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Terry surveyed his surroundings carefully. The shipping‑container Voidship was smoking behind him inside a shallow crater. His ears still rang from the loud boom of the crash landing and it was a miracle that all three of them had somehow survived.

Grimskarg, clad in full battle gear, was retrieving a pair of choppas from the Voidship when he suddenly spun around. He had sensed hostiles nearby. Slowly, his nature took over and he could feel battle rage rising within him.

Estrenelle was also in battle mode. She had donned her helmet and, like Grimskarg, sensed enemies upon them. She crouched behind a large rock and beckoned Terry over. Terry scurried across and retrieved a pair of binoculars from his breast pocket.

From a distance, Terry spotted a small crowd of humanoid lifeforms moving directly toward them.

The group advanced slowly. At the front were about thirty humans dressed in rags, followed by strange beings behind them. Through his binoculars, Terry could just make out the silhouettes – third arms protruding from their forms.

“Damn,” he muttered. “Genestealers…”

He trained his binoculars further toward the rear of the procession. A rugged, rusty tank came into view. Its hatch was open and Terry spotted its commander staring back at him through his visual aid. The commander pointed in his direction and shouted to his troops. The whole detachment picked up speed and Terry saw glimmers as the infantry drew their weapons.

Terry ducked back behind the rock and did a quick calculation. They were up against perhaps fifty enemies and a tank. Not exactly a battle they could win.

He glanced at Estrenelle crouching beside him. Her battle armour was bony grey. A Shuriken pistol was strapped to her thigh and a long spear was tied across her back. She turned to look at him.

“Do you reckon they’re up for… urm… talking?” Terry asked.

“Don’t think so,” replied Estrenelle. “Are you going to be doing the usual with him?” She nodded toward Grimskarg.

Grimskarg had retrieved his weapons and was slowly moving toward the advancing adversaries. Once he was like this, there was no talking, no reasoning – only fight. Orks were Orks, after all.

Estrenelle stepped in front of Grimskarg, blocking his path. She leaned closer and said, “You see that tank over there?”

“Yeh, I’z gonna chop dat up!” snarled Grimskarg. “Git outta me zoggin’ way!”

“Leave that to me,” Estrenelle said firmly. “Later, that tank WILL explode and you can handle the rest of the infantry. More kills, yeah?”

Terry observed the exchange. He noticed Estrenelle was hinting heavily at the “will” part of the tank exploding as if it were already a foregone conclusion. Before he had time to dwell on this, Grimskarg’s patience had run out and he began to charge toward the advancing enemies.

Terry chased after Grimskarg and leapt onto his back. His legs fit snugly into a pair of leather boots sewn directly onto the Ork’s shoulder garb. He reached over his back and readied his Lasgun.

“E’re we go!” bellowed Grimskarg as he charged headlong into battle.

Previous: Episode 3

Terry pranced about the Voidship, currently docked in one of the many shadier Starports around Gustanov. At this altitude, gravity was barely felt. His ferro-magnetic boots made a soft clicking sound each time he landed a step and space walking generally meant at least one foot had to remain in contact with the floor – lest one floated away.

Grimskarg was rummaging through an open electrical panel at the rear of the ship, his massive behind blocking sight of whatever he was doing. Estrenelle was already strapped into her seat, fiddling with a strange Aeldari gadget. Terry noticed there was only one more open seat. Weren’t there three of them? He counted his fingers.

Millions of questions echoed through Terry’s mind.

“Why is this ship shaped like a shipping container? Wait… this IS a shipping container?!”

“Don’t we need a Navigator for void traverse?”

And lastly, the most important part…

“Why the hell am I here?“

His mind drifted back to The Existential Crisis, where Grimskarg had excitedly shoved a glowing stone into his face.

“See dis?” growled Grimskarg. “Dis rock’z got da powah ta juice up a voidship – biggest zoggin’ one dere eva wuz!”

