In Orbit
The red, jerry-rigged Ork warship had barely stabilized when two more of its kin smashed into it from behind.
BOOOOM—
The powerful impact shredded the armor of all three ships. Dozens of Orks were flung into the void, flailing and shrieking.
"Waaagh?"
One Ork, drifting mid-air, suddenly thought it was funny and started pretending to swim.
However—
"AAAHHH!!"
His joy was short-lived as another Ork crashed into him, knocking him into the endless blackness of space, his screams fading into nothing.
Moments later—
A few Ork engineering vessels emerged from the ship, extending mechanical arms to salvage armor plates and stray Orks.
The Mekboyz clanked about, reattaching armor with rivets. Many panels were jammed back in at odd angles, but once they were painted lucky blue, the ships began working just fine again.
Soon after—
Over a dozen smoke-spewing cargo haulers launched from the warship, rattling their way down toward Perdita.
These Ork vessels were sent on Rokko's orders, here to "collect" Necron tech from the Tomb World.
...
On Perdita's Surface
Cold winds howled across the ice-covered ground, reflecting dim starlight.
This world, long deemed a primitive uncolonized planet in Imperial records, had avoided the fires of war simply because no one bothered to claim it.
But the Imperium hadn't forgotten it.
General Melon had ordered several penal transport fleets to drop convicts from Higanbana and nearby systems here—to act as bait for Hive Fleet Leviathan.
What he didn't know—
Was that many cowardly prison officers had dumped their cargo holds before landing.
They fled, scattering to save themselves.
Some prison containers slammed into the ice, shattering and scattering broken bodies.
Those unfortunate souls died instantly on impact.
But many containers survived the descent intact.
Lucky prisoners crawled out from drafty cargo bays, cursing the damn Imperial general and their own planetary governors.
But compared to the dead—
These survivors were in for a far crueler fate.
Whether it be freezing to death in this icy wasteland, or being digested alive by the incoming Tyranids.
"Damn the Imperium! They're just going to let us die in agony?!"
A burly, bearded convict shouted hopelessly. "They're worse than us gangers! At least we kill quick!"
One convict, looking like a faithful worshipper, knelt in the snow and prayed:
"Emperor, I have never betrayed You. I was branded a heretic by corrupt officials who jail innocents while claiming righteousness. Your loyal servant begs You… deliver us!"
The bearded man looked over and asked, "What'd they get you for?"
"I did nothing wrong!"
The faithful convict puffed his chest. "I'm a loyal servant of the Emperor! I reported an official hiding xenos—and got arrested for it."
His face twisted in pain. "Only then did I realize the high-ups in my city were all in league with the aliens…"
The bearded man kicked another nearby prisoner.
"And you?"
"M-me? I don't even know!" the scrawny man stammered. "I'm a factory worker—I just woke up in a prison cell!"
"Poor bastard scapegoat," the bearded convict shrugged. "Normally they'd at least give you a payout before screwing you over. Looks like you got shafted by amateurs."
Then he grinned.
"Too bad. Hand over your clothes."
He ripped the thin prisoner uniform off the other man and put it on.
But even so—none of them would survive long unless they found warmth.
As despair deepened—
Shadows crossed the sky.
"Ships! Incoming ships!"
The prisoners shouted, scrambling into open ground, desperately waving.
Hoping for rescue.
But then—
"Wait… that's not an Imperial ship! It's those damn xenos!"
The bearded man trembled.
No sooner had he spoken than an Ork came crashing down onto the ice, howling as it landed.
More Orks rained from the sky, roaring and screeching as they charged.
The prisoners tried to run—but frozen legs gave way. They stumbled and fell in the snow.
The faithful convict, seeing the monstrous green tide rushing toward him, was paralyzed with fear.
Yet—
At the brink of death, he held firm to his faith. He knelt, praying to the Emperor one last time:
"Please… grant me peace, or let my soul return to Your Golden Throne…"
He bowed his head, ready to embrace oblivion.
Seconds passed.
The Orks' roars rang in his ears—but there was no pain.
Opening one eye, he saw that the green monsters had… bypassed him?
"A miracle… the Emperor's divine protection…"
The convict flung his arms skyward.
"I am chosen! A legend of His will!"
In reality—
The Orks simply ignored all the prisoners.
In the culture of the Steelfang tribe, eating humans without permission got you eaten by Rokko.
A few Orks gave the praying man puzzled looks, then exchanged grunts.
They concluded the human was a lunatic.
Their transports landed.
From one emerged a rather scrawny Ork dressed in a patched suit over a metal harness, face long and rat-like, carrying himself with a peculiar air of nobility.
This was Ironjim.
