Da Red Gobbo's Last Stand, page 12
‘We’ve gotta find a door,’ came Bodgit’s reply.
‘Dere’s one!’ said Flitnog, pointing.
‘Not dat one, anuvva one!’ snapped Bodgit.
‘Wot door is it?’ asked Klutz, hoping for the sake of his health that it was close.
‘Dunno, I’ll know it when I see it,’ Bodgit said.
Klutz furrowed his brow. He didn’t like Bodgit’s answer. Even though he was Da Red Gobbo, Klutz was beginning to think Bodgit didn’t know what he was doing. But, then again, Bodgit was Da Red Gobbo, and he had kept him alive this far. He had always liked Bodgit. The grot had a knack of getting into trouble on board Da Jolly Smasha, which meant most of the time the krew were busy taking their frustrations out on him.
Lost in his thoughts, Klutz didn’t see the low pipe Flitnog had just ducked under, but even if he had he probably still would have smacked straight into it.
He let out a cry and fell backwards onto the floor. Dazed, he lay on the ground staring at the grot-sized dent in the metal.
‘Bodgit…’ he groaned.
A low growl replied.
Klutz shot upright. In an overhead vent lurked a genestealer, its eyes flickering in the flashing lights. Klutz knew that look – he was being hunted.
‘Bodgiiiiit!’ hissed Klutz with urgency, beginning to edge away from the vent.
With every move, the genestealer crept closer, opening and closing its maw in anticipation of the kill.
A hand grabbed Klutz by the neck and hauled him to his feet. He spun around, expecting the worst, but it was Flitnog.
‘Stop messin’ around and get movin’!’ snapped the podgy grot in irritation.
‘I-I can’t… Dere’s a ’stealer here!’ stammered Klutz, his fear-filled eyes trying to direct Flitnog’s attention to the approaching genestealer.
‘Wot? Where?’ said Flitnog, looking around in every direction except where the creature was.
Klutz acted on instinct. He slipped free of Flitnog’s grip and pulled out his shoota. He aimed it straight at the genestealer and fired a solitary round. By some miracle, the shot struck the creature square in the forehead, killing it stone dead before it even hit the ground. Klutz couldn’t explain it. He was the worst shot of the whole mob – he’d even managed to shoot his own toe off in the past – but this time, somehow, he had hit his mark. Klutz stared at the shoota, convinced this had something to do with Da Red Gobbo.
‘Yoo killed it!’ cheered Flitnog.
‘I know,’ whispered Klutz, still staring at his shoota in disbelief.
‘Come on, we ’ave to catch up with Bodgit!’ urged Flitnog, pulling Klutz after him.
Hurrying along the corridor, the pair reached a main intersection where several other passageways connected, creating a massive junction with multiple exits. But Bodgit was nowhere to be seen.
‘Bodgit!’ hissed Flitnog.
‘Shh! Don’t forget dere are ’stealers lurkin’ around ’ere!’ warned Klutz.
‘Bodgit!’ called Flitnog, a bit louder this time.
There was no reply, only the juddering and shuddering of the space hulk around them.
‘Where did he go?’ murmured Klutz.
‘If ya didn’t keep hittin’ yer ’ead on stuff we wouldn’t ’ave lost ’im!’ grumbled Flitnog.
Klutz couldn’t tell one passageway from the next – they all had the same ramshackle craftmanship of the ork mekboyz. It was impossible to know which way Bodgit had gone.
‘Dis ain’t good,’ muttered Flitnog under his breath.
A loud series of thuds suddenly echoed along the corridor.
Fear gripped Klutz as he and Flitnog drew their weapons, standing back to back. They were surrounded by the creatures, the dim corridor lights casting ominous, shadowy shapes of death along the walls. The genestealers’ cold, predatory eyes glinted menacingly in the darkness, while the scraping of claws against the metal floor grew louder, closing in from all directions.
Klutz’s heart pounded, each beat amplifying his rising panic. He tightened his grip on his shoota, bracing himself to stand his ground despite the overwhelming urge to flee, the power of Da Red Gobbo keeping his feet firmly planted. In that moment, he grasped the full gravity of their plight: there was no way out, and the genestealers were closing in. But one thing was certain – he wasn’t about to go down without a fight.
