Chapter 74: Dealing With the Annoyance
Joric was perfectly clear on the value of the technology he possessed, and he fully understood the corporations' hunger for it.
Although his knowledge far surpassed this era—and he could, if he wished, construct weapons capable of annihilating the entire city—his current, critical deficiency was in time and resources, not destructive capability.
In truth, if he could just stabilize the dimensional conduit to the Warhammer universe, he could summon his loyal detachment of Skitarii tech-guard from the other side. That army, clad in sacred Ceramite and wielding true energy weapons, would be more than capable of crushing any private military this planet's corporations could muster.
However, opening and maintaining such a conduit required immense, stable power and specific rare materiel, which were the very things he lacked.
Rather than expending his precious, limited resources in a protracted war of attrition, it was far more efficient to focus on solving this fundamental problem. Once the conduit was stable, these corporate "threats" would become utterly insignificant.
An all-out war with the two corps—especially Militech, with its deep-seated ties to the NUSA—was a scenario he actively sought to avoid at this stage.
With his current capabilities, he could handle Militech's conventional, treaty-limited forces deployed around Night City—their 'Minotaurs' and 'Manticores' and the like. He would merely view them as a fresh delivery of test-samples and salvageable resources. But he detested such "trouble"—especially the kind of persistent, low-level harassment that would demand his constant attention and pull him away from his critical research.
Biotechnica was manageable; it was primarily a research entity, its military strength limited to security divisions and hired mercs. The threat was contained.
Militech was another matter entirely.
It was the descendant of the old American military-industrial complex, a behemoth that had once monopolized the supply of everything from infantry-gear to void-craft carriers, and even possessed its own strategic-grade nuclear arsenal. After its quasi-nationalization by the NUSA, the line between Militech and the NUSA government was effectively non-existent. The current NUSA President, Rosalind Myers, was its former CEO.
This meant that if the conflict truly escalated, Joric wouldn't just be fighting corpo-sec and spec-ops teams; he would be facing the entire national war machine of the NUSA.
Joric did not fear war.
If he could stabilize the dimensional fissure and successfully transport his own well-equipped, war-hardened Skitarii cohort—or even more potent war-constructs—from the 41st Millennium, he had absolute confidence he could shatter any organized military force on this planet. The war-tech of his home universe, whether in energy-weapon application, armor-doctrine, or macro-strategy, was so far beyond this world's comprehension as to be divine.
But Joric was, by nature, a researcher. An Explorator of the Mechanicus.
His primary objective was to unravel the mysteries of the dimensional Sextant, reclaim his lost resources, elevate his own technical knowledge, and, perhaps, explore the wider multiverse.
To expend vast quantities of time, energy, and resources on a total war with a local, primitive power... it was, in his assessment, a grossly inefficient and unwise course of action. He would only accept such a path if the war itself promised a profit so immense it could not be acquired through any other means.
Therefore, at this juncture, the optimal strategy was to use the threat of war to ensure peace. A precise, overwhelming display of force to deter, to compel them to negotiate, or at least force them to hesitate.
A mechadendrite tapped the command-altar. The holographic display immediately shifted, showing three detailed personnel files, each flagged with a high-priority red rune.
"Your proposal has merit," Joric's synthesized voice was flat. "We must transmit a clear, unambiguous message to both Militech and Biotechnica: Do not bother me."
"A passive, defensive posture will only invite them to press their advantage," Joric continued. "We must be proactive. We must demonstrate our capability and our will. These three targets will be the focus of this communication."
The mechadendrite gestured to each file in turn.
"Elliot Kwan, Biotechnica's Head of Security. He was the direct operational commander of the recent pursuit. Karl Strange, Militech Special Projects Division. He coordinated the joint-op and the ambush. And Julia Winters, a board member at Biotechnica. She is one of the high-level executives pushing for this."
Joric's metallic finger drew a red line through Strange's and Winters's files.
"Strange and Winters: Purge. Strange is the man of action; his removal is the severing of their claws. Winters represents the corporate will; her death will force them to recalculate their risk-assessment."
His finger finally came to rest on the file of Elliot Kwan.
"Kwan is to be left alive, but he must be... adequately terrorized. He will witness the fate of his companions. He will ensure our 'greeting' is delivered accurately. This survivor will be our most effective messenger."
Moiré's new optical sensors scanned the three faces, committing them to her core-memory. "Understood, Master. Strange and Winters for execution. Kwan as the messenger. The message will be delivered with clarity."
"Remember," Joric added, "Kwan must live, but he must feel the touch of death. He must understand, with absolute certainty, that his survival was not luck, but my permission."
"Furthermore," Joric continued, "the operation must convey that continued hostility is not the only option. If they are willing to pay sufficient reparations for their initial transgression, and cease all harassment... we may consider a limited technological exchange. Or, at the very least, a cessation of hostilities."
He placed a deliberate, cold emphasis on the word "reparations."
"The reparations I require are specific, rare minerals and materiel. A behemoth like Militech certainly has access to off-world resources. Acquiring them via 'trade' is far more efficient than searching for them myself."
He projected a detailed materials-list next to the target files.
"Go," Joric commanded at last. "Display your capabilities. Make these corporations understand what, precisely, they are facing. Maintain your own operational integrity; your primary directive is message delivery, not pointless sacrifice. I require a result—either their fear, or the price they are willing to pay."
Moiré bowed deeply. "As you command, Master. Your will shall be done."
She rose, her newly reforged body light and coiled with power, a predator poised to strike. Turning, she walked from the sanctum and melted into the darkness, embarking on her first mission as a Sicarian Ruststalker—to deliver the Tech-Priest's terms to the masters of Night City.
Joric turned his own attention back to the control-altar of the Dimensional Sextant. Moiré's operation was merely a tool, a means to handle a distraction. His core objective had not, and would not, change. He needed these external interferences resolved, so he could return to the true, Great Work.
(End of Chapter)