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Where Dere’s da Warp Dere’s a Way – Extract

A Black Library Publication

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Where Dere’s da Warp Dere’s a Way

Mike Brooks

‘’Ere we go, ’ere we go, ’ere we go!’

Ufthak Blackhawk, Bad Moon warrior and definite second-biggest in Badgit Snazzhammer’s mob, no matter what that zoggin’ idiot Mogrot thought, raised his voice in the rolling, rollicking war cry as they piled into the ’Ullbreaker. Outside in the cold vacuum of space, Da Meklord’s warfleet was busy crumping the humie ships, but that wasn’t Ufthak’s fight. Blowing stuff up from a long way off was fine in its way, but he preferred getting up close and personal. Let the gunboyz have their fun: Ufthak was on his way to the real fight.

The last few boyz piled in, along with Dok Drozfang and various grots, and then came Da Boffin. A Bad Moon like Ufthak and Da Meklord himself, and one of the warboss’ most trusted meks, Da Boffin had replaced his own legs with a single wheel, powered by a fuel made of concentrated squig dung. Ufthak had never worked out how Da Boffin stayed upright on it, since even warbikes needed at least two wheels, plus either a kickstand or the rider’s leg – or a kickstand made from someone else’s leg – on the few occasions they were stationary. When Ufthak had asked, Da Boffin had just started talking about ‘whirly bitz inside it’, as though that made any sense.

The last hatch slammed shut and the flyboyz in the cockpit whooped, firing up the engines and vaporising anything immediately behind the shuttle. Ufthak had been on boarding missions before, so he knew what to do: grab on to one of the handholds roughly welded into the walls, and hang on like a grot on a warboar.

The flyboy kaptin stamped down on the lever which released the mag-clamp fastening them to the deck of Da Meklord’s Fury, and they were away. Immediately, all the boyz who hadn’t been in an ’Ullbreaker before went flying back to the rear of the ship, where they were crushed into a painful and indignant heap against the metal bulkhead. Ufthak laughed uproariously as they tumbled past him with expressions of confusion plastered across their faces.

’Ullbreakers got up to full speed quickly, and so it was only a few moments before the G-forces subsided enough for the newbies to untangle themselves from each other and start the important process of working out whose gun was whose. It only took a few moments more for fists to start to fly as they began bad-mouthing each other’s shootas.

‘If you gitz don’t settle down den I’m turnin’ dis fing around!’

Boss Snazzhammer stormed down the shuttle, spittle flying from his gob as he kicked boyz out of his way. He was a huge ork, head and shoulders taller than the rest of them, and bedecked in the most ostentatious finery that teef could buy – and, since he was a Bad Moon, he had a lot of teef. There was barely a surface of his armour that wasn’t decorated with loot, whether that was medals taken off the corpses of humie bosses, those little bits of wax and paper from the armour of dead beakies, or even some of the fancy gems the pointy-earz wore. In his right hand he carried the massive weapon that had given him his second name: a metal shaft the height of a humie with its legs still attached, with a hammer on one side of the head and a choppa blade on the other. The entire head could be engulfed in a crackling power field with one flick of Snazzhammer’s clawed thumb, and Ufthak had seen the boss smash right through a humie tank with it.

The boyz ducked their heads, grabbed their own shootas and tried to avoid the boss’ eye. No one wanted to end up like that tank.

‘Dat’s betta,’ Snazzhammer growled. He turned on the spot, addressing the entire ’Ullbreaker. ‘Right, we ain’t da only ’Ullbreaker wot’s flyin’ today…’

Boos and jeers.

‘…but we got da most important job!’ Snazzhammer continued. ‘Da Meklord ’imself told me wot we gots ta do, so you all best listen.’

