Steel & Oil: Warhammer 32K

The underlings sent to the Life Cult earlier had all gone and never returned, which left the boss hesitant. But upon hearing the faint ticking of the bomb implanted in his body, the boss—desperate to survive—knew he had no way back.

"Serving you great lords is my joy." He forced out the fawning smile he'd once used to curry favor with nobles. "May I ask when I should…?"

"There's no rush."

Lin led the Astartes back to the transport line they had reclaimed earlier. The resources being shipped up from the underhive were, by their very nature, gathered and transported in segments, so there were already some resources ready to be shipped back up to the upper hive. But after a moment's thought, Lin held back most of them.

"Have the Thunderhawk gunships make a few extra runs, and discreetly move these things into my light Forge Ship. As for the rest… leave thirty percent, and ship it to that planetary governor."

"Only thirty percent?" Kurande worried the amount was too small and would tip the other party off that something was amiss.

"With thirty percent he'll still have to keep me happy," Lin waved his hand grandly. "Do it!"

And so the few Thunderhawk gunships they had began operating around the clock. Whatever resources exceeded their transport capacity, Lin found ways to refine on the spot, feeding them directly into the construction of the underhive defensive line.

The brothers who specialized in civil engineering once again showed off their professionalism. Centering on this captured stretch of the transport line, the Imperial Fists erected a simple but solid fortress within a matter of days.

This defensive line would be their mainstay going forward. By stationing some of the Space Marines and planetary defense forces inside it, they ensured that even if something unexpected happened, they wouldn't be left without a way to retreat.

The planetary defense troops who had been reassigned down here may have noticed something was off, but seeing the defensive line taking shape before them and the fine weapons Lin had picked out from the gangs and issued into their hands, they very sensibly chose to keep their mouths shut about where the resources were flowing.

What good would tattling do? Would it get them recalled to the safety of the upper hive?

Having been kicked down into the underhive, their morale had already been shaky, and now they realized all the more that the only path to survival was to follow the Astartes. The sense of security brought by the civil-engineering brothers made them stand firmly and unwaveringly on the coalition's side.

Shipping up even this small amount of resources actually excited the planetary governor. He sent more reinforcements and eagerly expressed his hope that the Astartes would subdue the underhive as soon as possible.

"Look at this." Lin presented the governor's letter before everyone. "He even has to thank us."

The ever-honest sons of Dorn were left speechless. Only Kurande fell into thought, as though a door to a whole new world had opened before him.

Beyond establishing the defensive line, Lin hadn't forgotten the Night Lord prowling through the underhive. Lin assigned a squad of men to Thorne—the only one with any understanding of the Night Lords—and put him in charge of hunting down that cold-blooded killer, provided he ensured his own safety.

After this series of preparations, the Astartes' deployment was fully in place.

So the gang boss was once again pushed to the front. Having figured out the Life Cult's rough location, Lin arranged a whole performance for him, sending the boss stumbling his way to the Life Cult's compound.

The boss staggered a few steps and finally collapsed before the Life Cult's gates.

A few devotees on watch spotted the boss. Weapons in hand, they approached him warily. They rolled the fallen boss over and saw his face, withered and cracked from dehydration.

"Food, water…"

The boss, who hadn't eaten or drunk for several days, gave a masterclass in committing to the role, moaning and pleading in his half-conscious state. The few cultists exchanged glances, and in the end all turned their gaze toward one man who looked to be their leader.

Unlike the other believers, this one was covered head to toe in a broad, loose robe. He studied the boss's face, then beckoned to the subordinates around him.

"Go and fetch him some food and water."

The others hesitated a little. "But so many people have flooded into our cult lately—our food and water are already running low…"

"How could the Great Father refuse to bestow his mercy over so trivial a matter?" the cult leader rebuked. "If you cannot hold a heart of tolerance, when will you ever become like me—a believer worthy of Our Father's gaze, no longer bound by the cravings of the belly?"

These words clearly stirred the believers. They scrambled to lift the boss up, and one of them brought over some gruel and clean water. As they fed him, the mechanical implant Lin had buried inside the boss detected the food and reported the data back. Lin, lurking not far away, set to analyzing the data, and to his astonishment found that this water and food were actually rather clean.

Among them were some bacterial cultures Lin couldn't identify for the moment. He guessed their function was to purify the water. And the results the cultures achieved were indeed remarkable—the quality of this drinking water was actually considerably better than the water in the midhive that had been recycled who-knows-how-many times.

No wonder the underhive's residents were so devoted to this cult.

As for whether followers of Nurgle could pull this off—yes, they certainly could. But the question was: compared to simply spreading plague, why would they do this?

Stimulated by this source of life, the gang boss gradually came to. He looked at the believers before him and asked weakly, "Am I saved…?"

"That's right, you have entered the embrace of the Great Father." The believer replied warmly, helping the boss up. "I can feel your fear of death… but there's no need to be afraid. Let this fear become nourishment for your life. You will surely become the Great Father's most faithful devotee!"

No need to even verify his identity?

Such an easy success caught Lin off guard. He had originally arranged for others to stir up a commotion nearby, so the boss could slip in amid the chaos—but having that preparation go unused was no bad thing either.

Lin regathered the previously scattered Astartes, and the mechanical implant inside the boss patched into his optic nerve. As the signal returned, everyone present witnessed the interior of the Life Cult through Lin's Servo-skull.

The robed believer had the others keep watch while he himself supported the gang boss into the cult's encampment.

Through the boss's field of view, Lin could see that the outermost ring of the camp was a crude tent settlement, where sallow, emaciated refugees had gathered. They clearly hadn't yet been truly accepted into the cult. Utterly exhausted, they followed the methods the believers had taught them, praying at the top of their lungs to this so-called Great Father. In return for their prayers, the cult would periodically grant them a pitifully small amount of food.

This was the most common of domestication methods—through their endless repetition, the cult's ideology would seep into their hearts. Perhaps they worried that their piety still wasn't enough to fill their bellies, but in Lin's eyes this was a kind of good fortune.

Going deeper still, the ones who were active were no longer those refugees praying at the top of their lungs, but core believers who, like the man supporting the boss, concealed their forms beneath robes. Even though the robes hid most of the details, Lin could tell from the occasional strange movements beneath them that these believers had already undergone bodily mutations.

So it really was Nurgle's doing…

But the degree of corruption didn't seem to run all that deep?

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