After applying for an Ogryn identification for Kulen, Karen began to prepare for the upcoming Astra Militarum application.
“System, filter out the hard currency that those mid-to-low-level bureaucrats of the Departmento Munitorum can’t refuse.
The rarer, the better.” Inside the shelter, Karen sat cross-legged on some scrap cables, his fingers quickly swiping across a virtual panel invisible to others.
Points were meant to be saved, but one couldn’t be stingy when it was time to spend.
The journey to Cadia was long; if he truly tried to stuff these two three-meter-tall transhumans into the crowded hold of a troop transport as ordinary recruits, they would be exposed within three days.
A box of high-end, handmade cigars from Planet Ska, plus two bottles of Andromeda Amber Wine filled with golden liquid, cost a total of 1,500 points.
Karen walked out of the small room with these items.
The faint light reflecting off the wine bottles caught the eye of Kulen, who was talking to Horus.
“Are you going to use those to bribe mortal officers?” The veteran saw what was in Karen’s hands clearly, and his tone was displeased.
The sense of honor of the First Legion made him extremely repulsed by such manipulative schemes.
“When in Rome, do as the Romans do, old knight,” Karen said with a shrug, then tossed them a set of oversized heavy industrial dust-suits.
“This is how the Imperium operates nowadays.
Without using some tricks, how are we supposed to leave this planet?” Karen stuffed the wine and cigars into a worn-out backpack and stood up, clapping his hands.
“Listen up, I’m only going over the script once.
From the moment we step out of this shelter, your identities are top-grade Ogryn Abhumans who have spent thirty years mining in the underground pits of Planet Reis.
Your vocal cords were destroyed by toxic gas, making you completely mute.” Karen pointed to his own throat.
“Low intelligence, bad temper, but extremely obedient.
If anyone comes close, glare at them and act like you’re going to punch them.
You must not say a single word.
Understand?” Kulen stared at the greasy, pungent-smelling giant canvas jumpsuit in his hand, his molars grinding.
For a dignified Astartes veteran like him to pretend to be a mentally challenged Mutant was more agonizing than death.
“If you strut around in your iconic Power Armor, believe me, your Legion’s The Unforgiven will sniff you out in no time.” Karen tossed out the remark nonchalantly.
The veteran’s jaw muscles twitched as he swallowed his curses and roughly pulled the jumpsuit over himself.
Horus, on the other hand, adapted extremely quickly.
He wrapped himself up tightly in a few motions and even slapped the wide dust mask onto his face, leaving only his eyes visible.
“Let’s go.
Time to meet the current bureaucrats of the Imperium,” the Wolf Shepherd God said, his voice low in his throat.
Three hours later, in the mid-level district of Planet Reis, in the back alley of the Third Astra Militarum Recruitment Station.
The Departmento Munitorum administrator responsible for logistics and troop organization was a greasy middle-aged man with a beer belly and a low-quality Bionic Eye in his left socket.
He had been impatiently blocking Karen at the back door, but when Karen unzipped his backpack and pushed the box of Ska cigars and a bottle of Andromeda Amber Wine toward him, the administrator’s remaining organic eye lit up like a searchlight.
“Good stuff, truly good stuff.” The administrator’s rough fingers caressed the exquisite gold-stamped patterns on the cigar box, his greedy swallow audible.
“To keep it short, sir,” Karen lowered his voice, “I want to enlist.
I need three spots on the next direct recruitment ship to Cadia.
I also need an independent, enclosed cargo hold and an allocation for two standard shipping containers for some private mining equipment.
Rations and supplies should be at the highest standard.” The administrator pulled his gaze away from the wine bottle, sized Karen up, and snorted.
“Quite an appetite you have.
It’s true the Cadia front is short on men, but why should I grant you a private cargo hold?
Do you think this is a vacation…” Before he could finish, Karen stepped half a pace to the side.
In the shadows of the back alley, two massive bodies, over three meters tall and wrapped in heavy industrial canvas, stood there quietly.
It might not seem tempting right nobut who knows what the future holds?
“And If you’re enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!”