In the Underhive, industrial capacity is the only tric of godhood. A neutral reactor is a holy grail; whoever secures it gains the lifeblood required to sustain a massive population. Kian's current chemical plant, with its four reactors, fed three thousand workers and two hundred loyal triggers. Reclaiming the neutral G-9 reactor would an adding another thousand laborers and a full platoon of guards to his ledger. It was a massive leap in "Sump-Tier" power.
Previously, the Fertilizer Syndicate and the Alchem-Hounds had slaughtered each other to a standstill over this very asset. Both sides had retreated to lick their wounds, leaving the G-9 site a cold, rusted tomb.
Now, the Alchem-Hounds had returned. They believed they had recovered enough strength to finally claim the prize.
Kian wasn't in a hurry. The G-9 reactor had been dormant for decades; restarting its Machine Spirit would require a fortune in parts and thousands of hours of specialized labor. Kian let them work. He intended to let the Hounds "ripen the peach" before he plucked it from the tree.
Shiv understood the ga, but he offered a tactical warning. "Boss, Underhive protocol is clear: if a war for territory breaks out, the Spire-Lords must grant their 'Silent Blessing.' If we start a sector-wide fire without the Patrons' consent, the Enforcers might decide to ventilate both sides just to keep the peace."
"How does the 'Audit' usually work?" Kian asked.
"Standard procedure," Shiv explained. "The gang leaders check with their Spire Patrons. If the Lords don't care about the blood, they file a notice with the Lex Arcanum. The Enforcers then call for a 'diation' in the Mid-Hive. They try to settle the debt with scrips. If diplomacy fails, the Enforcers designate a 'Sanctioned Kill-Zone'—a place and ti for us to settle it with lead. It keeps the collateral damage away from the Hive's vital systems."
Kian nodded. He didn't know who Boss Iron-Eye's Spire Patron was yet—that was a bridge to cross in three months. But the G-9 reactor was different. It was "Unregistered Output"—bonus production that existed off the Spire's books.
Kian intended to use that reactor to produce fertilizer for his rebel trade route, bypassing the Tithe entirely. To do that, he had to follow the rules... and then break them.
[SECTOR G-9 - THE REACTOR SITE]
The warren was swarming with nearly a thousand Chem-slaves. They were the dregs of the Alchem-Hounds, driven by the whip and the promise of a fresh vial of Tox-Stimm.
The Tox-Mother stood on a high gantry, her bald, top-knotted head gleaming under the green ergency lights. She shrieked orders through her vox-augnted throat, driving her junkies to haul heavy lead pipes and plasteel scaffolding.
She was ecstatic. Her rival, Iron-Eye, had been strangely silent lately. No scouts, no raids, no tactical pressure. She assud he had been broken by the last war.
"Faster, you maggots!" the Mother roared. "Once the 'Bounty' flows from this tank, we'll turn the entire Fertilizer Syndicate into our personal cattle! We'll march into the Mid-Hive and piss on their gardens!"
She let out a cackle that sounded like tal scraping on glass.
For a full month, the Hounds worked. They spent millions of scrips on black-market components and worked dozens of skilled chanics to death. The reactor was 90% restored. The Machine Spirit was beginning to hum, ready to synthesize the first batch of chemicals.
But then, the Lex Arcanum arrived.
A squad of heavy-carapace Enforcers breached the site, delivering an official summons. The Tox-Mother was ordered to the Mid-Hive Justice Hub for "Imdiate diation."
She wasn't worried. She assud Iron-Eye had finally realized he was losing and had run to the law-dogs to beg for a ceasefire. Let him beg, she thought. I have the numbers. I'll walk into that hall and demand his territory as the price of peace.
She gathered her best "pretty boy" retainers and ascended to the Mid-Hive, ready to crush her rival with Spire-politics.
[MID-HIVE DIATION WING]
The Tox-Mother entered the grand hall, her heels clicking against the sterile floor. She expected to see the bionic-eyed face of Iron-Eye.
Instead, she saw a man she didn't recognize. He was sitting in a high-backed chair, casually smoking a Lho-stick, wearing a high-collared Voss Syndicate tunic.
An Enforcer Marshal sat at the head of the table, looking bored and irritable. He slamd a heavy stub-pistol onto the desk to call the session to order.
"Sit," the Marshal barked. "I don't have all cycle. You two are here to discuss the illegal occupation of Sector G-9 assets."
The Tox-Mother didn't sit. She pointed a long, serrated fingernail at Kian. "Who in the Warp is this?! Where is the half-blind coward Iron-Eye?"
Kian exhaled a plu of blue smoke directly into her face.
The Mother turned red with rage, her hand flying to the dagger at her waist. Before she could draw, the Marshal slamd his hand on the table again.
"YOU DARE THREATEN A CONTRACTOR IN MY HALL?!" the Marshal roared, his voice amplified by his helt's vox. "Sit your backside down, you sump-leech, or I'll have you processed into corpse-starch before you can blink!"
The Tox-Mother froze, stunned by the Marshal's vitriol. "But... sir... he provoked—"
BANG.
The Marshal slamd the desk a third ti. "He didn't provoke anyone! You are the provocateur! You've occupied a sanctified industrial asset belonging to the Voss Syndicate!"
The Mother's brain stalled. "Voss Syndicate? That reactor is a neutral relic! It's finders-keepers!"
Kian offered a thin, mocking smile. He pulled a piece of parchnt from his tunic and slid it across the table.
It bore the gargantuan seal of the Adeptus chanicus—the Skull and the Cog. Beneath it was the binary-stamped signature of Enginseer Anthony.
[OFFICIAL DECREE: ASSET RECLAMATION]
Reactor Unit 531 (Sector G-9) is the holy property of the Cult chanicus. Due to seismic instability, it was temporarily decommissioned.
By the authority of Enginseer Anthony, the Voss Syndicate has been granted a 'Maintenance & Production' lease. Any unauthorized biological units found within a 500-ter radius of the Machine Spirit are hereby declared Trespassers of the Omnissiah.
Kian leaned in, blowing another cloud of smoke.
"Read the fine print, you peddler of dirt-swill," Kian whispered. "I have the official sanction. That reactor is mine. The law is mine.
"Now, take your pack of brain-lted junkies and get off my property. Or stay... I'd love an excuse to let my new Lumberer-stubs kiss your backside."
The Tox-Mother stared at the docunt, her jaw trembling. She had spent a month fixing the factory, only to find out she had been acting as Kian's unpaid repair crew.
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