Question of the day. How to make Ork Stormboy mob become effective bodyguards, fighters, and scrap collectors without spending all my waking hours keeping them in line. Answer: Make them police themselves. A combination of team rivalry, a plethora of power-hungry bosses, and rewards based on performance would no doubt have the Orks practically tripping over themselves to prove their worth. Especially when some of the better rewards included a Rokket based on my own design, or a personal team vehicle like my Trukk. I'd split them into teams of five, with five of the teams being under another lead, and those leads being under the three biggest Orks, who would also act as personal bodyguards. If I needed something, I'd send one of my bodyguards to get their set of Boyz on task, with their fists of necessary.

This was done with surprising ease, at least for Ork standards, taking a mere hour to get everyone settled with the system, and the choices of who bosses would be, chosen via combat with blunt metal poles, were determined. With only two deaths besides the old boss, it was an incredibly bloodless transition, again, by Ork standards, and some of the youngest Boyz seemed relieved to not be culled randomly, and even given the opportunity to grow by fighting others of their size.

Currently, there were 11 groups of 25, and I had decided on a rotation schedule for their activities. Each team would be made to do two activities a day, one in the late morning, and another in the evening, for a total of five hours work. This announcement didn't go over well, bit when the activities were named, and the rewards for being the best were listed, things smoothed over. The first was Beat Stikk. It was essentially the same method used to determine superiority, with each Ork being given a thick metal rod, and whoever had two sets of bones broken first was the loser. Given the difficulty of actually killing an Ork with just a metal rod, the casualties were low, as beating a semi-conscious Ork to death isn't as entertaining as beating a conscious one, and fighters would be eager for the next round. They were also given light metal helmets with eye slots slightly smaller than the rod diameter, making it harder to end the battle with extreme damage to the head.

The second activity was Dakka Practice. This pretty much just involved getting the gits to get used to actually AIMING at things, rather than just shooting randomly. Specifically, a small but thick steel sheet would be hung up a fair bit away, and teams would compete in penetrating the sheet first. I was a bit proud of this idea, as the Orks would be have incentive to aim at the same place to penetrate faster, helping them work on accuracy and firing in tandem.

The third activity was, of course, Flying Practice. Pretty much the same as they did before, but with rewards as incentive to actually get good. Finally, there was Scroungin’, and Workin’. The former would entail sending the team out to bring back scrap, with the results being weighed after the materials were ripped apart for gubbinz, and the rest melted and separated. Not all scrap is equal, after all. The latter was pretty much me wanting someone to do any heavy lifting or chore I couldn't be bothered with, and was too much for the Grots. Otherwise, it was nap time. I'd set things up so three teams would work on shooting, three on flying, four on scav, and one on workin’, with a rotation that kept every team doing combat at least once a day.

And so far, things were going fine. The ammo machine was being taxed pretty heavily, but with an already working model, it had taken a mere two hours to make a second machine, tying it into an enlarged melting pot. This nicely handled the ammo situation, and there was plenty of raw materials to make ammo. As for me, I was busy trying to direct the overwhelming urge to MAKE. Every cell of my being had been on fire since killing the boss, and all sorts of inventions had been shoving themselves at me like cheap hookers on a plastered rich man. But everything I wanted would stand out too much, and would probably just be taken by force by some bigger Ork Nob. What I needed was something no Ork would really care for, while still being incredibly useful. The answer I'd come up with? Magnets.

Why magnets? Well, there are plenty of reasons, but the primary reason was a desire for a quiet gun that fired small rounds. Orks are notorious for liking big bullets, heavy recoil, and very loud guns. And what would turn them off more than a hand-held railgun? Quiet, no explosions, small ammo isn't a problem, and very little recoil. The perfect weapon for a smart, low-key Mek like myself. That, plus a helmet with a built in targeting system that would show just exactly where my gun was pointed, so I could be accurate without aiming down a sight, an act that would likely be considered VERY Un-Orky.

Now, one might think that such a weapon would be impossible for one such as myself to make. But don't forget, I'm an ORK now. Who cares about silly things like physics and thermodynamics when I can just clobber together two massive magnets, a ‘borrowed’ power generator that was one of many made as backups for Hedsnagga’s Force Field, and a bunch of makeshift batteries to allow for a few extra shots before the power ran out, and needed time to recover. Thank god for the US military showing the basics of their new naval weapon, or I'd be shit outta luck. And as work had progressed, things were looking damn good. All that was stopping me was the details. Those pesky little things.

I had finished making a magnet making machine, but the materials I needed were frustratingly rare. So far, I'd only managed to make five properly working rails, and two of them had their ends blown off during initial testing. At least the remains were good enough to probably make a single sidearm. The power generator I had ‘liberated’ was proving to be the biggest issue. It didn't have a stable discharge rate, and large fluctuations had been the culprit behind the main explosions. I was in the process of fiddling with the core, but with mixed results.

