Chapta 28: Stormboy Story Time
Say of Da Day: "You know what's so sad, Sam? The fact Orks have more fun then we ever will. It's frustrating." – Sgt Barthees, blonde humie.
Gom straightened up grinning from ear to grizzled ear; it had been a very long time since she'd had the chance to share a good story with younger Orks – every Goff in the camp knew the Stormboys had the best tales, and it gave her a deep satisfaction to participate in storytelling. It was one of very few Stormboy traditions she could participate in from within the confines of the cage.
"Hmm, well, sit down an' I'll tell yer 'bout how Boss Kargust came ter be our Bossboy." Gom said, tossing aside the slobbered-on toadstool and sitting cross legged on the dirt floor. "An' fetch me some good fleshy fungus, would ya?"
The two Evil Sunz foraged until they had their arms full of mushrooms, dumping them beside Gom and taking their places on the dirt floor.
"Right then," Gom squinted in an effort to think. "Wot waz it I was sayin'? Oh yeah... many years ago, before I waz put in dis 'ere cage, I waz a runt much like yerselves – I waz just startin' as a Stormboy recruit; hadn't long had me rocket pack. Lilork waz our Boss back den. Even by Goff standards she waz wun tuff Ork, capable of rippin' through tanks wiv 'er bare 'ands – and she waz prone to psychotic rampages dat made even da Nobs quake in dere boots. Some say she waz a bit mad, but I fink she waz just a right good fighta. Lilork never used no shootas – always gettin' in real close-like an' smashin', stompin', tearin' and crushin' whoever and whatever got in 'er way. That waz 'er method; very true ter Goff dogma. An' she's got da scars ta prove et, too.
" Lilork used ta wear squiggoth hide gloves, wiv real spiky knuckles, an' da usual black pants an' vest – all made from da best leather teef could buy. She didn't wear no metal armour plate, she preferred ta be able to move quick-like, an' by Gork you shoulda seen 'er run! She waz a terrifyin' sight to da enemy – havin' Lilork go after ya waz like havin' a squiggoth wiv a big jet pack chase after yer! But I digress.
"She didn't 'ave no tats, an' Mokka didn't neither – but da Weirdboy waz a lot smaller then, too. Mokka knew better than ter disobey da Boss. She kept 'im in line, she wasn't 'fraid of no Weirdboy – she waz fearless. Ev'rywun says she waz blessed by Gork an' Mork. I personally fink she waz blessed only by Gork; coz there wasn't a sneaky bone in 'er.
"Boss Lilork waz dead killy but she wasn't terribly kunnin'. But then, dere weren't many in da clan 'oo waz. An' 'oo expects some smaller git ter play a dirty trick? No wun! Well, not Lilork anyways. Lilork waz a very straightforward finker. She didn't 'ave no Smartboy brain, or any Smartboys really, ter do da finkin' for 'er.
"I remembas da Mekboyz buildin' dis 'ere cage many years ago. I woke up one mornin' an' saw 'em start da construcshun from me room on da second floor ov da barracks. If I'd've known I'd end up in 'ere, I woulda... DONE SOMEFIN' NASTY TO DEM BOYS!"
Brudz and Cezzy-Po fell backwards, startled out of their wits by Gom's sudden outburst. The Nob looked livelier than they had ever seen her, but the fire in the ex-Stormboy's eyes soon died away. The snarl on her face returned back to a dopey frown and she continued with the tale.
"As I waz sayin', da cage waz built; it waz supposed to be a pen for real big eatin' squigs. At da time, ev'ryone knew dat Kargust waz startin' ta get a bit big fer 'is boots. Boss Lilork waz right proud ter 'ave big strong Goffs in da clan, she's da wun 'oo made sure da pit was built – dat's where we hold proper wun-on-wun fights – so's we could 'ave some place ta scrap when there wasn't much 'appenin' elsewhere, or a dispute needed settlin'. Boss Lilork didn't feel threatened by no wun in da clan; she waz always sayin' 'ow da Goffs is best – which we are – an' if anyone in da clan got bigger an' meaner den 'er, den she'd be 'appy ter let 'em try an kill 'er. Said she'd die 'appy if da clan got an' even bigger, dead killy Boss so long as she got a right good scrap out ov it first.