According to him, a Grot had come across this stone from a crashed Rogue Trader ship, and a survivor mentioned something about a “Planet wiv da shine.” One world matched this description, and Grimskarg had dragged the trio onto his shipping-container excuse of a voidship, apparently to “help wiv da zoggin’ gov’ment trubble-paperz fer travellin’.”

Having served as a chef on board a Rogue Trader’s Voidship himself, Terry offered a silent prayer to the crashed ship. Technically, he was still employed but he had stopped receiving work instructions months ago. Terry did not pursue this, as his Rogue Trader boss operated with mysterious intent – and after all, he was still paid every month.

He slowly walked toward the front of the rusted shipping container. There was a single panel and a big red button, with no other instruments or monitors typical of any spacefaring vessel. He squatted down and peered under the big red button.

Estrenelle had put away her gadget and was staring absentmindedly out of a square opening, probably intended as a window. Terry waved at her and pointed at the button.

“It’s not even connected to anything?” he whimpered.

“Matter not, my friend. All is well,” replied Estrenelle with a smile.

Terry staggered to the remaining seat.

“This doesn’t make sense. I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“If it makes you feel better, you can excrete right through this open window!” said Estrenelle.

Terry’s face gained the same greenish hue as a Death Guard for a moment. Weren’t they in space? What was he even breathing? Resigning himself to the fact that logic somehow didn’t apply that day, Terry strapped in and fastened his seatbelt.

“Youse ladz ready? Den let’z stomp!” bellowed Grimskarg as he rushed past them toward the control panel. Without hesitation, he pressed the big red button and Terry shut his eyes as hard as he could.

Meanwhile, from the Starport’s observation window, a human spotted a strange glimmer as a shipping container suddenly glowed yellow and vanished without a trace. She rubbed her eyes and stared.

Maintenance worker FYP-12521 Stellar Linsaless shrugged and returned to her duties.

Previous: Episode 2 | Next: Episode 4

Estrenelle was deep in thought when the human sitting beside her started waving frantically. Her eyes glowed for a split second as she continued to quietly sip her drink. The Mercaturian humans sure had a knack for brewing interesting concoctions.

The pair observed as Grimskarg thundered across the Tavern before planting himself firmly on the last remaining chair. The chair groaned under the immense weight of the Ork and from both of their points of view, the Ork seemed to be floating mid‑air as the tiny chair disappeared out of sight.

The human was the first to speak.

“Hey, I think that worked,” he said.

“Shiny lightz flash, the ladz move!” replied Grimskarg.

Orks had no concept of time, which had resulted in many missed gatherings much to the annoyance of Estrenelle. That led their human companion to physically attach a contraption onto the Ork. It only had one light. When the light went on, the Ork moved to the Tavern. Simple stuff. Estrenelle had watched in wonder as the human drilled a mounting bracket directly onto the Ork’s chest. It greatly surprised her that the device was still intact after a few weeks.

Estrenelle watched her companions continue to banter and felt a sense of peace washing over her. Back at her Craftworld, she had been shunned by her peers because, apparently, she was too laid‑back. A feat considering her lifespan, which was ten times longer than the average human (and maybe one hundred times for Orks).

The Aeldari were a proud race who once ruled the stars. Now their civilization was on the verge of decline with low birth rates and this particular Craftworld recently suffered high battle casualties due to a massive ambush by Chaos forces. They drifted onto the edge of the Sector almost by chance and had been anchored firmly in place ever since, focusing on rebuilding their devastated population.

With the massive attention on rebuilding the population and their combat forces, it was hardly surprising that Estrenelle’s peers shunned her for her easy‑going and introverted nature. This was where she found the company of her alien companions weirdly endearing.

Perhaps a bit of context is needed here. Estrenelle was laid‑back, but only if viewed through Aeldari lenses. She had over seventy years of training as a Howling Banshee under the personal tutelage of an Exarch. That Exarch perished during the last battle, and Estrenelle quickly withdrew back to her reclusive nature.

