Reddunz Hit 'Arder (40k)

Five trukks rattled across the wastes as they seemingly raced one another, there was no dedicated formation. Just a drag race across the dunes and rocky terrain, I was starting to notice some interesting things about this world, first it was pretty much a wasteland with a considerable amount of debris. Second, it was obvious that many battles had taken their toll on this part of the planet. Scorch marks, crater holes, and the husks of what I assumed to be Trukks and other strange vehicles littered the landscape. 

As the trukks continued their asinine race, one of the trukks hit a boulder causing the entire vehicle to crumple into it before flipping over. Loud guffaws screamed out from the Orks on both the trukk I was on and the surrounding trukks. 'Didn't these guys care that an entire 20% of the fighting force was now almost completely out of the fight?' The answer was a resounding 'Definitely not'. Knowing these shameless bastards, I can think of only two things they must be thinking. 'More loot!' or 'Betta' scrap!". I shook my head internally as I set my eyes on the horizon looking for this so-called 'raidin' spot'. 

There was nothing on the horizon for miles in any direction, it seemed as though we were going in circles. It was then that I spotted the familiar tracks in the sand and dirt just ahead of us... We were in fact, going in circles.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

M41 963, OUTPOST-54C, VORTIGAUNT PRIME, ULTIMA SEGMENTUM.

Corporal Derran Luth let out a deep-rooted yawn as he sat at his desk, due to the increase in Ork activity across the planet the Planetary Defence Forces were overworked and understaffed, especially on Forward Operating Bases such as Outpost-54C. It was a dead-end station, but at the very least it was quiet. The FOB hadn't seen any contact in decades, and its dilapidated state had become quite apparent.

If it weren't for the reported increase of Ork activity in Sector-C, he doubted if any repair efforts would be taken seriously. The outpost had received some shipments of weapons, sandbags, and scrap metal for barricades. It wasn't much, unfortunately, but at least it was something. It could ward off a large-scale raiding party and even hold its own against a sizeable infantry force, well as long as its reinforcements go there in time. 

It was another boring day for Sector-C, Corporal Luth was running his routine checks across his Vox pack. He was the comms officer for the outpost and as such was tasked with maintaining contact with both command and the surrounding outposts. Another yawn escaped his lips until static started crackling across the Vox, it was an incoming transmission. 

The vox unit crackled with static, the transmission barely coming through over the background noise of frantic shouting, lasgun fire, and the unmistakable roar of Ork engines. A panicked voice cuts through the interference strained, breathless, and filled with terror.

"—Luth! Luth! Emperor's blood, do you hear me?! This is Patrol Six! We—" A burst of static, followed by the deafening roar of automatic fire encompassed the whole transmission for a solid few seconds. 

Corporal Luth jumped in his chair, scrambling to tune the vox so the transmission would come through clearer. After a moment he calibrated the communications device for a more solid connection.

"Patrol Six, you're breaking up! What's your situation?!" Luth hurriedly yelled over the Vox.

"ORKS! They're all over us! FOUR trucks—No, NO, THEY'RE RIGHT ON US—" a horrible, guttural scream echoed in the background, followed by the crunch of metal.

"WE CAN'T STOP 'EM! THEY'RE—AAAGH—" Another faraway voice screamed, barely audible through the crackly static of the vox. 

"Fall back! Fall back to the outpost, now!" Corporal Luth almost screamed down the machine, these were people he'd been living with for the past few years. Close friends, rivals, and workmates. 

"WE CAN'T! THEY'RE CUTTING US TO PIECES! THEY—" The feed cuts out for a moment, then comes back in a distorted burst of static. Scrambling Luth tried to track the location of the transmission, but after a moment he managed to lock it down. It was just a few klicks north of their position. They didn't have much time to mobilise, just as he was about to patch himself through to command and the outpost commander a deep guttural growl washed over the vox.

"…They'z comin' for ya next…" 

"Get ready… GET READ—" A horrific crashing sound screamed through the vox, followed by a deep, guttural laugh and a single gunshot. The line goes dead.

A tense silence fills the vox room, broken only by the distant hum of the equipment. Luth froze for a moment, silently mourning his lost comrades. With a few whispered prayers to the God Emperor, he patched himself through to command. "Lieutenant, we've got trouble!"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

M41 963, FIVE KILKS NORTH OF OUTPOST-54C, VORTIGAUNT PRIME, ULTIMA SEGMENTUM.

