The Warp.
The boiling ocean of primordial, immaterial substance is a realm of psychic existence, a domain of infinite, fickle change.
Nine armed transports of the House von Valancius, cocooned in the bubbles of their Geller fields, flickered and writhed as they navigated the stable route.
Suddenly, a dazzling, multicolored light flared, unleashing a violent tempest.
The nine bubbles tumbled and drifted, thrown off course.
The Connaught, an armed transport of Rogue Trader House von Valancius, shuddered violently.
On the bridge, lumen lights flickered.
The bright light took on an eerie, blue tinge.
Ibrahema, the fleet's commanding captain, opened a comm channel.
"Mr. Visscher, I need to know what's happening?"
Eerie calls, intermingled with sporadic roars, sounded over the vox channel.
A dozen seconds later, a weak voice came through.
"Captain, we have strayed from our course."
"Can you guide the fleet back?"
Silence stretched for dozens of seconds. The Navigator's voice sounded again, thick with exhaustion.
"Unfortunately, no." He paused. "We cannot reach the Abyss Port..."
Ibrahema had been ordered to lead the fleet from the Rogue Trader's agri-world of Zavarich, transporting agricultural products to Abyss Port, the largest port in the Coronid New Zone.
"A sudden tide has carried us to another abyss. A true abyss..."
"Grail."
A chill seeped through the vox channel, striking Ibrahema.
The Grail Abyss.
The most dangerous region in the Coronid New Zone. Ork territory.
Ibrahema had read the house's voyage logs. Even when the Mitus's bloody grip had tightened around the entire Coronid Deeps, their tentacles had not reached into the Grail Abyss.
Endless Orks filled the entire star region.
After Lord Nareth and the Shadows of Order liberated the Coronid Deeps, Grail remained an abyss.
Ships deliberately avoided this star region, shunning this invisible forbidden zone.
"You must find a way! Now!" Ibrahema's breath came in ragged gasps, his usual respectful tone towards the Imperial nobility gone.
"Unfortunately, there is no way."
951.M30.
The Geller fields dissipated in rippling waves of radiation. The nine ships were flung to different star systems within the Grail Abyss.
Piercing shrieks echoed within the Warp drives, guiding the energy used to tear open the gate to the Immaterium. The energies churned, building to critical mass.
The engine cores melted and deformed. The internal energy surged to dangerous levels, drawing power from the differential state between the Warp dimension and realspace.
A peculiar circular radiation emanated from the bloated mass of intertwined matter and energy, its entire spectrum clearly visible.
The radiation spread, its light outshining the orange glow of the star, illuminating the void.
The Orks of the asteroid belt were the first to notice the intruders. They shouted in unison: "Waaagh!"
The Connaught's massive, cylindrical plasma drives roared to life. The violent emergency translation back to realspace left trails of flame and debris, carving bright scars across the Grail Abyss.
On the bridge, Ibrahema roared: "Chief Helmsman, brake! Restart the Warp drive!"
"Mr. Visscher, you must plot a new course. Anywhere! Just get us out of this damned greenskin abyss..."
He stared nervously at the hololithic tactical display, then sucked in a cold breath. It was thick with red runes.
Threat vectors spiked. The terrifying numbers defied his imagination.
Ibrahema looked up at the view screen.
A hundred or so makeshift junks drifted into view.
Behind them was an asteroid, its surface a thousand jagged peaks.
"Open fire! Master of Ordnance, fire!..."
Ibrahema gripped the edge of the hololithic tactical table. Parallel laser runes flashed. Torpedo launch trajectories arced.
Yet the red runes continued to roll in.
The Ork attack had no tactical finesse. They simply surged forward.
The Connaught, without even turning, fired its broadside guns at the entangled enemy vessels.
Ibrahema gave no further orders. He stared at the approaching behemoth.
He sighed softly and looked up at the main view screen.
Orks, each with a crude rocket pack, lifted off from the asteroid. Their gaping maws roared incessantly.
Boom!
Ibrahema drew his chainsword and planted it on the deck.
He pushed his respirator up, covering his face, and turned to the viewport.
Molten glass rained down. Grotesque rocks, wreathed in fire, crashed in.
Roar...
Thousands of green-skinned monsters, tusks jutting from their jaws, poured in like a cloud of fungal spores.
"For von Valancius!" Ibrahema raised his Vostoyan-pattern laspistol, a gift from Rogue Trader Lewis, and aimed at the green flesh wreathed in flame.
Zap!
His body swayed slightly. The las-beam still struck the Ork in its right eye.
The blazing beam hissed through the Ork's brain.
Thud!
The Ork's corpse crashed down. Molten fluid leaked from its shattered skull.
"Waaagh!"
A massive figure, at least two heads taller than the other Orks, roared and charged straight at Ibrahema.
Its huge foot stomped on a rolling, diving officer.
With a sickening crunch, the officer was flattened.
Zap!
Ibrahema's las-beam hit a jumble of scrap metal. Black smoke hissed upwards.
The Ork didn't slow. Its shadow, cast by the flickering lumen lights, engulfed Ibrahema's smaller frame.
The nauseating stench of fungus assaulted his nostrils, penetrating his filter plugs.
Ibrahema's stomach churned. He felt like retching.
He clenched his teeth. His spasming fingers kept pulling the trigger.
Zap, zap, zap...
Blazing beams splashed against the crude scrap metal armor. Black smoke billowed.
Ibrahema activated the rune on his Vostoyan-pattern chainsword. The motor roared. The teeth vibrated.
He ducked under a sweeping blow from a serrated choppa, slashing with his chainsword while continuing to fire.
Amidst the shrieking grind of metal, sparks flew. Broken bits of scrap from the Ork's waist clattered to the deck.
The Ork grinned, raised his choppa, and brought it down on Ibrahema's chainmail.
Clang!
The furious force drove the serrated blade through multiple layers of cast iron plate.
The Ork kicked the body aside and shouted to his Mekboyz, who were carrying wrenches and other tools.
"Boyz, get all da ummie stuff! Bring it back!"
"Vigil will take ya to da ummie worlds!"
"Waaagh!" the Ork Warlord Vigil bellowed.
The Ork boyz howled "Waaagh!" excitedly following their Warlord deeper into the ship.
...
A standard year later.
A million throats roared in unison.
The fleets of nine Ork Warlords, gathered around their asteroid fortress, departed the Grail Abyss.
The rolling green tide, like a breached dam, surged towards the Soshyan Passage.
....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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