"Kargust waz always at odds wiv Boss Lilork; 'ee received a number of floggin's fer bein' mouthy if I recall et right. She might like strong Goffs, but she wasn't a fan of big moufs. Kargust wasn't really big 'nough ter seriously challenge Boss Lilork, so 'ee could never get 'is way. 'Ee wasn't too happy wiv how Lilork waz runnin' da clan, so wiv da 'elp ov his cohorts, dey set up a trap fer Lilork; but 'ee didn't want 'er dead, coz Kargust knew dat Boss Lilork was a little strange – odd smell, fungus growin' all through da Boss's hut, an' ev'ry full moon she'd get into a blood curdlin' rage – a 'moon swing' I fink the Doks call et. Ev'ry one kept outta Lilork's way when she was in wun ov them moods – she made da Madboys look sane.
"Not many in da clan knew what dis meant – but Kargust did. 'Ee knew it meant Boss Lilork waz producin' spores like nobody's business; more than any ov da regular boys. Lilork's presence meant dat more Orks den usual sprouted from da ground ev'ry year. An' that meant more recruits. I dunno how Kargust knew, maybe da previous Dok told 'im or somefin', but 'ee waz dead set on keepin' an asset like Lilork close by. Only problem waz, if Lilork died, which is usually 'ow a Boss stops bein' da Boss, no more spores.
"Kargust wanted ter trap 'er, so Lilork could continue to produce spores; 'girlz is more useful alive,' Kargust says all da time now. 'we'll keep all da girlboyz we c'n find, so's lots ov yoofs spawn near da camp! Den we'll 'ave more boys than any warband in da desert'.
"I see da strain ov thinkin' on yer mugs – bet ya wonderin' how ol' Kargust managed ter trap big Boss Lilork. Well, I'll tell ya – he challenged 'er to a pit fight. No Boss would turn down such a challenge, so o' course Lilork would accept, she had to, not dat I fink she'd sissy out or nuffin', but da point is Kargust knew by challengin' Boss Lilork to a pit fight, 'ee'd be able to fight 'er wivvout worryin' about interference for a while. Kargust was sneaky; 'ee took a syringe filled wiv somefin' Dok Slikfingas concocted. Slikfingas waz da Dok who knew all about girlboyz, an' da crafty sod made some speshul jooce ter sedate Lilork an' suppress 'er rage. So in da fight, Kargust injected da jooce inta Lilork, an' ran around keepin' 'imself in one piece 'til it finally dropped 'er.
"Dere are no rules in da pit, really, which makes fings open to interpretation sometimes. But when Hogbreff (kommanda ov da Stormboys before Boss Goretoof) saw Kargust draggin' Boss Lilork to da pit's gate, 'ee knew somefin' funny waz goin' on and 'ee rallied us Stormboys ter take down Kargust an' protect da Boss, coz technically da fight waz over. Hogbreff waz Boss Lilork's most trusted kommanda, 'ee waz totally loyal – an' he wasn't very fond of Kargust.
"Kargust, da cunnin' Ork 'ee was, had already planned for us Stormboys, knowin' too well dat Kommanda Hogbreff would retaliate eventually. 'Ee had Dok Slikfingas put somefin' in our food dat mornin' ter make us sleepy; I waz wun of about ten, includin' Boss Hogbreff, 'oo waz able ter get inta da fight; da rest ov da Stormboys were snorin' dere 'eads off in da barracks. An' fight we did! Between us, we managed ter fend off Goffs 'oo 'ad decided ter fight fer Kargust coz they thought Boss Lilork waz dead. But eventually Mokka showed up when 'ee got wind dere waz a Boss fight goin' on, an' 'ee knocked us flat – Boss Hogbreff fought wiv Mokka directly, beat dat Weirdboy bastard black an' blue. Sadly, though, Mokka ended up poppin' 'iz head like a squigsquito. Ur, hur, hur... poor 'ol Boss Hogbreff! 'Ee was da finest Stormboy Boss dere ever waz! Ur! Hur! Hur!"
Brudz and Cezzy-Po looked sideways at each other. That wasn't laughter they could hear. Gom was blubbering like a Gretchin who'd stabbed his toe on something hard.
"Er, et's okay Gom..." Brudz said to the sniffling Goff, unsure what Gom's problem was. "Why dontcha have yerself a mushroom? Food always makes me feel betta."
