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Irreplaceable – Extract

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IRREPLACEABLE

Denny Flowers

Grotsnik raised his head from the operating slab, glaring at the attending orderlies. It was hard to make out his expression. Then again, Nurz was struggling to make out anything. It had suddenly become very dark.

‘Nurz!’ the dok growled. ‘Sort it out! Can’t work like this.’

‘Sorry, dok,’ Nurz replied, elbowing the nearest grot. ‘Oi! Fix the light!’

The orderly glared at him, but said nothing, scrambling up a length of intestine dangling from the ceiling. At least, it looked like intestine, though rather ripe and probably not of orkish origins. Where had the dok picked it up? Didn’t matter, it was now part of the complex circulatory system arranged overhead. Kept things fresh, providing it was stitched together right. Mork forbid a grot was dumb enough to disrupt it.

A hand smacked his head.

‘Nurz! Suction!’

‘Sorry, dok.’ Nurz nodded, focusing on the procedure. It was delicate work. In fact, Nurz was unsure if anything so complex had ever been attempted before, though this was partly because he wasn’t sure exactly what the dok was doing.

He raised the sucker squig, the creature’s elongated nose snuffling about the open wound, before inhaling an impressive volume of blood and bile, along with a few bones that seemed to have worked their way loose. Not ideal, but then again, perhaps that was the dok’s intent? It was hard to say, for he was not in the best mood. A bit of operating usually helped, but they’d been at it for a while. Days? It was hard to tell, as aside from the occasional thump, the outside world was safely locked away.

The only danger was the dok.

So Nurz continued, the sucker squig’s neck sac swelling, the creature only slowing when an errant rib became wedged in its nostril.

‘Err… I need to clean out the squig, dok,’ Nurz murmured, tensing. But the dok merely nodded, his gaze intent on the patient, his flesh eye glazed, its bionik twin glinting a dull red.

As Nurz removed the sucker squig, the dok leaned over the cadaver, sniffing.

‘Hmmm… Latest time of death seems to be… What day is it?’ he murmured, glancing to Nurz.

‘Today?’

‘Right. So, his previous time of death was probably… yesterday? Or the day before?’

‘Dunno. What counts as dead?’

‘Good question,’ Grotsnik murmured. ‘Maybe from when I cut his ’ead off?’

‘You mean his original ’ead? Or the new one?’

The dok frowned, inspecting the sealed neck stump, his gaze then shifting to the fleshsack cultivated on the cadaver’s forearm.

‘Oh yeah,’ Grotsnik murmured. ‘Didn’t see it down there.’

‘Actually, dok, I mean the other other ’ead. The one on his chest? I’m not sure it’s still alive. Smells like it might be turning.’

‘Ah… yeah, it is looking a bit yellow,’ the dok sighed. ‘Let’s lose it. Though to do that I need my zoggin’ light! You done yet?’

He raised his head, glaring upwards. Above there was a scuttering, then a thumping, the room swaying slightly at the sounds. There was a shriek, followed by a hiss and a scream. The lights flickered into life, whilst the air was tainted by the smell of burning flesh. Then the lights flared bright just as a body fell, smoke wreathing the grot’s corpse.

‘Someone remember where it landed,’ Grotsnik murmured, still intent on his patient. ‘Might need the parts, given how this is going. I dunno, Nurz, what do you reckon? Should we push on with the procedure? Begin the next step?’

‘I guess.’

‘What is it? I can tell you got somethin’ to say. Out with it, lad.’

‘Well, to be honest, I ain’t quite sure what you’re wantin’ to do.’

‘Do?’ The dok frowned. ‘The procedure, Nurz. We is doin’ the procedure. That’s all.’

And that was all. All the reason the dok needed, anyway, though Nurz couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was going on inside his skull. But he knew better than to ask, instead lowering his gaze to the patient.

And surgery would no doubt have continued, if not for the rather large thump.

There had been a steady barrage of such sounds throughout the procedure, but most had been small, sufficient only to invoke a tut of annoyance from the dok. But this time the room properly rocked, the grots stumbling and the patient nearly sliding from the slab. Nurz almost lost his balance, losing his grip on the sucker squig. Mercifully, its nose was still jammed with a stray rib, otherwise it might have tried inhaling him whole. As it was, it scuttled into the shadows, even as Grotsnik turned from the slab, glaring at his orderlies.

‘Who did that?’ he bellowed, eyeballing them in turn.

There was no reply. The dok shouldn’t have expected one, given the measures he’d taken to discourage idle chatter. But in his anger, he seemed to have forgotten the stitches that silenced most of the grots.

Nurz hesitated, before cautiously clearing his throat. ‘I think it came from outside, dok.’

‘Is that right? Doin’ a bit of thinkin’ is ya?’ Grotsnik snarled, rounding on him, his bionik eye flickering. He glared at Nurz a moment more, the grot doing his best to sink into the floor, before turning his back on him and striding from the room.

Nurz hesitated, glancing to the other orderlies. All were suddenly preoccupied, inspecting bloodsacks or gathering up stitching thread.

He sighed. It had to be him. Grotsnik would not listen to anyone else. Couldn’t, in fact. Besides, if one of them somehow got in his ear, that didn’t do Nurz’s prospects much good.

He scampered after the dok, who was almost at the exit ramp. The noise was a little louder now, thumps and the occasional muffled cry.

‘Zoggin’ gits. No respect,’ Grotsnik muttered, slamming his fist against the door release and stepping outside. ‘Oi, I told you lot to pack it–’

Something hit him. A machine. A humie machine most likely, given its flimsy construction. It had enough force to knock the dok from his feet, but was too shoddily built to endure the impact. A wheel whistled by, along with a cascade of gubbins, gizmos and the majority of the humie rider. His legs were missing, though. Probably tangled in the machinery.

A couple more humies whizzed by, pursued by orks mounted on massive squigs.

Snaggas.

Nurz sighed, ducking behind the broken remnants of the humie’s machine, ignoring the dying rider. At least, Nurz assumed he was dying, as humies didn’t tend to last long if you cut them in half. This one must have been an impressive specimen, because despite lacking legs it was still trying to claw its way through the dirt, its ugly pink face stretched in a snarl.

At least, until one of the squigs landed on it, crushing the humie to paste. The rider seemed indifferent, or oblivious. Made sense. Snaggas sought the biggest game to hunt, whether monster or machine. These spindly little humie vehicles were hardly impressive. They looked like outriders of some sort. Scouts.

The snagga glanced at Nurz. His face was heavily scarred and missing an ear, the wounds long scabbed over. He said nothing, his gaze shifting to the dok, who lay face down in the dirt.

The snagga tutted, rolling his eyes. ‘Soft,’ he muttered, before turning away, intent on continuing the chase.

Except there was a sound. A gurgled hiss. The snagga must have heard it because he hesitated, glancing again at the dok.

He was on his feet, his back to them, steam hissing from the metal plate in his head. He seemed fixated on the surrounding carnage, as the squigs and humies raced in circles, unleashing dakka and swinging their blades.

The snagga frowned, tilting his head, even as Nurz cowered behind the wreckage.

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