Chapter 419: Gretchin Godfather
Afterward, Kian asked about the current state of the war. Captain Doron answered.
"This world has already produced a senior Ork warlord, and the greenskin population has grown to a point that can't be ignored any longer. Orks grow stronger disturbingly fast, and killing their rank-and-file infantry accomplishes very little on its own. Only eliminating their key figures, warbosses, or major Mekboys, actually shifts the overall balance of the war. Mekboys especially matter, since they're the technical talent of Ork society, churning out weapons and machines without pause."
Doron gestured toward a pile of beacon devices in the corner.
"Before our fleet arrived at this world, we used our superior speed to outrun the Ork fleet's pursuit and, with macro-cannons and lance batteries, destroyed every visible Ork production facility on the surface. Once our forces were deployed to the ground, our ships drew off the bulk of the remaining Ork fleet into deep space to deal with separately. Since then, the Mekboys here have gotten smarter. They've learned to hide their workshops, buried under scrap heaps or underground, making them much harder to strike. We recently found one such Mekboy workshop and destroyed it with beacon-guided artillery, but our strike team ended up surrounded by hundreds of thousands of Orks in the process, and nearly took losses."
Astartes, with their near-divine physiques, favored exactly this kind of work: punching deep into enemy territory to eliminate key targets and cripple critical infrastructure. More than fifty Astartes were currently deployed across this world's various fronts, their daily work consisting of infiltrating Ork-held territory, hunting down warbosses for assassination, or locating and destroying Mekboy war-forges.
The forges mattered most of all. A Mekboy and his crew of underlings worked around the clock producing tanks, killer-cans, and Dreadnoughts without pause. Fully destroying one of these forges could set back an entire warzone's Ork production for months, sometimes half a year, reducing them to nothing but light weapons and melee gear until a new Mekboy rose up and a new forge got built.
Kian glanced at the pile of beacons in the corner, then at the battered, scarred armour hanging on the Astartes around him. It was clear enough: infiltrating Ork territory and killing a single Mekboy had nearly burned these brothers out entirely, judging by the state of their gear.
Kian's mind started spinning, and a little yellow lightbulb practically flickered on above his head. He raised a finger, thoroughly excited.
"Hey! I've got an idea!"
Nor'n sensed disaster coming. "Can we please not have an idea right now?"
Captain Doron cut him off sharply. "Sergeant Nor'n, mind your manners." Then he turned to Kian with genuine interest.
"Count, do you have a good idea for clearing out the greenskins? I should warn you, Orks are extremely vigilant. Their warbosses and Mekboys keep serious protection close, sometimes even Ork special-operations types lurking in reserve. My brothers and I nearly wore ourselves down to nothing just taking out a single Mekboy."
Kian let out a wicked cackle.
"Honored brothers, you're just using the wrong method. Brute force isn't impossible, but I wouldn't recommend it. Fight fire with fire, or in this case, fight dumb with dumb."
He walked over, scooped up the pile of beacons, and headed straight for the bunker exit.
"Alright, alright, marking priority targets is my job now. Just sit back and wait for results."
The Astartes exchanged glances but didn't stop him, curious to see exactly what this man was made of.
Kian carried the beacons out to the surface and ran into Major Noa waiting at the door. She was practically vibrating with excitement, getting to see actual Angels in person was already the honor of a lifetime for any Imperial citizen, and by extension, the man who'd once personally saved one had shot way up in her estimation.
"My lord, is there anything you need from me?"
Kian thought it over, cradling the beacons. "Get me smuggled quietly into Ork-held territory. Oh, and find me a can of green paint."
An hour or so later, fifty kilometers north of the PDF front line, deep in Ork territory.
Deep inside Ork-controlled ground, the landscape was nothing but yellow sand and towering scrap heaps. Orks might have been born for war, but junk-hoarding seemed to be their other great talent. Metal components, electronics, gutted vehicle shells, and every other kind of trash piled up into small mountains.
These scrap heaps functioned like an inexhaustible resource node for the Orks, and dense clusters of Gretchin scavengers picked through them constantly.
One young Gretchin dug through a particular heap, sorting and picking, his ragged sack already stuffed full of screws, bolts, and scraps of metal he judged useful. Suddenly, he spotted something buried in the pile: a long, perfectly straight pipe. He scrambled over and yanked it free with everything he had.
"Aha! Dis'll get me a shoota outta da Mekboy for sure!"
