‘And they’re all rust buckets. But what if I could take you to a spaceship that can actually fly.’

  ‘Can actually fly?’ String-Guts took a step closer. ‘I’m listenin’…’

  ‘She’s called the Profiteer and she’s amazing. The very latest weapon systems, a super-fast engine…’

  ‘Oooh, an engine…’ String-Guts parroted, his eyes sparkling.

  ‘I could even throw in a fully working Tau battlesuit.’

  ‘Talen!’ Zelia snapped. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Negotiating,’ Talen said.

  String-Guts’s face crumpled into a frown. ‘Negota-wotting?’

  ‘It means we both get something we need. You get a spaceship and we get our freedom.’

  String-Guts took a step back. ‘Yer freedom? I don’t know about dat.’

  ‘We need to take you to the ship, don’t we?’

  ‘Amity’s ship,’ Zelia pointed out.

  ‘Amity who abandoned us,’ Talen responded. ‘We don’t owe her anything.’

  ‘You don’t owe ’er nuffink!’ String-Guts corrected him.

  ‘If you say so,’ Talen said. ‘You are the clever one, after all.’

  String-Guts’s chest puffed up. ‘Yeah, I am, ain’t I? So I let ye go…’

  ‘And you get your ship.’

  String-Guts let the guitar-launcher hang around his shoulders and rubbed his hands together. ‘Nettle-Nekk will be proppa pleased wiv me.’

  ‘He’ll probably make you his right-hand grot.’

  String-Guts looked at his hands. ‘Which one’s right?’

  Talen struggled to keep his temper under control, forcing himself to smile. ‘The one that’s not the left. So what do you say?’

  String-Guts considered this for a moment and then spat into his hand and thrust his flob-covered palm towards Talen. ‘I say ya got yerself a deal, humie. Shake on it.’

  Talen tugged at the ropes around his wrists. ‘I can’t, can I?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ String-Guts said. ‘Hang on.’

  As the Orks made sure the Biggun was secured, String-Guts untied Talen’s wrists. The ropes came away and his hand was free. Before the gretchin could straighten up, Talen swiped out with his hand and strummed the guitar-launcher’s strings. The sudden burst of noise sent String-Guts flying back into the trees. It also nearly burst Talen’s eardrums, but he didn’t have time to worry about that. He was too busy freeing his other hand and feet, before tackling the knots around Zelia and Mekki’s wrists.

  ‘I thought you really meant all that for a minute,’ Zelia admitted.

  ‘Who said I didn’t?’ Talen said, helping her up with a wink. ‘Let’s go.’

  They ran for the trees while the Orks were still noisily celebrating the capture of the colossal squig, but didn’t get far. String-Guts sprung from the undergrowth, the barrel of his guitar-launcher pointing straight at them.

  ‘You tricked me!’ he snarled.

  Talen skidded to a halt and raised his hands. ‘You’d do the same to us.’

  ‘Yer right,’ the gretchin sneered. ‘I would.’ He called over to the Orks. ‘Oi, Nettle-Nekk. The humies escaped but I catched ’em.’

  The warboss turned, and saw the gretchin holding the children at guitar-point. ‘So what?’ he growled. ‘We don’t need ’em any more. You can blast ’em to smithereens for all I care.’

  ‘Gladly,’ String-Guts said, pulling back his hand to strum another deadly chord.

  ‘No, wait,’ Mekki shouted out.

  ‘No more deals,’ String-Guts said.

  ‘It is not that,’ the Martian insisted. ‘Can you not hear?’

  ‘’Ear what?’ the gretchin asked.

  Talen knew. He couldn’t just hear it, he could feel it. They all could. A deep shudder beneath their feet. He crouched down and squelched his hand to the muck. The ground was shaking, the tremors becoming more violent with every passing second. Then, there was the rumble, like rolling thunder. But it wasn’t a storm. It was the rumble of feet. Large feet. Running feet.

  Talen turned to see scaled birds flocking into the sky, a cloud of dust rising from the trees.

  And then the trees were gone, trampled in the most terrifying stampede any of them had ever seen.

  The Biggun hadn’t been alone.

