"That's the Communications Jammer," Markus pointed at a ramshackle monstrosity of metal and scrap at the peak of the tallest mountain on the entire planet. It was taller than any Hive City I've seen and wider too. There must've been thousands of Ork settlements around it, a whole ecosystem onto itself. The base of the mountain seemed to be green and fertile, which was unexpected as I've yet to see grasslands on Sylvia. If I had to guess, however, then the most likely reason for this was a combination of Ork filth and, of course, decomposing corpses, which the Orks would likely just throw down the side of the mountain. And, considering all the settlements there and the likely millions of Orks that dwelt in them and fought every single hour of every single day, there would be a lot of corpses.
It was ironic, I found, that humans would find such an existence to be... hellish. Surely, a Guardsman's role was to fight and die for the Imperium and the God-Emperor, and a proper Guardsman would do so happily, but it was different for the Orks. There was no glorious purpose that drove them to maddening battles and wars; they only did it for fun. They did it because it was the natural thing for them to do and for no other reason. They were happy to kill each other. I knew that because I was one of them. I'd nearly lost myself in that happiness.
We stood at the mouth of a cave that was opened up right into the mountain, granting us an overview of the surrounding landscape and all that came with it. The Ork settlements, I noted, weren't entirely random. Each one seemed to serve some kind of function. For instance, one of the settlements had massive fuel tanks, which I figured must've meant that the settlement itself was built around an oil refinery, necessary for their Trukks to function – maybe. Other settlements held great caches of weapons and armor, while others had plenty of vehicles. Despite the chaos and seemingly haphazard look of things, the Orks had designed this place to be as efficient as possible.
The Communications Jammer itself was, at a glance, maybe around sixty meters in height and half that in width. It was truly massive and I had to wonder just how much of it was functional and how much of it was just useless junk that the Orks glued together to form the actual structure. There were numerous weapons emplacements around it, alongside hundreds of meters of chain fences and walls and all sorts of strangely-shaped bits that all worked precisely to slow down would-be attackers. It was also a fair distance away from the settlements, which I figured was an attempt to separate it from the violence of the common Ork Mobs. Seeing as the structure itself still stood, then that attempt was certainly working. Though, I figured, if the settlements were any closer, then the device would've probably already been destroyed.
"Getting there is suicide," One of the veterans grumbled. I didn't detect any fear in his tone, however, merely skepticism as to the required method necessary to achieve our goal. Truth be told, a direct route would be suicide, especially since I'd be forced to maintain a very human form around my comrades and because there too many Orks. Honestly, I was even entirely convinced that I could reach the Communications Jammer through a direct means – too much artillery and I was pretty sure more than a few of the Orks, which I spotted through my Enhanced Vision, carried Flamers. Fire, I knew, was one of the few methods that could actually kill me, despite my abundance of [Biomass]. "What's the plan?"
More than the mortal danger was the fact that the entire mountain was essentially a giant Ork Fortress. To gaze upon it and assume that the settlements were naught but separate, individual, isolated groups was foolish. Perhaps the Orks themselves failed to notice, but I didn't; this place was a horrible deathtrap that'd require several days of constant artillery bombardment to truly and fully be cleansed of the Greenskins. A single [Poor Man's Rose], however, should do the trick well enough to kill them all. And, even if a few of them did survive, the poison that came afterwards would ensure that not a single Ork survived.
Of course, due to the nature of this mission, it was entirely possible that every single one of my comrades now would die. I knew that. And they knew that as well.
Still, the fact that all of them knew and accepted the possibility of death was heartwarming, to say the least. Markus followed me because I asked him to. They all did. And so it fell to me to come up an effective course of action that would best make use of their lives. I turned to Markus, "May I use your binoculars?"
"Here."
"Thanks." I nodded and took the lenses to my eyes. I didn't need it as much as they did, but not even my Enhanced Eyes could see everything. And I needed to be able to see everything. The binoculars helped.
The first thing I noted was that each settlement was led by a powerful Nob, each one large enough to be Warbosses in their own right, which also led me to the conclusion that the actual Warboss of Sylvia, wherever he may be, had to be incredibly powerful and, not to mention, huge. Orks grew whenever they fought, growing bigger and stronger with each victory. If the Nobs themselves were already taller and bigger than Custodians, then I could hardly imagine just how massive the actual Warboss must be. I wasn't sure if the Nobs were friendly with each other, but, considering the average mentality of the average Ork, friendship was unlikely. More likely was the possibility that each settlement was engaged in some form of competition that kept their warriors sharp and angry and strong, but without compromising the main functions of the settlements themselves. And that was where the Nobs came in. Unlike the average Ork, Nobs were smarter, calmer, and definitely more cunning; it was their job to keep the Ork Boyz in line, keeping the violence from escalating to a point of self-sabotage.
