Chapta Twentyone: Hostile Territory

Say of Da Day: "Oc! Ya dun know da meanin' ov fear, boy, 'Til ah forget ter take me medication." – 'Red Beard' of the Imperial Guard.

Cold mists rolled off the grey stone mountain side, as it descended into the valleys below, leaving the old hot springs resort in its wake. It was a pristine view, but the stench of the Orks who now inhabited the springs put a damper on the ambience; all it did was remind the three Imperials of what awaited them.

"Why are we doing this again?" Marco asked, rubbing his cold, stiff fingers together into a tight ball to try and breathe life back into them. "I thought we agreed raiding an Ork settlement for a kilo of coloured plastic was a no-go when Sam went ballistic in the communications center…"

"That was before we knew the exact location of the kilo of coloured plastic," Barthees replied. "And besides, we're lost now, anyway. Might as well go all the way, right Sam?"

Sam stood with her usual stoic appearance, weapons still pointed at the Ork's backs with her index fingers on the triggers ever ready to blow them to kingdom come. "I would object to this… but you are correct, we're lost. I don't care about the pool balls, though; I won't be going inside the Ork camp. Especially since, according to our guests here, they're in the possession of a deranged Ork Boss who thinks they're some kind of magical gift. If you want the pool balls sergeant, you will be the only one entering that Ork camp."

"How… how big is their Boss?" Marco asked nervously. "Surely not too big, right?"

"Hur, hur, yew sure are a dumb oomie," Twik snickered at Marco, "Our Boss' about twice me height, an' f'ree times as fat! Ee's da biggest Ork in dese parts, dat's why ee's da Boss! No body messes wiv 'im wivvout gettin' a right ol' clobberin', har! Har! Har!"

Twik's ears suddenly perked up, as he remembered the deal. "Oi, boof, or barf, or whatever they calls yer, where's our cigars an' booze like yer promised us, eh? We held up our end ov da deal…"

Barthees glared at Twik offended. "Stupid Ork, my name's Barthees, and its sergeant Barthees to you!"

"Give them their canisters and cigars, Marco." Sam requested, nodding her head at the jacket-full of contrabands that sat on the ground beside the shivering private.

Even Gilda, the grumpier of the two Orks, couldn't hide a greedy smile when he received his long awaited lung-clogging cigars and liver-killing alcohol. "Dat's da way, 'oomie… now, oo's got a lighta?"

After receiving an 'O.K.' nod from Sam, Marco picked up a lighter from the pile and lit the cigars for the Orks, then pocketed it. Fire was a handy thing to have in cold weather.

Barthees backed away from the edge of the ridge, signaling for everyone to follow him. They were on the side of an old road which had been cut into the rocks by the old human inhabitants well over a centaury ago. When they discovered it the previous day, it made traveling much easier, safer and faster. The road wormed down to the Ork settlement which was situated on the side of the mountain half a kilometer away. Far below in the valley, a large dark lake shimmered faintly beneath the thinning fog. Most of the trees had been stripped by the Orks for firewood leaving clumps of grass and smaller shrubs suited to the cold climate sprouting up through the dirt and rocks.

Keeping his voice low, Barthees addressed the group. "Gilda, Twik, remember what we discussed? If you can get the pool balls into my possession, with myself unharmed, the seeds and weed are all yours – which means an ever lasting supply of the brain numbing clouds of glory at your disposal."

"Dat's gonna be an' 'ard one," Gilda said between puffs of his cigar. "Stikk'ead aint gonna jus' hand da coloured fingies ovuh. Hmm… yew got any ideas, Twik?"

Twik wiped a drip from his nose with his finger and wiped it off on his pants, thinking hard. "Hmmm… da only way ter do it, would be ta steal 'em… good fing we're Deffskullz! Heh, heh, we're experts at thievin' ain't we Gilda? But shh, don't tell no one, 'oomie."

