Warp travel for the Orks had always been a cosmic gamble steeped in dark humor and Schrödinger-like uncertainty. It relied on neither precise calculations nor stable navigational beacons, only one ultimate law glowing with the brilliance of "Ork know-wotz": as long as all the Ork Boyz aboard believed they could reach somewhere, they really did have a chance of getting there.
Of course, the words "a chance" encompassed countless bloody and absurd possibilities.
In the Engine Room of Liu Zhipeng's flagship, the Good Teeth, Good Appetite, a bizarre Mekboy with three arms and energy conduits sprouting all over his body, crackling with electrical sparks, waved his arms and delivered an impassioned speech to the vast, chaotic We Can Get There, I Reckon engine before him. It was assembled from countless enormous gears, rusty pistons, and the still faintly twitching brain of a Psyker Boy.
"Listen up, you useless lump of iron!" With the enormous wrench in his third hand, he hammered the engine's casing as it belched black smoke. "The boss said we're going to Cadia! Ca-di-a! Got it? The place with loads and loads of tin cans to smash! If you dump us on some rock in the middle of nowhere, or in some pointy-ear's vegetable patch, I swear I'll take you apart! I'll melt you down! I'll turn you into the flush toilet in our new bog!"
As his threatening roar rang out, the Psyker Boy serving as the engine's "central processor" seemed to sense the danger to his life. His tightly shut eyes snapped open, and pure emerald-green WAAAGH! energy erupted from every opening in his head!
Boom!
As though an invisible giant foot had brutally kicked them out of Realspace, the three enormous warships plunged headfirst into the kaleidoscopic ocean of the Warp, a realm of