‘Shoot dem!’ screamed Flitnog, blasting in every direction.
Gunfire filled the corridor. Bullets zipped off every surface as muzzle flashes illuminated the snarling faces of the hive. They slowly closed the distance, advancing towards the defending grots. Klutz was swept up by a blood rage, a thirst to kill any genestealers that fell into his sights.
The grots fired at anything that moved, coordinating their last stand in sync with one another. Klutz couldn’t speak for Flitnog, but he could feel the power of Da Red Gobbo taking hold, Bodgit’s mutinous energy guiding his shoota. But for some reason, he couldn’t repeat the shooting prowess he’d shown before. His shots, though they found their mark, failed to deliver the knockout blow, or halt the genestealer advance. Faced with little choice, he kept blasting in a way that would’ve made even the harshest of ork warbosses proud.
As Klutz reloaded his weapon, his gaze flicked upward, catching sight of Bodgit standing behind the wall of genestealers. Bodgit’s eyes were wide with disbelief. The creatures hadn’t spotted him yet – he was safe for now. But Klutz knew that once they broke through and finished them off, they’d undoubtedly turn their attention towards Da Red Gobbo.
‘We gotta help Bodgit escape!’ shouted Klutz above the snapping maws of the genestealers.
‘Wot about us?’ bellowed Flitnog in reply.
‘We’re done for, but we can still ’elp Bodgit! We gotta do it for ’im. We gotta do it for Da Red Gobbo!’ said Klutz, his voice rising.
‘Yeah, but wot can we do? We only got dese blastas, and dey are gonna be out of bullets soon!’ screeched Flitnog.
Klutz continued to fire at the wall of genestealers as he fished around in his back pocket, but ended up in Flitnog’s instead. He pulled his hand out and looked in disgust at the chalice now in his grip. He lobbed it at the nearest genestealer. It flinched as the object bounced off its head. It stared at the object in confusion, before hissing in defiance.
‘Stupid humie junk. Lot of good dat did,’ cursed Flitnog.
‘Bodgit! Run! Get outta ’ere!’ shouted Klutz.
Klutz stared directly at Bodgit. He knew the other grot wanted to help them, but even he couldn’t stop what was about to happen. They exchanged a look, nodding at each other one last time before Bodgit vanished from view.
‘Wotevva yer gonna do, ya betta do it now!’ shrieked Flitnog, firing the last of his rounds into the genestealer pack.
Klutz fished into the back of his breeches once more, and this time his fingers locked around the object he was searching for. He pulled it out and waved it in the air triumphantly. It was a stikkbomb.
‘Oi! So, dat’s where my uvva stikkbomb went! Ya little thief, yoo stole it!’ cursed Flitnog, catching sight of the last of his missing inventory.
‘Yeah, but ain’t ya glad I did?’ Right on cue, the stikkbomb slipped out of Klutz’s grip and dropped to the floor. Flitnog flinched, expecting the worst, but nothing happened.
‘Oops…’ muttered Klutz apologetically.
He stared at the approaching genestealers, Klutz was glad he got to see Bodgit one last time. His mind wandered to Snotz, Grubwort and all the other grots he had known in their motley krew. He suddenly felt Da Red Gobbo’s mutinous power flowing through his body, placing a comforting arm around his shoulders. He smiled and closed his eyes.
‘Yoo always were a clumsy as–’ cursed Flitnog, just as a large explosion ended their lives, and the rest of that sentence, forever.
Da Red Gobbo stayed with Klutz till the very end.
24
Smoke choked the narrow passageways, curling in dense, angry tendrils that clung to every surface. Overhead, sparks erupted from severed wires and shattered pipes, casting brief, harsh flares of light that illuminated the devastation. The space hulk groaned under the strain, another shudder rippling through its decaying structure.
Sprinting down the crumbling corridor, Bodgit’s heart pounded in sync with his rapid strides. The weight of Klutz’s and Flitnog’s sacrifice pressed heavily on his mind – they had given their lives so he could escape. He couldn’t afford to fail. The echo of the stikkbomb’s explosion still reverberated in his ears, a grim reminder of their fate.
