After the initial distribution, Kian sent Shiv, the Joels, and the Silent One back to the brewery. He requisitioned a standard PDF-pattern autogun from Rudolphson and handed it to Little Joel to carry for the return trip—a silent acknowledgent that the boy was no longer a cripple.
They were tasked with waiting at the Great Ventilator for Elder Silas's rebels to deliver the next three tons of grain. Once the "paynt" (the rifle) was rendered, they would haul the starch back to the Underhive and ignite the next brewing cycle. Kian, however, intended to head back to the Mid-Hive for "Procurent and Intelligence."
Before they departed, Little Joel pulled a thick envelope from his tunic. "Master Voss, please... deliver this to my sister at the Cathedral. If you can."
Kian felt the weight of the envelope. It was thick—filled with scrips. Little Joel had likely begged Shiv for a loan from the "Base-Ops" fund, desperate to ensure his sister had a decent life in the Cathedral novices' wing. Kian gave a sharp nod and tucked it into his satchel.
Big Joel leaned in next. "My Lord, my wife Sansa says the kitchen Machine Spirits are starving for flavor. If we are to maintain the n's morale, we need seasonings. Salt, spices, anything to mask the taste of recycled starch."
"I'll add it to the manifest," Kian said. "Now, get that grain moving."
Once the team had vanished into the shadows, Kian turned to Rudolphson. "Alright, Rudy. Let's talk about the brat. Winchester. Is he still playing dress-up in the Spire, or is he coming down to bleed?"
Rudolphson lowered his voice, checking the periter. "He's currently absent from the camp. His family—House Winchester—recalled him to the Spire for a 'strategic briefing.' High-born politics. But I guarantee you, the mont his boots hit the dirt again, it'll be because he's launched his 'Glorious Purge' against the rebels. He found a cell led by an 'Elder Silas.' He thinks it's an easy win to secure his Major's pips. When he moves, I'll vox you."
"What's his combat rating? I need numbers."
Kian's sniper proficiency was high enough to pop a head at a kiloter, but a marksman was only as good as his intel.
"Winchester's company is standard layout," Rudolphson explained. "120 light infantry, a few cargo trucks, and a command car. But here's the problem: he has a Chira Armored Transport. Unlike my company, his family can afford the prothium to keep it running 24/7."
Kian's brow furrowed. Chiras were a nightmare for a lone sniper. They were mobile bunkers.
"Furthermore," Rudolphson added, "The Chira is equipped with a mid-range Auspex. It has a scanning radius of roughly three kiloters. It's basically 'Wall-Hacks.' If you're lying in the grass waiting for him to step out, that machine will ping your heat signature before you even check your windage. The 40mm autocannon in the turret will turn your cover into a crater a second later."
Kian hissed. His long-range rifle was an anti-personnel tool, not an anti-armor weapon. The Chira's plasteel hide was immune to standard 9.9mm slugs, even the AP variants.
"And there's more," Rudolphson said grimly. "Winchester doesn't trust the common grunts. His family provided him with a Private Retinue. Twelve veterans.全員全員全員. All of them equipped with military-grade Lasguns and full suits of Carapace Armor (Grade-4)."
Kian's face soured. "So, I have to find a way to crack an armored tank, then kill a target guarded by twelve 'mini-stormtroopers' with high-end sun-guns and reinforced plate?"
Rudolphson looked embarrassed. "Look, if it's too much, forget it. I can't ask you to commit suicide for my promotion. We'll just focus on the booze. Maybe in a few years, I can save enough bribes to buy a Major's commission legally."
Kian shook his head. He was an extraction shooter veteran. High difficulty didn't an "Impossible"—it just ant he needed a better strategy.
"We're doing it," Kian said. "But I need a tactical edge."
Kian began to calculate. If he couldn't hit Winchester from a distance, he'd have to debuff the enemy first.
The 'Drunken Sentry' Gambit: Kian could sell "Voss Reserve" to Winchester's soldiers at a steep discount. If the infantry were in a drunken stupor when the march began, their combat effectiveness would plumt.
The Saboteur's Touch: Kian needed to infiltrate the motor pool. If he could plant a remote charge or contaminate the Chira's prothium tanks, he could force the vehicle to stall in the middle of a war zone.
The Rebel Ambush: He needed to warn Elder Silas. If the rebels knew a PDF strike team with an armored escort was coming, they could set up traps.
Kian shared his analysis with Rudolphson. "Two things, Rudy. First, I need you to vox the mont Winchester gets his orders. I need days to prep. Second, that Auspex... how do we blind it?"
Rudolphson thought it over. "I can have the Colonel delay Winchester's deploynt orders for 'logistical audits' to give you a window. As for the Auspex... I can only say that if the engine is damaged, its battery can only support the Auspex for ten minutes; its energy consumption is very, very high."
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