Cogitators – the ubiquitous computing machines of the Warhammer 40k world – are a grotesque hybrid of mechanical components and "wetware," meaning brains.
Inside these devices, you can find anything: from an animal's brain to artificially grown human gray matter. Sometimes, much more frightening specimens are found – brains taken directly from living people.
Since the computing power of each individual unit leaves much to be desired, the Imperium compensates with quantity. Cogitators can be found everywhere: entire decks of warships are crammed with them, and there are plenty of them in the upper levels of the hive. Li Qingyu just didn't have access to them yet.
After a short conversation, Li said goodbye to Lieutenant Rudolfson. He drove him to a ventilation shaft, through which Li returned to his sanctuary.
The next few days were spent in grueling training. With each passing day, his physical indicators steadily increased.
Meanwhile, the modernization of his underground distillery was completed. The production workshop became more spacious and convenient – now up to ten tons of potatoes could be processed in one cycle. However, with new opportunities came new problems.
There was a knock on the sanctuary door. Knife stood at the threshold.
"Boss, we've already loaded the new batch of ten tons, but the battery you gave us is dead." He spread his hands, shrugging apologetically. "And also... with our volumes, kettles are not an option. Too slow. We are slowing down the whole process. Boss, we need to solve this."
Li Qingyu faced an energy crisis. The scale of production had grown so much that a couple of batteries could no longer save the situation.
"And how are the Fertilizer Gang and the Chemists powered?" he asked. "Maybe we can run a cable from them?"
Since he managed to lay a water pipe, he should be able to get electricity too.
"Boss, I heard from the Fertilizers that most of the energy in the hive is obtained from heat," Knife explained. "The Mechanicus factories generate a lot of excess heat, which is then converted. But the entire network is under their control. In the Underhive, there is only one legal way to get light: to sign a contract for industrial production with someone from the top. You open a factory, churn out chemicals, process waste or wastewater – and then the Mechanicus themselves will run a branch."
Li understood that this path was closed to him.
He was just a small rat from the Underhive. What kind of contracts with noble lords of the Spire could he possibly get? Hoping for an official connection was foolish – it was easier to steal.
"Is there no energy left in the workshop at all?" he clarified.
Knife nodded.
"Boss, the industrial battery you brought has run out. Now we're running the generator from the engine of a small handcar – it'll last for a while, but it's not a solution. If we install new equipment, it won't handle it."
Li thought. Maybe assemble a normal generator?
The thought died as soon as it was born.
Technically, it was possible: there was an engine, and a battery could be found. The rebels had plenty of captured SPО trucks – one could be disassembled and made into a power station.
But the efficiency of such a homemade device would be laughable. The generator would consume fuel or alcohol, driving up the cost of production to the skies. A stable and cheap energy source was needed.
"What if we negotiate with the Fertilizer Gang?" Li suggested. "Let's run an 'airline' from them."
It was only three to five kilometers in a straight line to the neighbors' territory. Running a cable would be easy.
Knife hesitated.
"Boss, we can run it... But, honestly, our distillery is like a fat piece for the Electronic Eye. He wants to eat it, but he's afraid of choking. Your connections and weapons scare him. He doesn't like having such a 'prickly cutlet' nearby – so his attitude towards us is appropriate."
In the last few days, Li had installed two heavy-caliber stubbers on the walls, covering the approaches to the sanctuary with crossfire. To get the guys used to the weapons, he organized shooting practice and fired several hundred rounds.
The roar of heavy machine guns echoed through the pipes – it could be heard even at the Fertilizers. Scouts who came to check quickly left as soon as they saw the barrels sticking out of the embrasures.
Weighing all the pros and cons, Li decided: he still had to negotiate with the neighbors. At least – try.
Knife tried to stop him:
"Boss, everything is different now! We've started earning money. The Fertilizers are drooling over us. If you show up there openly – they'll try to capture you!"
Li grinned.
"Leave your fears. Watch the boilers, I'll be back soon."
Under the anxious gaze of his assistant, he put on a simple work robe and headed for the Fertilizer Gang's base.
On the approach, he took out a poison capsule and discreetly attached it to the inside of his teeth. He wasn't afraid of death, but of captivity – yes. If he were killed, his enemies would know an endless wrath.
Li entered the gang's territory. Due to business, he hadn't been here for a long time.
The two guards at the gate were new, but they looked differently – with a mixture of fear and greed.
Ignoring them, Li walked past and headed for the shop of the black merchant Nepal.
He was fiddling with the guts of some mechanism. Seeing the guest, he grimaced, but quickly put on a hypocritical smile.
"Oh-oh-oh, who do we have here! Boss Li himself!" His voice dripped with venom. "What wind brought your highness to our humble abode?"
The ostentatious politeness was the best indicator of Li's increased status.
Before, Nepal saw him as just a rat – angry, but manageable. Now Li had become a force to be reckoned with. And this annoyed the merchant.
Li sighed. Success always breeds envy. He decided not to delay.
"Old Nepal, I have a little problem. Can you help me out?"
