Chapter 313: Splitting the Loot
Adamantium was the hardest material the Imperium could produce at scale — typically reserved for ship keels, Terminator chassis frames, or other critical infrastructure where failure simply wasn't an option.
So yes. This was, without question, "really good raw material."
Nor'n stepped forward, ran a hand over the buried drill head, and asked, "Where in the Emperor's name did you get this? Adamantium should be vanishingly rare out here on an agri-world."
"A hero doesn't explain his sources," Kian said. "Adamantium doesn't ask questions about where it came from. Question is — can you build me a power armour upgrade with it or not?"
Nor'n's mind had already shifted entirely into smith-mode, weighing the engineering problem.
"Possible, in principle. But adamantium is extremely dense — you can't build an entire suit out of it, the servo-motors and power conduits won't carry that mass. Best case, I work it into the ceramite as a reinforcement layer, increase plate density without adding too much weight, improve protection without crippling mobility.
The problem is processing. A piece this size, I can't cut it, and I can't heat-soften it for forging either."
Adamantium's battlefield performance came at a direct cost: it was brutal to work with. Cutting a block this size into manageable pieces required equipment most worlds simply didn't have, and forging it required temperatures and pressures that this particular agri-world had no business possessing.
Kian's face fell at "can't forge it." If it couldn't actually be worked, the whole expedition down to that underground bunker had been pointless.
He was still puzzling over what to do with half a drill head's worth of adamantium when an outraged voice rang out from behind them.
"There you two are! I knew it — raw material, my circuits! This is Mechanicus property!!"
Both of them turned. Antonius, red robes flaring, stormed out from behind a tree with the bearing of a man fully prepared to make a scene.
Kian's eyes went wide. He grabbed Nor'n's arm.
"Oh no, we're caught! Nor'n, quick, take him out, then we split the adamantium two ways instead of three!"
Nor'n did not move. He was, by this point, developing a baseline immunity to whatever Kian said.
Antonius pointed a mechadendrite straight at Kian's face.
"You DARE pilfer Omnissiah-blessed assets?! I'm reporting this to the Magos immediately! I'm calling it in right now!"
"Whoa, whoa, hold on!" Kian threw an arm around Antonius's shoulders, pulling him into a conspiratorial half-hug. Dropped his voice.
"You report this, the Magos shows up, and the adamantium's gone — for everyone. But if you keep your mouth shut, three-way split. Even shares."
Antonius's eyes lit up. "...Even shares?"
"Even shares."
"And if we get caught?"
"We blame the big guy. He's leaving in four months anyway."
"I can hear you."
Nor'n's voice was flat with the particular exhaustion of a man whose superhuman hearing was actively working against his peace of mind.
If you're going to conspire, the LEAST you could do is keep your voices down around the guy with superhuman hearing.
Kian jogged back over to him, full sales pitch mode.
"Nor'n, think about it. If I don't take a share and Antonius doesn't take a share, who's getting it? Obviously you.
Here's the deal: one share for you, one for me, one for the Father. Everybody walks away happy."
Nor'n looked at him. Something stirred in a heart that had survived a century of warfare and come through every test intact — a flicker of something close to genuine fear.
He could practically see it: himself, in chains, being marched into a holding cell with a sign reading DON'T TOUCH WHAT ISN'T YOURS bolted above the door.
He straightened up with sudden moral resolve.
"This belongs to the Mechanicus. We cannot simply appropriate allied assets!"
Kian made a triumphant noise.
"Nor'n. Picture this.
Four months from now, you're loaded up with everything you can forge from this adamantium — full reinforced armour, weapons to match — and you fly out to the Forge World and rejoin your Chapter.
You hand your brothers gear made with this stuff. Every plate reinforced. Every blade keener. How much more damage can they soak up? How many more enemies do they put down because of it?
'Nor'n's a good man to have around,' your brothers say, standing there in adamantium-reinforced plate.
'Nor'n's the best senior brother in the Chapter,' your newest recruits say, holding the adamantium combat knife you gave them.
'Nor'n's really matured. Time we made him a Captain,' your Chapter Master says, swinging the adamantium-headed thunder hammer you forged him."
A flicker of genuine confusion crossed Nor'n's resolute red eyes.
Oh no, Kian thought, watching it land. Which cadre survives a pitch like that?
Sensing Nor'n teetering on the exact edge of becoming the subject of an internal Chapter disciplinary hearing, Kian delivered the final push.
"Antonius already agreed to all of this, by the way. If it ever comes out, just dump the whole thing on him."
"I did NOT agree to this! And don't you dare pin it on me!"
Nor'n finally cracked.
He thought about a trooper in his old company — head taken clean off by an Ork rocket that punched straight through standard-grade helmet plating. If that plate had carried adamantium reinforcement, would the boy still be alive?
He thought about a brother lost in melee, his chainsword's gear assembly worn down from sustained combat, the standard-issue teeth shattering against an Ork's chainaxe — costing him an arm.
He thought about his own breastplate, torn open, two and a half years lost to stasis as a direct result of inadequate armor density.
"...Fine."
He exhaled the word like a confession. The line had been crossed, fully and irrevocably.
Kian beamed.
"Our little operation is officially open for business. Now, the real question: how do we actually process this thing?"
Antonius raised a hand.
"I have an idea. My storage has a laser cutter — wire it into a fusion reactor, and you can channel something close to stellar output through the cutting head. It'll go through adamantium without trouble.
As for forging it, we send it down to the crust. Geothermal pressure and heat down there will soften the block enough to work."
Kian let out a triumphant shout.
"Antonius, you absolute mastermind — you'd clearly thought this through already!
Perfect. Antonius brings the laser cutter, I source the reactor, Nor'n handles the forging. Partnership's official. Let's build something great together."
Kian put in a call to the Captain. A Devourer-class transport delivered a controlled fusion reactor down to the surface within the day.
Antonius produced the laser cutter — a massive rig mounted on a heavy truck chassis, wired directly into the reactor, capable of putting out a cutting beam hot enough to make adamantium negotiable.
Standard procedure for a cut like this meant clearing the area entirely — the beam ran on remote control, with everyone well clear of the work site.
When Antonius radioed that the cut was complete, Kian and Nor'n made their way back to find the adamantium block neatly sectioned into transport-sized chunks — and the ground around the cutting site fused into a sheet of glass.
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