Gom nodded and began to eat through the pile of fungus, crying for a while with a woeful expression before eventually calming down into a gloomy mood. Snot and tears still freshly staining her face, Gom got up after eating her fill and walked over to the edge of the slowly flowing water.
"'Scuse me while I cleans up a bit," Gom said to the girls. She closed a nostril with a finger and blew air out the other like a vacuum cleaner in reverse, making a loud trumpeting sound as a great stream of pasty snot ejected itself into the air, splattering into the stream haphazardly. Gom then repeated the process with the other nostril.
"Eugh!" The sight horrified Brudz; she watched as the snot rafts drifted along the stream and got stuck on one of the bars. "I'm not drinkin' from there no more!"
"Thanks Gom," Cezzy-Po said sarcastically, "turned me right of me lunch that did!"
Gom poured handfuls of water over her face and came to sit back down in her shallow dirt hollow. "Stop whinin', da squigs'll clean et up. Right then, back ter storytellin'. Me an' da uvver Stormboy ladz fought valiantly, but we waz overwhelmed an' Kargust an' some ov da Nobs dragged Lilork down to dis 'ere cage an' locked 'er up. Dok Slikfingas made sure she stayed nice an' placid on da trip down.
"Kargust took over as Bossboy after that; da only challengers that woulda stood a chance were both Hogbreff an' Mokka, but Hogbreff waz already dead an' Mokka waz still a bleedin' wreck from his close encounter wiv Hogbreff. Kargust waz quick ter secure his authority; 'ee promoted his small band ov followers, forming 'imself a bodyguard. By da next day when Mokka waz feelin' much betta, da Bossboy ship had sailed – Mokka didn't challenge Kargust, 'ee wazn't ambitious, just an oppatunist."
Brudz butted in. "Wot's an oppatumist?"
The ex-Stormboy glared at the young Mek. "Why ya gotta interrupt, I waz on a roll!" she growled. "An oppatunist is someone who... er... hmm..."
Knowing all too well that an Ork who tries to think too hard about anything can quickly lead to said Ork becoming violent, Cezzy-Po came to the rescue. "...an oppatunist is shomeone oo's too lazy ter make an effort ter do somefin', but if a real easy chance comes along ter do that somefin' wivout any effort, dey'll do et. Dat's wot ya waz gonna say, weren't ya Gom?"
Gom nodded sagely. "Dat's right."
"Sounds complicated," Brudz commented. "I don't get et."
"Glim is an opportunist," the Dok explained further, "Dat's why yew get along wiv 'im – he can't be bothered tryin' ter steal yer stuff while you're around. Too much effort wiv a high price if 'ee gets caught."
That made better sense. Brudz smirked, imagining what would happen if she ever did catch her fleet-fingered friend pilfering her possessions.
No more interruptions imminent, Gom continued.
"Ev'ry day, Dok Slikfingas went down to da cage an' injected Lilork. Dok Ulza took over da job when Slikfingas waz found floatin' down stream wivvout 'is 'ead two years after da mutiny ov Kargust."
Gom paused, grinning with a malignant satisfaction. The Evil Sunz didn't need to ask who did in Slikfingas.
"Dey shouldn't 'ave killed Boss Hogbreff," she snarled maliciously. "Anyhow... We tried ter free Lilork, but when Kargust took over as Bossboy we Stormboys were treated like scum. Kargust didn't want nuffin' ter do wiv us, 'ee didn't put any of our lot in his personal gaurd, an' we waz watched all da time. An' I tells ya... we woulda gutted dat spineless, snot-brained slippery turd if 'ee wazn't keepin' a close eye on us! 'Ee stomps about like 'ee's da biggest, meanest Goff around. Fer months an' months Lilork could be heard shoutin' an' cursin' when she wasn't sedated. Eventually she stopped movin' altogether, an' started sproutin' fungus. Boss Goretoof might 'ave forgotten who da real Boss iz in da camp, but I'll always be loyal to Lilork, just like Boss Hogbreff waz. I know dat Lilork aint dead, even if she hasn't spoken ta me in a while. An' if she could recover, she'd still be da biggest, meanest Goff in da desert."
The Dok's thick green lips began to twist into a crooked smile. Cezzy-Po had detected a slight change in Gom.
