Author Notes: Alrighty, after sometime procrastinating and deliberating, and researching, and drinking some fungi rum, I HAVE FINALLY COME UP WITH THIS CHAPTER. Please give me any criticism leveled at any lore I screw up for either Mass Effect or Warhammer 40k. As I'd appreciate reviewer honesty in these matters and would wish to deliver to full faithfulness of both, Mass Effect and Warhammer 40k lore as different as the two may be. For now, enjoy.

Chapter 1 - Da enjun had a axseedent

Watchy Bridge Kommand Centuh - Da Deth Dakka

There were many alarms that wailed incessantly, lights flickered in indication of what damage had occurred in such reckless usage of the stolen Imperial engines had occurred. The ship drifted aimlessly and many an Ork were pushing buttons as best as they could. But how could they fix the damage incurred by this catastrophic warp travel to whereabouts unknown? Nonetheless, there was no panic in the room, only a glee in each of their faces as the sight of an Orkish-looking asteroid rock that had several machinations pulled in their gaze. It had so much machinery, it was without a doubt, something that was prepared for an all out WAAAUGH. GOOD, at least the rest of the Orkz can FIGHT ALREADY instead of waiting about on the Kroozer, the nine mutinies that occurred here and there was fun at first, but the crew were really running out of Mekboys to manoeuvre the ship around. More a ramshackle bunch of barely holding together steel if anything, that doesn't capture the former glory of the Kroozer after such a chaotic Warp travel out of the Empyrean.

Lights flashed all across the ugly rust stained deck, especially at the Kaptin's controls, with the warp engine is destroyed notice illuminated in white, as specific as it was, flashed right in the Kaptin's face. He gave it a momentary albeit look, but then shifted his heavy gaze upward.

"By Mork... DAT IZ DA ORKIEST ROK I EVER SAWH!" Kaptin Fisteef gasped in his guttural slur, his metallic jaw hanging, face plastered to the transparent synthweave camo-skin stitched to serve as a window, it was a trophy from some race of mammalian-things they once slaughtered long ages ago in a distant Waaaugh, "ROIT, MISTUH SUKKER, PARK DA KROOZER INTO DA ROK!"

"But Boss, what we s'ppose ta do der?" Asks sheepishly a Gretchin, its form marred by many years of abuse. A wonder how it lasted so long. It invited a glare from the giant Ork Kaptin, who looked at it incredulously.

"YA GIT, IT'S SIMPLE, WE FIND US SUM ORKZ 'N SUPLA... SUPPLO... Fingz... ta fix da Kroozer wid, 'nd get moar parts for da enjuns." Fisteef explains, "SOZ STOP MUCKIN' ABOUT, 'ND GO GET DA BOYZ. WE IZ GOIN' ON A EKSPAHDESHUN."

"R-roit b-boss, but da boyz won't listen to- UNFF!"

A large rattle shook the deck, as da Kaptin's powerklaw inclined upward from the pasty remains of the now ceremoniously and recently ended career of the Gretchin, whomever he was, he turned around and faced the "window", as the newly promoted messenjuh Gretchin that stood next to expired one, ran off from the deck and onward to convey Fisteef's order.

Them rest of the Mekboyz on the command deck furiously pressed random buttons away, which absolutely served no function whatsoever and despite that, moored the ship as gracefully as an Ork can towards the asteroid station, riddled with so many satellites, ships and actual asteroids floating about. Pending distance reduced every minute spent steering the Kroozer...

Omega Dock Control

Jarinthus was recently promoted from Vorcha herder to the dock supervisor whose job was pretty simple; to make sure all is well and good in Omega. It was a huge deal too, the pay is great, he no longer has to deal with those vermin that often soiled his armor in their musk, and finally Aria is beginning to trust him, as far to an extent Aria can grant.

Everything was fine and dandy, the Batarian and Salarian dock managers get along pretty well, taking care of everything that needs to be taken care of, and relatively nobody is stupid enough to cause trouble in Omega. Odds are, this looks like a highway to a fast retirement. The odds are of something astronomically catastrophic happening to HIM specifically in dock control happens to be 234814912948621032 to 1. Coincidentally, that happens to be his Extranet IP address he uses.

"Another fine day around with no problems WHAT-SO-EVER." The Turian thought, and sighed with satisfaction, taking a sip out of his beverage with a hearty delight, overlooking the port from the Salarians shoulder, gazing at his beverage then, as the fine vapor-smoke rose out of his drink.

"S-sir..." Stammers the Salarian.

"Yes?" Replies Jarinthus.

"You may want to look at this..."

"Whatever it is, you can handle it, I am sure."

"Uh-huh..." The Batarian turns around on his rotatable chair, and tilts his head to the right slightly, giving one glance at the Turian, reading his expressions distinctly as 'doesn't care', and back to the window, "I think I'll take a rain check on this one..." The Batarian breaks off into a sprint, and runs down the corridor, as the Turian sees the Salarian also join the four eyed alien colleague, with a distasteful glare at that, one of disappointment.

