Idiot, Pauper, and Air Force

"You're insane? Letting that bitch Martha go? She's gonna stir up trouble the second she's back—better to have capped her on the spot and saved the headache!" Yuri chewed on an unlit cigar, muttering nonstop.

"What do you think Martha's relying on to hold down ninety percent of the Promethium industry?" Fu Haoran suddenly shot back.

Yuri said matter-of-factly, "Her husband died, so shouldn't the business go to her?"

Fu Haoran shook his head. "You're only half right. What keeps her in control is being Haig's direct bloodline."

"She's been married seven times. Every husband died, and she inherited everything clean."

"She's not exactly a sharp one, though. A while back, she personally offed her own second-in-command—her private troops have long since lost loyalty."

"With the Iron Hand Gang, she only knows how to squeeze prices. Those bastards have been itching to turn coat."

"Letting her go is more profitable than killing her."

"So she only brought two bodyguards today—not because she underestimated me, but because she actually buys that noble bullshit about extraterritoriality in the Hive."

"Her whole life, no one's dared lay a finger on her. Not because she's tough, but because anyone who did would be sipping tea with the Adeptus Arbites the next day."

Yuri caught on. "So she's not stupid... she's naive?"

"Stupid and naive." Fu Haoran turned. "But keeping her alive is useful."

"Kill her, and her family sends someone competent to take over—maybe that cousin of hers who's a naval chief of staff, or her uncle stepping in personally."

"Then we'd be facing a full-scale vendetta from the whole family, not some self-righteous countess."

Yuri suddenly understood. In a Hive World, someone who turns her own subordinates into enemies surviving this long was a miracle in itself.

Martha could act so recklessly only because she had a powerful family backing her.

Fu Haoran stared at the holographic map. "She lost face today. First thing she does when she gets back isn't unite—it's retaliate."

"She'll use her resources to mobilize troops, cut supply lines, maybe even secretly contact the Iron Hand Gang and promise them favors to make a move."

"Wouldn't that be worse?"

"No." Fu Haoran smiled. "The other nobles don't see it that way."

"After all, why go to war over someone who's dead in three years?"

"So conflict's bound to break out among them. The more desperate Martha gets, the more the noble alliance fractures."

Meanwhile, at Martha's manor.

Seven people sat in the main hall. All were high-profile nobles of the Hive.

Martha occupied the head seat, her face pale but her back ramrod straight.

She'd changed out of her bloodstained gown into a deep black dress, as if attending a funeral.

Her uncle, Count Victor, sat to her left.

The old man was seventy, but thanks to life-extension tech, he looked barely thirty—handsome yet sinister, three gemstone rings on his fingers that he kept rubbing, trophies from swallowing three minor noble houses.

He set his teacup down hard. The sharp clink of ceramic against saucer cut through the silent hall, his contempt undisguised.

"Martha, I am deeply disappointed in you."

"Your performance today has shamed the family."

"The inheritance from your seven husbands, the backing of the Silverthorn House name—and you use it to march two bodyguards into the Governor's Office to strong-arm him?"

"Victor! What right do you have to lecture me!" Martha snapped.

"Precisely because I'm a collateral branch, I'm sitting here wasting my breath on you!" Victor's voice was even, but his eyes turned cold.

"Two bodyguards storming the Governor's Office, getting your men killed, extorted for fifty thousand Throne Coins, and slinking back—now you want us to salvage your pride?!"

The other nobles murmured among themselves. Some nodded, some sneered. No one truly sided with Martha.

Victor shook his head. "Even if you think nothing of him, he's still the planetary governor in name."

"So what?" Martha shrieked. "One dead governor—just find another!"

"Start a war over a dying man?" Victor raised an eyebrow, his disdain deepening. "How do you win? He's got troops and cans, and the whole Lower Hive's buzzing that he's handing out real meat to recruit."

"One call from him, and he can pull hundreds of thousands of starving rioters."

"Just rabble!" Martha howled. "A bunch of filth—send as many as you want, they'll all die before they even set foot in the Mid-Hive gates!"

"Foolish!" Victor clenched his rings hard, the gems digging into his pale knuckles.

"What we need to do is cut off the Governor's Office Promethium supply immediately, blockade the cross-Hive transport lines. Within a month, the Lower Hive riots. He either begs us on his knees or gets torn apart by the mob."

