Crone World - Part 8

“Captain?” Reymalden again repeated.

Holm snapped out of his reverie, lowering his new bionic arm and listening to the almost silent whine of servomotors within it. “I’m sorry, Hospitalier.  What did you say?”

Reymalden shook his head.  “It will take some getting used to.  However, that is not what I had asked.  Do you think we have enough light to explore the wreck and make it back before nightfall?”

The wreck he spoke of was about a half a mile away, its profile looking very much like a deteriorated dorsal fin of a predator fish.  Holm squinted at the falling light to the east.

“We should have enough time,” Holm replied.  “I just hope that this wreck isn’t like the multitudes we’ve scouted today.”

“I hate wreck hunting,” Tulley muttered.  “Always something falling or leaping on you.”

They reached the ship and made a circuit around it.  It was a small vessel, smaller than the Death Spiral, and clearly wasn’t an Imperium ship.  It was boxy and rectangular.   On one of the exposed sides, there was a herald marker that Holm well recognized.  It belonged to a race that he fought with on his home planet after they invaded it under the guise of it being “for the Greater Good”.

The humans had found a Tau ship.

“It seems mostly intact,” Reymalden commented to no one in particular as he looked it over.  “The true test is how do we get in?”

“Why don’t we climb atop it and see if there is a way in there?” Holm replied, pointing to the upper edge of the ship.  “It’s obvious that there are no hatches on the sides that are not buried in sand.”

The trio clambered aboard the sunken wreck and found what they were looking for.  A small hatch, possibly for maintenance, beckoned to them.  After a possible entrance was found, the group resorted to a familiar pattern.  The Tech-Hospitalier would attempt to gain entry, while the Guardsmen stood watch for any threats.  In the past, Reymalden had no real difficulty in getting them inside but this time around proved to be far more problematic.  Holm knew they were in for a wait when the Hospitalier began cursing.

“Captain, contact,” Tulley said, handing over his binoculars to his commanding officer and pointed to the west.  Holm took them and brought them up to his eyes.  After fiddling with the magnification and focus, he saw something that made his blood run cold.

 Trudging towards the wreck they sat on was the group of Orks they had tangled with two days prior.  Holm lowered the binoculars and looked at Tulley.

“This is bad, isn’t it, sir?” the corporal remarked, peering at the approaching Orks over a wedge of metal he was using as cover.

“Possibly,” Holm replied, glancing a look over his shoulder at the priest.  Reymalden was still uttering curses to still unopen hatch, as if that would gain them access to the interior.  He crouched down and got closer to Tulley.  “I don’t think they’ve spotted us, if we-“

“ARGH!  THE OMNIMESSIAH TAKE YOU AND MELT YOU DOWN TO YOUR CONSTITUENT MATERIALS, MECHANISM!” Tech-Hospitalier histrionically screeched.

Captain Holm covered his face with his hand and rubbed it.  He then made eye contact with Tulley.

“But, they’ve probably heard us, sir,” Tulley said, glaring angrily at Reymalden.  The Hospitalier still impatiently worked on the hatch, but stopped after he sensed he was being watched.

“What?” he quizzically asked.

 Holm saw that the Orks did indeed hear the screech from the priest and were closing to investigate.  The captain calmly drew his autopistol, took careful aim, and fired a shot at the Ork leader.  The bullet whizzed past his head and the Ork did not even flinch.  Tulley leveled his Lasgun and took aim at the Ork on the leader’s right.

 “What are you doing?  Who are you firing at?” Reymalden said, standing.  When he caught sight of the Orks, he said, “Oh dear.  Did I do that?”  Not receiving a response from either soldier, he drew his Laspistol and also took aim at the Ork leader.

With a blood chilling cry of ‘WAAAAAAAAAAGH!’, the trio of Orks dashed down the side of the dune they had crested, making a beeline to the wreck where the humans stood. 

 Remembering well his prior injury, Holm hastily fired off a barrage of shots at the lead Ork.  All of them missed.  A snapping retort from Tulley’s rifle sounded and his target took the bolt to the chest, dropping him momentarily.  A shot from Reymalden’s Laspistol exploded at the metallic feet of the Ork leader, causing him to trip and fall onto his face.  Holm suppressed a desire to laugh, knowing that the reaction was natural, if it wasn’t in such dire circumstances.  He needed to focus, and to somehow stall the monsters from making it to their position.  Ignoring the leader, he swung his arm and fired twice at the Ork coming up on the right.  One of the rounds struck the Ork in the groin and it fell over in pain.

 “Shoot him!”  Holm shouted to Tulley, pointing at the Ork that he had just felled.   Tulley smoothly swung his rifle to aim at the new target and squeezed off a round.  It nailed the Ork in the head, causing its whole body to jerk. Reymalden, meanwhile, and moved up to Holm’s position and fired again at the downed Ork leader.  This time, the shot hit the Ork in his left leg, causing him to kick it as if he had been bitten.

Spitting the sand out of his gob, Mektoez’d angrily stood up and took aim with his Slugga at Mirrorface.  That humie was sure going to regret shooting him with that Squig nipper.  He was about to pull the trigger, when Bev fired his Shoota.  Mirrorface’s head jerked to the left and the humie slumped from sight.  Angrily, Mektoez’d turned to his right and yelled, “Oi! Dat wos mine, yer Squig shite sniffer!”  Bev flinched and averted his eyes. 

 Another bullet whizzed past Mektoez’d, causing a plume of fine sand to explode near his feet.  Turning, he saw Mek-arm taking aim at him.