The Unyielding, a Gretchin Ember-class Assault Cruiser, sailed at the very front of the blue constellation. Her captain was a one-eyed old Gretchin named Iron Guts. He had been among the first slaves to rise up with Liu Zhipeng. His left eye had been lashed blind by an Ork overseer's whip during the defense of the workshop. From that day on, he had devoted all his hope and loyalty to the "Big Boss" who had pulled them out of the mire.
"All ships," Iron Guts's voice rang out on the bridge of every Gretchin warship through the encrypted psychic communications network. There was not a trace of trembling in it, only a steadiness like steel. "Begin final short-range charging of the Boing-class dimensional engines. Target: the center of the enemy fleet."
On his bridge, every Gretchin crew member worked in orderly coordination. A young communications operator tapped rapidly at his console with both hands, his forehead covered in sweat, but he still could not help looking up to ask, "Captain... are we... really going to..."
Iron Guts did not turn around. His lone eye remained fixed on the suffocating expanse of green on the holographic star map. He knew what the young Gretchin was thinking. They possessed the most advanced faster-than-light engines in the entire Milky Way Galaxy. They could have fled anywhere, found some corner the Orks would never discover, and rebuilt their home.
"Lad," Iron Guts said, his voice low and forceful, "our home is right behind us. The Big Boss is waiting for us there. Tell me, where could we run?"
The young communications operator froze. He glanced at the planet behind them on the star map, marked "City of Hope" and glowing with soft golden light. He remembered how, on that planet, he had eaten something