"Remember what I said about going into business before? I've got something concrete now. What do you think—interested?"
Lieutenant Rudolph's expression tightened immediately.
"What kind of business?" he asked cautiously. "Don't do anything reckless. We can handle small-scale engagements here, but if you attract attention from the enforcers in the upper hive, I won't be able to protect you."
Li Qinwu waved him off dismissively.
"It's not that serious. Just a small operation—brewing."
He paused briefly, then continued, his tone turning analytical.
"The situation is obvious. Outside the hive capital, the entire planetary surface has effectively fallen under rebel control. Supply lines are cut. No food comes in, and the PDF isn't strong enough to reclaim territory."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"That incompetent planetary governor? He's not retaking anything. This stalemate could last ten, maybe twenty years."
In the Imperium, such delays were nothing unusual. Bureaucratic inertia ensured that even tithe collection—something the Administratum enforced ruthlessly—could take decades to correct.
"When the tithe backlog becomes impossible to ignore, the Imperial fleet will come. And when they do…" Li Qinwu smirked faintly. "This entire rebellion will be erased."
He leaned forward.
"But that's years away. A generation, even. Until then, this war is your reality."
Rudolph remained silent.
Li Qinwu pressed on.
"You'll keep fighting. And eventually, more soldiers like Joel will appear—crippled, discarded."
His tone hardened.
"What then? You'll dump them all on me?"
Rudolph frowned.
"I'm already stretched thin just supporting one family," Li Qinwu continued. "I can't play charity forever. Not in the underhive."
There was a pause.
Rudolph finally understood.
"This… business of yours. It's connected to that?"
Li Qinwu nodded.
"I've confirmed it through multiple channels—the hive is facing a severe alcohol shortage. Not just for leisure—medical alcohol too."
He tapped the table lightly.
"I'm going to establish a brewery in the lower hive."
Rudolph's eyes flickered.
"It'll scale up over time. And I'll need people—reliable ones."
Li Qinwu met his gaze directly.
"Your wounded soldiers. Their families. I'll take them in first."
The implication was clear.
"They get work. Stability. A way to survive."
He leaned back slightly.
"And you? You get a foothold in the underhive. If anything ever goes wrong—if you fall from power—you'll have somewhere to retreat. Somewhere under your influence."
That struck deep.
Every officer knew the truth: the underhive was where the discarded went. The forgotten. The broken.
And yet… it was also the only place beyond the rigid control of the hive hierarchy.
Rudolph exhaled slowly.
"What do you need from me?"
Li Qinwu stood, stepped outside the tent briefly, and scanned the surroundings. Soldiers were scattered at a distance, none close enough to overhear.
He returned, lowered the tent flap, and spoke in a near whisper.
"I have location, manpower, and I can acquire equipment."
He paused.
"But I lack one thing—raw materials."
Rudolph's expression shifted.
"I need grain. In bulk. Tons of it."
Silence.
Then—
"You don't mean…"
A sharp glint flashed in Li Qinwu's eyes.
"I do."
His voice dropped even lower.
"I'm going to trade with the rebels."
Rudolph's pupils contracted.
"I need transport. Fuel. Weapons. I'll exchange them for grain."
Li Qinwu's tone was calm—too calm.
"If the brewing succeeds, you'll distribute my product through the army."
He smirked faintly.
"Your soldiers drink anyway. Might as well drink my supply—and fund their own futures."
A pause.
"And when they lose limbs out there," he added quietly, "I'll take care of what's left behind."
---
Negotiations with the Rebels
Rudolph stayed silent for a long time.
So long that even Li Qinwu began to wonder if he had pushed too far.
Finally, Rudolph covered his face with one hand, as if trying to preserve the last fragment of his conscience.
"…I want a share."
Li Qinwu didn't hesitate.
"Thirty percent of net profit. What you do with it is your business."
Rudolph nodded slowly.
Then added:
"I need something else."
Li Qinwu's eyes narrowed.
"A kill."
"Who?"
"Lieutenant Winchester."
Li Qinwu waited.
Rudolph explained in a low voice.
"He's another company commander. My direct competitor for battalion command."
A trace of bitterness crept into his tone.
"He's nobility. Backed by upper hive interests. The promotion is already leaning in his favor."
His voice hardened.
"As long as he's alive, I don't advance."
Li Qinwu smiled faintly.
"And if he dies?"
"I take command."
Rudolph looked up.
"Three infantry companies. One motorized company. This entire two-kilometer defensive sector becomes mine."
He leaned forward.
"And once it's mine… you operate freely."
No interference. No inspections. No obstruction.
Territory.
Power.
Protection.
Li Qinwu licked his lips slightly.
"Deal."
Rudolph added, "He's cautious. Stays inside his Chimera during combat. You won't get an easy shot."
"I'll find a way."
Li Qinwu's confidence didn't waver.
Then he shifted topics.
"I need contact with the rebels."
Rudolph frowned.
"Their leadership is mobile. No fixed position."
He thought briefly.
"…But we captured one of them. A wounded fighter from a recent skirmish."
Li Qinwu nodded.
"That'll do."
---
Half an hour later.
An open-top military vehicle rolled to a stop in a desolate no-man's-land between PDF lines and rebel territory.
Shell craters scarred the earth. Ruined structures stood like broken skeletons.
War had passed through here many times—and would again.
Rudolph killed the engine.
"You're sure about this?" he asked.
"If the rebel leader is unstable, you won't even get a word out before you're dead."
Li Qinwu stepped out, dragging the bound prisoner with him.
"Death," he said calmly, "isn't my end."
Rudolph watched him for a moment… then drove off.
Silence returned.
Li Qinwu removed the hood from the prisoner.
A middle-aged man. A farmer, by the look of him.
Terrified.
Li Qinwu drew his dagger.
The man screamed, struggling uselessly.
Then—
The rope snapped.
Cut clean.
The prisoner froze.
Confused.
Li Qinwu tossed him an automatic rifle.
"Take me to your leader."
He lit a cigarette.
"I have business to discuss."
---
Hours later.
Deep within rebel-controlled territory.
A forest encampment came into view.
Rough wooden structures. Crude defenses. Poorly armed fighters.
Most were farmers, not soldiers.
Their weapons? Primitive. Some barely more than tools.
Industrial deprivation was absolute. Without hive support, they had regressed technologically—just as Imperial doctrine intended for agricultural worlds.
Li Qinwu observed everything.
Calmly.
Carefully.
This… was leverage.
He sat bound to a wooden post, awaiting the leader.
Minutes passed.
Then—
A man entered, flanked by guards.
Older. Hardened. Authority in his posture.
The rebel leader.
His gaze fixed on Li Qinwu.
"Who are you?"
"And why are you here?"
Li Qinwu raised his bound hands slightly.
And smiled.