

"Well, dat'z a load a' squiqcrap."

The two critters had been talking further in the meantime. Snogrot translated once more:

"Dey'z sorry 'bout da' boyz here and da couria'. Deyz like funguz beer," another set of squeaks and yelps, "deyz been alone for long, da' Big Teef no longa' talkz to 'em," one final squeal, "deyz wanna' stay, kaptin."

"Iz dat so? Iz respect anyone dat drinkz gud beer. But youz gunna' 'ave ta' ask da boss, bug boy. Tell 'im dat."

Ugu turned again to his tiny friend, who, after a few seconds, nodded quickly three times.

Boss Nignub was a record-breaker. Always had to have the biggest guns, the most teef, the shiniest choppa'. His remarkable, even unthinkable rule of over three months would also have been something for Big Rok history books, if anyone could actually be bothered to write them. Possessing a mean kunning, and an even meaner cybork arm-shoota', he always got what he wanted. Including hats.

His love for headwear was well-known, especially because of the blue top hat he wore at all times, larger than a human head. Everyone at the meeting had a hat, really. Gorasho had his own, while Snogrot and the two tiny diplomats each received a complimentary one.

Many points were in the bug boys' favour. They could be stompy, but also tiny, killy, but also kunning. Someone could finally serve as companions for the couriers in the sewers, increasing the safety of shipments. They had quality teef. They really, really liked fungus beer.

On the other hand, their whole organic hive thing could really ruin the aesthethic unity of Big Rok's cold, metal, rarely-painted buildings. And really, that was the only downside any ork could come up with.

The little bug had to keep adjusting his hat with his tiny scything talons to keep it from engulfing his head. Nignub was deep in thought, weighing the pros and cons of the situation. Finally, he stirred and spoke, in a deep voice:

"Big Rok be a place unseen in da' starz. Wez welcome any visitorz willin' ta' work togetha' wif us orkz an' tolerate da' small incidentz of total war dat come with our orky naturez. Youz may keep yer place in da' sewaz, as long as ya' help uz out with stuff and don't muck about. Tell 'im dat."

It took the squiq a while, but the other tiny diplomat soon emitted a squeal of joy.

That evening, at Joe's, four figures entered, two diplomats and two polees orks. Along with the regular assortment of orks, tyranid warriors and others of their kin were taking big gulps from their jugs.

Joe's squig-wig looked a bit messy, probably from all the commotion:

"Ah, kaptin an' diplomateyz. Gud businezz today, though, dese boyz need ta' learn some propa' talkin'. Iz can't undastand a word dey'z sayin'."

"Dat'll come wif time, Joe. Four jugs a' beer an' squiq pie," Ugu looked over at him, "oh, sorry. Three squig pies and a gretchin stew."

"Comin' right up."

Gorasho looked at the surrounding commotion once more:

"Only on Big Rok."

"You got dat right, kaptin."