The best way, then, I concluded, was to make the Orks escalate their violence and essentially lead them onto a path of destroying themselves and each other. Thus far, their skirmishes and battles have been 'tame', at least by Ork standards, warbands venturing out to meet and clash with other warbands from other settlements, without attacking or endangering the settlements themselves. I believe it was time to change that.
"I have an idea," I said, lowering the binoculars and returning them to Markus.
"What kind of idea?" Markus asked.
"A bad one."
"Well, better bad than nothing." One of the veterans chuckled. The other soon chuckled with him. I found myself smiling before their joviality. I wished I'd shared something like this with my former comrades, before we were ordered to charge the enemy gun line and they all died. "Tell us this bad idea of yours, lad."
"The Orks are fighting among themselves and we all know that," I began. "But not to the point that they invade their own settlements. What we're gonna do is sabotage one of these settlements so that the Orks think their neighbors are escalating and then..."
One of the veterans nodded. "And so they all kill themselves for us. That should make scaling the mountain a little easier, at least, especially if your plan works and all the Orks start busting each others' heads open. But, there are only seven of us, lad; how exactly are we going to do that? It's not like the Orks won't immediately take note of our arrival. Even at night, their senses are sharp."
"I've dealt with plenty of Orks before," I said, not quite lying through my teeth, but not quite telling the truth either. "I will be the saboteur. Once I've raised enough chaos, I'll retreat and rendezvous with all of you here. It'll likely be a few days before the Orks truly begin to engage each other in true Ork fashion. So, we'll just have to wait until their settlements fall and the Greenskins descend into total war and madness. Shouldn't take too long, honestly. The brutes are quite fond of violence."
"Well, we've seen what you can do against the Orks, lad," Markus nodded. "Go and do what you feel is necessary. I have no doubt that you will return. We will pray to the God-Emperor that he may watch over our victory, Perry. Do what must be done."
I nodded and smiled, and wondered if the God-Emperor was watching me now. He probably was, but I also knew that he trusted me well-enough to leave me alone most of the time. I wasn't an infant to coddle. I was a Guardsman, born to die. Though, honestly, I had to wonder if Athulhum had a presence on this planet. The spirit did promise to plant his healing trees in every single Imperial World. Probably not. This planet, for now, belonged to the Orks.
"May the God-Emperor watch over you and keep you safe," I said, turning to the others. "Hide and wait for me. I promise that I'll return. In the name of the God-Emperor, our mission will not fail."
I descended the mountain and, as I did, my mind raced. First and foremost, the only way I was getting anywhere close to the mountain was through stealth. The land around me was verdant and green, but it lacked trees and other forms of large vegetation. Instead, there numerous boulders of varying sizes, most of them covered in green moss, alongside crags and jagged rocks that sprouted from the ground. There was a single road that led to and fro the mountain, a long stretch of beaten land that the Orks clearly frequented. There were plenty of patrolling Greenskins there, however, which meant I had no choice but to keep away from the road.
Fine by me. The boulders did a well-enough job of keeping me hidden, at least. And, I suppose, my greatest advantage was the fact that the Orks simply weren't anticipating a human saboteur. In fact, i was pretty sure they weren't expecting any humans on this planet at all. So, I had all the advantage. What I had to do now was ensure I didn't waste it.
I glanced to the north. The sun was rising already, I noted. Days and nights on this part of the planet seemed to happen quickly, lasting only a few hours each. It didn't matter, I suppose. My target was the easternmost settlement, where the largest oil tanks were located. My plan was rather simple, actually; plant explosives on the tanks and watch the settlement burn and explode. I still had a few dozen Frag and Plasma Grenades and Packs in my [Inventory]. This was going to be simple, honestly. My biggest hurdle was the sheer number of Orks in this place. There had to be millions of them here, many millions actually.
A tiny voice in my head told me that I could be so much more powerful if I simply abandoned my humanity, that I could easily overwhelm the Orks if I turned myself into a flood of living, hungering flesh that devoured all it came in contact with, reducing all life into simple [Biomass]. The Ork numbers would count for nothing, then, and not even fire could harm me as I could simply scatter my brain all over my body, ensuring that I'd always survive no matter what happened.
Yeah, I could do just that.
But then... the moment I fully embraced that... the moment I allowed myself to become a monster, then... what would I be fighting for?
The easiest path was not always the correct path. And, come what may, I was to maintain my humanity... as much as I could, anyway.
My eyes narrowed and I paused at the sound of approaching footsteps – Orks marching. A patrol. Interesting. There were easily a hundred Ork Boyz. I could avoid them easily, though I had to wonder just how many other patrols there were, because I definitely hadn't spotted them from high up in the mountain, their movements obscured by the very same boulders and rocks that obscured me.
Wait a minute, didn't I have that card to summon a Catachan Devil and a Barking Toad?
This seemed like the perfect opportunity to unleash at least one of those creatures. Surely, the Orks appreciated a good scrap and were likely bored of each other, right? So, I was rather confident that they would appreciate the Catachan Devil to shake things up for them.
AN: Chapter 53 is up on (Pat)reon!