Gilda rolled his eyes at the small Ork. "If it woz dat easy ter steal from da Boss, dontcha fink 'is necklace'd be gone by now? Last git dat tried ter steal from 'ol Stikk'ead got roasted on a spit ovuh da fire – or dontcha rememba?"

"Fink I mighta 'ad a few beers dat night, can't say I recall dat incident… oi, dat's an idea… maybe we could get da Boss drunk?"

"No, no, dat won't work; not enough, anyway." Gilda tapped his cigar, flicking ashes into Twik's face. "We'd need ter do sumfim' else… so 'ee can't grab our necks an' twist our 'eads off."

"You mean like tranquillize him?" Sam piped up, impatient to do something.

The Orks immediately agreed. "Yeah! We gots ter tranquillize ol' Stikk'ead! But 'ow's we gonna do dat?" Twik asked.

Barthees had a fair idea that if they were going to tranquillize anything, the Orks would be the ones to provide the means. "You greenskins generally have some kind of nut-job medic around, surely you have one at your camp, Twit?"

Gilda's top lip curled up in a slight snarl. "What, yew mean da Dok? 'Course we got one ya stupid 'oomie – 'ee's vital fer sewin' limbs back on an' stuffin' guts back where dey belong."

Marco's eyes widened. "Sewing limbs back on? Stuffing guts back…? Sounds more like you have a coroner or a butcher than a doctor…"

"Well, that's Orks for you," Barthees smirked. "But they do that stuff because they can put up with it – you couldn't just sew our limbs back on that easily. I've even heard of Orks having their heads sewn back on and surviving it."

The young private's face went pale at the images being conjured in his head. "You mean like a decapitated head…?"

"Yes Marco," Barthees confirmed, beginning to get irritated. "A decapitated head. Now then, Twit, Gilda. About this Dok…"

An hour or so later, inside the Deffskullz' mountain camp.

Gilda and Twik casually strolled up to Dok Shavgra's surgery and knocked loudly on the door.

"G'rin'ere! Door's open." A loud but gruff voice yelled from the other side.

Gilda turned the door handle and walked in, Twik followed closely behind. The room was lit brightly by several lamp stands and fluorescent light bulbs – one which kept flickering. They saw the Dok; he was standing on a crate, hunched over a surgery table, with medical instruments pinched between his lips, up to his elbows in some Ork's chest. Two Gretchin helpers stood either side of him, one holding a bucket which had some spare organs being cooled in snow and the other manned a trolley laden with copious amounts of disgustingly filthy surgical tools.

Dok Shavgra wasn't a very large Ork; smaller than a Nob but slightly bigger than an average Ork boy or girl, and he had one of his legs replaced with a mechanical one. He wore a blood-soaked barbeque apron over his equally blood-soaked lab coat and pants.

"Wha'd'ya want?" Shavgra asked, turning his head towards the visitors; his eyes looked big and obscure behind the magnifying lenses which were suspended from a leather band strapped to his head.

"We woz after somefin', and we figured yew'd 'ave just wot we needs. Yew got some kinda tranquilizer?" Gilda explained to the Dok.

Shavgra turned back to his patient, grabbing an organ out of the bucket and throwing it hap-hazardly into its new owner. "Gimme a minute boyz, jus' lemme stitch dis git up." Then, with a flurry of hands and medical instruments, the Dok got to work sewing and stapling things together. In no more than five minutes, he was slapping the patient on the cheek to try and wake him up.

"Glad I'm not dat Ork," Twik whispered to Gilda, "I c'd swear I saw Shavgra leave a few ov 'is tools behind in dat patient's body!"

Gilda clouted Twik across the back of his head with his hand, growling, "Shut yer mouf Twik, we dun wanna go insultin' Shav, we've got things ter buy from 'im."

The patient failed to wake up so Shavgra left him to be minded by the Gretchin. With his patient taken care of, he walked over and joined Gilda and Twik. "Now den boyz, woz I right when I heard ya say yer wanted some kind on tranquilizer? What on earf do ya need dat for?"