"Ya know, Gom, you seem more alert now then when we first met ya a few days back. Whatever you've been doin' or thinkin' recently, keep doin' et!" Without bothering to ask for permission to conduct an examination, Cezzy-Po shuffled up beside the Nob and started checking her over. "Pulse is a bit slow... eyes still a bit glazed... a nice dark shade ov green though...
It was then the penny dropped. "Dat's it!" Cezzy-Po shouted excitedly, dancing around out of punching range. "Gom, ya gotta stay angry – et's makin' yer better! A little, anyways. Ya seem ta have better resistance den anyone else in dis cage – no one else but us t'ree is walkin' around."
"Wot's da point? I aint gettin' out ov dis cage." The Stormboy sounded unexpectedly pessimistic.
"Says who?"
"Says Kargust!"
"Well, 'ee's not here, is 'ee?"
"Oh - dat's right. Gilb-Rer might try an' take over now – dependin' on how lucky 'ee feels. Makes Kargust look like a right honest Bossboy."
The Dok was intrigued. It sounded like Kargust had some kind of rival. "Oo's Gilb-fing? Is he wun of Kargust's bodyguards?"
Gom shook her head; she didn't look entirely pleased. "Nah, ee's a Snakebite Boss; 'ee waz stayin' in our camp wiv some ov 'is boys, but Kargust made him leave when da Boss went wiv da lads to hunt down Uurgrin. Him an' Kargust made an alliance. Gilb-Rer wanted Uurgrin dead so's 'ee c'n take over da rest ov da Snakebites dat follow Uurgrin. In return, Gilb-Rer is supposed ter help Kargust raid da Bad Moons. Dere's no richer clan then da Bad Moons, but da alliance doesn't tickle ev'ry Goffs' fancy. I suspect dat Goretoof an' da uvver Stormboys might be some ov those not likin' et."
"Dat sounds... exceptionally volatile." Cezzy-Po narrowed her eyes at Gom. "If you're always whacked off da planet, how do ya know all dis?"
Gom looked shiftily about before replying. "Boss Goretoof visits sometimes," she whispered. "'Ee fills me in on da camp gossip now an' then."
Across the cage, Brudz looked over at the stream; she was thirsty now. But the thought of drinking from there... "I'll just be catchin' up on some sleep," she said to the other two Orks and wandered over to a shaded part of the cage and hid herself amongst the moist foliage.
"I fink I needs a nap too," Gom yawned, returning to her usual spot somewhere behind the mound.
Cezzy-Po felt the tug of sleep as well while trying to piece together the things she had learned from Gom. Her mind drifted in and out of bizarre day dreams (even by Orkish standards) as she struggled to think straight and stay awake. Eventually she conceded defeat and once again fell into the depths of her dreams filled with endless casualties of war, all needing surgery.
Two days after the big brawl in Squigopolis, Uurgrin and his replenished warband were on the move again; as well as his own clan boys, he was now the Boss of two Evil Sunz, three Deffskullz and a trukk load of Goffs (well, more like three trukk loads). Ludrik and Uurgrin were the only Meks in Uurgrin's warband now. Bestowed with wealth ripped from the jaws of his dead enemies, the Snakebite Boss had purchased a retinue of Gretchin to serve the warband. Unwilling to lose his Meks, especially vital now he owned a number of vehicles, Uurgrin assigned them bodyguards. Ongrat had the task of sitting on his posterior watching Uurgrin and doing nothing else and Oric was bored out of his brains minding Ludrik.
The warband stocked up on supplies before venturing into the desert, especially ammunition and weapons. With Kargust dead, the Goffs had provided a plethora of useful intelligence (as contrary as that word might seem in the context of Orks) on the state of Goff affairs. Most of it had gone in one of Uurgrin's ears and out the other, but one thing was very certain: the Goff camp was their next target. Gilb-Rer, Uurgrin's very own Snakebite rival, would without doubt take the opportunity to overrun the Goff camp once the sleazy Ork got wind of what had happened to Kargust. The Goffs were more than willing to lead Uurgrin to their camp so he could beat the stuffing out of Gilb-Rer when he inevitably showed up. Few of the Goffs seemed to have a high opinion of Gilb-Rer which placated Uurgrin greatly.
