Chapter 46: The Medicae Station
Having established a solid contact with the Secessionists, Kian prepared to depart.
The rebels escorted him back to the No-Man's Land using bio-engineered beasts—creatures that looked like ancient Terran horses but were clearly something far more synthetic and durable. From the edge of the contested zone, Kian trekked the remaining kilometers back to Lieutenant Rudolphson's forward camp.
Once inside the command tent, Kian leaned in close. "It's done. I've opened the trade route. One Imperial-pattern autogun buys us three tons of grain. I need to return to the Underhive immediately to prep the facility. Give me a ride to the wire."
Kian gathered the high-tier upgrade components he'd bought at the Twin-Serpent Clinic, which had been staged in Rudolphson's tent. He looked like a pack-mule carrying industrial machinery. Rudolphson prepped his scout car, heading not toward the Hive gates, but toward the wastes.
"Don't go into the Hive," Kian instructed. "Drive to the Great Ventilator. I'm extracting through the pipes."
Kian knew that moving this much high-value hardware through the Grand Sump-Lift was an invitation to every gang-boss in the sector to rob him. The "Safe Zone" was anything but safe for a man with a trolley full of tech. The ventilation shaft was faster, more private, and led directly to his door.
Rudolphson didn't understand the "magic" of Kian's disappearing act, but he followed orders. They reached the rusted monolith of the ventilation shaft. Kian unloaded his gear, and Rudolphson handed him a heavy, rugged device.
"This is a Long-Range Tactical Vox-Station," the Lieutenant said. "Even twenty kilometers underground, its Machine Spirit can punch through the interference. If I have a lead on Lieutenant Winchester, I'll signal you. Our encrypted channel is 350234-KMYY."
Kian tucked the vox-unit into his pack. "Keep your eyes on Winchester. The moment he steps out of that Chimera, he's a dead man."
Rudolphson gave a sharp nod and roared away in his scout car. Kian watched him vanish, but he didn't step into the extraction zone yet. He turned and walked into the frosted woods toward the Sub-level Maintenance Vault.
He pushed open the heavy iron door of the vault and was instantly hit by the metallic tang of fresh blood.
Silentium was sitting in the center of the floor, legs crossed. He had drawn a complex, jagged circle in white chalk around himself. Inside the circle lay the carcass of an alien feline, its abdomen hollowed out and its entrails draped across the floor like wet ribbons. The Psyker was staring at the organs with an unblinking, feverish intensity.
"Throne's sake, man," Kian muttered, scanning the room.
The maintenance vault, which Kian had once cleaned out for tools, was now a charnel house. The walls were covered in frantic, disturbing graffiti—spirals, weeping eyes, and jagged runes that made Kian's teeth ache just looking at them.
"I am searching for the patterns of the Beyond," Silentium whispered, his voice sounding like dry leaves. "I am performing a Psionic Augury. I see the threads of the future..."
Kian kicked a piece of rotting meat out of his way and grabbed the Psyker by the shoulder. "Listen to me, you edgy freak. This world is beautiful. There's sunshine, grain, and cold beer. Why do you insist on acting like a Chaos Sorcerer? You're going to spawn a band of 'Heroes of the Imperium' who'll come in here shouting about 'Purging the Unclean' and hack you into confetti.
"Can't we have a little sunshine in the soul? You don't have a dark secret, you have a mental illness. Keep it bright, keep it light. Understand?"
Silentium looked up with "clear-eyed" stupidity. His facial scars were scabbing over, and in the dim light of the vault, he looked like a confused, innocent serial killer.
Kian sighed, realizing the man was too far gone for a pep talk. He pulled out the Sanctified Rations and dropped them in the Psyker's lap. "Here. Your 'Anti-Daemon' snacks. As promised."
Silentium's eyes lit up. He cradled the wafers against his wire-wrapped chest.
"Now," Kian said, sitting down. "No more games. Hit me with the Warp. I need to harden my soul-fire."
The training was grueling. Silentium released a slow, steady stream of raw Empyrean energy. Kian felt his soul being scoured, his consciousness stretched across a sea of liquid static.
In the depths of that psychic storm, a voice echoed in his mind—the same voice from before.
"Ah... the 'Player' soul. You return to the Great Ocean."
Kian felt a massive, clawed hand of shadow reaching for the flicker of his life-force in the Warp.
"I am a Blade of the Blood God," the voice rumbled, heavy with the scent of brass and old gore. "I have taken ten thousand skulls to please my Master. He has blinked at me once, and my blade burned with his favor. Serve us, unknown soul. Slaughter the weak. Build a river of blood and ascend to the heaven of the eternal kill!"
Kian focused his mental intent. "You're a Bloodletter, aren't you? A basic foot-soldier for Khorne. I thought you were a Big Shot, but you're just a bottom-tier mob. Why would I serve a grunt like you?"
The Daemon's fury was instantaneous. Kian felt the hand tighten, trying to crush his spirit-fire.
"Arrogant insect! I shall grind your essence into the brass floor of the Skull Throne!"
Kian didn't panic. He invoked the Emperor's Benediction. He crammed a Holy Pancake into his mouth in the physical world.
In the Warp, Kian's soul-fire erupted with a blinding, golden brilliance. The "Light of the Space King" acted like white phosphorus against the shadow-hand. The Bloodletter let out a shriek of soul-deep agony as its essence was scorched. It vanished back into the depths of the Warp, unable to maintain its grip on a soul so violently "Sanctified."
Silentium stopped the energy flow, gasping for air. He looked at Kian with genuine shock. "You... you drove it back. You burned a Never-born."
Kian wiped sweat from his brow, his eyes glowing with a faint, residual light. He checked his System:
[COGITATOR STATUS: ASCENDANT]
Mental Clarity: 20
Warp Resistance: 30
Psionic Proficiency: 30
Note: You can now perceive your own soul-fire in the Empyrean. You have achieved [Psionic Initiation].
He could feel it. A tiny spark in the back of his mind that he could move with his will. He wasn't a Sorcerer yet, but the door was open.
"I'm heading back," Kian said, standing up. "Clean this place up, Silentium. I'm moving 'cargo' through the ventilator soon, and I don't want my workers seeing your weird art project."
He stepped onto the Great Ventilator's platform and vanished.
[SANCTUM - SECTOR 0]
Kian arrived and immediately began the construction of the Medicae Station. He laid out the Purifier, the Temperature Controller, and the Matrix. He spent hours soldering wires, calibrating the centrifuges, and praying to the Machine Spirits of the high-end medical tech.
[DING! SANCTUM UPGRADE COMPLETE: MEDICAE STATION (LVL 1)]
The station featured eight automated production slots, allowing him to refine and manufacture simultaneously.
[MEDICAE RECIPES UNLOCKED]
Refinement: [Tox-Stimm]→ [Low-Grade Medical Precursor] (20m).
Refinement: [Onslaught-Stimm]→ [High-Grade Medical Precursor] (30m).
Adrenal Surge (Strength): +5 Strength for 24h. (Requires 2x Low Precursor).
Adrenal Surge (Endurance): +5 Endurance for 24h. (Requires 2x Low Precursor).
Battle-Stimm (The All-In-One): Stops bleeding, removes pain, anti-bacterial. (Requires 1x Low, 1x High Precursor).
Void-Blood Injection (Regen): Rapid cellular repair/bone knitting. (Requires 3x High Precursor - 24h Craft Time).
Standard Med-Kit / Surgical Kit.
Antiseptic Powder.
High-Temperature Chemical Poison. (Requires 3x Tox-Stimm).
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