  There was an entire herd.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  A Big Stink

  String-Guts took one look at the stampeding squigs before throwing off his guitar-launcher and running for his life.

  Unfortunately for him, the cowardly gretchin ran into the path of another herd of colossal squigs that were charging from the opposite direction. String-Guts squealed as a giant foot stomped down on top of him, crushing him into the dirt.

  Talen scooped up the dropped guitar and ran for cover, Zelia and Mekki stumbling after him. Colossal squigs were marauding everywhere, kicking, squashing or chomping Nettle-Nekk’s newly united Orks, the greenskins fighting back but horribly outnumbered.

  ‘Over here,’ Zelia yelled, running towards an overturned chariot which had been filled with grenades that were now spilled over the floor.

  ‘Chuck ’em at the ground!’ Talen said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You’ll see, but you better hold your nose!’

  A colossal squig was running straight towards them. Zelia snatched up the nearest grenade and lobbed it at the monster’s feet. It crunched beneath the thing’s leathery sole, engulfing the squig in a thick green cloud.

  ‘Urgh! That stinks,’ Zelia said, as the smell rolled over her. Thankfully, the reek had the same effect on the squig. It roared its displeasure but turned stubby tail and ran away. Zelia grabbed more of the grenades and passed them to Mekki. ‘Put them in a ring around the chariot,’ she said, gagging on the foul-smelling smoke. ‘They’ll keep those things away.’

  ‘So will this,’ Talen yelled, strumming a sonic blast from the guitar-launcher that knocked a colossal squig and at least three Orks from their feet.

  ‘This is all very well and good,’ Mekki said, arranging the stink-mines around them, ‘but we are still trapped!’

  It was true. The Orks were fighting back, turning their weapons on the squigs, who in turn mashed them beneath their giant feet.

  There were screams and roars and gunfire and explosions. The battle raged in all directions, cutting off any chance of escape.

  Desperately, Zelia tapped her vox. ‘Amity, where are you? We’re in real trouble here.’

  ‘She won’t answer,’ Talen said, taking out another Ork with a vibrating note.

  Zelia didn’t listen to him. ‘Amity, we need you!’

  A familiar grunting came over the vox.

  ‘Fleapit? Is that you?’

  Mekki checked his screen. ‘The signal is coming from the Profiteer. Flegan-Pala is back on the ship.’

  Zelia held the vox close to her mouth. ‘Fleapit. We need your help. We’re trapped and there’s no sign of Amity.’

  The Jokaero babbled over the vox-channel.

  Zelia looked up at Mekki. ‘What’s he saying?’

  The Martian cocked his head to listen. ‘Captain Amity is there with him, on board the Profiteer, but…’

  ‘But what?’

  Mekki shook his head. ‘He is speaking too quickly.’ He spoke into his own vox. ‘Flegan-Pala, slow down. What is happening?’

  Zelia tapped her vox. ‘Hello? Are you still there?’

  Mekki frowned. ‘The signal is gone. Cut off at the source.’

  ‘So where does that leave us?’

  ‘In trouble,’ Talen yelled. ‘Look!’

  Zelia turned to see Nettle-Nekk charging towards them, his club held high above his head.

  ‘I’m gonna mash you, humies! Dis izz all your fault!’

  A colossal squig snapped at the warboss, but he batted the beast away with a swipe of his club.

  ‘How do you work that out?’ Talen yelled back, putting himself between the rampaging Ork and his friends.

  ‘Yer da ones who tricked me inta trappin’ da Biggun.’

  The squig shook off the blow and rounded on the boss. He swept his club low, taking out the monster’s legs.

  ‘And now me Orks are gettin’ battered. I wish I’d never laid eyes on ya!’

  The colossal squig slammed into the ground, setting off at least three of Zelia’s stink-mines.

  Sickly green smoke billowed all around.

  ‘Where is he?’ Zelia cried out, her eyes stinging.

  ‘’Ere I am!’ Nettle-Nekk bellowed, appearing through the sickly mist, his club swinging down. ‘Time to face da music!’

  ‘You got it!’ Talen yelled, swinging the guitar-launcher around. He struck a note and a bolt of sonic energy blasted into Nettle-Nekk’s chest. With a howl, the warboss was thrown back, his fake beard flipping up to cover his face. He hit the ground, and skidded, trying to prise the stinging nettles from his now blistered skin.