Contradictory to the warband's high spirits, their surge into the desert had been sadly anticlimactic; the crane, Uurgrin's prize vehicle, was still slow. Uurgrin and Ludrik had done their best to maximise Destroya's speed, but without a proper workshop to fix the main turbine engine, the best they could do was tweak the secondary piston engine and hook up two trukks to tow it along at a slightly faster speed. The Goffs knew this pain all too well and advised Uurgrin it would take at least four days to reach their destination if there were no breakdowns.
So on they went – slowly – towards the Goff camp, playing scar poka and shoot-da-birds on the back of their trukks. Uurgrin rode in Destroya's cab; it felt like an enormous throne. He relaxed, smoking cigars and drinking fungus beer through a tube straight from the barrel while Glim chauffeured. Uurgrin found the Deffskull Burnaboy's presence to be quite entertaining; his companion was either very quiet, rarely speaking unless spoken to, or screaming abuse at anyone who dared touch Destroya without Uurgrin's permission. Sometimes the silence became unnerving, at which point the Snakebite Boss would either strike up a conversation (which never seemed to last very long) or pretend someone had laid a hand on the crane, just to watch Glim go mental. For this reason, most of the trukks gave the crane a wide berth.
Jamz rode on a particularly robust trukk with some of the other Nobs; their trukk lead the warband, and they took great amusement in the antics of their driver who enjoyed creating road kill and ploughing down cactuses (it was particularly amusing when the odd cactus trunk ended up in the tray with the Nobs). Oric and Ludrik rode a trukk with Orlen and Ongrat at the rear of the pack away from the majority of excited Orks. They rode alone; Uurgrin made sure the Weirdboy was not crowded, he didn't want his newly acquired trukks to be turned into molten blobs.
Ludrik was as carefree as Goffs could come, not at all put off by the other clans, but Oric was well and truly sick of minding Ludrik; 'Mek talk' made little sense to him, and when Ludrik wasn't talking about Mek stuff he was telling stories. The Evil Sunz Nob was sick of hearing about how the Goff had managed to deprive a Bad Moon of all his teef and possessions in a 'well played' game of cards, or how Ludrik regularly bathed in engine oil to make his skin more healthy. Orlen simply slept, and when he wasn't sleeping he was boozing or eating. Uurgrin had spoiled his favourite Mek rotten and Orlen was living it up while the teef were still abundant.
Mokka woke to the hammering and riveting of metal. It had roused him from his slumber. He was no longer in the trukk pit he had been strewn in previously; he was looking up at an unfamiliar ceiling. The pains in his leg stumps were gone – something akin to fear pulsed through the Goff when he realised he could no longer feel his stumps at all. What Mokka felt now was a new pain – right where his legs connected to his body. The Warphead tried to sit up, but his arms were strapped down so his back was flat against the metal bench. He looked about the room; it was lit up by fluorescent lamps on one wall, and he was surrounded by plastic welding screens on the other three sides. To his right was a trolley littered with surgical instruments caked in blood and bits of Ork.
Oh. That would explain the hip pains. His stumps were sitting on the trolley beside a grinder.
In his delirium over the past few days while Mokka was to and fro between consciousness and unconsciousness, the Weirdboy had heard Shilf's voice and recalled being shocked with some kind grot prod. Presently he was sure that he could sense a particularly excited pair of Orks nearby. He listened quietly, and he soon heard Shilf yelling at someone. So this was the freebooter's workshop after all. And Mokka was strapped to a bench... he didn't like the possibilities this could lead to.
One of the welding screens rolled aside and a tall Ork dressed similar to a Goff wearing a peak cap walked into the makeshift operating theatre. He had a bionic arm with surgical instruments attached.
"Ah, Mokka, pleasure ter see ya awake," Bad Dok beamed down at the Warphead, clasping his hands together. "Been waitin' for ya to come to your senses, I have."
Mokka stared at the Dok's face. It couldn't be... it was!
"Slikfingas! Fawt yew waz dead?" Mokka said flabbergasted. "Could swear it was you dey found missin' a head."
Bad Dok sneered slightly. "Dun call me that – me new name's Bad Dok."
Temporarily unconcerned with being strapped to a metal bench in Shilf's workshop Mokka replied, "I always thought yer was a bit excessive, doesn't surprise me yer a Bad Dok now."