Bodgit focused on the task before him, every muscle taut with tension. The door he sought lay somewhere ahead, obscured by the swirling smoke and chaos. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he and the space hulk shared a deeper purpose. Whatever it was, he was determined to see it through. Not even a swarm of relentless, merciless genestealers would stand in his way.
A tremor shook the bowels of the space hulk, forcing Bodgit to cling to the wall as the massive metal behemoth shifted course once again.
Another vision gripped him: grubby grot faces stared through a swirling orange dustbowl before vanishing in a wall of sand. Shaking it off, Bodgit lowered his head and charged onward through the corridor, smoke churning in his wake. As he ran, he checked his bolt pistol – only three rounds left. Nowhere near enough for a meaningful defence.
The space hulk shook once more, but this felt different. Impact tremors. Something outside was crashing into the derelict’s hull.
Bodgit knew time was running out. His vision was directing him now, pushing and pulling him through the labyrinth of conduits and passageways. Even though he didn’t know where to go, he trusted the feeling and followed it.
As direct as an ork rokkit, he charged through the broken corridors, pausing only to slip into the shadows whenever a nearby genestealer appeared. He no longer cared about the creatures. All that mattered was reaching the heavy door that plagued his thoughts.
Bodgit’s red cloak billowed as he sprinted along the walkway, a cacophony of noise rising behind him. The sound of the chasing swarm grew louder, crawling in overwhelming numbers, all with a single purpose – to kill him. Yellow warning lights flashed at every junction, guiding his path towards destiny. He could feel it in his gut, taste it in his mouth. His goal was close, somewhere beyond the debris of shattered corridors. Over the growls and roars of the genestealer pack, another sound reached his ears, faint but distinct. Whispered voices, desperate and pleading, crying out to be saved from their brutal, cruel bosses.
Bodgit pressed onwards through the wreckage, weaving between jagged beams and torn bulkheads. The air was thick with the acrid stench of burning wires and the ominous, rhythmic hiss of leaking steam. Ducking under a sparking cable, he suddenly spotted a flashing light in the distance. It cast flickering shadows over a heavy metal door inscribed with strange markings. A flicker of recognition crossed his mind – he had seen this door before. This was it! His final goal was within reach!
He raced forward with renewed conviction, hoping beyond hope it wasn’t locked.
It was.
Bodgit’s heart sank. He couldn’t fail now, not when he was so close. He hammered at the control panel, and the space hulk punched back. The ship convulsed, knocking Bodgit off his feet, causing the power to cut completely and plunging the area into darkness.
Waiting in the abyss, Bodgit listened to the sounds of the genestealer pack rushing towards his position. A distant generator whined, and one by one, the corridor lights flickered back into life. He looked up to see the genestealer horde charging at him – they were only a few heartbeats away. Then, with a hiss, the door shifted. The burst of power had reset it, forcing the hatch to open momentarily.
Bodgit didn’t need a second invitation. He leapt through the open doorway just as it began to seal shut, slipping through with only inches to spare. From behind the hatch, he could hear the frustrated howls of the genestealers. Their claws raked at the door, leaving deep gouges that appeared in the metal from his side. He had seen this play out before. He knew nothing would stop the genestealers from breaking through.
Ignoring the frenzied swarm attacking the door, Bodgit turned his attention to the room. There was an array of digital displays and tempting switches lining the walls around an impressive viewport that looked out onto an orange planet that was partially visible on screen. Bodgit didn’t need the window to see that the derelict behemoth was drifting through an asteroid field. Rocks of all sizes were smashing into the space hulk and breaking up on impact. Warning sirens and proximity alarms were filling his ears, mixing with the anarchic howls and scratches behind him.
Bodgit closed his eyes and focused on the voices he could still feel calling out to him. They were coming from the planet’s surface. Grots from all over were reaching out to him, calling for Da Red Gobbo to save them.
Ignoring the genestealers’ shrieks and the sounds of shredding metal, Bodgit jumped into one of the command seats and began hammering buttons and pulling levers. The space hulk shuddered under the barrage of commands. He felt the behemoth shift as it adjusted course again. Now the viewport was displaying the planet in its entirety. More rocks smashed into the hulk as it pushed forward towards the giant planet’s atmosphere.