He truly had some claim to fame.
Back when he was just a yoof, he scavenged several relics from the vaults of the Ultramarines.
He was praised by Rokko himself.
Later, he enrolled in the Loyal Sons Academy—in the Ork department—and basked in the power of Big Boss Rokko.
He honed his scavenging skills and built a team.
Eventually, he became a prized talent among the Orks.
Now, Ironjim had been sent here on a special "scavenging" mission.
He adjusted his ragged suit, coughed slightly, then turned to the assembled Mekboyz and foremen.
He began delivering a speech.
Halfway through—
He stumbled, flipped through a scroll filled with scribbled glyphs, then resumed reading:
"Right, you go there, and you go there. Grab all the shinies! Fast! Or Rokko eats you!"
Crude, but effective.
The Orks had to find and loot as many tomb structures as possible—before the Necrons awoke.
Then—
Ironjim spotted the humans.
A gleam flashed in his eyes.
A perfect chance to show Rokko his brilliance.
He ordered a foreman:
"Go get those humies. Don't let 'em die!"
Thanks to Eden's "re-education" of the Orks, they had developed a habit of "saving" suffering humans.
Rough, sure—but better than leaving them to die.
Under Ironjim's command—
All the prisoners were grabbed and tossed into a foul-smelling cargo bay.
Soon—
A bunch of Snotlings rushed in, shoving maggot-riddled meat into the humans' mouths with glee.
The prisoners, terrified, ate it anyway—to avoid angering the xenos.
Truth was—
They hadn't eaten in so long, the rancid meat didn't seem so bad.
They needed the protein.
Once they were done, the Snotlings chirped happily and bounced away.
The prisoners sat in silence, anxiety thick in the air.
But they were still alive. For now.
Ironjim watched them through the ship's monitors, nodding with pride.
He had treated the humans well.
Surely Rokko would bless him for this. (tl: I kinda forgot how the orks called Eden...)
Outside—
Ork yoofs grabbed tools and machinery, forming a rowdy mob.
The Mek foremen, wearing greasy safety helmets, swung spiked clubs at any misbehaving lads.
One barked loudly:
"WAAAGH!
Boss says if we don't finish Rokko's job, I get eaten!
And if you lot make me fail—
I'll bash your heads so hard the Dok won't know where to start fixin'!
WAAAGH!!!"
And with that, the salvage operation began.
The Orks got to work.
The Mekboyz deployed their detection gear to pinpoint the Tomb World's locations, barking orders for the yoofs to start digging.
Overseeing it all were the slavedriver Foremen, bashing lazy gits into line.
BOOM!
A massive ice mound collapsed under the might of Ork machinery, revealing the blackened, green-glowing tip of a Necron tomb.
A wave of yoofs charged up with screeches of excitement, drilling into it with glee.
They smashed through the tomb doors and began ripping apart anything detachable.
Including a vast amount of Blackstone tech—exactly what Rokko wanted.
Screee—
Canoptek Scarabs and Wraiths detected the intrusion and swarmed toward the Orks, having awoken from their dormant guard cycles.
These automata were designed to maintain tomb facilities and eliminate intruders.
However—
Before they could even strike, waves of EMP pulses overloaded their circuits.
Handled cleanly by the ever-resourceful Mekboyz.
But the noise attracted something worse—Tomb Stalkers. Enormous mechanical centipedes, each the size of a super-heavy tank.
Armed with composite Gauss weapons and monomolecular talons, their hyper-sensitive sensors could detect a heartbeat hundreds of meters away.
They locked on targets and pounced with brutal precision.
They never rested.
AARGH!!
Several unfortunate Orks were torn to shreds by one of them.
But moments later—
A squad of Death Mega-Kans, towering Ork super-heavy walkers, arrived and dismantled the Tomb Stalker with extreme prejudice.
A brawl between more Mega-Kans and new Tomb Stalkers erupted, as the yoofs resumed their looting in the background.
The Mekboyz took advantage of the Necrons' un-updated security protocols and severed the tomb's alarm systems.
The Orks were naturally gifted across multiple fields of tech.
In fact—
They were created by the Old Ones themselves, specifically to battle the Necrons.
Back then, the Orks (and the Eldar, also created by the Old Ones) once had the upper hand over the Necron dynasties.
Though the Old Ones ultimately perished, and the Orks lost all restraint—becoming the galaxy's most Waaagh-loving, joyful war-mongers.
Feared as the Green Menace.
Now, faced with sleeping tombs, the Orks seemed to awaken their ancestral instincts, dismantling traps with expert precision and hauling off relics.
This was exactly why Eden had sent them to raid the tombs.
