Ponderings

by Lexington

Surrounded in liquid.

Inside a tube.

The world outside, metal.

Filled with whirring machines.

Humans. Speaking. Watching.

"Specimen Two is awakening. Success. Emperor be praised."

Explosions.

Men in white armor.

Killing the other humans.

Decrying their "heresy" as they are slaughtered.

Time stops.

The tube slides out.

Looking out through space.

The orbital station explodes.

Space changes.

Maddening hues of unknown colors.

Replacing the blackness of the open void.

Voices whisper.

"Destroy him."

"Destroy their Emperor."

* * *

"Boss?"

Smart-Ork was startled awake from his daydreams, and nearly crushed the servant Grot with a flailing swipe of his enormous power claw. Dimly, the gigantic Warlord wondered how long he'd been in such a trance. It happened far too often for his liking. It made him vulnerable. Noting this duly, he turned his large head towards the shaking Grot who had awakened him.

"Yer? Warrzit Gibbitz?"

Smart-Ork hated speaking in the Orkish tongue. It was so brutal, and had no room for description. Short, gruff, and to the point. But it was all his Ladz could comprehend. All these thoughts cleared as Gibbitz got up the courage to speak again after his near-death experience.

"I…it'z…it'z da Ladz, sur. Dey wanna 'ear annuver speech. Dey sez dat it boosts der…erm, der morale. Yooz izza great speech-talka ya know, boss!"

Smart-Ork chuckled to himself, almost subconsciously. It was true, of course. His speeches always bolstered the Boyz to new levels of courage. They wanted to hear more about the superiority of the Ork Race, and how it was their duty to Gork and Mork to stomp out other, weaker races throughout the galaxy. But nothing roused them more than the promise of their glorious battle to Earth, the home of the humans. The final defeat of the man-things, and their Emperor was what he promised his Boyz. And he intended to fulfill this purpose.

He hated the humans. He hated their culture. He hated how they toiled from day to day with their meaningless tasks, living and dying without purpose. And above it all, he hated their Emperor. He hated him, and he hated how the humans worshipped him, blindly. He would kill the Emperor, and complete the task he'd been at for longer than even he could remember. A smile rippled across his leathery green face, nearly reaching the metal plate that covered his skullcap and eyes.

"Boss? Boss???" the little Grot asked, looking at Smart-Ork strangely.

"Eh?" Smart-Ork snapped back into reality once more. "Oh, yer. I suppoze da Boyz need ta 'ear sum enkouragin' werdz frum da leeder, now don't dey, Gibbitz?"

"Yezzir!"

Smart-Ork arose from his chair, and pondered what he would say. It didn't make much of a difference. To the normal Ork mind, the slightest mumbling from him was absolute genius. But the Boyz needed something more. After taking this human world, the WAAAGH! had been inactive for at days. The Ladz were getting restless, and needed to do more than fighting practice on captured humans and themselves. Smart-Ork knew what they needed, because even in his highly advanced brain, he felt it too. The urge for battle, and the slaughter of others. Whatever had created his race so long ago had created the perfect warrior race. And, from what he knew from legend, it had been their downfall.

And in those thoughts, he realized, he had found the perfect motivation for his Boyz.

* * *

"Ladz!" he yelled, stepping up to his podeum, where all his speeches were delivered. "Ladz, we 'aven't been doin' much fightin' now, 'ave we?" "

"Nar!" responded the voices of hundreds of restless greenskins.

We'z been sittin' 'ere, fightin' da 'oomiez dat we allready dun kaptured, and beetin' eachuvver up just cuz we ain't got nuffin' better ta do! Well, I sez we stop dis rite now! We gotta get back ta killin' da uvver fingz, rite?"

"DAT'S RITE!" the Greenskinned crowd responded with typical Orky enthusiasm.

"And why's we gotta do dis? Cuz we'z Orks, dat's why! We been fightin' an' killin' uvver fingz since da beginnin'! Doze Brain Boyz thot they 'ad uz all werkin' for 'em, just cuz dey created uz. But whut did we go an' do? We showed 'em good, and gave 'em a big ol' stompin'! Hur hur." And why'z it dat we kan do dis? Cuz we iz Orks! Da Orks iz da best, and all da uvver fingz in da 'ooniverse otta know it!"

Smart-Ork raised a metal finger from his Power-Klaw twoards the sky to illustrate his point.

"WAAAGH!" roared the Orks. As usual, the speech had whipped da Boyz into a frenzy in short order. Smart-Ork knew the time had come to finish up. He didn't want to strain their memories.

"So, whut we gotta do? We gotta get back to into da WAAAGH! sprit! Yoo Mekboyz, start buildin' fingz! Dokz, start fixin' da ladz up fer battle! An' da rest uv ya, go start prakticin' fer sum more 'oomie-squishin'!"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!"

Smart-Ork grinned. That had gotten them going. Even he was beginning to feel the communal sensation that the WAAAGH! brought. It was time to go to war once again.

* * *

Back in his hut outside the camp, Smart-Ork began to drift into his thoughts once more. Everything was running according to plan now. His personal spearhead of the WAAAGH had been successful throughout its campaign, and now others were forming. The Offspring Project, as he called it, had been carried out exactly as he had planned. Now wherever his WAAAGH! went, it would make a quick, unexplained stop. The Boyz didn't understand it, and they didn't need to. After their seeds had been spread, he would give them a rousing speech, and the WAAAGH! would be on again.

Soon after they left, their offspring would sprout from the ground, and start a new force of their own. And to lead them would be Smart-Ork's own seedlings. He knew that through their own heightened intellect, though nowhere near his own, they would rise to power, and lead a WAAAGH! of destruction, following in his own footsteps. Even the Grots and Snots that were born through his own genetic material would be able to rouse their mates to new heights of bravery. And these WAAAGH!s would bring the Imperium to it's knees, and Smart-Ork's final goal would be complete. The Emperor would be destroyed.

  "Boss?"

Smart-Ork wheeled around to see Gibbitz behind him once again. The little servant Grot was beginning to get on his nerves.

"Warzit dis time, Gibbitz?"

"I…er, I just wanted ta say dat wuzza brill speech dere, boss! Real zoggin' good! Got da Boyz all…erm, motivaterd, an' now we'z gittin' back to da WAAAGH!, rite?"

Normally, Smart-Ork would have given the little Gretchin a good cuffing around the ears for such patronizing. But his good mood couldn't even be ruined by this annoyance.

"Yer rite on dat wun, Gibbitz. Dey wuz excited 'bout dat talkin' I gave 'em. Looks like we'z gunna give sum 'oomie world a good kickin', eh? Now, yooz go fetch a Slaver, an' round up da Grotz. Da Dokz an' Mekz are gunna be needin' sum 'elp, y'knowz."

"Rite boss!" The Grot smiled, gave an exaggerated salute, and marched off to round up his fellow Gretchin.

Smart-Ork relaxed again, and began to ponder more possibilities. He had a galaxy to conquer, and that required more plotting.

 

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