"Squig 'untin'," Gilda lied; he had the story prepared before hand. "Me an' Twik spotted a real biggun, an' wanted ter try somefin' new ta catch the blighter."

"ow' big's 'big'?" Shav asked curiously.

"Oh… 'bout da size of da Boss, maybe a bit bigga…"

Shavgra nodded, entwining his bloody fingers together in a business-like manner. "Sounds like ya need somefin' nice and strong, eh? Come right dis way boys, I got all kinds ov drugs and chemicals as long as yew have da teef."

Gilda smiled as he followed Shav out into an adjacent room "An' dat we do, Shav, dat we do."

The room was long and thin, in fact, it was actually a large walk-in linen closet before the Orks slaughtered the humans and moved in. Now, it was a chemical factory; Shav not only had the walls lined with bottles of his concoctions, but had several stills and conical tubes set up, bubbling away.

"I'm feelin' a bit light 'eaded…" Twik shook himself to try and bring back his senses; the confined space wasn't ventilated well and the fumes were getting to him.

If Gilda was feeling the affects, he wasn't showing it. "Nice collection Shav, so which one of dese bottles will do da job?"

Shavgra pulled over a stool and climbed up, reaching for an old beer bottle with a cork in it. The new label read 'Shav's Special'. "Dis one should do da trick."

"Is dat wot yew use on yer patients?" Twik asked sounding slightly dazed.

"Nah, I just use a iron bar on me patients. Does da job nice an' fast, an' I don't 'ave ter worry about it runnin' out of iron bars, hur, hur." Shav replied. "Now, dis'll cost ya twenty teef. Yew got that?"

Between them, the two Orks had enough to pay the exuberant fee Shavgra demanded. They didn't argue, for they knew that would only mean a price raise. Shavgra handed the bottle to Gilda, and the three walked out.

"Nice doin' business wiv yew boys," the Dok said showing them to the door. "Come back if yew ever need anyfin' – I got everyfin' in between an' includen' poisons an' cures for all yaw healf and recreational needs."

Twik waved an enthusiastic good-bye to Shavgra as he walked away with Gilda. "Bye bye Dok, we should 'ang out sometime! Yaw place smells reeeaaal good, hur, hur. Zzzzing!"

Gilda pushed the smaller Ork into the railing. "Oh shut yer trap, yer stoned. Yew talk shit when yer stoned."

Shavgra laughed to himself as he watched to pair and their antics. When they were out of ear shot the Dok smiled saying with a genuine tone, "a tranquilized squig aint no fun. They'll thank me later."

Back outside the camp, approximately another hour later.

Barthees, Marco and Sam were hiding behind some boulders on the side of the road, out of sight from any Orks that might walk by. Barthees had borrowed Sam's flexi scope to keep an eye out for Gilda and Twik.

"I can see them coming," He announced as he spotted the Orks' heads rising above the slope of the path. "They'll be here in about five minutes."

As the Orks approached, Barthees waved to them from behind the boulder, and signaled for them to come closer. The Orks obliged, and Gilda quickly explained how there mission was a success.

"Shavgra sold us dis 'ere bottle, 'ee says it'll do just what we wants – tranquilize somefin' big, like Boss Stikk'ead, hur, hur, hur! 'Ee 'ad no idea we was actually plannin' ter use it on da Boss… we told 'im it woz fer a big squig we woz huntin'."

Barthees took the bottle and inspected it. "What's this garbage on the front say?" He said, pointing to the label.

"Dat says, Shav's Special," Twik said, translating the Orkish glyphs. "An' it betta be somefin' zoggin' special fer da price we paid. Oh, dat reminds me. I stole dis."

The Ork pulled a large syringe out from his clothes; the needle on it was slightly rusty but looked fit enough for the job. "Took it when Shavgra was walkin' inta da lab wiv Gilda."

