Lao Ganma had never been this afraid before. Not even when several Ork Boyz had chased him around the garbage heaps of the camp, intending to roast and eat him, had he been this terrified. Only Gork knew what those humies were going to do to him.
Damn it!
The sound of a Lasgun charging rose beside Lao Ganma. He immediately adjusted himself into a prone posture and begged the guardsmen for mercy.
"Don't kill me! Don't kill me! I'm useful! Useful!"
The Lasgun's charging sound continued, gradually stabilizing. It seemed the one holding the gun was genuinely considering Lao Ganma's proposal.
"Did I hear that wrong? Was he speaking Low Gothic?"
"He was speaking Low Gothic. He was begging for mercy and saying he was useful."
"What should we do?"
"Get the officer and let him take a look."
Several soldiers stood guard around the wretched Gretchin, while one was sent to find Sergeant Lede.
Lede came over and asked about the situation. Seeing the wretched Gretchin's trembling body, he asked, "Tell me what you know. If it isn't useful, we'll skin you and roast you."
"Ahhh! No! No! I know! I know everything! I know what our Ork boss wants to do! How he wants to fight! I even know how many dakka and choppas we've got!"
Lede stroked his chin. He did not understand how the Orks' military hierarchy worked. He only knew that the bigger an Ork was, the tougher it was, but he still decided to ask first.
"Then tell me. If you do, I won't kill you."
"No! No! You ain't Gut-Shaker. You don't got a hat or a really cool coat! I'll only talk to Gut-Shaker."
After pondering what this heavily Ork-accented "Gut-Shaker" was supposed to mean, Lede laughed. These Orks were actually