The mob quietened down, as much as they ever would. If Da Meklord had told them what to do, they’d probably better do it. Da Meklord was no ordinary warboss, if there was such a thing: he was Da Biggest Big Mek, and his gear was legendary. He’d gone toe to toe with rival warboss Oldfang Krumpthunda, and after one hit with Da Meklord’s shokkhamma no one had found any part of the Goff larger than a finger. Da Meklord’s personal force field could shrug off hits from a humie Titan’s cooka kannon. His supa-shoota could cut a Deff Dread in half before you could say ‘Gork and Mork’. He was what any Bad Moon wanted to be: massive, ’ard as nails and carrying enough weapons and armour to kit out a small warband in his own right.

‘Now,’ Snazzhammer declared. ‘Humies don’t got Gork ‘n’ Mork ta guide dem froo da warp, ta take dem to where da next fight is. Dey gotta use some fancy worky bitz wot dey keeps in da middle of dere ships. Wot we gots ta do is get Da Boffin dere, where he’s gonna do some mek stuff. Got it?’

There was a general muttering and nodding of heads, and Snazzhammer beamed. ‘Good. Now den. Who are we?’

‘SNAZZHAMMER’S MOB!’ the assembled mass of orks bellowed, Ufthak amongst them.

‘Are we da biggest?’

‘YES!’

‘Are we da baddest!’

‘YES!’

‘Are we da shootiest?’

‘YES!’ the mob yelled, and everyone waved their shootas, which were almost all kustom jobs with extra dakka. No one pulled their trigger yet, though, which was good: Ufthak had once been in an ’Ullbreaker where some git with a kannon had managed to crack the flyboyz’ seeing-window, and it turned out there was a reason why these things weren’t open-topped.

‘Dat’s what I fort,’ Snazzhammer said with grim satisfaction. He reached up and grabbed a handhold overhead. ‘Now, everyone hold on to sumfing.’

Ufthak had known this was coming, and reached up with his other hand. ’Ullbreakers flew quick.

There was a shudder as the shuttle’s short-range torpedoes all fired at once, concentrating on a small part of the enemy ship’s hull to weaken it. Ufthak began counting down.

Five…

Four…

Free…

Two…

One…

He frowned.

Bit of one…

The ’Ullbreaker smashed into the humie ship, its specially reinforced nose cone taking the brunt of the impact and punching them clean through into the interior. The force of the sudden deceleration lifted Ufthak’s boots from the floor and nearly wrenched his arms from their sockets, but he held firm. Some of the new ladz who hadn’t minded the boss’ words enough went flying the other way down the shuttle. One of them collided with a support strut hard enough to snap his back clean in two, much to the disdain of the other boyz who’d managed to remain upright.

‘Leave ’im!’ Snazzhammer bellowed as a few of them started putting the boot in. ‘We got humies ta paste! Get out dere, and get clobberin’!’ He aimed a kick at the downed ork’s head as he acted on his own words, and his steel toecap hit hard enough to knock it right off. Dark blood sprayed out across the nearby members of the mob, while the flying head caught a lurking grot clean in the chest and knocked it backwards into the wall.

‘WAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!’

Ufthak drew his weapons and surged forwards with the mass of green around him. This was life; this was what it meant to be an ork. Enemies in front of him, ladz around him, ammo in his slugga and a good right arm to swing his choppa. What more could anyone ask for?

Click here to buy Where Dere’s da Warp Dere’s a Way.

A Black Library Publication

First published in Inferno! Volume 4 in Great Britain in 2019.
This eBook edition published in 2020 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK.

Produced by Games Workshop in Nottingham.
Cover illustration by Alex Boyd.

Where Dere’s da Warp Dere’s a Way © Copyright Games Workshop Limited 2020. Where Dere’s da Warp Dere’s a Way, GW, Games Workshop, Black Library, The Horus Heresy, The Horus Heresy Eye logo, Space Marine, 40K, Warhammer, Warhammer 40,000, the ‘Aquila’ Double-headed Eagle logo, and all associated logos, illustrations, images, names, creatures, races, vehicles, locations, weapons, characters, and the distinctive likenesses thereof, are either ® or TM, and/or © Games Workshop Limited, variably registered around the world.
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ISBN: 978-1-78999-921-1

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