Li Qingyu opened his eyes. He was lying on a bed in a shelter, completely naked. Eight hours had passed since he was beaten to death with hammers.
Smacking his lips, he got up, baked a couple of potatoes, and filled his stomach. Then he sat for a while, staring into space.
Being beaten to death by a crowd was, undoubtedly, a new experience. It was the first time this had happened to him. It was definitely worth savoring the memories.
After indulging in the aftertaste of death, he attended to his chores. He checked the moonshine still – the bottle was ready. He took it, added the raw materials, and started a new cycle.
Then he approached the Emperor's altar. The candle had burned out, and the "Holy Wine" had already condensed. Li Qingyu carefully removed the second bottle of blessed drink and placed ordinary moonshine on the altar for transmutation.
Having finished with the routine, he got dressed, tucked the heavy-caliber pistol behind his belt, and gathered all the holy bread he had. It was time to go out.
The plan was simple: first visit little Joel's family at the Water Guild, and then take the Big Lift to the Middle Hive.
Outside, as usual, rats in human guise scurried about. They rummaged through the garbage, piercing each other with appraising glances full of malice and greed.
If the lift brought a new batch of convicts, this pack would immediately pounce on them for a bloody feast.
The previous massacre, staged by Li Qingyu, had taught them nothing. They still dragged out their pathetic, cruel existence at the bottom of the world.
Li Qingyu paid no attention to the rabble and headed straight for the Water Guild shop.
Everything was as usual: a queue of inhabitants of the Depths, eager to get their ration of clean water – one of the two ways not to die of thirst in this hole.
He bypassed the crowd and went inside. The guards at the entrance flinched, reaching for their weapons, but upon recognizing the guest, they froze.
"Huh? Weren't you... dead?"
The Guild fighters knew Li Qingyu – he was on good terms with their boss.
Li Qingyu moved closer, took out cigarettes, offered them to the guys, and lit one himself.
"You won't be so lucky. I cut a bloody path and broke free!"
Lying was easy. In that brawl, when hundreds of rats were beating him, no one really saw anything. And the bloody mess on the floor? Well, it must have been another loser who got caught in the crossfire.
In the Warhammer 40k universe, everyone has skeletons in their closet, and miracles happen more often than technology works. Any plausible explanation would suffice.
The guards exchanged doubtful glances but let him pass.
Inside, work was in full swing. Joel's family was diligently pouring water from the pipes into cheap metal-ceramic canisters and carrying them to the counter. It was clear they had been working for a long time.
Joel's father, loaded with water, turned to replenish the supply on the display and almost knocked Li Qingyu over.
Seeing his face, he froze, and the words slipped out on their own:
"Ah! You... You're dead?"
Li Qingyu exhaled a puff of smoke and casually said, "I'm tenacious. Broke through from the other side."
A dull thud sounded – Joel's father fell to his knees and slammed his forehead against the floor: "Savior! You saved my whole family! I swear, if you need anything – just say the word, I'll give my life for you!"
"The mood is right, it wasn't in vain to save them," Li Qingyu thought with satisfaction. No black ingratitude.
The father immediately called his wife, younger son, and Joel himself, so they could express their gratitude.
Little Joel, sitting in his wheelchair, was about to slide to the floor to bow, but Li Qingyu stopped him.
"Your company commander asked me to look after you," he said. "He paid me well, so there's nothing to thank me for. Thank your company commander."
The family showered him with thanks again, but Li Qingyu stopped the flow of praise with a gesture and asked the boy: "And why are you working here? Did Reno give you a job?"
Joel shook his head: "No, sir. Yesterday, when we broke out and gave your name, Mr. Reno gave us shelter."
"He didn't force us to work," the young man continued. "But father said we couldn't just take advantage of someone else's kindness. We have nothing but our hands, so my parents decided to help in any way they could."
Li Qingyu mentally approved. The right kind of people – even in such a hellhole, they retained their conscience and tried to repay with labor.
Joel's father kept repeating that he was ready to give his life. He had clearly decided to sell himself to Li Qingyu in the hope that he would take care of his family.
Just one day in the Depths – and Li Qingyu realized how terrible it was here. The fresh, gnawed skeletons by the Big Lift said it better than any words.
While they were talking, Reno came out from the back of the shop. Seeing the "deceased," he froze, then waved his hand, inviting him into the office.
Telling the family to wait, Li Qingyu followed.
The door closed, shutting out the noise. Li Qingyu immediately got down to business: "I have the memory panel. It's hidden in a safe place in the Middle Hive. I'll go up now, get it, and bring it."
Reno beamed and, without a word, took a stack of bills from the desk: "Here. Your share – one hundred thousand talons for fertilizer, as agreed."
He wasn't afraid of being deceived. Yesterday he had seen this guy torn apart, and today he was sitting in front of him alive and well. How to explain this?
Reno was a minor Guild boss, but he had seen some things. He had heard tales of cloning cults where everyone looked alike, with genes from the same father. He had heard whispers about the Eternals.
It didn't matter who was in front of him. This guy had enormous potential, and he certainly wouldn't ruin his reputation for a paltry hundred thousand.
