Aboard the ships lower deck, few hours later.
The stench of rot and burnt wiring filled the lower decks. Hazy emergency lights pulsed overhead, casting sickly crimson shadows over shattered crates and torn bulkheads.
Sskarn-of-the-Third-Brood, a 2 meter tall alien creature that looks like a humanoid lizard and the second in command of the raiding claw a notorious pirate group, hissed in satisfaction as he pried open a sealed container with a flick of his scaly arms.
"Medical stock, Sseth's tongue smiles on us tonight those nomads sure are rich."
"My brothers let us have a feast tonight"
"Whooooooo"
Multiple cries coming from pirates of different races rang in the lower deck as they tallied the loot they gathered.
.
Varlisk, his right hand, a human looking creatures but with purple skin and 3 eyes tapped at a holographic device in his arms. "you should have left some alive boss. Most were healthy. Could've sold 'em to the Slavers' Guild in the Oort Reach. Even used them for engine toil."
Sskarn didn't look up. He tore a neural core from a damaged drone and tossed the husk aside. "Let them rot. These humans? Weak, Soft. They can barely hold tools without bleeding."
Further down the deck, another pirate hissed over the comms.
"Found ration units. Mostly intact. Organic synthesis packs, meat-type beta."
Varlisk: "Toss it. Human food stinks of iron and oil."
A fourth Vraxxian, Iztok, knelt over a half-cracked container.
"Radiation marks on this one. Possible reactor fragments. Something broke loose down here."
Sskarn's frills twitched. "We strip what we can and vent the rest. Move fast."
"Why the rush?" Varlisk asked, wiping his new blade- or to be more precise a blade he looted from the armory.
"Varlisk eyed him. "What's the rush? Still scared of shadows?"
Sskarn finally looked at him, eyes cold and black as oil. "No shadows. Something... wrong. This wreck feels... off. It starts to smells wrong, and it's not due to the corpses"
He paused. Then added with a gravelly click:
"Besides, we don't want him angry."
At that, Varlisk flinched. Even his third eye twitched. "...Red Mael Zun. You really think he's watching this haul?"
Sskarn growled. "He watches everything. Always. You know what happens when he's disappointed."
"Stil-" before Varlisk finished his terminal rang and a desperate voice was heard."Motion on Deck 5. Not human. Large—wait—what is that—?"
Bzzzt
"Chenro report your situation!" Varslik couldn't help but should to his terminal a bad feeling suddenly hit him then-
"WAAAAAGHHHH"
A howl tore through the corridor, shrieking and guttural.
"WAAAAAGHHHH!!!"
CLANG.
CLANG.
CLANG.
The pirates froze.
Metal groaned. The floor shook. Then the sound of tearing bulkhead—followed by the unmistakable roar of an Ork boy.
Bootlicka came barreling through a collapsing doorway, screaming, grinning, and swinging a jagged, rusted cleaver. His bulk hit like a wrecking ball, smashing a pirate against the wall with a wet crunch.
Behind him, four more Orks spilled out of the shadows—freshly grown from spore-buds Kael had no idea were even present. They were smaller, twisted, half-formed—but they carried pipes, wrenches, and sharp scrap metal—and their armor made from pieced up metal painted with red blood.
And red means-They were fast.
"BOSS SAYS KRUMP 'EM!" Bootlicka bellowed. "SO I KRUMP 'EM!"
The pirates panicked. A grenade bounced off the wall—and an unlucky Ork was hit causing it to explode in a thundercloud of smoke and flame.
However when the smoke disappeared everyone was shocked- the ork with half of it's torso blasted kept moving forward as if it was nothing.
Sskarn roared, claws flashing as he lunged forward to meet the charge. He slammed into one of the biggest Ork, only for it to latch on with both arms, laughing maniacally even as it was bisected.
Varlisk drew his curved blades, slicing Bootlicka across the chest—only for it to keep laughing as it bit into his shoulder.
Before he could react his neck was grabbed by bootlicka as he maniacally laughed
Bootlicka surged into the chaos, laughing, cutting, stomping. "YOU SMELL FUNNY, PURPLE BOY! YOUZ GOT THREE EYES—DAT'S TOO MANY!"
WAGHHHH!!!
The other orks were not idle either as they began to throw watever they have to the pirates with some even using nothing but their fang biting the faces off of the pirates.