Her glass was empty. She raised it and nodded to a nearby hovering Service‑droid. Within moments, the same droid returned with a filled glass. As it passed the trio on the way to its next customer, its exhaust gently lifted the Aeldari’s hood, revealing the slim and tender face underneath.

The Tavern fell silent. Estrenelle could feel every gaze landing upon her. Some felt hostile, some fearful, but most were filled with admiration.

Based on Mercaturian beauty standards, Estrenelle could participate in any random pageant and win it on the spot. Her features were sharp and her pale skin emitted a faint yellowish glow. Her silky red hair, tied in a high ponytail, now fluttered about in the breeze of the Tavern’s air blowers.

Her companions, however, paid her face little attention. Perhaps they had seen each other too often to be amazed by just a face reveal. Or perhaps they had seen the many unsightly versions of this same face covered in puke, dirt, or grime.

Estrenelle paid little heed to the other guests of the Tavern as her attention was fully on her two companions. She let out a small smile, the tiniest lift at the corners of her lips.

She intended to savour every single moment of this gathering.

Previous: Episode 1 | Next: Episode 3

The streets of Gustanov were often littered with debris from both the passage of time and its inhabitants, which consisted of many species within Sector Mercatura. Classified as a Hive World by Imperial standards, it had long built its reputation as the travel hub where the Resonance paths converged. The discovery of Resonance paths allowed near‑instantaneous travel around specific nodes within the Sector, much to the delight of short‑lifespan species who could not endure year‑long voyages across the cosmos.

A lone figure emerged from Resonance Gate XO‑1335. He swung a brown sack over his shoulder, stepped off the platform onto the streets, took a left turn, and marched on with purposeful strides. He had an appointment to catch.

The Ork was dressed in full leather. A cap covered his bald head, exposing his lower jaws. An Ork roaming about the Sector would hardly raise any eyebrows, but very few Orks were as presentable as this one. Most simply walked around looking and smelling like rotten carcasses.

The street he was on was particularly deserted at this hour. A lone stall had its owner distracted with a holo‑projector strapped to his head, while a nearby feline crept ever closer to the displayed merchandise. A display of sizzling meats of unknown origin spanned the entire stall, emitting a foul odour.

The figure marched on without breaking stride. Orks, after all, do not have a keen sense of smell. The same, however, did not apply to other unfortunate souls within breathing distance of one. It was equally unfortunate that Orks didn’t care.

The Ork took another junction and descended to the lower streets. Here, the pedestrian density grew, and music and light displays were more profound. Sized well above the crowd average, he had little trouble navigating as the crowd parted before him, scattered by the sheer intimidation of his size (or smell).

A drone from the Tau Empire buzzed closer but hurriedly whimpered away after the Ork flashed a murderous grin at its camera. A few League of Votann Pioneers made a dramatic show of loudly complaining about the smell and putting their helmets on. A nearby Blood Raven Intercessor guarded a stationary Rhino in the middle of a hurried paint job. Remnants of blue and a white “U” symbol were still present, betraying the Rhino’s original Chapter colours.

The Ork quickened his pace. His destination was close. At last, he stepped off the street into a tavern. The doors creaked open, and the human operators greeted him. Almost immediately, the indoor air purifiers hummed loudly, sensing a new source of biological contamination.

The tavern Existential Crisis was on the smaller side of a typical meal shack. Its owners had jokingly said that the name came from their experience dealing with bureaucrats during the startup. A marvel of human technology – and perhaps the main selling point of this particular tavern – might just be its air purifiers. No other taverns nearby were as inviting for multiple species with different biological excretions. It even hosted a gigantic toilet complex consisting of 23 different layouts and flushing methods.

The Ork spotted his companions at a table at the far left of the hall. A human looked up and frantically waved. A second hooded figure remained indifferent while sipping from a crystal glass.

Grimskarg grinned. For once, he was right on time.

Next: Episode 2