Wetware Server

Amid the hissing sound of corrosion,

the pungent smell of chemical agents spread through the Executive Supervisor's office.

A special "Purification Liquid," blended from industrial bleach, holy water, and a trace of Promethium Fuel,

was being sprayed meticulously across the floor and walls by two Servitors in Chemical Protective Suits,

as well as anywhere that might have been contaminated by the black-robed man's blood.

White foam churned.

The originally dark red bloodstains convulsed violently the instant they touched the Purification Liquid, as if they were some kind of living creature.

Then they became a lifeless smear of gray-black residue.

Rovi stood in the corridor, watching it all through the thick glass partition, his face expressionless.

He held a pocket watch in his hand, silently keeping track of the time.

"The Purification procedure is reacting 12% more slowly than expected."

A voice with electronic reverberation sounded behind him.

Priest Alpha's red robes trailed along the floor.

Three Mechanical Tentacles extended from his back, deftly adjusting the air filter's settings.

Half his face was already covered by a metal mask.

The bionic eye flickered with the icy blue light of data analysis.

"This indicates that the Warp contamination has a degree of activity, despite the host being dead."

Alpha paused and drew a cog symbol on his chest with his still-flesh left hand.

"Praise the Machine God. Your decision was correct, Esteemed Advisor."

"If we'd waited another half standard hour, the mold here would have spread through the Ventilation Ducts and turned the entire building into a petri dish."

Rovi put away his pocket watch and turned around.

"How is Supervisor Kase?"

"That biomass?"

A rare hint of delight crept into Alpha's voice,

like a child who had just gotten a new toy.

"I must say, his layer of fat is remarkably thick. It provides excellent cushioning for neural integration."

"I've removed his frontal lobe, which was filled with useless desires, while preserving the regions responsible for calculation and logical processing."

"Now he's a highly efficient 'Wetware Server.' He's in the basement of Workshop Seven, coordinating the logistics data for the entire Granary."

The Tech-Priest's bionic eye flickered.

"His processing efficiency is three hundred times higher than it was in life. This proves once again that only by discarding weak human nature can one approach mechanical perfection."

Rovi gave a slight nod.

He made no moral judgment about this horrifying modification.

In this world, morality was a luxury.

Efficiency, on the other hand, was a necessity for survival.

Since Kase had chosen to betray humanity, becoming a calculator in the service of mankind was already the Emperor's greatest mercy to him.

"Good. Since someone's handling the logistics data, I need you to help me deal with a few 'hardware' problems."

Rovi took a neatly folded blueprint from his coat and handed it to Alpha.

It was a rough sketch he had casually drawn while waiting for the Purification to finish.

"I want to turn the three main Irrigation Canals around the Executive Council into Defensive Trenches."

Alpha took the drawing, his bionic eye quickly scanning the lines.

"Deepen the channels, lay sharp scrap metal along the bottom, then install a High-Voltage Grid on both sides..." The Priest sounded puzzled.

"This doesn't conform to the standard agricultural facility STC template. It looks more like... some kind of primitive fortress defense system."

"You can think of it as a necessary measure to 'prevent rodents from damaging the crops.'"

Rovi offered no further explanation.

"Also, I need you to mobilize all the Engineering Servitors to work with Buck's Defense Force and get this done."

"This will consume a great deal of energy and building materials," Alpha said hesitantly. "If we don't report this kind of nonproductive expenditure..."

"This is to protect production,"

Rovi stressed,

gazing out at the gloomy sky.

"Alpha, your sensors should be picking up the increasingly intense Warp readings."

"If we don't build this wall, there may be no 'production' left by tomorrow, or the day after."

Rovi continued in a low voice:

"If our defenses succeed, I'll ask the Governor to submit the plans for that modified Harvester to the Mars Forge Hall under your name, officially, as a 'specialized agricultural machinery variant for Hive City environments.'"

Alpha's Mechanical Tentacles stiffened for a moment.

Uploading plans for an STC variant.

For any Tech-Priest, it was an irresistible temptation.

It meant the accumulation of knowledge.

It meant rising through the ranks within the sect.

"Logic circuit verification passed."

Alpha quickly tucked away the blueprint, the blue light in his bionic eye burning brighter.

"To protect the sacred Imperial Tithe, modifications of this scale are entirely logical."

"I'll immediately mobilize all the computing power in Workshop Seven to support this project."

Watching the Priest hurry away, Rovi let out a quiet breath.

In this world full of fanatics, dealing with the Adeptus Mechanicus, who worshipped "logic," was actually the easiest thing to do.

As long as you could offer them enough benefit in the form of data,

they were the most reliable allies.

Half an hour later, the office's Purification was complete.

The pungent smell of disinfectant still lingered in the air.

But the nauseating stench of the Warp was gone.

Rovi entered but didn't sit in the enormous executive chair.

He had a plain hardwood desk brought in and placed at the side of the room, angled toward the wide floor-to-ceiling windows.

That way, he could overlook the entire square

without making himself an easy target for a sniper.

"Advisor."

Buck came in through the door.

He carried a thick statistical report, and his face looked somewhat tired.

"All fifty thousand people have been settled. As you ordered, we've implemented the Collective Responsibility System: one tent for every ten people, with them keeping watch over one another."

"If anyone tries to run away or cause trouble, everyone in their tent loses their rations for three days."

"How's it working?" Rovi sat down and picked up a quill.

He began listing supplies on a blank sheet of parchment.

"Scarily well."

Buck scratched his messy hair, a trace of fear flashing in his single eye.

"A fellow tried to hide a wrench just now. Before the Military Police could do anything, his tentmates pinned him down and broke his leg. These people... they'll do anything for a mouthful of food."

"Good."

Rovi spoke without looking up. "Order isn't built through preaching. It's built on shared interests and shared fears."

He stopped writing and asked,

"How many more days will our food supplies last?"

"By the old standards, we'd have enough. But you promised them Green Soup with 20% more concentration..." Buck looked troubled.

"Our Corpse Starch stores will last three days at most. After that, we'll have to give them Industrial Wastewater to drink."

"Three days?"

Rovi's fingers tapped a steady "knock, knock" against the desk.

It was a dangerous tipping point.

The moment the food ran out,

the fifty thousand newly tamed laborers would instantly become fifty thousand hungry mouths ready to devour people.