Li Qingyu scooped up the currency. Reno turned out to be a decent person – such trust was commendable. He should deal with his orders as quickly as possible.
Having resolved the financial issue, Li Qingyu spoke about the refugees. He explained that it was the family of a wounded soldier and asked for advice on their placement.
Reno thoughtfully rubbed his chin: "I can't keep them here forever. My staff is fully staffed, all on Guild contracts. If the competitors get wind of unauthorized people, they'll file a complaint, and I'll be replaced."
"To survive here, they need to play by the rules of the Depths," he concluded. "Find them work. Let them join a gang. At least they'll have some rations and a roof over their heads."
Li Qingyu sighed heavily. He didn't like this. Lieutenant Rudolfson had asked him to look after them – how could he abandon them to a gang?
Their fate would be unenviable: the father would be turned into meat in the first skirmish, the mother would be rotted away by hard labor or made the plaything of a boss. Joel was crippled, he wouldn't last six months. And the younger one, ten years old, would either be harvested for organs or raised as a suicide operative.
If anything happened – the kid would be thrown under bullets, covering the boss. No, that wasn't a solution.
And then an idea was born – why not create his own gang?
Given his abilities, the shelter's resources, and his weapons cache, assembling a small group would be a piece of cake. The only question was the base.
Although, what kind of problem was that? The base didn't have to be a palace. There were plenty of pipes and collectors in the Depths: you take a section of tunnel, weld the ends shut – and there you have your private territory.
The pipe near the shelter was ideal. Six meters in diameter, rockcrete walls, lots of incomprehensible cables, and a sturdy metal deck at the bottom.
Find some rockcrete dust, sheet metal, barricade the entrances – and it's ready. The size of the territory depends only on how many meters he decides to fence off.
If there's space, you can recruit people.
But the problem remained: work. You can't just lock people in a pipe and feed them for free. They need a purpose.
Li Qingyu thought, but nothing useful came to mind. He looked at Reno: "Listen, what's in demand upstairs right now? What can I invest in?"
Reno thought seriously, then said, "If you want real money – make moonshine."
"The Depths have nothing to offer the upper levels except booze. Brew something even remotely decent – and it'll be snatched up."
"There's a blockade now, the lands outside the hive are captured, people are on edge. The demand for alcohol is wild. Besides, the Planetary Governor opened the reserve stores and introduced rations. There's no grain for distilleries. If you find a stable source of organic matter for mash – you'll be rich."
Li Qingyu's eyes lit up. Alcohol is eternal currency, no matter how many millennia pass.
The situation resembled the Great Depression or wartime: the market was empty, demand was insane, bootlegging was flourishing.
The prospects were excellent. And sales could be arranged through Lieutenant Rudolfson!
The Public Safety Service had strict discipline, and drunkenness was almost a virtue. If these vagrants were drinking anyway – why shouldn't they drink Li Qingyu's brew?
The scheme was perfect: he supplies alcohol; the lieutenant covers for him and places new disabled veterans with their families. There are hands to work, the army gets drinks, the soldiers feed their families – everyone wins.
The more he thought about it, the more he liked it. An alcohol empire was already growing in his imagination, crushing the shadow sector of the Hive. And in the finale – a personal warship and a way out into space, away from this agrarian planet!
Li Qingyu was a man of action. He jumped up from his chair: "That's it, Reno, let's not waste time. I'm going to the Middle Hive for the panel. Joel's family can stay with you for now, I'll pick them up soon."
Reno smiled and nodded: "If you need help, ask. By the way, I'm a fan of moonshining, I've studied the matter in detail. If you open a workshop, call me as a consultant."
Li Qingyu agreed verbally, but chuckled inwardly. He well remembered how this "expert" had called his last batch sour.
Leaving the office, Li Qingyu informed the family that he was going upstairs and asked if they needed anything.
"Sir," Joel asked timidly, "could you please pass a letter to our sister? Before we were declared criminals and thrown down here, we managed to place her as a novice in the Ecclesiarchy chapel."
Li Qingyu nodded. Visiting the Ministorum temple is sacred. Surely he could make new contacts there and pick up quests.
Gothic architecture, pathos, skulls – all of this was probably a key plot point.
Taking paper and a pen from the clerks, he waited for the family to write the letter, and, saying goodbye, headed for the Big Lift.
The arrival of the platform had just been announced. The crowd of vagrants below stirred, clenching their shivs in anticipation of prey.
Li Qingyu passed the genocode scan and entered the cordoned-off security zone. Here, under the protection of turrets and status, he waited for transport with the Depths personnel.
The local rats were afraid to venture beyond the fence.
With a rumble and a clang, the giant platform descended to the bottom of the hive. The gates opened, revealing to the world a thousand terrified convicts in a tight ring of lawmen with shotguns. Somewhere in the corner, shift workers huddled.
While the lawmen kicked and clubbed the howling convicts out, Li Qingyu boarded the platform with the workers.
Finally, the doors hissed shut, and the lift began to ascend.
The feeling was strange. He had ridden this behemoth many times, but always down, into the abyss. This was his first time going up.