Nothing to shoot at. Nothing to stomp on. The trudge up the long hillside had Zigtuk itching for something – anything – to happen. But Warboss had insisted quite hard that they take this route – a dozen boys had gotten their heads smashed in for complaining. Zigtuk knew better than to open his mouth. Still, if he'd wanted to be sneaky, he'd have painted his stompa purple.
"How far now, boss?" moaned one of the barely useful grots responsible for keeping the big shootas fed with dakka – as well as unjamming the shootas whenever one of the dumb gits got caught by reloading mechanism and got pulled in with the dakka.
"Shut ya' moaf!" Zigtuk yelled back.
The grots cowed. But after a dozen steps of the stompa, another dumb little git raised the same zogging question.
His trigger fingers started to itch. They couldn't get over that Gork damned hill soon enough. Too bad he couldn't load up a few of those irritating grots into the big shoota and hurl them over the hilltop.
Mental note for after this battle: Install a grot launcher for fast disposal of gits with yapping mouths. Maybe with bombs harnesses and gliders. Not a bad idea at all. Creating a mental design of the launcher also made it easier to ignore the grots' blabbering. Let them yap. They'll be flying soon enough. But even sooner they'd at least be making themselves not completely useless.
Zigtuk chuckled once he could finally see over the top of the hill and out over a large field at the other end of which the enemy had built some almost impressive fortifications right outside their tower camp. The yellow pansies finally got nowhere to run. Well, they could run. But they ain't gonna. The big tower camp had all their extra pansy non-fighting folk in it and the yellow pansies with their zappy weapons wanted to protect them. As for why, he could not figure it out. Their extra pansy non-fighting folk were about as useless as a one-armed snotlin; good for a snack, but not much else.
Without a second thought he pulled the half dozen triggers on his steering sticks and laughed out loud as all the big shootas lit up. Dakka flew across the field, showering the enemy fortifications in yellow hot metal. Meanwhile the enemy returned their own zappy dakka that did little more than scratch the stompa's thick, black armor.
This was gonna be a zogging good day.