Ork DNA was loaded with millennia of subconscious Necron-fighting experience.
Sending humans would've cost more—and risked waking the slumbering Lords.
A green light flickered—
A Necron stirred in his sarcophagus, rising to see a grotesque green face staring down at him.
"Lower lifeform!"
The Necron's glowing eyes flared in outrage.
Who wouldn't be stunned waking from eons of sleep only to see their eternal foe—the Old Ones' creation—right in their face?
But the Necron quickly tried to raise the alarm:
"Level One Invasion Alert!"
Unfortunately—
The entire area was jammed with interference pulses. No signal could get through.
Panicked, he raised his weapon—
Only to be bashed on the head with a wrench and slammed back into his coffin.
An Ork yoof sat on the lid, barking at others to hurry up and haul the whole coffin away.
Thus, the grave-robbing proceeded smoothly.
Like a swarm of locusts, the Orks looted multiple tombs, collecting vast quantities of Necron tech and Blackstone.
On the surface—
One group discovered a massive tomb gate and was preparing to bust it open.
But a Mekboy rushed in and stopped them.
Clearly—
This was a core tomb, likely filled with more valuable Necron tech, but cracking it open might trigger a full-scale Necron awakening.
And the dig team wasn't equipped for that.
The Foreman took the Mek's warning seriously and whacked a yoof on the head to drive the point home.
"Looks like we grabbed enough loot. I'll be able to complete Rokko's mission just fine!"
From an observation deck on an Ork transport ship, Ironjim watched the dig site with satisfaction, always alert for surprises.
After a while—
He gave the signal to wrap up and evacuate.
The dig radius had grown too large, and any further blundering might wake the tomb's overlords.
Soon, the Orks were loading everything onto clanking transports with wild cheers.
The junk-laden vessels lurched into the sky.
Shortly after—
Three Ork warships fired up their drives and launched away, leaving the ravaged site behind.
Just as the Orks departed, new visitors arrived.
The Dreamweaver, Eden's flagship, descended into Perdita's orbit, dispatching a squadron of troop transports toward the planet.
On the Surface
Eden stepped onto the frozen ground, his dark gold armor crackling as icy winds lashed it.
He looked across the mess and grinned:
"Hah~ Ironjim's pretty efficient. We should nurture him. Maybe send him to loot the Collectible King's tomb next!"
He just wished he knew how much the Orks had actually stolen.
Dante disembarked as well.
Staring at the torn-up site, his eyes narrowed.
"My Lord Savior, what… happened here? Did the Orks really do all this?"
The tomb world bore clear signs of excavation. Bits of Ork gear—and Ork limbs—littered the site.
Clearly a full-scale, coordinated, and surprisingly efficient raid.
"Don't tell me the Orks are stealing now too?"
Dante's tone was grave.
This was well beyond anything he'd ever seen.
If those crude beasts were developing new behavioral patterns, the Imperium would need to drastically raise their threat assessment.
A race of violent savages was one thing.
But if they started organizing, planning, and strategizing?
That would be terrifying.
"Eh, not our problem."
Eden shrugged, then changed the subject:
"Let's find the local Necron Lord and let him know he got looted."
After all—
It was the Orks who did this. Not the Savior.
And the Orks stole from humanity's enemies, too.
Eden and Dante marched across the icy expanse toward the one entrance untouched by Ork feet.
Hive Fleet Leviathan endangered the entire Netherworld Sector—even this tomb wasn't safe.
If no countermeasures were taken, the Necron dynasty here would lose all their legacy to the swarm.
Eden hoped to ally with the Necron Lord here, leveraging the Magnificent Prism—a galactic-scale weapon of the Mephrit Dynasty—to fight back.
Even if he hadn't arrived first—
The Necron Phaeron known as the Traveler, Anrakyr, would have come.
Dedicated to restoring Necron glory, Anrakyr understood the Tyranid threat.
He had already convinced this tomb's Lord to cooperate with humanity.
Eden was simply arriving earlier than expected.
Buying more time.
Zzzrrrt—
Just as they reached the massive gate, something stirred.
BOOOM—
The tomb's entrance began to rise, revealing that what they'd seen before was just the tip.
A massive portal slowly opened.
At the far end of the corridor, upon a towering throne—
A massive metallic figure stirred. Its emerald eyes glowed to life.
"Who dares disturb the slumber of the noble Undying?!"
At his command—
The tomb awakened.
A phalanx of Lychguard emerged with phase-blades in hand, flanking their Lord.
Several massive Canoptek Scorpions, standing four to five meters tall, raised their Gauss disintegrators—
All aimed directly at Eden and his company…
(End of Chapter)
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