"Boys! We'z rippin' 'em good! Dey squeal funny! One of 'em 'ad three eyeballs! Dat's like two more targets!"
WAAAAGHHHH
motivated by how brutal bootlicka was the other orks began to tear into their targets more. "OI, BOYZ! KEEP KRUMPN' DEEZ GITZ! SMASH DERE HEADZ, NICK DERE TEEF, AN' GRAB ALL DA SHINY BITZ!"
Looking at this scene the remaining pirates couldn't help but shiver, no matter how many fights they have been this was probably the most brutal. Watching your comrade be smashed and chewed by green skinned brutes before using the equipment they took to kill more Pirates was enough to mentally destroy these henchmens.
As the orks rampage the number if pirates began to dwindle and in the end only 5 remained from around 20 after killing the half grown orks.
Meanwhile bootlicka was having the fun of his life chasing the 2 leader of the pirates"STOP RUNNIN', YA SNEAKY GITZ! COME 'ERE AN' FIGHT ME PROPA-LIKE, FACE TA FACE!"
Somewhere between the shriek of twisted metal and the wet *splortch* of a pirate skull caving in, Kael realized two things.
One: Bootlicka was multiplying.
Two: the pirates are getting massacred.
He sat slouched in the captain's chair, one boot resting against the flickering console, his mind connecting to the "ork server" allowing him to hear the thoughts of some ork.
"Boss! Dere's more boyz now! One popped outta a vent! Another grew outta da mess hall wall! DA WAAAGH'S SPREADIN'!"Bootlicka's voice cracked through the intercom.
Kael realized the reason. "the bontanical section"
He'd read once—barely—about Orks reproducing through spores. He remembered his friend explaining it over pizza, laughing about how Orks were basically walking bio-hazards. He hadn't paid much attention then.
But he was paying attention now.
Bootlicka's feed came into focus again. The massive Ork was mid-rampage, a looted gun in one hand, blood-dripping axe in the other. Around him, at least six new Orks were rampaging through the corridors. Some were smaller, patchy, and malformed—like half-baked green nightmares. But they were fast, vicious, and seemed to "worship" Bootlicka as a warboss already.
Down on Deck 5, the screams hadn't stopped.
Varlisk was bleeding from one arm, his third eye sealed shut with congealed blood. Sskarn's armor was torn, burns melting parts of his shoulder. They'd tried to rally the remaining pirates, but the green monstrosities came in surprise.
"Fall back to the hangar!" Sskarn barked, dragging a wounded pitate by the collar. "We regroup, radio the ship, and call in reinforcements!"
Varlisk spat blood. "We're being overrun by... by fungus! Laughing fungus!"
Bootlicka thundered after them, laughing. "RUN, YA PURPLE PANSIES! I'Z GONNA EAT YER LEGS AND MAKE A DRUM OUTTA YER FACE!"
He flung a looted grenade at the retreating pirates. It bounced once, twice, then exploded in a "whoomph" of blue flame and shrapnel hitting the engine of the pirates ship.
---
Back in the control room, Kael heard all of it through the psychic link.
That Ork mini. A gift from his friend . "You'll love this guy," he had said. *"Name him whatever you want." He said
Then the lightning struck. Along with his gaming rig. And then everything went white.
And now?
Now he was sitting in the corpse of a nomad captain with a growing army of psychotic fungal warriors under his command.
"…Am I the boss of a WAAAGH?" Kael whispered to no one in particular.
The wall buzzed.
"Boss?" Bootlicka's voice again. "Dere's more boyz poppin' outta da vents. Dey keep lookin' at me, askin' who's boss. I told 'em YOU is."
Kael swallowed. "That's... great. That's totally normal. Keep—uh—keep them busy. Smash more pirates."
"SMASHIN' IZ ME FAVORITE, BOSS!" Bootlicka shouted joyfully. "OI, BOYZ! KRUMP ANYFING DAT AIN'T GREEN!"
---
In the 3rd deck of the nomad ship Sskarn who barely escape after savrifing most of his people slammed his claw on the comm unit.
"Broadcast this: Priority Echo Red. Under attack. Hostile xeno infestation. A third of us are down, We need extraction before they reach us."
There was silence.
Then a voice.
Low. Crackling.
"...You lost a raid to humans?" a deep voice rang in the coms
Sskarn flinched. "No, my lord. It's not the humans. It's something *else*. Something worse."
A long pause.
Then:
"Hold your position. I will come personally."