Rank 4 Scribe

At that, Marquez closed the ledger.

"Five hundred tons of high-energy fuel to appease a Harvester?"

He stepped toward Rovi, his towering shadow falling over him.

"According to the Ministry of the Interior's Material Guidance Manual No. 492, the start-up ceremony for a standard-model Harvester requires only five kilograms of incense and three liters of Sacred Oil."

"You're wasting the Imperium's resources, Scribe."

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"That's for a standard model, sir." Rovi didn't back down. "We're using a Model M36 Redeemer Harvester. Its ancient Machine Spirit is temperamental."

"If we don't offer it enough high-energy fuel, it'll shut down."

"Last quarter, the fuel shortage enraged Machine Spirit Number Three. Two operators were pulled into the gears, and production stopped for three days."

Rovi paused, then played his trump card.

"The loss from three days of halted production was four thousand tons of wheat. The five hundred tons of fuel cost only as much as five hundred tons of wheat."

"Saving five hundred tons only to lose four thousand makes no sense. It goes against the Emperor's teaching to 'make the best use of everything.'"

Marquez's Mechanical Eye zoomed in and out.

He was calculating.

A few seconds later, he turned to Kais.

"What about the irrigation canal coating? You used eight thousand tons?"

Kais had caught on this time. He wiped the sweat from his brow and spoke up.

"Th-that was to prevent leaks. Water is a gift from the Emperor. We can't waste a single drop!"

Marquez ignored him, keeping his gaze fixed on Rovi.

"Ordinary leak-prevention work doesn't require that much material."

"Because of the soil." Rovi's voice remained steady. "The Archives record that the Adeptus Mechanicus spread sulfides here in Year M37."

"Residual sulfur has made the soil too acidic, and it would corrode standard coatings. We need to make them three times thicker and mix in a neutralizing agent."

"If we don't, the irrigation canal will collapse within three months. Then the entire Eastern Sector's output will drop to zero."

Rovi gave the Archives' file reference number.

"You can verify it. Archives, Section C-4, Shelf 772, File 19."

Marquez fell silent.

The Servitor Skull behind him flew up and extended a probe, apparently connecting to the Mothership Database in orbit to verify the claim.

Half a minute.

Those thirty seconds felt like a century.

The Servitor Skull gave a clear little chime.

Verification complete.

The red light in Marquez's eyes dimmed a little.

He reopened the ledger and took out a stamp.

"Approved."

Smack.

The red stamp came down on the page.

Kais let out a long breath and slumped like a heap of mud.

Marquez changed tack.

"Although it's compliant, the efficiency is too low. Next quarter, I want to see this expense reduced by ten percent. Otherwise, I'll turn you both into Fertilizer."

"Yes, yes, absolutely!" Kais nodded frantically.

Marquez tossed the ledger back into Rovi's arms.

"Lead the way. I want to inspect the physical inventory."

The inspection lasted a full four hours.

Rovi followed behind him, answering every pointed question.

Storage density, moisture-proofing measures, even the rodent extermination rate.

His answers were flawless.

All his preparation made him seem like an old hand who'd worked this post for fifty years.

Marquez didn't cause any more trouble.

The Ministry of the Interior didn't care whether you were a good person. They only cared whether you were a useful cog.

Rovi was a useful cog now.

Before leaving, Marquez stood at the hatch and looked Rovi in the eye for the first time.

"What's your name?"

"Rovi, sir. Rank 4 Scribe."

"Your logic circuits are clear. That's rare on this Frontier World, full of idiots."

Marquez unhooked a metal chip from his belt and tossed it to Rovi.

"This is the Ministry of the Interior's Primary Authority Keychip. If you live until the next Imperial Tithe collection, I'll consider giving you a chance to work in the upper levels of the Hive City."

With that, he turned and walked into the shuttle.

The hatch closed.

The engines roared.

The shuttle rose into the sky and disappeared into the clouds.

Kais stood there, staring at the Loyalty Medal in his hand and grinning like a lunatic.

