Three Circles

By dawn, the last screw had finally been tightened.

Six newly refurbished Heavy Logging Guns stood side by side on the test bench.

Their cold muzzles pointed straight at the workshop doors.

Rovi straightened up, a dull ache running through his spine.

He took the towel Buck handed him and wiped the grease from his hands, then walked over to the test bench.

"Load them."

Two Servitors lifted the heavy ammunition crates and fed the golden belts into the guns.

"Buck, you test-fire them." Rovi stepped back, giving up the firing position. "Remember, short bursts. Don't hold down the trigger like a madman. These barrels can't take prolonged overheating."

"Understood!"

Buck rubbed his hands together excitedly.

He gripped the rough handle as if caressing a lover.

"Rat-tat-tat!"

The muffled gunfire echoed through the enclosed workshop, pounding painfully against their eardrums.

Flames half a meter long burst from the muzzles.

Shell casings scattered across the floor like raindrops, clinking sharply as they fell.

The targets in the distance—several thick plates of scrap steel—were instantly riddled with holes, sparks flying everywhere.

"Stop."

Rovi raised a hand.

The gunfire cut off abruptly.

Thin wisps of smoke curled from the muzzles, carrying an intoxicating smell of gunpowder.

"No jams, no ruptured barrels." Rovi walked over and inspected the breech. "Cooling's working. Looks like the Machine Spirit is quite pleased."

Buck grinned, baring his yellow teeth.

"Now this is a man's romance! With these babies, even if a Chimera comes charging at us, I can knock it flat!"

"Don't get too confident."

Rovi poured cold water on his excitement. "This much firepower is enough to suppress light infantry, at best."

"If we're up against Space Marines, or something worse, these guns will be no better than fire pokers."

He turned and gazed at the brightening sky beyond the workshop.

Gray morning mist shrouded the entire Granary.

The oppressive unease in the air hadn't lifted with the sunrise. If anything, it had grown heavier.

"Set the guns up at key points along the trenches. Two at the main gate, two at the Eastern Sector Irrigation Canal entrance, and the last two as a mobile reserve."

Rovi issued his orders. "Also, have the Priest Alpha modify the Incendiary Grenades into Booby Traps and place them at the blind spots."

"But Advisor, we only have fifty grenades..."

"Then use them where they'll count." Rovi's voice was cold. "Remember, we're not fighting a positional war. We're defending our home. Anything that dares set foot on this land will pay the price."

Meanwhile.

In the basement of Workshop Seven.

The Wetware Server, now known as "Kais," gave off a faint hum.

The brain that had once belonged to the obese Supervisor was now immersed in a glass tank filled with Nutrient Paste.

All manner of electrodes and tubes had been inserted into it.

Freed from the constraints of its body and rid of useless desires, the brain displayed astonishing processing power.

Countless streams of data flowed through the tubes into it, where they were rapidly processed and distributed.

Food stocks, fuel consumption, personnel shifts, trench progress...

Every detail of Granary Seven was under the brain's surveillance.

Yet that morning, the efficiently running brain detected an anomalous fluctuation in the data.

It came from the underground water-quality monitoring system.

The water-quality readings from the Eastern Sector Irrigation Canal were slowly changing.

It wasn't toxins or bacteria.

It was an eerie change that couldn't be measured by conventional chemical indicators.

The water was growing more viscous.

Its surface tension was decreasing.

And at certain frequencies, the sound of the flowing water no longer seemed to be a burbling current.

Instead, it had become a low, whispering murmur.

"Alert... logical error... unable to parse..."

Kais's brain trembled slightly in the Nutrient Paste.

Then it emitted a burst of garbled electronic signals.

But the anomaly was soon suppressed by some powerful will.

It was an ancient, decaying will from the Warp.

Like a drop of ink falling into clear water,

it seeped and spread without a sound, staining everything the color of despair.

The data streams soon returned to normal.

That trace of anomalous activity had been cleverly concealed.

As if it had never existed.

By the time Rovi returned to his office, it was already eight in the morning.

He had slept for less than two hours, but forced himself to stay alert as he sat down at his desk.

Reports and documents were piled high across it.

He picked up the one on top.

It concerned the "Mixed Protein Formula"—

that was, the report on the Green Soup made from rats and cockroaches.

"No obvious adverse effects after consumption. Physical recovery is good."

"Some workers report that the taste has improved slightly and hope supplies can be increased..."

Rovi read the report and gave a wry smile.

Human adaptability was terrifying.

As long as they could stay alive, they could find something to like even about food like this.

He picked up his quill and wrote a note on the report:

"Approve a 10% increase in supply."

"Also improve water filtration. Water used to make soup must be brought to a boil three times."

After writing that, his hand suddenly stopped.

An inexplicable sense of dread welled up inside him.

Without thinking, he touched the lead plate on his chest.

The Amulet Fragment sealed inside it wasn't hot or vibrating.

It was as quiet as an ordinary piece of scrap metal.

But that only made Rovi feel more uneasy.

Like the calm before a storm.

Too quiet.

Since the black-robed man's death, the followers of Nurgle had vanished as if they'd been erased from the world. Apart from their last failed poisoning attempt, they'd made no further moves.

Something was wrong.

Chaos never gave up easily.

It was like a thorn lodged in the bone.

Once it fixed its sights on a target, it never let go.

What were they waiting for?

Rovi stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down over the plaza.

The workers were drinking Green Soup, satisfied expressions on their faces.

Defense Force soldiers were wiping down their newly issued weapons, their eyes full of fighting spirit.

Everything seemed perfectly normal.

So normal it felt wrong.

Just then, his gaze fell on an inconspicuous corner.

A rainwater collection pool beneath the administrative building.

Acid rain had fallen the night before, and the pool was full of murky water.

A few flies buzzed over its surface.

There was nothing strange about that.

On an agricultural world like this, there were more flies than people.

But...

Rovi narrowed his eyes.

The flies' flight paths seemed a little too orderly.

They weren't just flying around at random.

They circled, swooped, then circled again in a regular pattern.

They were tracing a symbol in the air.

Three circles.

Arranged in a triangle.

One above, two below.

Rovi drew in a sharp breath.

It was Nurgle's mark!