Gav Thorpe - The Purging of Kadillus

Prologue

A fuel tank exploded, showering squat bodies and shards of metal across the refinery. Guttural laughter rang around the bare rock walls of the asteroid-ship, against a backdrop of chattering guns and flames. A handful of stocky figures stumbled from the fire, airsuits tattered, thick beards and bushy sideburns smoking. They carried high-velocity riveters and fired them at the mob of green-skinned attackers thundering down the tunnel. A few orks fell to the fusillade; others returned fire with their crude weapons, filling the tunnel with muzzle flare and bullets.

Give em anuvver! Ghazghkull barked at an ork to his left.

The greenskin loaded another improbably sized rocket into its launcher and stood with legs splayed, aiming at the survivors through an array of cracked lenses. The rocket hissed wildly for a moment before the propellant erupted into flames, blowing apart the launcher, tearing off the orks arm. The orks pained cursing was drowned out by Ghazghkulls deep laugh.

Wun fer da doks, said the warlord, waving roaring warriors forwards with a claw-sheathed hand. Ghazghkulls laughter stopped as a slew of rivets pattered across the thick plates of armour protecting the warlords gut. The massive greenskin turned his red scowl upon the scattered demiurgs sheltering in the ruins of the refinery. Time to finish em off. Get stuck in, boyz!

Following their warlord, the orks charged into the burning debris, hacking and chopping with serrated cleavers and whirring-toothed blades. Ghazghkull levered aside a twisted sheet of metal to reveal a demiurg hiding behind it. The warlord roared along with his multi-barrelled gun as he blazed away, shredding the miner into bloody lumps.

Dakka dakka dakka! Dats ow ya do it!

Ghazghkulls gaze fell upon another victim scurrying into the collapsed doorway of an outbuilding. The massive ork shouldered his way through the wall after the fleeing miner, erupting amidst a cloud of tangled reinforcing rods and shattered stone. The demiurg swung a rock-drill at Ghazghkull, aiming for the chest. The diamond-edged bit skittered and shrieked across the warlords armour and bounced away, the impact almost wrenching the drill from the miners hands.

Nice try, growled Ghazghkull, looking at the scoring across his chestplate. The ork lifted up an armoured, energy-wreathed fist. My turn, stunty!

The claw crackled with arcs of power as Ghazghkull smashed in the demiurgs craggy face, the force of the blow thudding the miners head into the far wall. Smoke billowed from the exhausts of the warlords armour as Ghazghkull lifted up an armoured boot and crushed the headless body beneath its deep tread. It was always worth making sure.

Thundering out through another wall, Ghazghkull looked around. Scattered pockets of orks were running here and there looking for more targets, but it appeared the refinery was empty of enemies. The warlord spied a tiny figure scrambling through the rubble, dragging a huge pole and banner behind him.

Oi, Makari! Ghazghkull bellowed at his standard bearer. The gretchin flinched and turned wide eyes to his master.

Yes, boss? Makari squeaked. What can I do fer ya?

Wheres da meks? Dey needs to be gettin da ore and worky-bitz back to da ship.

Ill go find em, boss, said Makari. He planted the flag in a pile of debris before gratefully scurrying back down the tunnel.

Ghazghkull strode to the top of a slag heap and looked around. The stunties hadnt provided much sport, but the warlord didnt mind. The orks were here for loot and gubbinz. The meks could make some really good stuff with stunty gear.

Another explosion rocked the artificial cavern, a blossom of fire engulfing a mob of orks investigating one of the mine entrances. Ghazghkull thought it was a secondary explosion, but it was soon followed by three more, each heralded by the telltale smoke trails of rockets.

Dats odd.

Whats dat, boss? asked Fangrutz, clanking up the slag heap, the joints of his armoured suit wheezing and whining.

Look at dat, said Ghazghkull, pointing a serrated claw towards the explosions. Dose is rokkits. Oos firin rokkits at us?

Da stunties? suggested Fangrutz.

Stunty rokkits dont smoke and whirl about like dat. Ghazghkull smacked Fangrutz on the head again for making such a stupid suggestion. Dey iz orky rokkits!

In confirmation of Ghazghkulls suspicion, a horde of green-skinned warriors poured out of the mine entrance, guns blazing in all directions. They wore yellow-and-black body armour and jackets, the back banners of their nobz decorated with stylised grinning half-moons.

Dey aint our boyz! Fangrutz declared. Ghazghkulls gun clanged loudly across the back of Fangrutzs head again. The nobs eyes crossed momentarily and he stumbled.

Course dey aint, ya zoggin squig-brain. Get down dere and give em some dakka. Deyre after our loot!

Ghazghkull set after the boys as they poured into the firefight, which in some places became a vicious scrum of blades and fangs. Smoke churning behind him, Ghazghkull lumbered into a run, bellowing orders.