Bad Dok shook a pointy bionic finger at the Goff. "No, I am de Bad Dok, an' not a Bad Dok – get da difference?"
Truthfully Mokka couldn't give a flying squig what the difference was, but he was in no position to be agitating the Dok. "Right."
Bad Dok walked up beside Mokka and leaned forward, pulling down the collar of his vest to reveal his neck. There was a very visible, knotted looking scar running across the base of his throat. "To answer yer question, seein' 'as how you an' me go aways back, yes me head waz parted from my shoulders – wun of ov Hogbreff's lot hacked me zoggin' head off when I went to da drops late at night – but my Gretchin orderlies found me head an' sewed it back on. I decided ter go freelance after dat; I was bored, an' I figured no Goff would come after me coz dey thought I waz dead."
Mokka nodded, it was a plausible excuse. He eyed Bad Dok's peak cap as his ex-compatriot straightened up and fiddled with the collar of his vest. "Is dat Hogbreff's cap?" He enquired.
The Dok chuckled and snorted. "Hurr, hurr, it waz 'is cap. Took et when you blasted 'is 'ead off. Hope yer don't mind – I quite fancied et."
"Wasn't my style," the Warphead replied with a slight shrug.
Bad Dok reached under the trolley and grabbed a pair of rubber gloves. He started to put them on. "Anyway, time ter get back ter business."
"About dis business," Mokka snarled, abandoning any sense of good humor he'd had. "What ya doin' to me?"
"Oh, don't worry Mokka, ets right grand what we've got planned!" Bad Dok was starting to get a deranged demeanour about him as he danced up and down on his toes and wiggled his fingers in the gloves. "You're gonna be da star ov de show."
Now Mokka was truly worried but he tried to pretend otherwise.
"Bring in da gubbins!" Bad Dok bellowed at the entrance. "Slap it up on da operatin' table."
Three Gretchin hurried in, dressed in facial masks and aprons, carrying a brass device between them. They hoisted it up onto the operating table and then scurried to Bad Dok's side awaiting his orders.
"Dis 'ere mount gets bolted into yer leg joints," Bad Dok explained matter-o-factly to his Warphead patient.
Mokka strained to look over his chest; the device was as wide as he was and had many cables and tubes coming from it.
"Et'll be like wearin' brass panties," The Dok giggled madly. "No more robes an' bells fer you, Mokka – once you get dis fing attached, you get ter wear da ultimate killy armour – your gonna pilot a Deff Dread! I might just 'ang a bell between yer big stompas though, just fer laughs."
The Dok had changed since Mokka had known him many years ago as Slikfingas; the Nob clearly had a few more squigs loose in the top paddock. Mokka was becoming furious; he didn't want to be one of Shilf's metal boys – he wanted some cybork legs! He concentrated on accumulating Waagh! energy; he had to do something or be locked permanently inside a tin shell.
The next morning Brudz awoke with an itch, scratching idly at the irritant. She felt something slimy. Groggily she crawled out of the foliage and attempted to wipe the grime off. It didn't move. It was latched on.
"Aaaaaaaah!"
Cezzy-Po was already awake when she heard the screaming. She sat with her back against the bars and watched as Brudz danced around with big, fat dark things hanging from her skin. She sighed. "Oh dear..."
"Get off, get off! AAAAAAHH! Dey's eatin' me alive!"
"Calm down!" Cezzy-Po barked at the Mek, standing up and waving the younger Ork to come to her side. Brudz skipped and hopped over as if she were walking on hot coals.
Cezzy-Po kicked the Mek to get her to stop fussing. "Stand still, an' stop flailin' yer arms!"
Brudz did as she was bid and stood still, trembling, with her arms held out. Bloated, slimy things were all over her skin. "I'm gonna die!" She quivered to the Dok. "GET 'EM OFF!"
"You aint gonna die!" Cezzy-Po poked one of the bloated creatures. "Dey're jus' suckin' yer blood, dey'll drop off when dey's full. But ya might not wanna sleep under da grass from now on."