"For a pair of Orks, you've done a good job so far." Barthees said, giving the Orks their first real compliment. "Now, let's work out the next step…"

Before the real planning began, Sam had insisted that they negotiate with the Orks to get some food. It took some time to convince the Gilda and Twik to bring them some meat; the Orks weren't going to do anything for free – especially for humans. Eventually Barthees offered to trade the confiscated items – including shootas and choppas - in return for food. If it wasn't for their growling stomachs, Barthees would have never even suggested the idea. He hoped that the threat of blowing up the stash was enough to keep Gilda and Twik from trying to kill them.

Fortunately, no blood was spilt when the Orks got their possessions back. Gilda sent Twik to get the meat, and when he returned, the five found a crevice off the road on the rocky slope to hide in while they ate and discussed what to do next. Despite the apparent truce, it was clear a new tension had grown between the humans and Orks; neither party trusted the other, even if no one had expressed it verbally. Sam, Marco and Barthees kept their weapons in one hand and ate with the other; the Orks didn't have their shootas or choppas in their grasps, but they kept them very close. The distrust made planning difficult and time consuming.

"Look, you stupid greenskin, if you do as I tell you then you get the grass!" Barthees spat angrily; Gilda had been insisting the sergeant go inside the camp and 'help dope da Boss'. Barthees didn't see the need to help, when the Orks could simply do it themselves. "Get Twik to help! He's in on this too, you know."
"Well I aint gonna jus' waltz up to da Boss an' inject 'im! Gotta be sneaky, an' dat requites yaw 'elp!" Gilda pulled out another cigar, and lit it with a new lighter he had got from the Ork camp. "Twik's gonna 'elp me distract da Boss, while yew get 'im from b'hind."

"Sounds like you already have a plan." Sam commented dryly.

Gilda shrugged, taking a puff of his cigar. "Well, yew lot don't 'ave a plan!"

Barthees didn't like where this was heading – Ork plans were as dodgy as their vehicles. "Why do you need me to do the sneaking? There's a hundred other Orks in your camp who can do it!"

Twik was about to open his mouth when Gilda thumped his jaw shut again with his fist. "Can't trust 'em ta do it right, an' b'sides, dey'll demand a share ov da seeds."

"Oh, ho ho!" Barthees slapped his hand on his thigh in mock amusement. "That's a first! An Ork who trusts humans more than his own kind. Give me a break Gilda, I'm not an idiot."

"C-can I make a suggestion…?"

Everyone looked at Marco; he had been silent until now. Sam encouraged her fellow private to speak, before Barthees had a chance to say something mean and deflate what little courage Marco had left. "Go on, it couldn't be as stupid as anything those three have been arguing about so far."

Marco gave Sam a small nod of appreciation, and raised his voice slightly so everyone could hear him. "Who said we need to go inside the camp… why don't we just get the Boss to come out by himself? If he's insane, I'm sure he'd buy any story…"

Barthees looked from the Orks to Marco stunned. "I can't believe… you just… you said something meaningful and intelligent for change! I like your idea."

Gilda and Twik looked at Marco with narrowed eyes. They were trying to figure out if his idea really was better than theirs.

"It's a good plan, I like it." Sam agreed with the sergeant. "Tell us, Orks, what have you got to say?

Gilda hesitated; he still hadn't finished thinking it through. "I fink… I don't know! Why isn't my plan easier? Yew sure dat liddle oomie fawt ov a good plan…?"

"I fink it might have its advantages…" Twik mumbled, unwilling to assert himself too much in favor of Marco's idea, with Gilda sitting beside him.

After Sam mentioned that the seeds might get stolen if any Orks caught the humans, it didn't take long to convince Gilda that luring the Boss outside of the camp's walls was far better than trying to sedate him inside the walls.

An hour after dusk, outside the Deffskullz' mountain camp.