The little Gretchin squealed with excitement, clutching a long, dead-straight water pipe. A pipe that clean and straight was genuinely valuable to a Mekboy, worth trading for a proper, loud, satisfying shoota.
Unfortunately, the moment he found treasure like that, he couldn't help wanting the whole world to know, holding the pipe high over his head and squealing with joy. That drew the attention of every other Gretchin scavenging nearby instantly, and the moment they saw the long, straight pipe, they let out a collective shriek and swarmed him.
After a brief, chaotic scuffle, the Gretchin who'd found it first got knocked flat. His pipe, and every scrap in his sack, got stripped from him, and the rest of the Gretchin scattered off toward the Mekboy's war-forge, fighting over the loot as they went.
The Gretchin who'd started with nothing lay on the ground a while before finally getting up, staring at his empty hands, and let out a wail, crying like, well, a Gretchin who'd just gotten his toe stepped on.
He was devastated. Not only had his pipe been stolen, but his entire sack of scavenged junk had gone with it. Who knew how long it'd take him to scrape together enough materials to build a killer-can now? Yes, small as they were, even Gretchin had dreams. This one's dream was to pilot a proper, powerful, WAAAGH-worthy killer-can, to transform from a scrawny little grot barely over a meter tall into a four-meter engine of destruction.
But at this rate, that dream felt as distant as ever.
"Waaaaah! I wants a killer-can! Everyone keeps stealin' my stuff, everyone's mean!"
The Gretchin wailed and wailed. Then, right behind him, an odd, distinctly accented voice spoke up.
"Oh ho ho! A poor, adorable, sad little Gretchin. What's troubling you? Tell me, quickly!"
The crying Gretchin froze mid-sob at the strange voice and turned around, stunned.
Standing behind him was a two-meter figure in green power armour, a pair of makeshift wings jury-rigged out of green plastic bags and LED panels strapped to his back.
The Gretchin just stared, frozen. "You, you, you! Who are you?"
He couldn't place what this thing even was. An Ork Boy? A human infiltrator? Neither one seemed quite right.
Kian let out a warm, hearty laugh and crouched down, gently patting the Gretchin's head.
"Oh ho ho, little Gretchin, today is your lucky day. I am Grot Marjack!"
The Gretchin looked even more confused. "What's a Grot Marjack?"
"Ho ho ho! Grot Marjack is the Gretchin spirit, the guardian of all Gretchin, who brings happiness to little Gretchin through the power of the magic monkey!"
Kian looked over the little Gretchin, still dazed, a bubble of snot hanging from his nose, and continued.
"Make a wish! Grot Marjack grants one lucky Gretchin a wish, to make his dream come true!"
That got through. The Gretchin's eyes went wide instantly.
"My dream is to pilot a killer-can! Can Grot Marjack make my dream come true?!"
Kian did his best Santa impression, hands clasped over his chest, laughing warmly.
"Of course, lucky little Gretchin. I am the Gretchin guardian spirit, and every chosen, fortunate Gretchin receives my blessing."
He pulled a makeshift wand, a drinking straw taped to a plastic bag, from his belt and waved it theatrically in front of the Gretchin.
"By the power of the magic monkey, your wish is granted!"
The Gretchin stared at the wand, eyes sparkling, watching Grot Marjack cast his spell to grant the wish. But after a good long wait, nothing happened. Confused, he asked, "What... what happened? Did my wish come true? I ain't turned into a big powerful killer-can!"
Kian patted the little Gretchin's head with real tenderness.
"Ho ho ho! You're an impatient little Gretchin. Wishes don't come true instantly, they manifest through proper, reasonable means. As long as you believe in the power of the magic monkey, happiness will come to you."
He pulled a beacon out from behind his back and pressed it into the Gretchin's arms.
"This is an incredibly precious piece of electronics. I'm rewarding it to you. Bring it to the Ork Mekboy, and you can trade it for a killer-can of your very own."
The Gretchin stared down at the exquisitely detailed beacon in his hands, and his heart lit up with pure fire. From long experience scavenging junk, he knew treasure when he saw it. Bring this to the Mekboy, and he really might just walk away with a killer-can.
He let out an excited squeal, held the beacon high, and started running straight for the Mekboy's war-forge. Then, remembering how his pipe had just been stolen out from under him, he caught himself, hugged the beacon tight against his chest instead, and glanced around warily, terrified someone else might snatch it away.
Just as he was about to run, he turned back to look at the plastic-winged stranger.
"Grot Marjack, how do I thank you?"
Kian smiled warmly and waved the wand once more.