Bodgit grabbed the yoke and sat back in the command chair, guiding the space hulk towards the source of the grot calls. He had no idea how he knew where to go, or even if his frantic attempts to control the derelict structure were actually doing anything. All he could do was trust Da Red Gobbos of his past were right.
He hoped this was all worth it: that the grots on the surface appreciated his sacrifice, watching on as the space hulk hurtled towards them. Klutz, Snotz, Grubwort and Flitnog had given their lives so he could get to this precise moment, and he was determined not to waste it. He wanted to inspire a new generation of grots to rise up and throw off the oppressive chains of their ork bosses, and maybe give them a kicking in the process.
Bodgit watched the planet inch nearer and nearer on screen. Time slowed to a crawl, and he felt himself pulled out of his seat, as though a spectral force was dragging him towards the surface.
Then the space hulk dissolved into the void, replaced by the roar of rushing wind. It whipped around him, stinging his cheeks with sharp particles of sand. He blinked as the darkness gave way to a blinding glow.
Confusion gripped him as he stood now on a strange orange planet. The sand beneath his feet felt foreign, each grain carrying an otherworldly texture. A deafening boom echoed overhead. Bodgit looked up to see the space hulk piercing the planet’s atmosphere. It blazed in the sky, an ominous beacon heralding his arrival.
He was suddenly aware of a figure standing next to him. It was another grot.
‘’Bout time yoo got ’ere, Bodgit,’ said the grot with a grin.
Bodgit looked at the figure, confused. ‘Erm… ’ow do ya know my name?’
‘Cos I’ve stood where yoo are standin’ now,’ the grot replied, pulling his goggles down and letting his red cloak flutter behind him in the wind.
Bodgit looked at his own cloak – it was almost identical. ‘I know yoo…’ he began, but somehow, inexplicably, the grot was already ahead of him.
‘Come on, dis way!’ the grot shouted, waving before darting further into the distance.
A few steps later, Bodgit suddenly found himself walking through an ork camp. It was a maze of hodgepodge metal dwellings grafted haphazardly next to, or on top of, one another.
‘Wot is dis place?’ Bodgit asked as he caught up with the grot, impressed by the sheer size of the settlement sprawling before him.
‘Wot does it look like?’ replied the grot.
A loud shriek filled the air as a battered gretchin was kicked through a metal door, quickly followed by a raging ork. The brute kicked the stricken grot a few more times before heading back inside its shack.
Bodgit watched as the weary grot shielded his eyes and stared up at the bright light from the burning space hulk. Its eyes danced in delight, as though it had been expecting this monumental event to happen its entire life.
The battered grot screeched a mutinous cry and fired its grot-blasta into the sky. Soon it was followed by more shots as the whole encampment descended into chaos and gunfire. Black smoke billowed across the camp as ork and grot fought tooth and nail with one another.
‘They’re waitin’ for ya,’ said the grot next to him.
‘Who is?’ Bodgit asked, confused. He turned to find the encampment had vanished. In its place stood a stricken humie stompa, half-buried in the sand and shrouded by the shadows of a valley. Nearby, an ork warboss, terrible and towering, loomed over a grot, ready to unload a slugga round into the helpless creature.
Bodgit squinted. The prone grot was wearing familiar-looking goggles and a red cloak.
‘Oi! Dat’s yoo!’ gasped Bodgit, turning to speak to the grot next to him. He looked around, but he was standing alone in the orange desert once more.
‘Dey are waitin’ for ya to save dem,’ said the grot’s voice over the shifting sands.
‘Who are yoo?’ Bodgit said, shouting at the emptiness.
‘We are Da Red Gobbo,’ the grot said cryptically.
‘But, I’m Da Red Gobbo!’ corrected Bodgit.
‘Dat’s right, yoo are,’ came the whispered reply.
‘Wot do ya want me to do?’ said Bodgit, running in desperation to catch up with the mysterious voice.
‘Give dem a sign. Give dem a sign to rain down grot justice on dem all…’ said the voice a final time before it disappeared in the howling wind.
Bodgit felt himself lift off his feet, levitating from the planet’s surface. He looked down as the ground fell away. He was being pulled at speed into the atmosphere. He glanced up to see himself hurtling back towards the burning space hulk. Bodgit flung his arms across his face and braced for impact.