The stars were growing brighter as the last trickle of sunshine seeped back below the horizon. Marco, Sam and Barthees were hiding half a kilometer up the road from the Ork camp, hidden behind some shrubs just off the path. They had spent all day refining their plan with Gilda and Twik, and reciting the plan, until the Orks could remember it without needing to think too hard.

The plan was kept relatively simple as possible, to cater for all levels of intelligence. Gilda and Twik were to make up any excuse that their Boss would believe, to get him to walk out of the camp and up the road past where the Imperials were hiding. Gilda and Twik, who would walk with the Boss, were to make excessive noise so the Imperials would hear them coming. Then, when the Boss walked past their hideout, Sam would sneak up behind the Boss and inject him with the liquid sedative. Gilda and Twik would pretend to not know what was happening, and once the Boss was well and truly off the planet with his head in the stars, Barthees would steal the pool balls from around his neck and the humans would flee, after giving Gilda and Twik their promised goods.

"Are you sure you're up to doing this, Sam?" Barthees whispered. "I know you said you didn't care about the pool balls…"

"I don't want to see anyone get injured," Sam hissed back. "And I'm more capable at this than you."

"What!? No you're not! I'm just as capable of sneaking up on an Ork as you are!"

"Stow it, sergeant, I think I can hear the Orks coming."

Reluctantly, Barthees stopped talking; he didn't want to risk being heard by the Ork Boss. If the Ork Boss discovered them, it would be a nightmare.

The voices slowly rose in volume; their speech was inaudible at first, but as they drew closer, the Imperials could catch snatches of what was being said. Stikk'ead the Deffskullz' lunatic Boss had a far deeper and guttural voice then either Gilda or Twik, and his sentences were garbled with his constant grunting and snorting.

"Ah… could yer please repeat dat Boss, I didn't catch what yer said, Boss…" Gilda asked Stikk'ead politely.

Stikk'ead snarled in irritation saying, "Clean yer fraggin' ears out, boy! Snort! I said if yer lyin' 'bout dis, I'll turn ya inside out an' feed yer to da Squigs!" He said something afterwards, but no one could make out what he was saying from all the grunts.

"Boss, we left our shootas an' choppas at da camp like you told us to," Twik explained, reminding Stikk'ead they were unarmed. "An' all da uvver ladz are back at camp – we aint stupid enough ter try anyfin' funny wiv yew, Boss – not since yew got da biggest choppas and da bestest shootas…even wivvout weapons, yer dead killy."

Stikk'ead was pleased with Twik's compliment, and patted the small Ork on the back – nearly flattening him. "Yew might live long enough ter grow into a big Nob. Sometimes I wonders if yer aint a smartboy, or sumfin'."

Gilda snorted a laugh. "Twik? A smartboy? Boss, da amount of beer dat lad drinks, I doubt 'ee's got da brainz left ter be a smartboy."

"If I reckonz 'ee's a smartboy," Stikk'ead growled, "den I reckonz I'm right! Oi, did yew lot see dat?"

The humans froze; had the Ork Boss somehow seen them? The Orks weren't close enough to be seen properly from the Imperials' hiding place, but they saw the dull glow of the Orks' bare-flamed torches.

"I fawt I saw a Gork or Mork! Real big an' dead killy lookin'."

Gilda and Twik knew when it was best to just agree with whatever their deranged Boss was babbling about; it was also a chance for them to make their story more believable. "Oh yes Boss, ya must be right! I only saw a slight sumfin', but yew have da magic necklace, dat must be what lets yer sees da Gods properly!"

"Now do yer believe us dat Gork wanted ter speak wiv you in person, Boss?" Twik asked without being sarcastic.

Stikk'ead broke out into jog and lumbered forward as fast as his two thick legs could carry him. "I never doubted yer!" He hollered.

