Steel & Oil: Warhammer 32K

The Ork locked in the iron cage was brought out by Gamas. Lin's eyes went wide, and the gazes of the surrounding Black Templars began to converge on the spot.

Lin grabbed Admidel and hauled him along, and the whole group jostled their way back onto the Hunter, getting clear of everyone else's line of sight.

"How could you possibly think it was a good idea to bring a xenos back with you?"

Admidel had no choice but to recount to Lin once more what had happened during their final escape. He laid particular stress on how this little mekboy—who had earlier clung to the ship while the Felyne wasn't paying attention—had been the one to do in the Ork warlord at the last possible moment.

A stunt like that had stirred up intense curiosity in the veterans. They had opened the hatch and fished the little mekboy—who otherwise would have been freeze-dried into a cured ham out on the hull—into the cabin. And this little mekboy, oddly enough, had put up no resistance at all, submitting quite obediently to becoming their prisoner.

"So, this is the reason you went and captured a xenos prisoner and brought him back to me?" Lin asked.

Admidel nodded honestly.

"Weren't you supposed to just finish him off on the spot?"

"But this is a greenskin who managed to off his own boss... We thought you'd be interested." Admidel explained, looking a little awkward. The veterans behind him nodded along without the slightest hesitation.

"But you're Imperial Fists now..."

Lin felt a headache coming on. These veterans of the Second Legion, perhaps because of their ability to absorb xenos genes, had developed a peculiar collector's instinct when it came to aliens.

But by rights an Astartes should exterminate xenos down to the last specimen—that was the bedrock logic written into Astartes gene-seed. Even an Astartes who had turned to Chaos would set aside his grievances with the Imperium and join forces with it to grind the xenos to pieces first.

For them to go out of their way to capture a xenos and drag it back under such circumstances made them seem far too aberrant.

Admidel suddenly understood. Their time spent within the Legion and living alone in the wilderness had caused them to overlook this very issue. Recalling the strange looks those Space Marines around them had been giving moments ago, he raised his pistol, intending to gun down the greenskin then and there.

But Lin stopped him.

"There's really no need for that. We've already gone and captured him anyway—it won't be too late to question him for some intelligence and then finish him off."

He cleared his throat, faced the cog-headed lad in the cage, and switched his vocal system over to the deep, guttural Ork tongue: "Now then, I ask, you answer. Do you understand my meaning?"

The mekboy nodded. There was none of the usual Ork savagery on his face, but rather a softness that suggested he could actually be communicated with: "So you're the boss of these tin-can boyz?"

"I never said you could ask the questions."

Lin was surprised by the lad's cleverness. Although plenty of Orks possessed enough intelligence to converse with humans, their frenzied minds simply didn't support rational exchange.

Among Orks who knew only how to kill and waaagh, this lad was clearly an aberration.

He had taken a bit of interest in this greenskin, though he didn't let it show: "Tell me who you are."

"I'm called Evil Sun." the greenskin answered honestly. "I'm a mekboy, an' my dream is to build the fastest, most waaagh thing there is!"

Evil Sun's tone rose slightly at the end—clearly, talking about his dream stirred something in him he couldn't quite hold back.

That alone was enough to astonish Lin.

By the Throne—an Ork could have a dream too?

Evil Sun went on: "I've seen you humie mekz, you can build loadsa dead flashy stuff. Since you're the boss of these tin-can boyz, then that big ship they ride in must've been built by you too, right?"

Lin nodded, acknowledging Evil Sun's claim. A sudden flash of brilliance burst in Evil Sun's eyes, and he lunged abruptly to the front of the cage: "Anyone who can knock together gear that's that much of a thrill—you gotta be the most waaagh mek of all the humies!"

The warriors around him raised their weapons warily, but Lin waved his hand to signal them to lower them. From the way this little mekboy was behaving, he had detected a trace of worship directed at him, which gave rise to a strong feeling toward the greenskin before him.

Evil Sun's excitement only mounted higher; he even began to gesture and prance about: "I wanna get up to stuff with you, become one of your boyz! I'll build big gear that's faster an' more of a thrill than ever before! That way, I'll be sure to become the most waaagh Big Mek there is!"

The astonishment from before turned into a kind of absurdity; the notion the other party had put forward nearly made Lin laugh.

A greenskin, actually saying he wanted to follow a Tech-Priest around and learn the craft?

"That is impossible." he denied without a moment's hesitation.

"Just take me on, will ya? I can do anyfing!"

"But you're a greenskin."

Lin waved his hand, and Admidel stepped forward, taking the cue. He asked, "Shall we kill him?"

"No..." Lin mused. Although it was out of the question to take this greenskin on as a follower, he genuinely found such an unusual greenskin somewhat interesting: "Keep him alive for now. Just leave him aboard the Hunter, and don't bring him out."

Admidel carried out the order. Several warriors of the Second Legion lifted the iron cage holding the Ork, about to haul the greenskin lad away. Lin then went on to instruct: "First we need to head to the treatment room. Those few wounded in need of treatment must be tended to personally by me, lest the Apothecaries of the Exemplary Fists spot anything amiss."

"And after that?" Deputy Aibo was rather concerned with the plan to come.

"After that we'll have to return to Cath Maximus and continue organizing the defense. Although I don't know why the Ork warlords turned on each other, the odds of that last warlord leaving Cath Maximus alone are no higher than one percent."

"I don't reckon so."

Halting, stammering Low Gothic came from behind them. Everyone, Lin included, turned in astonishment to look at the greenskin who was about to be carried off.

That mouthful of crude Low Gothic had come from none other than him.

"You can speak the language of humans too?" Lin's interest was piqued once more.

"I reckon I can."

It was a thoroughly greenskin sort of answer. The warriors had no choice but to carry the little mekboy back before Lin once more, and Lin asked, "What do you mean, you don't reckon so?"

"I reckon the Priest who tricked my old boss to death is about as clever as me, an' if it were me, I wouldn't go attackin' the humies right now."

The Priest? And what sort of strange, outlandish Ork-warlord nickname was that?

"Don't you lot want to get your hands on human products?"

"The humies' scrap heaps are a right thrill, sure, but I wouldn't go pickin' a fight just for that. Right now 'the Priest' is the biggest greenskin force around, an' I reckon he could go gatherin' up all the other boyz an' become the biggest, most waaagh warlord in these parts. By then, forget one humie scrap-world—the whole region would be 'the Priest's' mushroom field."

The logic was sound enough...

If even one peculiar little mekboy could think this way, then Lin truly believed greenskins were capable of laying out a strategy like that.

But since when had Orks become this brainy?

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