"Just believe in the power of the magic monkey, and happiness will find you. Go now, sweet little Gretchin. Grot Marjack will be watching over you, and good fortune will find you again."
The Gretchin was overwhelmed with gratitude, and vowed to remember the name Grot Marjack forever. He was going to run straight to the Mekboy's forge, trade for a killer-can, and tell every Gretchin he knew that their kind finally had a guardian spirit of their very own.
Kian watched the Gretchin sprint off clutching the beacon, rubbing his hands together like a fly.
"Nyeh heh heh!"
He grinned wickedly, ducked out of sight behind the scrap heap, and took off at a run toward the next one, further out. A given territory generally only had one Mekboy, so he needed real distance before pulling the same trick again.
The scrap heaps here stretched on and on, one after another, and Kian ran a good twenty kilometers before he felt he'd gone far enough. He started scanning for another Gretchin to run the con on, but his infiltration-pattern armour's auspex picked up something ahead: several hundred Orks.
He wasn't carrying much beyond the beacons, no interest in a straight fight with that many. He looked around and spotted a small crystalline lake tucked below one of the scrap heaps. The planet's oceans had mostly been drained dry by industry, but a few pockets of standing water remained here and there.
Kian dove straight in and hid himself underwater.
Before long, a war party of several hundred Orks passed right by the lake's edge, all in power armour, carrying heavy guns and choppas, clearly heading toward the front to fight humans.
Trailing behind the war party came a single Gretchin, one hand gripping a makeshift blade filed out of scrap metal, the other clutching a small pistol. He'd covered himself in scavenged sheet-metal plating, doing his best impression of an armoured Gretchin. The Orks weren't buying it.
The Gretchin tried to tag along toward the front, only for an Ork to stop him cold.
"Get lost! Stop followin' us! You keep it up, I'll knock yer teeth out!"
The Gretchin flinched, cowering, and pleaded weakly. "Why? I got a choppa too, I got a slugga too, I even got power armour, I'm a super strong super WAAAGH Gretchin! I wants ta fight too!"
The Ork burst out laughing, grabbed him, spun him around, and stripped off his makeshift armour in a few casual pulls, snatching the little pistol out of his hand and hurling it into the lake for good measure.
"Da junk you got on ain't nothin'. You followin' us just makes us look bad. Get yerself a real, proper, super strong super WAAAGH set of power armour, then maybe we'll let ya come along."
With that, the Ork shoved the Gretchin down hard and walked off, dusting his hands.
The Gretchin landed flat on his backside and watched the war party march away, sobbing and wailing.
Right at that moment, the lake's surface lit up brilliantly. A strange figure in green power armour, wings of plastic bag and LED panel strapped to its back, rose slowly out of the water. In one hand he cradled the Gretchin's discarded junk pistol, in the other, a beautifully polished beacon.
"Oh ho ho! Poor, sad little Gretchin, abandoned and cast aside by all your kin. But don't cry anymore. Today is your lucky day. You've found the Gretchin's own personal guardian spirit, Grot Marjack! Tell me, sad little Gretchin, was what fell into the lake this beat-up, worthless piece of junk that can barely even fire? Or was it this beautifully crafted, extremely valuable piece of electronics, worth trading to a Mekboy for a super strong, super WAAAGH, super stylish set of power armour?"
The Gretchin's eyes went wide instantly. Without a moment's hesitation, he pointed straight at the beacon.
"Wot fell was da electronic thing! Wot fell was da thing dat trades for a super strong super WAAAGH super stylish set of power armour!"
Kian clicked his tongue approvingly.
"You clever, shameless little liar. Congratulations. Cunning and dishonesty are fine Gretchin virtues, so I've decided to reward you with both items."
He pressed the junk pistol and the beacon both into the Gretchin's arms. The little creature stared at Kian, overwhelmed with gratitude.
"Grot Marjack, you're the best Gretchin! The best Gretchin guardian spirit there ever was!"
Kian glanced down at his own armour, the green paint job slowly peeling off in the salt water, and quickly waved the Gretchin off.
"Go now, clever little Gretchin. Hurry to the Mekboy and trade for your power armour. And remember, believe in the magic monkey. The monkey brings happiness. The monkey can summon Grot Marjack."
He gave the plastic wand one last theatrical wave. The Gretchin, eyes brimming with tears of pure gratitude, clutched his prizes and sprinted off.
"Nyeh heh heh!"
Kian watched him vanish into the distance, let out one more wicked chuckle, and took off running toward the next scrap heap.
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