Chapter 206: I Think That Cannon Might Be Broken
"Starting now, I run a monthly assessment. Every month, the top ten performers become my personal guard.
Personal guard means powered armour, top-grade weapons, and you fight under my direct command. You and your families get Spire residency — out of the Underhive permanently. Your pay goes to twenty thousand Agri-Scrips a month, and I find work for your family members."
The assembled soldiers went very loud, very fast. Every set of eyes looking at Kian had the same expression — the particular intensity of people who have just seen a door open that they'd assumed was sealed forever.
Kian turned to Shiv.
"Four hundred fighters is nothing. Now that I can actually afford to feed more people — go recruit. I want three thousand soldiers. Then we run it like this: every month, bottom ten get cut, top ten get elevated into the guard."
The principle was simple. Three thousand soldiers competing for ten slots. Let the selection pressure do the work. The strongest would rise naturally.
Once the excitement had partially settled, Kian raised a hand for quiet and continued.
"Two assessment categories — unit performance and individual performance.
Three grades: Commended, Adequate, Deficient. Commended earns two points, Adequate earns one, Deficient loses one.
Unit assessment covers formation discipline, command responsiveness, and small-unit coordination.
Individual assessment covers marksmanship, physical conditioning, tactical and technical skill, hand-to-hand capability, and—"
He paused.
"—literacy."
The reaction was immediate and universal bewilderment.
Most of the men standing in front of him were Underhive veterans — people who had survived by being violent, not by being educated. Pull ten of them at random and eleven would be illiterate. Asking them to sit a written examination was roughly equivalent to drafting them into an academic competition.
Kian had no illusions about this, but he had no choice either. The powered armour he'd just purchased included integrated personal vox systems, helmet-mounted tactical displays, and electronic map overlays. A force of illiterates couldn't operate any of it. Equipment worth tens of millions of Agri-Scrips per unit required soldiers capable of reading a display.
He selected Old Bale from the factory staff for the teaching role. Old Bale had worked as an accountant under a previous employer and had attended school in the Mid-Hive before circumstances had relocated him downward. By pre-collapse standards, he was educated to something approximating secondary level.
Kian wasn't expecting scholars. He just needed soldiers who could read a map and follow written orders.
To motivate Old Bale, he offered a simple arrangement: produce a thousand soldiers with functional secondary-level literacy, and Bale got a Spire residency and a comfortable life.
The incentive structure was in place. The machine could run itself. Kian would come by monthly, collect his ten best soldiers, and gradually build a household guard that was actually worth equipping with premium kit.
He was about to go inspect the three factory operations when his vox bead crackled. Rudolphson's voice.
"The First Battalion commander's transfer has gone through. Colonel Leo's finalised your appointment paperwork. Are you coming to take a look at your unit?"
Kian hadn't expected it to move that fast.
He went back to the Sanctum, changed into his uniform, buckled on the Power Sword that marked his rank and standing, combed his hair into something that looked like it belonged on an officer, and drove the maintenance runabout to the regimental compound.
Rudolphson and Colonel Leo were already waiting at the battalion area. Rudolphson took one look at Kian's ensemble and pressed his lips together, saying nothing, radiating a very particular kind of feeling.
Colonel Leo came forward with the warmth of a man greeting his favourite person.
"My, my! I was wondering why the stars seemed especially bright tonight — it's because Lord Baron has graced us with his presence!"
Kian waved dismissively.
"Low profile. Don't announce my title to everyone we pass. You're making me look like a man who came into money recently and hasn't got used to it."
"My lord, your battalion is assembled and awaiting inspection. Come and meet your warriors!"
Kian nodded with satisfaction. "Lead the way."
They moved to the parade ground. The full battalion stood in formation — soldiers, vehicles, weapons laid out in a display line.
Colonel Leo began his briefing.
"The 109th Regiment is a mechanised infantry unit with significant armoured vehicle complement. Your battalion consists of: five rifle companies, each one hundred and twenty personnel with one Chimera Armoured Transport. Two motorised companies, each one hundred personnel with three military cargo haulers and one scout vehicle. Two artillery companies, each one hundred and eighty personnel with four one-sixty-millimetre howitzers and four gun tractors. One logistics and transport company, sixty personnel, twelve military cargo haulers.
Total battalion strength: one thousand two hundred and eighty personnel."
On paper, impressive. Armoured transports. Heavy artillery. Substantial motorised capacity.
In practice — low morale, poor discipline, officers who'd been running the unit as a comfortable administrative posting, soldiers who showed up for the pay and hoped never to be asked to do anything difficult.
Kian walked the display line. He stopped in front of the Lumberer-pattern Heavy Stubbers laid out on the ground, looked at them for a moment, and said:
"These guns look like they might be broken."
Rudolphson opened his mouth. Closed it.
Colonel Leo blinked once, then said smoothly: "Ah — yes, they've been in service for about ten years. A few of them are probably due for write-off."
Kian moved to the Chimera transports. He walked around one, examined it critically.
"This one's not looking great either."
Rudolphson's composure cracked slightly. "Come on—"
Colonel Leo hesitated. "There… is one that's probably approaching end of service life…"
Rudolphson turned to look at the Colonel with an expression of pure disbelief. Leo didn't acknowledge him, maintaining his devoted attention on Kian with the expression of a man whose interests were well served by the current direction of events.
Kian moved down the line to the artillery. Four one-sixty-millimetre howitzers, barrels pointed skyward.
"These cannons—"
Rudolphson was already moving. "Absolutely not. Don't even say it. These are artillery — do not—"
Kian scratched his head and looked past him at Colonel Leo.
"These can't be broken?"
Leo's face went through several expressions in rapid sequence — calculation, internal conflict, then the look of a man who has made a decision and committed to it fully.
"My lord Baron — it's not that they can't be broken. It's more that they should be broken… gradually. Systematically. With appropriate pacing and a sensible schedule. Broken with rhythm. Broken with structure—"
[End of Chapter 206]
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