Worried that the humans might miss their chance to jump the Boss while he was galloping at a top sped with his arms flailing wildly, Gilda tried to encourage his Boss to slow down. "Wait up, Boss! You don't wanna go trippin' over, we've got da torches!"

Stikk'ead ignored him, and continued on his merry way up the road. Sam prepared herself; she could see the Ork Boss's dark shape getting bigger and bigger as he drew closer. Gilda and Twik were not too far behind, with their torches. She would have to wait until Stikk'ead ran past, before going after him incase he spotted her.

"Be careful, Sam…" Marco muttered quietly. His role in the plan was to stay hidden, and do nothing.

As soon as Stikk'ead wallowed past, Sam snuck out and ran up behind him – she didn't need to worry about being too quiet, the Boss was making enough noise to drown out an elephant in labor. The dim light and hard shadows cast from the torch light being her made it difficult to see; the Boss's back was cluttered with garments, armor, and spoons, shoe laces, and other bizarre items. She spotted one of his fat rolls poking out from beneath the mess, and jabbed it with the syringe. She injected the contents, and ran for the cover of the bushes. To her surprise, the Ork continued running and didn't even look back over its shoulder. She looked at the syringe; it was empty.

Sam stood up as Gilda and Twik ran closer, and shrugged. "I don't think he even felt it," she said amazed.

Gilda and Twik stopped briefly, looking first to make sure their Boss was sill running in the other direction. "Ee lost some feelin' after gettin' da fence post stuck in 'is 'ead." Gilda replied. "Didn't ya see it pokin' out of 'iz skull?"

"Well, no, it was dark, and I was preoccupied with jabbing him with a needle." Sam said holding the large empty syringe up. "It had better do its job, that's all we had."

There was a giant thud! And the night went silent. Gilda smirked – Stikk'ead had obviously fallen to the ground. "Da Dok never fails ta do a good job wiv 'is potions, hur, hur."

Barthees came running by, stopping only briefly; he was intent on getting the pool balls while the Ork Boss was down and out. "Get Marco, Sam. As soon as we get the pool balls and give the Orks their seeds and hash, we are getting the hell out of here pronto. I don't want to be anywhere near that Ork when it wakes up."

Without another word, Sam jogged back to where Marco was hiding, and the two Orks followed Barthees to ensure the human stuck to his word, and didn't do a runner.

Stikk'ead lay flat on his stomach on the dirt road; he had tripped over a rock and was having a hard time getting up – everything was spinning around his head, faster and faster as if he was on a merry-go-round at carnival… coloured lights were blinking on and off, incoherent guttural voices were getting louder and louder in his head… and then everything seemed to turn red.

Barthees came to a halt beside the Ork Boss and was pulling out his combat knife; the Ork was moving slightly, but looked incapable of doing anything to defend himself – it didn't bother the sergeant. He took a moment to take in what he saw; the Boss was indeed huge – its arms and legs were as thick as tree trunks. Gilda and Twik had not exaggerated when they said he had a fence post stuck in his head. The post was three-quarters of a foot in diameter, and one and a half feet long. It was jammed into the back right side of the Ork's skull, held in place by metal brackets – taking the post out was obviously not an option.

Gilda and Twik arrived, their torches lit the scene up. Barthees was about to cut the string of pool balls free when he noticed Stikk'ead's eyes were open. "Man this Ork is creepy," he reached out and tried to close the Ork's eyes, but they snapped back open. A deep growl issued from the Boss's throat.

Stikk'ead sprang up with a thunderous roar, sending Barthees flying up the road. The Ork Boss was breathing hard; rancid looking yellowish-brown foam was building up quickly around the rim of his mouth, and his eyes were fully dilated.

Sam and Marco had been running up behind Gilda and Twik – they came skidding to a halt when they saw the Boss rear up. "Holy crap…" Was all Sam could manage to say.

The two Orks turned tail and ran; they handed the torches to Sam and Marco on their way past, not caring anymore about the seeds and hash – something had gone terribly wrong, and they didn't want to risk being torn apart.

