Chapter 13: The Aqua-Purifier
Back in the Sanctum, Kian stripped off his grime-encrusted gear. He smelled of cordite, chemical rot, and three days of unwashed sweat.
"Throne... I'm going to start attracting Nurgle's rot if I don't get a bath," he muttered, wiping his torso down with a damp, oily rag.
A full wash would consume at least half a liter of his precious drinking water. Laundry was out of the question. He looked at the three Bio-Filtration Units he'd scavenged from the Reactor. "I'm done living like a pariah. It's time for water freedom."
He holstered his stub-pistol, grabbed his bag of "elemental" tattoos, and headed back to Nephal's shop.
The Fertilizer Syndicate's sector was a hive of activity—literally. Nearly a thousand armed gangers were fortifying the tunnels. They were welding scrap-plate onto industrial loaders and sharpening rusted metal into jagged cleavers and axes. This was the buildup to a "Sump-War"—a brutal, low-tech slaughter between two rival factions of the dregs.
Kian walked into the shop just as Nephal's lackeys were wheeling out a cart of freshly sharpened machetes.
"Ah, my 'kind' customer! Come in, come in," Nephal called out, ushering him past the chaos. "You always look like you've been through the meat-grinder. Good news, I hope?"
Kian tossed the eleven strips of tattooed skin onto the counter. Nephal let out a low whistle.
"Throne's mercy. Eleven of them? You're a one-man purge, Voss. Here—as promised: 300 scrips per head. That's 3,300 Agri-Scrips."
Kian pocketed the credits without counting them. He nodded toward the window. "Is the war starting?"
Nephal sighed, lighting a Lho-stick. "Our 'Big Boss' and the Alchem-Hounds' 'Mother' are currently in the Mid-Hive, meeting at Enforcer Command. They're 'negotiating.' In truth, they're just asking the Enforcers how much blood we're allowed to spill before the Arbites come down and kill us all. Experience says the talk will fail. The Reactor is too valuable."
"Think your boys can handle the Hounds?" Kian asked.
Nephal's face darkened. "Hard to say. The Hounds have the numbers. Their Chem-ghouls don't feel pain once they're stimmed up. And they have those... things. The Chem-Sows. You probably haven't seen one, but let me tell you, a Sow is—"
Kian slammed the Frenzy-Spur Manifold onto the counter.
Nephal froze. He stared at the jagged, needle-covered device, his eyes widening in genuine shock. "Emperor's Throne... you actually put down a Sow?"
"Standard procedure," Kian said, leaning back. "What's the bounty on a mountain of bacon?"
Nephal hesitated, then spoke with newfound respect. "3,000. I'll pay 3,000 for every manifold you bring me. Our Boss needs to study these triggers if we're going to survive the assault."
Kian was satisfied. He needed the Onslaught-Stimms from the pigs to craft his own medical supplies, so being paid to hunt them was just a bonus.
"Listen, Voss," Nephal said, leaning over the counter. "When the shooting starts, we could use a specialist like you. I'll pay a 5,000 Scrip participation fee just for you to show up. You won't be under our chain of command; you pick your own targets, you keep all the loot, and you get priority scavenging rights on the bodies."
He handed Kian a black cloth brassard with a red fertilizer-bag emblem stitched on it. "Wear this. Our boys will know not to shoot you... mostly."
Kian took the armband, but his eyes were suddenly drawn to something in the back of the shop. A small, white metal box with a rusted handle. "Is that a refrigerator?"
Nephal looked back. "Yeah. Some scavenger found it in a Sump-chute near the Grand Lift. Probably an old model some Spire-Lord tossed out. It still hums, the Machine Spirit hasn't fled yet."
Kian's breathing quickened. A refrigerator contained a Temperature Controller—one of the three core components needed for a Level 2 Medicae Station. He already had the Purifier. This would be the second piece of the puzzle.
"I want it. Name your price."
Nephal thought for a moment. "Tell you what. You're a hunter. Bring me three more Frenzy-Spur Manifolds from three dead Chem-Sows. Do that, and the fridge is yours. No credits required."
"Deal," Kian said. He had plenty of work ahead of him.
After buying a few more building materials and a small trolley to haul them, Kian returned to the Sanctum. It was time to build.
Using the plastic drums, the copper piping, and the bio-filtration units, he constructed a multi-stage Aqua-Purifier.
The system was simple but effective.
Stage 1: A 100-liter settling vat where dirty water mixed with a purification tablet.
Stage 2: A logic-gated valve that released the settled water through the Bio-Filtration Units.
Stage 3: A final storage tank for the "Safe" water.
[SANCTUM UPGRADE: AQUA-PURIFIER (LVL 1)]
Input: 100L Wastewater + 1 Purification Tablet + 10% Filter Durability.
Output: 99L Purified Water.
Process Time: 24 Hours.
Kian took a bucket and headed into the dark corridor outside his Sanctum. He found a leaking industrial pipe—runoff from some manufactorum miles above. The water was clear but smelled of heavy metals and ozone. He filled his vats, lugged them back, and dumped them into the Purifier.
By this time tomorrow, he'd be able to wash the "Sump-stink" off his skin. He'd be able to drink his fill without his throat burning.
He was achieving "Water Freedom." Now, he just had to prepare for the coming war. He checked his gear, loaded his 15mm stub-pistol, and began to sharpen his knife.
"Three pigs for a fridge," Kian whispered. "A fair trade in the Underhive."