"What in the name of the Spirits could POSSIBLY be so above your ability to..." The cup fell, shattering into some good hundreds of pieces, as he finally looked out at the window to see a ship bigger than a Dreadnought weigh dangerously close to the docks that are typically reserved for transport freighters, as the only thing that came out of his mouth in the face of his impending doom was; "Oh."

That was all he said, before his avian form found the one thing it had in common with peanut butter paste wrapped in aluminium foil recently.

Watchy Bridge Kommand Centuh - Da Deth Dakka

"BY MORK..." Fisteef looked at the damage in front of the Kroozer, as the front was chipped and broken up more so than usual, it was clear whose driving was at fault here. And there was only one thing to do when someone parks as recklessly, and foolishly as this. Clearly, there is to be someone to be made an example of here.

"GOOD JOB, KRONK, YOU IZ DA FLYIEST WUN OUT DER." Says Fisteef, bearing an Orky grin.

"Fanks boss! I'z happy ya think soz." Kronk responds with jubilance, he was the navigator of the ship, skilled for steering the ship as much as causing the damage to it in the first place.

Kaptin Fisteef nods to Kronk, and puts on his pirate tricorne, departing for the Kroozer's forward docking port. Meeting some of them Boyz, with their Nob leaders, and some Lootaz that tagged along their merry way.

Pier 095X-4, artificially widened port opening - Omega

This wasn't Battlemaster Jagkt's day, what he had thought would be an uneventful solar day in this rather Blood Pack controlled area to be peaceful was soon shattered by a great quake that resonated throughout the pier, this was usually an invasion tactic used by Krogans when they were assaulting asteroids. Ram their ships in and cause a breaching point, to which the frontal point of entry would be flooded by teeming masses of charging Krogans. Whomever these people were, must've hated Aria or in general, wanted to take over Omega. Most likely Krogans too. Now Jagkt would appreciate their approach of things, BUT, they made one fatal mistake - this pier was the BLOOD PACK'S PIER, and nobody messes with the blood packs, that is if they value their sphincters remaining internal body parts.

"Huh... looks like I DO get some action after all." Jagkt whispered to himself, his voice loudening to a roar at the rest of the Vorcha and some of his fellow Krogans, putting his helmet on, "LISTEN UP YOU USELESS PYJAKS! Got your attentions? Good, good." He smiled, unlike many of his Krogans, he was far more level headed than most, "Some genius thought he can attack Omega, see, I have no problem with that, but what I have a problem with... is that they attacked it through OUR TERRITORY. You all know what the price is for messing with us, which is DEATH. DEATH TO THESE INVADERS, DEATH TO ALL WHO ATTACK OUR HOLDING, THAT LET IT BE PAINFUL to... ah screw this, let's just get down to action. Just take up positions, you Vorcha, stick behind. Us Krogans will show it to you jugsuckers how it is done."

Kaptin Fisteef and his Boyz emerged from the boarding hole of their ship, his powerklaw hungrily thirsting for the flesh of pasted enemy remains in liquidized form, his trigger finger ITCHING to pull his bolterpistol that he got from them blue Spehss Mehreens, and boy was he lucky to have gotten a decent shot in on the luckiest space marine chapter out there. Them Ultramar boys. Apparently they were perfect, too perfect, but their rigid adherence to some book written by a long gone big man made them tactically inadequate, and its thanks to Ork kunnin', they slew some couple of them.

But what was met in front of Kaptin Fisteef were a bunch of red armored funny looking small Orkz with humpy backs, must be that Speed Kult. Fisteef looked at their incessant blathering whilst they pointed their... small shootaz at them. What? He tilts his head and cleared the earwax from his ears, as they made threatening gestures at him, shaking their guns and hitting their chests. Speaking some nonsense as he looked at one of those Smartboy he brought along. He was suppose to do not-Waaaugh, and use his mouth for some Orky Kunnin', which wasn't as Orky. Whatever the word that was for just talking was without fighting... for a LITTLE while. No proper Ork goes without a fight for long.

"D'you haz any idea wot dey're sayin'?" Fisteef asked.

"No idea boss, dey soundz like deir brainz got replaced by squigs." The Smartboy shrugged, "Or ma... mahybeh dey'z haz 'nother lang... speakin' wordz."

"WAIT BOSS! Wot if we take a wunz of dem back for some ekspereymantin, dem dokz can do somefin' 'bout dis, soz we can get some fingz for da krooza by makin' talky wiff dem!" Tonkr proposes, and a fine proposal at that.

"GREAT IDEA, LADDIE! ALROIT DEN, YE ALL KNOW WOT TER DO 'ERE. SHOOT'EM AND..." He looked at the humped creatures still making threats and STILL not shooting, what strange Orkz these were, and back to the lootaz who gave him an expecting gaze, which he sighed, "Loot'em, but SAVE SOME LOOT FOR DA DOKS, OR SUFFER ME WRAFF, me powerklaws says. It make a very fine argument in case wun of ye fink dey can debate it." He snapped his powerklaws threateningly.

