Cooperating with the Rebels

Li Qinwu wound his way out of the Hive City and headed toward Second Lieutenant Rudosen's camp.

The city was under martial law at the time: entry was permitted, but exit was not. Li Qinwu was even stopped by the Arbites on his way out.

However, he went to the military station beside the train station and told a junior officer there that he was Second Lieutenant Rudosen's relative.

He also explained that Rudosen had asked him to help arrange accommodations for wounded soldiers, that he had already settled them, and that he was now heading out to report that they were safe.

When the junior officer heard it concerned the placement of wounded soldiers, he was moved as well.

Arranging accommodations for wounded soldiers was a longstanding problem in the PDF. The planetary governor was an exceptionally stingy and greedy man who did not care in the slightest whether ordinary PDF soldiers lived or died. Regular soldiers had no security, and their death benefits were pitifully low.

Some PDF officers shared bonds of comradeship with their soldiers, so when soldiers were injured, they had to find ways to settle them privately. Otherwise, if the other soldiers saw that you ignored the wounded, would they still dare risk their lives on the battlefield?

In short, there were many cases of officers privately finding ways to settle wounded soldiers, so the junior officer at the military station gave him a break.

But to prevent Li Qinwu from being a fraud, he sent a soldier to accompany Li Qinwu out of the Hive City by train.

The two took a winding route to Second Lieutenant Rudosen's defensive sector, where Rudosen received them.

Once the military station soldier confirmed that Li Qinwu was no fraud, he headed back alone. Li Qinwu slipped him 300 credits—100 for himself and 200 for the junior officer at the station. The soldier left with a grin, saying that he would remember Li Qinwu.

After that came the conversation between Li Qinwu and Second Lieutenant Rudosen. The two moved into a military tent and took their seats.

Li Qinwu waved the letter in his hand.

"Little Joel's family has been settled. They won't have any problems for the time being. He asked me to deliver a letter to his sister in the Imperial Cult, and I did. This is her reply."

Second Lieutenant Rudosen let out a long breath.

"That is good. Then we have, at least, done right by the comradeship we shared on the battlefield."

Li Qinwu looked around, confirmed that no one was outside the tent, and quietly brought up his true reason for coming.

"Do you remember when I mentioned doing business? I've got an idea now. So, what do you say? Want to invest?"

There was wariness in Second Lieutenant Rudosen's eyes.

"What kind of business? Don't do anything too outrageous!

It's fine if we make a little money under the table, but if you draw the attention of the Arbites in the Spire, even I won't be able to protect you."

Li Qinwu waved a hand.

"It isn't as serious as you say. Just a small business—brewing alcohol.

Right now, aside from the Hive City, the entire planetary surface has been occupied by the rebels. Food can't get in, and you can't break out.

That useless planetary governor doesn't seem to have any way of retaking the surface. Unless something unexpected happens, this situation could continue for ten or twenty years without issue."

Li Qinwu had no idea how long the planetary governor had gone without paying taxes. In any case, once taxes went unpaid for a while, the Inquisition's fleet would arrive to collect them by force.

When that overwhelmingly powerful armed fleet arrived, both the damned rebels and the planetary governor would have to die.

But the Imperium's inefficiency was infamous, so Li Qinwu estimated that it would still take ten or twenty years before the Inquisition's fleet arrived to collect taxes.

Those ten or twenty years were an entire generation's lifetime. Warhammer 40,000 might be filled with every sort of monster and freak, making it seem as though every planet dealt with heresy and Chaos every day, but from a broader perspective, a person's life was still very stable.

Like now: the current generation of Agri-World 496b would spend their entire lives in civil war. Dealing with the Inquisition would be the next generation's problem.

Li Qinwu continued, "This meaningless war will go on for another ten or twenty years, and you'll keep clashing with the rebels.

Although your weapons and equipment are better, accidents will always happen in prolonged conflict. Little Joel was an example of that.

What will you do when wounded soldiers appear in your unit again? Dump them all on me?

I told you already, didn't I? I'm just a lone drifter in the Lower Hive. Taking in Little Joel's family took a great deal out of me. I can't spend the rest of my life doing nothing but helping you support wounded soldiers' families, can I?"

Second Lieutenant Rudosen caught on.

"The business you mentioned is related to this?"

Li Qinwu nodded seriously.

"I've confirmed through many channels that alcohol is in urgent demand in the Hive City right now. I'm planning to open a brewery in the Lower Hive!

This brewery will grow bigger and bigger, and I need reliable people to work there.

If your unit keeps producing wounded soldiers, I will give priority to choosing workers from among those wounded soldiers and their families.

That way, I can help you settle wounded soldiers in large numbers. You will have a foothold in the Lower Hive through me, and if you ever lose power and need to hide in the Lower Hive, I can shelter you too."

Second Lieutenant Rudosen was deeply tempted. Though no one said it aloud, everyone knew that the Lower Hive was the only destination for wounded soldiers.

The farmers outside thought Middle Hive citizens lived wonderful lives, never realizing that Middle Hive citizens envied the farmers tilling land outside even more.

Middle Hive society was intensely oppressive. In essence, it was a massive, hyper-collectivized factory.

That factory was cold and cruel, devoid of even a trace of human warmth. The moment you made the slightest mistake, its mechanical parts would not wait for you; they would only mercilessly grind you apart.

A soldier being wounded was considered their mistake. Those who became soldiers were the young and strong members of their families. Once that able-bodied laborer was lost, collapse was all that awaited the family.

Unless the elders of that family were decisive enough to abandon him the instant they learned he had been wounded and let him die, the entire family would be ruined by debt.

Little Joel's family was like that. His elders could not bear to give up on him, so they took him to a Two-Snake School clinic for treatment. Because they could not pay, the Arbites took them away. The whole family was collectively stripped of their Middle Hive citizenship and exiled to the Lower Hive.

People in Warhammer 40,000 were still people. They had feelings too. Faced with the oppression of policy, they also wanted to find a way to preserve their conscience. Now, Li Qinwu had brought them a proper solution.

Second Lieutenant Rudosen asked, "What do you want me to do?"

Li Qinwu stepped outside the tent and looked carefully. The nearest soldiers were playing cards thirty paces away. He returned to the tent, pulled the curtain shut, leaned close to Second Lieutenant Rudosen's ear, and lowered his voice to a mosquito's buzz.

"I want to brew alcohol. I have a location, and I can find a way to obtain the equipment. Personnel won't be a problem either. The only problem is raw materials. I need grain—grain measured in tons."

Second Lieutenant Rudosen's pupils abruptly contracted.

"You... you couldn't possibly be thinking..."

A sharp light flashed through Li Qinwu's eyes.

"That's right. I plan to smuggle grain from the rebels. I need you to make things convenient for me, provide vehicles and fuel to transport the grain, and give me guns and ammunition. I'll use them to trade the rebels for grain.

If I manage to brew the alcohol, you'll also need to find sales channels for me within the military. Rather than letting your lousy soldiers drink someone else's liquor, they might as well drink mine and make me some damn money.

Then, when the rebels break their legs someday, I can help look after their whole families too."