"Beep! Reputation with Lieutenant Rudolf: Level 3. Unlocked items: vox-caster (2000), vox-signal terminal (10000), 20mm stabber ammunition (200), PDF submachine gun (2500), PDF light machine gun (5000)."
A system notification sounded in Li Qingyu's head. Rudolf, with trembling hands, took the head and peered at the features. Without a doubt – Winchester.
"Ha-ha... Ha-ha-ha! Winchester! Long time no see, my friend!"
Rudolf laughed like a madman. His main competitor was eliminated, now the path to the top was open – he would become one of the "higher-ups"!
Li Qingyu clapped him on the shoulder:
"Brother, when you become a big shot, don't forget your poor friends."
Rudolf, tearing himself away from contemplating the trophy, looked at him seriously:
"I am your debtor. I promise – in my zone, soldiers will buy only your alcohol."
"I will even help you push the goods into other battalions and garrisons."
Li Qingyu remembered Reynolds' words: to become a resident of the Upper Hive, you need a legal business.
He needed an official production facility in the Middle Hive to sell alcohol upstairs and earn aristocratic money.
But there is hunger in the Hive. People eat corpse starch. Where to get legal grain for alcohol?
If he opens a factory, the Arbitrators will immediately come to him with the question: "People have nothing to eat, and you are distilling alcohol? Where is the raw material?"
Without a legal source of grain, the shop will be closed, and the property confiscated.
Now that Rudolf is almost a combat officer, Li Qingyu has come up with a daring plan.
He wanted to register the distillery under the auspices of the military, to make the army his roof.
Then the grain problem will be simple: "The factory works for the needs of the army, the raw materials are military trophies, everything is legal."
Li Qingyu offered Rudolf, raising three fingers:
"Do you see the point? You become the official roof for my factory, and I give you thirty percent of the profit."
He had already inquired through Little Joel: SPО have the right to conduct commercial activities.
In essence, the shelves of SPО are private armies of military lords, who are often nobles and earn money as they can.
Looking at them, junior officers also hustle, each in their own way.
The whole Hive lives on bars of corpse starch, and in the Black Market – meat, vegetables. Where from? All from the same place – SPО trophies from external zones.
This shadow economy is covered by the Arbitrators themselves. Pay a tax – your goods are safe. Don't pay – you'll become an "exposed criminal scheme."
Rudolf thought:
"Wait until the official appointment. Then I'll see, maybe we can involve the regimental commander."
"The colonel has the title of baron in the Upper Hive. Besides, he is my relative. It will be safer to do business under his name."
Li Qingyu nodded and didn't push. The production is small, there's no rush. Let Rudolf strengthen himself, then they will talk about the market.
He changed the subject:
"Listen, old man Ru, do you know how to hack a genetic lock on a lasgun?"
"I killed that bastard Winchester and took about twenty rifles, but they are all blocked. Useless."
Rudolf's face twitched into a strange grimace: "Damn it, it seems this bug stole one of my lasguns back then."
"Lasguns are made in the Mechanicus Forges. Only a Tech-Priest in the Temple of the Machine God can remove the lock."
"But I don't advise you to go there. If you come with a stolen weapon, they will catch you and throw you alive into the smelting furnace as a heretic."
In the Warhammer 40k universe, all production is under the control of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
Their world is Mars, turned into a giant forge where ships and titans are built.
The Mechanicus worship the Omnissiah, the Machine God. It is a mixture of science and religious fanaticism.
They are in red robes, with cog-axes, their bodies half-replaced by cybernetics.
They are everywhere. Even this Hive, which pierces the clouds, was designed and maintained by them.
Usually, there are a couple of their enclave-factories on the planets. But there are also entire Forge Worlds, where the entire surface is factories and furnaces the size of oceans, with smoke rising into the stratosphere. The air is so poisonous that a person would die from a single breath.
The Mechanicus idolize technology and believe in the "Machine Spirit." But they are dogmatic: innovation for them is heresy. They would rather hunt witches than invent something new.
If Li Qingyu asks them to hack it, he will face torture and the stake.
As long as he has no status or power, dealing with techno-monstrous fanatics is dangerous.
However, there was another option.
In the Sanctuary's upgrade menu, there was an item called "Reconnaissance Station." The description stated that it provides access to intelligence and "electronic support." It seemed to refer to code hacking as well.
True, he didn't know what the station's equipment looked like. A bunch of incomprehensible electronics.
But he recognized one of the words on the list – "Cogitator."
In the world of Warhammer, this is the equivalent of a processor. Only it's not made of microchips – it has a human brain inside.