Brudz stomped off, like some kind of animated green, angry scarecrow to find the sunniest spot of dirt well away from plants. Unwilling to wait for the creatures to finish their meals, she started plucking them off one by one, yelping and yowling with each bug she ripped from her flesh. A stream of blood ran out of the wounds they left behind. Only five of the blood suckers had been removed when Brudz started foaming at the mouth. Cezzy-Po hadn't noticed until it was too late, and took cover behind the large mound where Gom slept when her sister started acting out of character. The young Mek was going tropo; her jabbering increased in volume as she sped around the open part of the cage, attacking plants and the cage bars, and her own reflection in the water.
"Looks like someone's got a case ov Skitzo." Dok Ulza had arrived with the Runtherd. He trundled up to the cage and watched in amusement as his newest slave succumbed to the venom of the blood suckers.
"Shoulda just let 'em drop off," Ulza tutted.
In a delinquent attempt to attack the Goff Dok, Brudz ran and threw herself across the water at the bars superman style. The bars won.
"Silly, silly Ork." Dok Ulza frowned down at the bent and bloodied mess before him. "Betta get yer outta dere b'fore ya drown, I suppose. Dat arm certainly aint supposed ta look like dat." Turning to the Runtherd he spoke, "Go an' fetch some ov da boys, Findip – gonna need ta fix dis wun up. Mokka won't appreciate his contributions diein' from stupidity. Send my Gretchin down too, wiv a stretcher."
The Runtherd handed over his grabba stikk and jogged back up the river bank. Dok Ulza stuck the grabba stikk through the bars and pushed Brudz until her head was out of the water; her blood ran down the stream from cuts and bite marks left behind by the blood suckers.
"You wait right dere, while I deal wiv yer roommates," he said to the moaning Ork, loading his blow pipe.
Cezzy-Po stepped out from behind the mound. "Let me look at 'er first, b'fore yer dose me," she spoke to the Goff.
"You've got 'til I'm done wiv the others," Dok Ulza replied, and started his rounds.
The Evil Sunz Dok hurried over to her sister – not out of concern, but out of urgency. "Oi! Git, can ya hear me?"
Brudz blinked open a swelling eye and groaned in pain.
"Right," Cezzy-Po whispered hastily, "Dok Ulza's gonna take ya out ov da cage ter fix yew up. Dis is da chance we've been waitin' for! You gotta pinch a syringe, yeah. Make sure ya do, or I'll beat yer up so 'ee has ter take ya out again!"
"Zog... yew..."
"Dat's da spirit!" Cezzy-Po slapped Brudz' shoulder and the Mek convulsed in pain.
As Dok Ulza appeared on the other side of the cage, Cezzy spoke aloud, pretending to be busy. "diagnosis: bleedin' mess wot has limbs dat need rearangin'. Wish I had me stabby bits..."
Thoop!
The dart hit its mark. Cezzy-Po trudged off to find a good place to nap well away from the shrubs; it was involuntary sleep time again.
Dok Ulza hovered nearby until Findip returned with a small retinue of Gretchin and Goffs. Ulza greeted them and issued orders; no one dawdled. The cage was unlocked and the Dok and his Gretchin went inside with a stretcher and set about collecting their patient; Ulza gave Brudz an injection and strapped her down tightly. The rest of the Goffs remained outside, sluggas and choppas at the ready in case trouble started.
Patient secured firmly, the Gretchin carried the stretcher out followed by Dok Ulza. Findip locked the cage again and the band of Goffs headed up the dirt path, escorting Dok Ulza to his clinic that was adjacent to the Stormboys' barracks.
"You can go back to whatever it waz yews were doin'," Dok Ulza told the escort once the Gretchin took the stretcher into the clinic. "Me an Findip can 'andle fings from 'ere."
Brudz was vaguely aware of being lifted off the stretcher and placed on something higher; and then the Dok started slapping her face to wake her up.
"Wakey, wakey. Can't 'ave ya goin' ta sleep on me, I got opperatin' ta do."
Gretchin orderlies ran about loading trolleys and helping Ulza to dress for surgery, while others began putting restraints on the Mek. Findip took a seat in the corner, pulling out a pipe to smoke while he watched.
"Just da chest strap fer now, Gallstone – gotta straighten up dat arm."
"Yes Boss! Will do."
Numerous small hands repositioned Brudz on the bench and one Gretchin climbed up onto her chest and strapped a wide leather belt across her aching ribs. She began to feel nervous.
"Oi, Dok, watcha gonna –"
Kkkrrrrkkkk!