Much to the glee of either parties, the boyz opened fire with their shootaz at the Krogans, charging in, and the Krogans in kind returned fire with their shotguns, blitzing through the Ork lines. But found themselves picking a battle with something more powerful than the Krogans at the back of the lines - the Nobz. A clash of arms, and archaic weapons with the newly technological omnitools created much chaos amidst the lines. A Krogan here headbutts one of the boyz with choppaz, and one of the Nobz floors a Krogan with a well placed smash of his chopper against the Krogan's tough headplate, wedging there nicely and right through it, a very shocking thing to the Vorcha who witnessed at the back at the strength of these greenskins. Instead of properly taking part into the battle, they cowered like any Gretchin would, their Krogan overlord were too enthralled by the battle ahead to care for support at the back. Bloodthirst was evident in the air, that would make Khorne shiver with delight. Cacophony of laughter resonated among the two most savage races to ever come into contact with one another.

But amidst all of the chaos, Jagkt went straight for the prize - Kaptin Fisteef. His biotic charge drove away all the Nobz and Boyz, budging some, and staggering others back, they were far heavier than he anticipated, but they were a challenge nonetheless. FINALLY! A race that appreciates the finer points of a good old fashion combat, given he witnessed glimpses of smiles from the faces of those greenskins.

Jagkt aimed his M-300 Claymore at the towering Kaptin Fisteef, pulling away at the trigger with mad abandon, as the gun climbed up from the recoil. Despite its design to be used solely by the Krogan, as the only species capable of using it, it still had a wild kick to it equivalent to an elephant gun. Much of the gunshots were blocked, the large powerklaw was brought into its way, ricocheting much of the rounds, whereas the rest buried itself into the thick steel. That which did not miss, tore through the Kaptin's leftwise abdomen, ripping cleanly through the flesh, and just that. The Ork didn't seem to care about this, all there is to it is that he got a new scar to add to his collection!

The Krogan smiled underneath his helmet.

"FINALLY, A WORTHY FOE!" He roared out laughing, Fisteef himself smiled at this jubilant display of mirth amidst battle, despite his ignorance of the Krogan's language.

The two clashed against each other, the Krogan Battlemaster's shotgun gave clicks, that he unceremoniously started swinging it around like a club, with the Kaptin showing little to no concern at the thuds he is feeling against his thick and scarred green flesh. It didn't pack a punch to the huge mass of green muscles, in kind he was met with a swift smack across his scaly face.

The powerklaw poised back from such a harsh motion imparted, the Kaptin menacingly waltzed to the downed Krogan, whose skin encasing shell or armor was cracked against the strong Omega steel. Wheezing Krogan blood. His redundant organs shot forth, the Battlemaster standing up with a defiance, innately wondering if he should've been careful for what he wished for, but by the Void, he did not feel this thrilled! Not unlike the Rachni war, not unlike the Krogan rebellions.

A similar respect filled the Flashgit Kaptin's chest, these 'Umpbackz are nowhere as dour and gloomy as them 'umies were, who always hated fighting despite building weapons to fight with in the first place.

The Krogan cast aside the blood flowing from his mouth within spit form, biotic charging towards the Kaptin within a moment's notice, and this time, smashing the bulk of his mass into the Kaptin's side, feigning a left only to surprise the Ork with a right-wise charge. The giant greenskin stumbled back a few steps, only for that to turn into a skid, and from that, it slowed to a stop. The Krogan brought his Claymore unto the Kaptin's joints behind the knee in a blunt hit, bringing him down to a kneel. The battlemaster then aimed the weapon at the greenskin's cranium, with only a single shot from thermal clip left.

A shot blew forth, bursting the red armored hand holding the Claymore. The boltpistol's muzzle smoked, the huge shot roared, and the Krogan's forearm poured blood. He gasped in surprise at his wound, and the Kaptin gave a smile.

"Dat 'ere is good Ork kunnin' dat." Fisteef grunted, bringing himself up to a stand, his firearm did a good job, scaled up to be Orky enough, shame about the Dakka in it is not as much, but the Powerklaw makes it up in making squishies. Which is what it did to the Krogan in his moment of great surprise and weakness.

Grasping the battlemaster from his head, each digits squeezing the plated reptilian cranium till it burst like an orange smashed with a sledge hammer in an instant, ruptures evident all over, compromised in every swathe of flesh. All sliced up and mangled. But it was a body felled, a body among all the Krogan corpses to litter this battlefield, Ork corpses too were felt upon the scarred wide corridor, and yet, there was no sorrows.

The Vorcha gazed from behind cover, never having trespassed into this massacre, or what it was in their eyes. But glory was absent from it all in such coloured views, for Orkz too had counted the dead among their ranks, and yet did not weep. Only the chorus of "WAAAUGH" echoed throughout. The lootaz were already on the Krogan corpses, stripping them of all effects and prying their teeth, the Boyz grunting and looking at the weapons the Krogans had, wondering about the lack of Dakka in such a ferocious bunch, and the Kaptin himself turned and by chance noticed a bunch of three nostril'd bunch of Grot-livered cowards hiding away behind cover, crates and all sorts of square obstacles.

"Dey'z will do real good." He chuckled gruffly, looking at the Vorcha with interest. They reeled away from the sudden attention, fear struck their hearts when the greenskin cast his predatory leer in their direction.