"I'll jus' stick to me regular cigars!" Gilda panted on his way past.

Sam grabbed the torches and threw them off the side of the road; she grabbed Marco on the arm as he fumbled with his weapon. "Don't worry about trying to shoot the prick, just flamin' run!"

Stikk'ead roared like no other beast Marco had ever heard before; the Ork shot his shoota in random directions, and flayed his choppa – a chainsword – about wildly. The choppa sparked as it hit the road, and the bullets made loud cracks and sparked as they ricocheted off the mountain rock.

They skirted around the frenzied Ork, going off the side of the road to avoid being cleaved. Unfortunately, Stikk'ead saw them - shrubs and rocks began exploding around them from the rain of bullets. Sam stumbled as and clapped her hand over her right shoulder – she had been hit by a stray bullet.

"Sam!?" Marco whimpered, supporting his friend as they ran on.

"Save your breath Marco, you're going to need it." She ordered, looking over her shoulder. "Damn! Marco, we're going to run down the slope."

The Ork was thundering after the humans, shaking his head like an animal, spraying spittle and foam everywhere. He swung his chainsword so close to Marco that the private felt the rush of air past his neck, and the rev from its small motor buzzed in his ear terrifyingly. He didn't need to be told twice to run down the rocky slope. Stikk'ead followed the humans, not caring where he was going.

"Try not to slip, Marco," Sam grabbed her shotgun in one hand, struggling to keep her balance on the steep rocky slope with the other. "I'll try and trip the Ork up – be ready to get out of his way."

Marco grabbed Sam by the back of her shirt to try and steady her; he felt fresh blood. "No. You get ready get out of his way."

Letting go of Sam's clothes, he raised his gun which was slung across his back. Marco tripped on the lip of a rock and landed on his bottom, sliding down the face of a slab of rock uncontrollably. He turned around, and aimed his laser rifle at the Ork, and pulled the trigger.

Laser fire went in all directions; Sam jumped sideways, to avoid any stray beams. Stikk'ead raised his arms and tried swatting the beams as though they were a swarm of bees attacking his. He growled in frustration, and threw his choppa at Marco. The Boss' aim was as bad as the private's though, and the chainsword clattered harmlessly down the slope.

Suddenly Marco felt himself drop a couple of feet, landing painfully on a stack of pebbles which had built up below the end of the rock slab. He heard the shotgun fire twice, and Sam moan in pain. Stikk'ead groaned even louder as he fell, and began to roll like a boulder down the treacherous slope. Marco pulled himself as close to the short ledge as possible; he closed his eyes tight as the Ork Boss tumbled closer. Seconds later, Marco saw a dark shape roll off the ledge, over his head, and continue down towards the lake below. The Ork's bellowing and cursing faded into echoes as he sped ever downwards.

Knowing that their lives may very well depend on how quickly they put distance between themselves and the Ork camp, Marco ignored the as much of the pain as possible and crawled his way up and over the short ledge towards Sam. She was tangled in a shrub, trying to free herself.

Marco helped pull Sam up onto her feet; she was battered, scratched, and bleeding heavily from her shoulder. Knowing that Marco was about to badger her to treat her wounds, Sam cut him off. "Don't say anything. I'll fix it once we're on the road. We have to find Barthees."

"Okay, okay; but at least let me carry your shotgun for you." Marco took the strap of Sam's weapon, and slung it across his back after putting the safety lock on.

Together, they hobbled up the slope, using shrubs, rocks, and crevices for hand and foot holds. It took them twenty minutes to climb the short distance; they were breathing hard by the time they reached the road. Slowly, they walked up the road in search of Barthees with nothing but starlight to guide they way.

Chapter 21 Notes: Hopefully this chapter hasn't bored you to tears; it's not as whacky as my Ork chapters. I have some very funky things planned for later chapter though, I assure you...