Another arc of electricity sparked against my mechanical arm, sending a jolt of pain through my shoulder, and fucking up the extremely delicate surgery I was doing on the power generator innards. I bit my lip, trying not to convulse and ruin things any more than I already had. While I managed to NOT yank out the mass of gold wiring and simplistic circuitry that made up the access port to the engine, I'd fried my batteries. I did my best to put everything back in place, having just determined that modifying the generator was biting off more than I could chew. Once done, I took my torch cutter and sliced open one of the batteries to inspect the damage.

The smell of burning sulfur filled the air as gasses hissed out of the melting fissure, followed quickly by burnt, semi-fluid liquids that had mixed with melting metal. There was no saving things, and the results were promptly tossed into the melting pot. Fortunately, I was well prepared for such a failure, and the parts necessary for remaking the batteries were literally sprawled all about me. A few grunts and pointing got my assistant Grots to pick up the bits and pieces, and put them on my wide workshop, each careful to avoid touching anything. The four dead Grots heaped in the corner had shown the rest what happens when you mess around near powerful electric currents.

The process was relatively simple, and rather than make the minimum amounts again, risking another interruption to my work. I opted for a bit of mass production, as I would likely be using them for other purposes soon enough. First, the central graphite rod was wrapped in wire, then placed in the center and secured to the bottom of a cylindrical container. Next, a Grot poured a vile concoction inside, and a second kept a small flow of electricity arcing into it, which exited through the steel table and into the ground. Slowly, the liquid cooled into a congealed state, and once a few bubbles started to pop, wires were wrapped around the top, with a few ends poking out of holes in the side of the cylinder. The lid was then lowered, and welded to the top, mostly sealing the cylinder, any holes being too small for the congealed substance to escape through. Technically, the battery would do much better if fully sealed, and a slight change made to the mixture, but I wasn't working in ideal conditions, and lacked some of the more rare materials needed.

The process ended with a single, finger-sized battery, ready for the final bit of work. With as much care as I could muster, I slowly melted a tiny circle in the bottom of the battery, and with what amounted to a hot gluegun, poured liquid copper into the indentation. The results were left to cool, and I moved on to the next battery. Once a solid sixty had been made, I moved over to the other side of the table, and started playing with my power stabilizer. A rather fancy word for such an ugly creation, a mess of wires, crude circuits, and power sinks that would, in principle, force any surplus power back into the battery supply. In practice, this amounted to a bunch of melted wires and ruined circuits any time a strong current was put through. The big problem was a lack of insulation. There was no real rubber to wrap the wires in, and the rubber substitute used for wheels was conductive enough to be of little use. I'd tried keeping the wires separate enough that electricity wouldn't arc between them, but then I no longer had enough of a connection to handle all the power that would come through.

I grumbled over the problem, poking and prodding at the mass of wires and gubbinz, looking for an answer. But nothing Orky came to mind. Mostly, my instincts said the whole idea was a wash, and having varied rates of power for the gun was an acceptable solution. Having to constantly replace magnets every dozen shots was NOT acceptable in MY opinion, and so I soldiered on, thinking as hard as my little Ork brain could. As it turns out, the answer turned out to be rather close to hand. As I was fiddling with my toys, an enterprising little Grot, no doubt trying to earn himself a favor, was busy greasing all of the gubbinz and tools on my workbench. Being in a foul mood, I said nothing as the critter started greasing the power generator, waiting for the inevitable electrocution and the amusement that would ensue. But rather than turn into mouth-watering, freshly cooked meat, the goblin just moved on, greasing anything that looked like it needed greasing, which turned out to be practically everything.

To say I was shocked would be amusingly appropriate, and once the gears finished turning, I snatched up the Grease Squig, and poured a thick glob of its gunk into a small bowl. Several tests showed that the material was a very good insulator. But how to turn it into a solid substance… and so began two long hours of endless tests. I tried everything from melting and molding, to hitting it really hard, to mixing it with melted metals. Nothing seemed to work. That is, until I tried something truly ingenious. I melted it, mixed with metal, THEN hit it really hard. The results was a moderately malleable compound that was bendy enough for my needs. I also learned that Orky me was stirring far more than I deemed acceptable, lowering my standards of creation and my overall intelligence by a fair amount. I was in no mood for my special project to be fouled by Orky interference. This called for drastic measures. It was time to check on the Boyz, and see how Beat Stikk was working out. I grabbed my totally regulation sized Beat Stikk and moved to the compound. Nothing like beating the shit out of your subordinates to clear your mind.