A Business Proposition

Administrator Vileska Seranda strode surely down to the conference chamber of her administratum building with intense purpose, trailed by a her personal secretary and a slew of armed soldiers. Takkov III was soon to come under siege by a Chaos Warband and the Planetary Governor had tasked her specifically with seeking aid. Their PDF was strong and the Warband was thankfully a minor one, but Takkov was by no means able to handle the horrors of a band of fallen space marines drunk on the powers of the Warp all on their own. And with such little loyalist space marine presence in the area, Seranda was forced to turn to alternative measures. Thankfully for her, Takkov III was situated near Krumpus Bay, the legendary space station and meeting place of all sorts of dregs of the galaxy. Rogue Traders, orkish tribes (mostly hailing from the Freebooterz clan, but there was a sizeable amount of Blood Axes and Deathskullz in the region, as well), Eldar Corsairs as well as Dark Eldar of all varieties, mixed race mercenary bands, and anything else that manages to slip through the galactic cracks that dominated this sector in lieu of any form of actual authority. This is also where Seranda had the misfortune of growing up until she clawed her way into the service of a Rogue Trader and finally came to “retire” into the services of the Planetary Governor. Using contacts from her former life, the Administrator was able to get word out of her plight without the forces of Chaos catching wind, and received word back of a band of ork Freebooterz that were willing to fight for their cause. For a price, of course, but then, nothing ever came free in this sector.

Upon hearing of these “Scraplootas” and their acceptance of her offer, Seranda set immediately to work gathering up as much information as she could about them, from the most outrageous rumor to the verifiable facts, and what she had found intrigued her, to say the least. For starters was the undeniable truth that they did indeed possess an Imperator-class Chaos Titan, as their warboss’ name of Urtylug Dursnik Titanloota suggested. Everything beyond that, however, was mere rumor and hearsay, though it was amusing hearsay. Things like them being so sneaky they could infiltrate the ground itself, that they could destroy Space Hulks with but a thought, and that they managed to take on a Necron Tomb World. The administrator’s personal favorite was the little rumor that they were so lucky, some of their tribe was actually blue. Well, it was about time she separated the fact from the fiction of these Scraplootas she thought to herself as sat down at the table were the deal was to be struck. She knew the importance of first impressions, so she had made sure that her guests were kept waiting until she prepared herself with her retainer of veteran guard a dozen strong, bolstered further by two ogryn among them to give her entourage a little more size presence that she knew as one of the only things orks respected. After she got everything she situated, she called for the servitor to allow them entry.

It seemed her business associate was either very dumb or very confident, as the warboss had only brought three orks with him, five if you counted the two gretchin that clung to the boss, two of what she identified as kommandos and what Seranda surmised to be a mechanic, most likely the Big Mek if her knowledge of orks was right.  While the two kommandos stood guard on either side of them, the Big Mek and Warboss Urtylug took two of the many chairs laid out in the conference room as one of the warboss’s two gretchins poured some sort of foul liquid in what looked to be an upside down Necron skull with a handle and other orky bits crudely welded to it. Well it looks like at least one of those rumors is true. Seranda could’ve sworn that the skull still glowed faintly green and had an almost depressed air about it, but she was too focused on the tiny little tau child that the Big Mek had hauled from out of sight and dumped unceremoniously atop the conference table. She was covered in various nicks and bruises that one would expect to occur when living with orks, but didn’t look particularly mistreated. On the contrary, she seemed rather well off. Dressed in a grimy orkish breastplate and weathered leather pants covered in tools and patches, she actually looked well fed and even rather muscular, more so than most tau the well traveled administrator had come across, which was admittedly few. The child didn’t seem to pay much attention to the room she was in, giving it a cursory inspection and then opting instead to busy herself with shining her spiked helmet or playing with the little squig beast (was it…wearing goggles?) she had with her. It looks like another of their rumors had some validity to them. Noticing that the Big Mek was glaring at her angrily, Administrator Seranda recollected herself and went on with the negotiations, lest the one about them blowing up space hulks with a stare prove true as well. So much for first impressions.

“Greetings, Warboss Urtylug, and welcome to Takkov III. I trust you had no problems slipping past the Warband”

“Dem Chaosboys is always underestimatin orks. We’z gonna help you stomp em with our titan!” Urtylug took a smug sip of his drink, before staring her dead in the eye and adding “So long as da pay is good.”

“Right to business, then. Much better than dealing with a Rogue Trader. I was think we could–”

“Me an’ me boys get first jump at da Chaosboy loot.” Urtylug interrupted “An’ everything else I’z put in da contract.”

“Contract?” Seranda repeated incredulously.

“Aye. Me contract. Lookit ’ere if you would please” the warboss stated in a professional tone (for an ork) as he handed her a grimy slip of paper with crude handwriting and egregious misspellings on it. As Seranda read the “Kontrakt”, she found it was more of a checklist of demands, specifically for
“Dem armory bitz from yer mek shops”
“Mor dakka”
“A tacks ov dakka an bitz”

“Wait, a “tacks”, as in a yearly tithe?” Seranda questioned.

“What else would it be ya git? Normally we ask fer summa da boyz, too, but you ain’t orks so you ain’t worth da trouble. Consider it a discount, seein as we get ta krump more Chaosboys. Now get ta signin if ya want our help.”

Seranda sighed, as a whirlwind of questions danced in her head. A tax? Where in the Warp did orks learn about taxation? Would they even remember to collect? Is this how they ended up with that tau of theirs? Why did their warboss have so many mugs? Regardless, she signed the grimy scrap of paper and handed it back to the orks, dismissing them. She noticed that the Big Mek, with another glare towards Seranda, simply hauled the little tau over his shoulder as she continued to remain uninterested in current affairs as an ogryn voiced his wonderment at how remarkable the warboss’s handwriting was. Seranda could not even begin to think of all the ways this was a terrible idea, but what else could she do? Tarkov III would fall without outside assistance, and these orks were the only ones to answer the call. And with a titan at that. She couldn’t think of anything the planet had that was valuable enough to bother fighting a titan over.

“The Govnah ain’t gonna like this one. Not one bit.” Seranda’s secretary warned her.

“Then I will have to remind him that he is alive enough to dislike this. Now if you will excuse me, I need a damned drink after...whatever that just was.” Seranda said, retiring to her personal quarters.

“Sure thing, Vils, I’ll take care of the mess like I always do, you just go sleep off that hangover you’re about t’give yourself like you always do.” Her longtime friend chuckled, heading off towards his desk.

The moment she found her room, Seranda grabbed the fullest bottle of the most alcoholic liquid she could find and drained it. First chaos, and now these bizarre Freebooterz had to go and make a headache out of what was supposed to be an easy job. Overseeing PDF drills, ensuring the foundries were running at max efficiency, ensuring these orks don’t just get bored and decide to murder everything. The next few weeks were going to be anything but easy. She collapsed on her bed and allowed her weariness and the alcohol to overtake her and dozed off.

Fucking orks.