Grots ran squealin' through corridors strewn with the debris of a long flight. Laughing Orks tripped them as they passed. The Orks were in a good mood. A fight and loot and pickins had been promised. The grots tried to clear the accumulated debris, of many unfinished dinners and scraps between orks to prevent shards flying like shrapnel around the craft and damaging truks and weapons. Some grots shoveled the debris into chambers in the hulk. Filling them to the ceiling. The doors were then sealed with an insta-weld glue. From some chambers came the muffled thumps of unfortunate grots and the occasional sleeping Ork who had not been quick enough to get out before the doors were sealed.
Orks prepared themselves for reentry to real space by tying or gluing themselves to whatever seem to be a structural component of the Hulk. Others gripped handles, some hung onto others. The largest Orks Nobs and Bosses lay on custom built crash couches. The speed and vehicle freaks strapped their precious transports down and strapped themselves in. Grots hid from their slavers under vehicles.
"Going Down!" crackled over the tanboys system.
"Useless cursed unlucky grott," hissed Garzakk under his breath in the control tower.
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