  ‘Dat really ’urts!’ he wailed, pulling the nettles clear. There was a snort behind him and Nettle-Nekk twisted to see that he had landed right in front of the Biggun. The colossal squig shot forwards, bursting out of its bonds, and swallowed Nettle-Nekk with a huge, satisfied gulp.

  The warboss was gone but the battle raged on, Orks and colossal squigs locked in mortal conflict. Talen spun around, planning his next move. The stink-mines had been exhausted, and the guitar-launcher’s strings had all snapped.

  ‘We’re going to have to run for it,’ Zelia said.

  ‘Maybe not,’ Mekki replied, raising a finger. ‘Listen.’

  The roar of a voidship’s engines filled the air.

  ‘It’s the Profiteer,’ Zelia exclaimed, spinning around, but her face fell.

  A ship was roaring towards them, but it didn’t belong to Harleen Amity.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The Zealot’s Heart

  ‘Who is that?’ Talen shouted above the roar of the engines.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Zelia admitted.

  The ship was pitch-black, with long tapered wings bristling with weapons that spat las-fire. All around them, Orks and squigs cried out as the greenskin warbuggies exploded into flames.

  Zelia pushed the others down as the craft thundered low over the battle before shooting back up past the mountain. It corkscrewed in the air, looping back for another pass.

  ‘Run!’ Talen yelled, pulling her back to her feet. ‘We need to get aw–’

  His words were lost as light danced over his body. Zelia looked on in horror as Talen dissolved in front of her, their shocked eyes meeting before he vanished.

  ‘W-what happened to him?’ she stammered, oblivious to the carnage.

  ‘It was a teleporter,’ Mekki said, grabbing her hand and running. Zelia felt the Martian’s skin tingle and looked down to see his hand glowing with the same unearthly light. In a second, Mekki was gone too.

  She was on her own.

  Zelia whirled around to see the mysterious spaceship launch missiles at the ground. Great clumps of earth were thrown into the air and she was blown back. She tried to get up, but her knees buckled beneath her, her legs like jelly.

  Her ears ringing, Zelia crawled through the dirt. Sweat stung her eyes and she tasted blood in her mouth, but she kept going, pulling herself forwards one hand at a time.

  A huge green foot slammed in front of her. She looked up to see an Ork looming over her, a ring through its nose and one eye hidden beneath a chipped wooden patch.

  ‘I’ll rip ya apart, ya little runt,’ he snarled, raising a massive fist. She screamed, thrusting her face into the dirt and throwing her arms over her head.

  The punch never landed.

  The stink of the battlefield was gone; the mud beneath her face was gone; the heat from burning fuel, gone. Zelia opened her eyes to see nothing but dancing light. She felt as if she was floating, her body lighter than it had ever been before. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even scream.

  She waited until the golden glare dimmed and she felt metal beneath her cheek. She shivered. It was cold. Too cold.

  She bolted up, suddenly aware that she was somewhere new. Her head spun and she fell forwards, only to be grabbed by strong hands.

  ‘Zelia, you’re okay,’ Talen whispered in her ear. ‘We’re safe. At least, I think we are.’

  There was a growl, deep and dangerous. She held onto Talen and looked around to see a large mechanical dog snarling at them, its metallic shoulders hunched and its eyes blazing red.

  ‘Where are we?’ she croaked.

  ‘On the ship,’ Mekki said, and she realised for the first time that the Martian was standing beside her.

  Her stomach flipped and she thought she was going to be sick. She gagged, swallowing hard.

  ‘You will not vomit,’ came an artificial voice. She looked up to see a servo-skull hovering above the growling cyber-mastiff, its fronds twitching. ‘You are on board the Zealot’s Heart, guests of Inquisitor Jeremias.’

  She gripped Talen’s arm all the harder. ‘Inquisitor?’

  The skull floated to the left to reveal a man sitting in front of a wide viewport. He had his back to them, his hands dancing over the controls. A klaxon sounded and the servo-skull squawked in alarm.

  ‘Incoming.’