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
"Oops. Fawt et waz dislocated – but at least yer arm's straight, now. Grod, hand me a rod thing. Gallstone, get bandages will ya?"
Brudz' eyes welled up with tears; there was pain, and then there was pain. Dok Ulza poked and prodded her broken upper arm and then splinted it when he was sure the break was aligned. The Mek turned her face away from the Dok, she did not want to know what he was going to do next. Brudz realised two Gretchin were plucking off blood suckers.
"Don't do dat!" She told them, fearful she'd go skitzo again.
"Let 'em do their job," Dok Ulza chided while dabbing a wad of cloth in dark coloured liquid. "Dose little slimy squeeches release a toxin when yer try ta remove 'em. I gave ya da anti venom already though, so et's no dramas now."
With a gruff efficiency the Dok wiped the cloth over her open wounds and began sewing up cuts. This, too, was an unpleasant experience – more so, when the Dok grabbed her leg unexpectedly and wrestled it back into its socket (luckily it was actually dislocated). As if the pain wasn't enough torture, Brudz' dignity came under attack – the Gretchin strapped her legs down and frisked her for any squeeches that had taken refuge in her clothes. Brudz' near-human pitched screeches seemed only to encourage them.
Finally, when the Dok was satisfied there was nothing else to do, he went for smoko with Findip. Brudz was left strapped to the bench. She eyed the empty syringe Dok Ulza had carelessly left sitting beside her leg... but it was out of reach. Her wrists had been restrained before the Dok had went for his break. She had tried to wriggle free, but with no success. Dok Ulza came back with Findip fifteen minutes later and she had to give up.
The Runtherd stood on the opposite side of the bench to Dok Ulza, clutching Brudz' throat with his grabba stikk.
"Yew behave now, or I'll give yer a taste ov da prod," Findip warned the Mek, waving the crude device which crackled menacingly when he squeezed the handle.
"I'd love ta give yew a taste ov that zoggin' prod," Brudz sneered back, baring her teeth (what was left of them).
"Stay where ya are, Findip!" Dok Ulza ordered when the Runtherd made to reach forward with the prod. "Keep yer hand tight on dat grabba stikk will ya?"
Brudz' small victory was short lived – Dok Ulza stabbed her for the third time that day, injecting her with yet another concoction. "Dat oughta make yer more compliant," he said smiling unpleasantly.
Strange colours erupted in the Mek's vision. "Woooooow... when'd yer paint yer face orange, Dok? An why's et so bright in 'ere... oooi, Runtherd, yer legs's red, does dat mean yer c'n run fasta? Dat's a right good idea!"
Findip raised an eyebrow at Dok Ulza, who shrugged. "Wrong wun – but it'll do."
The Dok unstrapped Brudz who was too busy admiring the new fluorescent drapes to give a toss about much else. Once released from the bench she sat up, hardly aware of the grabba stikk clamped on her oesophagus. Her knee knocked something off the bench; it was a needle.
Oh, yeah, fink I needed dat, Brudz thought to herself.
Dok Ulza bent over to pick the needle up. Brudz' hand shot out, fast as any Deffskull's, and grabbed another used needle off the trolley that had just come into view before she was hardly aware of what she was doing.
Findip reefed the grabba stikk, jerking her sideways. The Mek lost her balance and fell to the floor and the grabba stikk came off her neck. She had only gotten to her knees when her muscles convulsed; Findip had leapt forward and jammed the grot prod into her abdomen.
"Stay down!" the Runtherd snarled, spittle flying from his less than minty fresh gob.
In a moment of reprieve Brudz lunged at Findip, head butting him in the groin. Findip toppled over backwards and Brudz fell prone; some of her more urgent thoughts had remained, like the tip of the iceberg that floated in a psychedelic ocean, and she hurried to stuff the needle in her boot.
The Dok was not happy. He kicked a trolley out of the way and picked up the grabba stikk, viciously jabbing it at Brudz and pinning her to the ground until Findip pulled himself back up on his feet, rubbing his hurty bits.
"Get 'er to da cage!" Ulza snarled at Findip, offering him the handle to the grabba stikk and a ring of keys. "If yew mess up again, I'll give ya to the Stormboys for target practice!"
Too happy to take the grabba stikk back, Findip belted Brudz' hide all the way back to the cages.