"Then the cans and the Promethium are all ours."

"What if he decides to attack the Lower Hive Promethium Factory?" Martha asked defiantly.

"Simple," Victor sneered. "Tell the Iron Hand Gang that if they hold off the Governor's first wave, we'll have the other gangs reinforce them immediately."

"Pincer attack. Let's see how the governor fights that."

"What if they break through the Promethium Factory before the other gangs arrive?" Martha pressed stubbornly.

Victor looked contemptuously at his niece, hating even more the fact that he was a member of the collateral bloodline.

But on the surface, he still patiently explained, "Impossible. The Promethium Factory is the most heavily defended place in the Lower Hive. Even a herd of pigs couldn't lose the factory in a single day!"

Watching her uncle Victor's smug, self-assured expression, Martha suddenly felt that this uncle was even more detestable than Fu Haoran.

The meeting adjourned, and Martha was the first to slam the door shut on her way out.

Victor leisurely straightened his cuffs, lowering his voice to an elder beside him, "The main bloodline... and this is the caliber they raise."

"No matter which governor takes office, our real opponents... have always been in this room."

That elder smiled knowingly and raised his glass in a toast.

Back at home, Victor summoned his trusted subordinate and said coldly, "Watch her. Next time she pulls something stupid... I'll have the old men in the council personally say that Silverthorn House's representative on S-Sai Four needs to be replaced."

Meanwhile, in the Governor's Office, inside the tactical room.

Wade stood before a holographic sand table, briefing the situation:

"Sir, the Promethium Factory's outer wall has twelve exposed open-air fire towers, completely unarmored with no cover. Two modified laser cannons on the rooftop are mounted directly on concrete platforms, also without any shielding. They're old, but one shot can vaporize our Bison Armored Vehicle."

"The underground entrance is fortified with heavy machine guns, all positioned flush against the outer walls."

"As for manpower, the Iron Hand Gang has fifty thousand core members, and the thugs they can mobilize are conservatively estimated at over a hundred thousand."

"Our only chance is to catch them off guard, rush the bridge with armored units, and blast open the main gate before they can react."

"But those turrets... they'll turn the bridge into a steel graveyard within three minutes. Our armored vehicles can't withstand that density of firepower."

Fu Haoran stared at the projection and asked, "If we go with a frontal assault, what are the estimated casualties?"

Wade was silent for a few seconds.

"If everything goes smoothly, half die. If it doesn't... possibly total annihilation."

Yuri couldn't help complaining, "How is this any different from suicide?!"

"Kid Fu, if you don't have a plan, listen to me—let's just run. I don't want to die with you!"

Fu Haoran glanced at him, "You think we can run?"

Yuri choked, unable to answer.

The tactical room fell silent.

"Is the main gate the only way in?" Fu Haoran's expression grew serious.

"Yes. If we want to leverage our greatest advantage, we have to rely on armored units, and that means only the main gate."

"Any other approach would result in even heavier casualties. The Promethium Factory is too important, so from the very beginning, it was designed to be easy to defend and hard to attack. That bridge at the main gate is the only passage."

Fu Haoran looked at the fortress-like Promethium Factory and knew he had to think differently.

Staring at the exposed turrets slowly rotating in the projection, he suddenly asked, "Wade, are those turrets fully automatic or semi-automatic in target acquisition?"

Wade was taken aback: "Semi-automatic. A gunner operates the fire control inside the turret, but aiming and correction are assisted by a servo system. Sir, are you thinking..."

Fu Haoran shut off the holographic projection: "You continue preparing the assault plan. I'll handle the defensive towers on the factory walls."

"I'm going to find some... air power."

Wade advised, "Sir, although the factory's anti-air defenses are weak, the Iron Hand Gang is sure to have plenty of man-portable anti-air weapons."

"Also, we received word today that the nobles have declared they'll cut off our Promethium supply within a month. We don't have much time."

As Wade's words fell, the system chimed in to join the fun:

[Quest Triggered: Air Support]

[Quest Requirement: Within 30 days, acquire a batch of aerial armed forces and complete a strike on the Promethium Factory]

[Quest Reward: Universal Points +666, Free Attribute Point +1, Sky-Claw Valkyrie Gunship x3]

[Even a mud-footed peasant without an air force will always be fourth-class, but even a pauper can dream of the skies, right?]