"We passed! Hahaha, we passed!"

He turned and slapped Rovi hard on the back.

"Good lad, you did it! That stone-faced bastard even gave you a Letter of Recommendation!"

Rovi held the cold chip and bowed his head.

"It's all thanks to your guidance, Supervisor."

Kais's laughter stopped abruptly.

He stared at the chip in Rovi's hand, his expression changing.

Greed, and jealousy.

And, deeper down, murderous intent.

A subordinate who was too capable was one thing. A subordinate with a Letter of Recommendation from the Ministry of the Interior was another.

To Kais, Rovi was no longer a tool, but a threat.

"Rovi, you're tired. Give me the chip to keep safe. Someone at your rank shouldn't be carrying it around."

Rovi didn't hesitate.

He held out the chip with both hands.

"Of course, sir. You deserve the credit."

Kais snatched the chip and shoved it into his pocket.

The fat on his face quivered as he smiled with satisfaction.

"Good. You know how to behave. Go get some rest. You have tonight off."

"Thank you, sir."

Rovi turned and left.

He walked slowly, his steps steady.

He could feel Kais's gaze clinging to his back like a venomous snake.

Kais wouldn't let him live until the next tax collection.

Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow.

An "accident" would happen.

He might slip and fall into a grinder, or get food poisoning from expired Corpse Starch.

Rovi walked out of the Granary.

The sky outside was overcast.

He didn't go back to the dormitory.

He turned a corner and headed for the Mechanical Repair Workshop in the Lower Sector.

If Kais wanted him dead, he'd have to make sure Kais couldn't kill him.

On this planet, besides the Governor and the Ministry of the Interior, there was another power.

The Adeptus Mechanicus.

During the inspection, Rovi had noticed something.

When the Model M36 Harvester was mentioned, a Tech-Priest responsible for its maintenance had shown a flicker of pain in his eyes.

That machine was sick.

It wasn't just short on fuel. It was truly sick.

The Adeptus Mechanicus treated machines as gods.

They knew every step:

Applying a specific sequence of Sacred Oil to the designated bearings;

Reciting the Awakening Invocation for the corresponding model at a precise pitch;

Purifying the possibly contaminated "Machine Spirit's Dwelling" with incense.

They might know what the problem was.

But between "knowing" and "being allowed to act" lay traditions measured in millennia, and unquestionable scripture.

Dismantling, investigating, and especially conducting a basic diagnostic of a "Holy Relic's" internal structure—

All could be seen as sacrilege and trespass against the mysteries of the Machine God.

They were trapped within their own magnificent framework of understanding.

As an outsider from another world, Rovi possessed exactly what they had long lost and deliberately avoided—

a simple understanding of physics, unclouded by theological interpretation and aimed straight at the heart of the problem.

So the mechanical principles and engineering knowledge he'd learned in his previous life could now serve a unique purpose.

He decided to fix the machine.

If he could repair the "Holy Relic" that had defeated even the Tech-Priests, he would gain the protection of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

Then even Kais wouldn't dare touch someone the Adeptus Mechanicus regarded as a "confidant of the Machine Spirit."

The Repair Workshop was filled with the smell of Machine Oil and incense.

The towering Model M36 Redeemer Harvester lay in the center of the workshop like a dying Steel Beast.

Its casing was covered in scripture and Purity Seals.

Three junior Tech-Priests circled it, wafting incense over its exhaust pipe with censers and muttering prayers.

"Omnissiah, quell your wrath..."

"Spirit of the Cog, turn once more..."

Rovi stood in the shadows and watched for a while.

The problem with the machine was simple.

Its intake valve was clogged.

On top of that, prolonged use of Inferior Fuel had caused carbon buildup that jammed the piston.

And these Tech-Priests were burning incense.

Rovi wasn't surprised.

Here, knowledge was monopolized and truth was deified.

These low-ranking Priests stationed on an agricultural world spent their entire lives turning in circles within the boundaries laid out by the "sacred texts."

They revered machines, yet forgot the one thing that mattered: understanding them.