  ‘I see it,’ the man said, with a voice like honey. He dipped the ship to the side, and a missile ripped past the viewport. ‘I think I’ve had enough of these xenos scum.’

  They swung around, the enormous statue of the Emperor lurching into view.

  ‘Sire, you can’t,’ the skull said, but the inquisitor raised a gloved hand. The floating familiar fell silent.

  ‘The greenskins have already desecrated the Emperor’s image,’ the man said, still not turning around. ‘They will be punished.’

  He pressed a button on the dashboard in front of him.

  Far below, One-Eye watched as the strange ship fired on the mountain, lasers slicing into the gigantic effigy.

  ‘LEG IT!’ he yelled as the face of the mountain crashed down on top of them, burying the Orks of Weald forever.

  The black ship flew through the cloud of dust that had been thrown up by the monumental rockslide and rocketed towards the stars.

  On the flight deck of the inquisitor’s ship, Zelia’s eyes flicked down to the cyber-mastiff. The robotic animal looked as though it was about to pounce.

  ‘Relax, Grimm,’ the inquisitor instructed, finally spinning around in his chair. His uniform was as immaculate as his hair.

  The hound stalked back at his command, growling all the time.

  ‘Good dog.’ The inquisitor rose from the pilot’s seat, indicating for the servo-skull to take his place. The familiar floated over to the controls, its telescopic limbs gripping levers and pressing buttons.

  The man walked towards them, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes were cold, the right side of his face covered in a metal mask.

  ‘Thank you,’ Zelia said, trying to sound as if she wasn’t terrified.

  He waved away the gratitude. ‘Please, I couldn’t leave children in the clutches of those filthy animals, could I? You three have led me a merry dance, do you know that?’ He stopped in front of the teleporter, looking at each of them in turn. ‘A girl, a boy and a Martian.’ He smiled. It wasn’t reassuring. ‘I heard your signal. Your cry for help.’

  ‘We were rescued,’ Talen stammered.

  ‘So I have heard,’ Jeremias replied. ‘By a rogue trader.’ His mouth curled into a sneer. ‘Captain Harleen Amity.’

  ‘You know her?’ Zelia asked.

  ‘Only by reputation.’ He snapped his gloved fingers. A hololith of Amity’s face appeared in the air beside him, holographic eyes brimming with resentment. ‘She is a wanted criminal. An enemy of the Imperium.’

  ‘She helped us,’ Zelia insisted.

  ‘Did she?’

  Another click and Amity’s face was replaced with a cogitator model of a very familiar coronet.

  Zelia’s mouth went dry.

  ‘I see from your faces you recognise this object,’ Jeremias continued. ‘The Diadem of Transference. A Necron relic.’

  ‘How do you know about that?’ Zelia asked, her legs turning to jelly again.

  ‘I have been searching for this weapon for many years.’

  ‘Weapon?’ Mekki asked.

  ‘Yes. A weapon. One that has already caused the destruction of Targian. You have it in your possession?’

  Zelia hung onto Talen. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Do you have the Diadem?’ Jeremias repeated, his tone hardening.

  She looked away. ‘No. It’s…’ Zelia sighed. ‘It’s on Amity’s ship.’

  The inquisitor’s jaw tightened. ‘Then we may already be too late. Harleen Amity didn’t rescue you. She wanted the Diadem and now she has it, abandoning you at the first opportunity.’

  ‘But what is she going to do with it?’ Zelia asked.

  Jeremias’s face was grave. ‘The Diadem? Sell it? Use it? I don’t know. But whatever happens, the fate of the entire Imperium rests in our hands.’

  ‘Why?’ Talen asked. ‘What are we going to do?’

  The inquisitor smiled. ‘We’re going to steal it back, of course…’

  GALACTIC COMPENDIUM

  PART FOUR

  ORKS

  The most common form of alien life in the universe, Orks are all brawn but very little brain. They live to make war, and will fight anyone, including each other. Orks aren’t born but are spawned from fungus, and despite their tiny nut-like brains they have a surprising affinity for machinery. Granted, most of their machines are bolted-together rust-buckets using tech stolen from other races, but Orks don’t care as long as it blows stuff up.