Crack-pop-hiss!
The infected Chira transford into a massive funeral pyre. The high-velocity incinerator-gel cooked the at-tal fusion until the Sump-Grubs inside popped from the internal pressure.
Kian Voss lowered his flar-unit, his expression grim behind his tactical visor. Seeing ceramite and plasteel literally lting into human flesh was a sign that the barrier between the Materium and the Warp was thinning. This wasn't just a plague anymore; it was a Manifestation Event.
He felt a flicker of existential unease, but it was quickly suppressed by the "Loot-Dopamine" surging through his brain.
"The server is lagging, the admins are panicking, and the vault doors are wide open," Kian whispered. "Ti to strip this floor to the bedrock."
He hopped back into the industrial hauler and began a systematic "Asset Reclamation" of the Spire boulevards. He was like a tireless worker-bee in a graveyard of Imperial steel.
See a stalled Chira? Towed.
Find a supply truck full of rations?* Hooked.
Spot a heavy weapons tripod?* Caged.
He worked through the Night-Cycle with chanical efficiency. The private lift of House Nightingale could haul six vehicles at a ti. Kian didn't send it down until it was packed to the safety-limit.
By the ti he finished his sweep of the local district, his tally was legendary:
11x Chira Armored Transports (10 Lascannon variants, 1 Command-Pattern).
15x PDF Heavy Trucks (Packed with d-kits, 'Cluck-Thump' rations, and crates of frag-grenades).
2x Scout Jeeps.
5x 20mm Lumberer Heavy Stubbers.
28x standard-issue Lasguns (Scavenged from the 'Purged' regulars).
But Kian wasn't just interested in military hardware. During one of his runs, he spotted a storefront with a vibrant, neon-lit sign—a rarity in the drab Hive. The sign depicted a stylized handheld cogitator and the rune for "Joy."
An electronics boutique.
Kian didn't look for a key. He slamd the hauler's reinforced bumper into the crystal-glass wall.
CRASH.
He stepped into the store and initiated a "Sovereign Audit" (Zero-Yuan Purchase).
In the 41st Millennium, high-end electronics were the ultimate luxury. Most of the Hive's population lived in a pre-industrial fog, but the elite had toys that rivaled the 3k era. The prices on the shelves were offensive: nothing below 100,000 scrips. Most of the "Personal Logis-Terminals" were priced at half a million.
Kian swept the shelves. He bagged forty handheld Ga-Chips (looking like oversized PSPs), a dozen 17-inch Tactical Slates, and thousands of micro-components, circuit-beads, and fiber-optic bundles.
"If I can move these to the Mid-Hive rchants," Kian calculated, "this one store is worth 20 million scrips."
More importantly, he had found the missing pieces for his Sanctum.
[SANCTUM COMPONENTS ACQUIRED]
1x Logic-Core (Brain-Box).
1x High-Res Display Array.
1x Runic Input Deck.
5x Encrypted Data-Slates.
10x Fiber-Optic Bundles.
As Kian was loading the final crate of electronics into the lift, the air outside erupted with the thunder of thousands of rifles and the bass-heavy rhythm of heavy artillery.
The PDF was launching a "Counter-Audit." Fresh regints were ascending the Grand Lift to cleanse the Pox-horde.
"The admins are back," Kian muttered, slamming the lift's 'Close' rune. "Ti to extract before I get banned."
The lift reached the Sump-Level. The "Fuel-Rats" of Little Hank's gang were waiting, their hands folded politely.
"Lord Voss! Excellency!" Hank scurried forward. "My... 'friend'... says he is overwheld by the volu of your success. Eleven armored hulls? Seventeen trucks? He asks if you could provide the initial 'Maintenance Tithe' before he bleeds out from the sheer weight of the work."
Kian slapped Hank's shoulder. "Relax, Hank. I'm a man of liquidity. Co with to the brewery. I'll settle the bill and give you a few 'bonuses' for the crew."
They traveled to the Voss Safe-Sector via the rail-trolley. When they arrived, the gates opened to reveal Shiv and twenty armored Voss Guards. Each man was standing at a perfect military "At-Ease" posture, their refurbished rifles gleaming.
Hank stared at the "Voss Guard," his posture turning even more submissive. These weren't gangers; they were a professional military force. Kian was no longer a player in the gang-wars; he was the King of the North.
Kian entered his Sanctum, pulled a heavy pack stuffed with high-denomination scrip-rolls, and tossed it to Hank.
"11 Chiras at 500k each. 17 trucks at 100k. Total is 7.2 million. I'm feeling generous—let's call it 5.5 Million flat, since you're handling the bulk processing. And tell your 'friend' I want them fueled, oiled, and running by the next moon-cycle."
Hank stared at the millions of scrips, his eyes glazed with greed. "Imdiately, My Lord! We shall work until the Machine Spirits themselves are exhausted!"
With the logistics settled, Kian retreated into his Sanctum. It was ti for the final upgrade of the tier.
He cleared a corner of the vault and began the installation. Configuring a 40k computer was a visceral experience.
[SANCTUM UPGRADE: INTELLIGENCE CENTER (LVL 1)]
In front of Kian sat a machine that would have terrified a citizen of the 3k era. The "Monitor" was a massive, rounded cathode-ray tube. The "CPU" was a blackened iron tank filled with nutrient-slurry. Floating in the fluid were three biological brains—harvested from clones—wired together with brass electrodes. This was the "Logic-Core."
[INTELLIGENCE CENTER LVL 1]
Functions:
Electronic Decryption: Brute-forces gene-locks and encrypted data-slates.
Tactical Intel: Monitors local PDF and Gang vox-frequencies.
Kian pulled one of the gene-locked Lasguns from the Winchester haul and connected a data-cable to the grip-port.
The Cogitator Engine humd. A prompt appeared on the green screen: [DECRYPTING BIOTRIC DRM... 10%... 45%...]
In less than thirty seconds, the bar hit 100%. The red "Lock" rune on the rifle flickered and turned green.
"The Machine Spirit has been hacked," Kian smirked.
He spent the next hour batch-decrypting every Lasgun in his stash. Now, every man in the Voss Guard was truly ard with the Emperor's Light.
With his private army ard and his armored division in the shop, Kian sat at the glowing terminal and began his first deep-scan of the Hive's vox-traffic.
☆☆☆
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