Nepal sensed a catch and squinted.
"And what is the problem?"
Li nodded towards the humming chemical reactors:
"I see you're doing well. So many installations, so much energy. And I have a small workshop nearby. Maybe we can run a line from you?"
Nepal's mind began to grind. This guy had become a mystery. There were rumors that Li was fixing roads and driving a handcar to the surface. His income was growing, and now he was asking for energy. This means production is expanding... and that means new money.
Greed flashed in the merchant's eyes.
"Electricity, you say..." he drawled. "It's not an easy matter. We have quotas from the Mechanicus. If we share with you – we'll have to cut back ourselves."
Li lit a cigarette carelessly.
"Name your price. If it suits me, we'll agree."
A few minutes later, he was walking away, cursing under his breath. Nepal demanded half of the distillery's profit – he had completely lost his mind from greed.
Angered, Li headed for the safe zone.
Half an hour later, he was sitting in the Water Guild's office opposite Reno.
After listening to the request, Reno thought.
"I don't know how networks are laid in the Underhive," he admitted. "But I have an acquaintance in the Adeptus Mechanicus. A tech consultant at the Sewage Facilities. I'll write a note – go to him."
Reno's connections turned out to be better than expected. Taking the recommendation, Li was soon speeding towards the Sewage Facilities in a repaired handcar.
The Sewage Facilities are a giant complex where tens of thousands of people work. The main staff is the Water Guild, but the nodes are maintained by Tech-Priests.
Sewage from the entire hive flowed here, was purified, and returned to the water cycle. Due to the stench, the complex was built in the Underhive, and a dead zone stretched for kilometers around. No gang dared to settle nearby – the guards quickly explained their mistake with shotguns.
The smell hit his nose long before the walls appeared. Huge gates separated the stinking kingdom from the rest of the world.
Approaching the lock, Li noticed an old camera lens aimed at him. He waved Reno's note in front of it.
A minute later, the gates opened with a screech, and a Water Guild guard gestured him in.
Li entered, handing over the paper and, unnoticed, a can of meat preserves.
"I'm from Mr. Reno. I need Father Anthony."
The guard was surprised by the weight of the can, but quickly hid the gift under his body armor.
"Follow me."
The gates closed with a clang. The guard handed Li a respirator and warned:
"Father Anthony is a... special person. You have thirty seconds. If you don't interest him, he'll throw you out. And most importantly: no hints, metaphors, or jokes. Speak directly. The Mechanicus don't understand subtext."
Li nodded, mentally praising himself for the stew – without it, he wouldn't have gotten this information.
Inside, the factory resembled the gut of a giant: an endless labyrinth of pipes through which billions of cubic meters of waste were pumped daily. Below, in giant reactors resembling underground seas, technomancy was taking place – water was separated, purified, and returned to the cycle, while solid fractions were compressed into black mass and burned in the planet's depths.
Contemplating this, Li again felt the grandeur of the Imperium.
Finally, they approached a modular building adorned with symbols of a gear and a skull – the mark of the Omnissiah.
The guard entered first and soon came out.
"He'll see you. Remember – thirty seconds."
Li took a deep breath and entered.
Inside, among a pile of equipment, stood something resembling a hybrid of a human and a machine. A red robe, arms and legs – solid cybernetics, a lens glowed instead of one eye, and a vox-grille speaker replaced the mouth.
Behind the priest, a power pack hummed, powering the cybernetic body. Two mechanodentrites extended from it, flashing with machine speed over the control panels.
The Tech-Priest didn't even turn around – he was absorbed in the data stream.
Li knew: time was running out. For the servants of the Machine God, every second is sacred.
"I need the Mechanicus to run a power line to my workshop," he said quickly. "In return, I offer a special lubricating compound that increases the efficiency of mechanisms and appeases their spirits."
All four hands froze. Anthony slowly turned. His living eye and photoreceptor bored into the guest's face, analyzing facial fluctuations.
Finally, he extended a mechanical hand and rasped in a distorted, crackling voice:
"A sample is required for data verification."
Li took out a bottle of cooking oil, to which he added a little consecrated oil.
An analyzer needle extended from the mechanodentrite and pierced the cork.
"Ninety-five percent triglycerides, five percent lipophilic compounds. Identification: cooking oil. Lubricating properties – unsatisfactory. Ability to appease the machine spirit – absent. Conclusion: the sample is of no value."
The priest was about to dismiss the visitor.
Li hastened to add:
"I poured this oil into the engine of a standard repair handcar. Under a load of ten empty wagons and with the addition of five hundred milliliters of the compound, the mileage increased to thirty kilometers."
Anthony's oculars flashed again, focusing on the guest's face.
"Facial analysis: no signs of deception. Credibility of the statement – ninety percent. Note: the engine of the X-35 model standard handcar is multi-fuel. With the addition of five hundred milliliters of organic oils, the calculated range is twenty kilometers. A figure of thirty is a statistical anomaly."
He lingered on the bottle.
"Re-evaluation. The sample is suitable for field testing."