Our truck was unfortunately in last place in this condensed drag race, not that I minded too much. The knuckleheads upfront were the most likely to get hit first by any incoming fire, just the way I liked it. Gorblitz was the leader of this raid and all Orks obeyed his command, at least-- to some degree. I'd noticed a couple of the Orks had begun to call him a 'Nob', while I chuckled internally as a 'nob' was British slang meaning, male genitalia. I quickly stopped my internal amusement, this was way below my level of maturity and intellect... This Ork body really was changing me--. 

Swallowing the fear I felt from becoming someone entirely different I looked ahead, and upon the horizon, I noticed something strange. Just as I was about to open my mouth, Gorblitz boomed out "Umiez' ahead!"

Suddenly the truck we sat in reached another gear, as if the excitement of the Orks around me had sped up the vehicle itself. It was almost as if it was reacting to the emotions of the Orks, I knew for sure that the truck was already going as fast as it could, this was just the strangest phenomenon. 

The trukk jolted violently as it tore across the uneven ground, kicking up a thick cloud of dust behind it. I barely even noticed. My eyes were locked ahead, where the first real battle of his new life was unfolding.

The group of 'umiez' had been caught completely off guard. Their formation had been loose, weapons slung casually at their sides, undisciplined. 'A routine sweep through the wastes' I surmised. That was, until the 'Boyz' had come screaming out of the dust, guns blazing, war cries filling the air. 

The weapons on my truck along with the Orks mounting it began firing their weapons in any and all directions, just happy to be shooting and joining in on the 'fun'. Very few of the weapons actually landed and those that did seemed to do only moderate damage to the strange beings.

The figures in the distance were vaguely humanoid—tall, broad, standing in loose formations, but there was something off about them. Their armor was thick and seamless, with smooth plates that covered everything, giving them an almost sculpted appearance. Their faces, if they could even be called were hidden behind blank, rounded helmets, broken only by the narrow slits of glowing red optics. No exposed flesh. No expressions. No emotion. 

The first few to get hit staggered back, some dropping immediately, others clutching at wounds and scrambling for cover. Shouts rang out over their strange radio-like devices, hurried and panicked. It was clear that this group was undisciplined and green, definitely not the sci-fi super soldiers I had pictured in my head, after just a moment though they had finally regained their wits and began to return fire.

Red lasers shot out from their strangely block-like weapons at an impressive pace, it looked like a light show. The laser beams looked incredibly weak until one of the bolts slammed into the ground beside the truck I was riding on. Where I expected a scorch mark, glass had formed and broke sending glassy debris everywhere as if it was shot by a high-calibre weapon. 

These lasers were dangerous! Not to mention that every-- single-- one-- of- them was carrying one. It made my heart race, not in fear, but in anticipation. The forward trucks slammed into their formation and they broke almost immediately, their armour doing very little to fend off the Orkish brutality. 

After just a few moments our truck had caught up, yet the majority of the aliens were already cut down. Red blood flowed freely from their humanoid bodies, the gore looked strangely similar to that of a human but I thought nothing of it. No human could live out here in the wastes, the only reason why I had been able to do so was due to this incredibly robust physique. 

As we were ready to disembark from the truck, there was all but one alien left. I was finally in earshot. One remained his armour caked in dust and dried blood, kneeling with one foot in the grave it screamed into a radio-like device. The alien's voice sounded heavily modulated, as though it had gone through autotune ten times before being regurgitated. 

Gorblitz snarled to himself, probably pissed off he had missed the initial engagement, marching forwards he pulled out a heavily embellished shoota. There were a few Orks in his way who quickly parted at the determined grunts of Gorblitz, it was as if he was parting the Red Sea. After a few moments Gorblitz had reached the breathing corpse, Gorblitz shoved the weapon into the spherical helmet before speaking out "…They'z comin' for ya next…". 

The alien tried to yell something into the Vox but was quickly cut off by Gorblitz pulling the trigger, a flash of light and a loud bang echoed across the desolate planes. The silence was quickly filled with the inhuman laughter of the Orks. I felt my lips creep into a smile, I quickly sent that amusement down into the deepest parts of my soul. This was... Brutal...