Grotsnik: Da Mad Dok by Denny Flowers

Author:Denny Flowers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FLS
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2025-05-07T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

Ikor wished he’d never discovered the viewport.

He should have known better from his duties as a saddlegit; when things got dicey it was better to have your view blocked. As it was, his view of the outside was unrestricted. He could not drag himself away, unable to tear his gaze from the full terror of what was unfolding.

Well, not the full terror, for the glass was muddied and stained by blood. So he only really got glimpses. Orks charging forward, a Waaagh! in their throats, dakka blazing. Then a blur as the things tore into them, all talons and teeth.

It made him quite queasy.

Valtun didn’t seem to care. He was sitting in the dok’s good chair on the far side of the operating room, Grotsnik himself mucking around with fleshsacks. That made Ikor queasy too. He didn’t mind when they were just hunks of meat, no different from what might be chucked in a delicious stew. Even body parts were all right with him, providing they belonged to someone else. But the dok’s work seemed to bridge the two. He’d stuff cultivated muscle into a sack of skin, injekting his bone-pastes into the bloody mess, until the whole thing almost seemed to resemble an ork’s torso.

But no, it was too big for an ork. Too misshapen. It had to be something else, some weird dok project. Whatever it was, the dok was certainly fixated on it. So much so that, apparently, the grots were driving the wagon unsupervised. Which might explain why they kept running into trouble, literally in a few instances. He could hear the crunch as their tyres drove over those… things. Once there was a clatter that sounded almost like talons latching on to the Painwagon’s hull. The lights shorted then, flickering as the vehicle hummed with energy. Then a blackened shape, still smoking, fell across the viewport.

Stupid grots. Still, it was interesting they got to drive. And the Painwagon provided even better protection than hiding behind Valtun. The snagga had said little since they embarked, staring into space, or occasionally fiddling with the glowy orb securing his cloak in place. What conversation there was came from Grotsnik. Ikor kept half an ear on it, though he struggled to follow what the dok was saying. It was almost like he was having an argument on his own.

‘Need a big enough heart, or hearts maybe. Bakmun’s will do as a startin’ point… Maybe another in each limb. Limb? No, that will never work – they’ll pump against each other. No, not if you align them right, unless that’s beyond you? Beyond me? How dare you! I will krump you! Eat your skull and… Zog it!’

The dok swayed, hands gripping the cutting slab as he struggled to stay upright. One of the grots scurried over. Nurz, that was his name. Unlike most of them, he had a voice.

‘Dok, it’s time.’

‘Says who? You?’ snarled Grotsnik, rounding on him. ‘You think you is boss? Think you decide what gets taken

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