After a perilous descent, Dalia and her escort soon reached Grak's territory under his protection and brought the wounded guards to the Mad Dok.
Though they were among the finest of the Orks, the guards' injuries were so severe that they had all lost consciousness.
Dalia insisted on taking a look, partly out of gratitude for their willingness to risk their lives to protect her, and partly because she was interested in Ork medical techniques.
In the Mad Dok's clinic, she stood to one side and watched as the Mad Dok and his Snotling assistants worked on the guards. The clinic was typically Orkish, littered with massive bionic limbs, filthy medical instruments, and operating tables.
This hospital had nothing whatsoever to do with cleanliness or order. It reeked of blood, garbage, and all manner of rotting organs mixed together.
That unnatural stench made Dalia's stomach churn again from the moment she entered.
She had thought the doctors, who were always muttering to themselves, would treat the wounded with their professional knowledge. Instead, they merely cleaned the patients from head to toe before carrying out some bizarre rituals.
But in the end, they did use some pungent medicines.
Miraculously, after the rituals and medication, the most severely injured guard actually twitched slightly, then began to regain consciousness.
One of the Mad Doks left the patient and went to report to Grak, who stood beside Dalia.
"They'll be fine, Boss Grak. Them bullets gotta come out later. Our buzzsaw just broke, but a new one'll be here soon."
The Mad Dok in a gray mask shook his head.
"Those gits dared attack the guards? They've got some real nerve."
"You don't need to concern yourself with that. Just get them recovered as soon as possible."
The one who answered him was not