The governorship of a newly-stabilized Hive World was, by all accounts, supposed to be a grueling, life-consuming endeavor, rife with bureaucracy, planetary defense planning, and endless meetings with grim, self-important commanders.
Temporary governor Archer of 'Super Earth'—formerly Perditia, as the Imperium still insisted on calling it—had successfully redefined the role.
His 'Governor's Palace' was an impossibly ostentatious, hastily reinforced multi-tiered command floor repurposed from the penthouse level of the Hive's second-tallest spire.
Below him stretched endless, smog-choked canyons of ferrocrete and grime, the true scale of the world, a terrifying testament to Imperial scale. The air was filtered, but the walls still vibrated faintly with the ceaseless groan of the spire's population filters five kilometers beneath his feet.
The main chamber, dubbed the 'Oval Office of Democracy'—a phrase Archer thought sounded "dangerously cool"—was illuminated not by the usual flickering tallow candles or harsh utilitarian glow of Imperial lighting, but by strings of aggressively pulsing, multi-colored LEDs the players had salvaged from a Mechanicum hydroponics bay.
These lights bathed the room in a permanent, celebratory rave-like atmosphere, which Archer insisted was "crucial for blood flow."
Archer himself was seated in his 'throne,' a custom Power Armor rigging chair mounted on hydraulics, allowing him to dramatically lean back or loom over supplicants.
He had forgone the actual heavy armor, instead wearing a custom-tailored, suspiciously clean tan turtleneck under a black, leather-trimmed vest—the vest had a huge gold Administratum aquila poorly sewn onto the back.
He was not smoking a Lho-stick, but sipping from a massive, ornate pewter mug—a repurposed Reliquary—containing what he claimed was an "Astartes-strength Martini."
He claimed the heavily decorated incense censor nearby was "for when the Martini's vibe needed a lift."
He tapped his fingers impatiently on the armrest, waiting.
The subject of his impatience was standing ten meters away, vibrating with restrained fury.
"I find," began the individual, a Tech-Priest identified by the Helldivers as Reddito, his former in-game teacher in the ways of the Adeptus Mechanicus, "that the designation 'Oval Office of Democracy' is not only a gross theological inaccuracy, but functionally meaningless in the face of the Omnissiah's flawless logic."
Reddito was a symphony of polished brass and servo-skulls, his massive mechadendrites twitching like irritated metal serpents. Every optic lens on his head, every Purity Seal on his robes, seemed to be vibrating in protest against the atmosphere.
"It's about the brand, Lana, I mean Reddito, the brand," Archer sighed, taking a long sip from his Reliquary. "And try to relax. You look like you just remembered where you parked and realized you left the light on. Why don't you get a drink? I'm sure you Mechanicus freaks have some kind of hydraulic fluid on tap."
Ever since attaining 'temporry governorship', Archer had been behaving differently around his 'teacher' and peers. Very differently...
"There is an ongoing crisis at the front," Reddito hissed through his vocoder, which sounded like grinding gravel. "A crisis which your temporary governance is jeopardizing with the continued, non-compliant expenditure of resources on the lower hive levels, specifically to facilitate Ork and Cultist-grade target practice."
"Nonsense. Super Earth is running smoother than a freshly waxed hover-limo. Also, I'm the best governor in the sector. Probably the whole segmentum. Is that in the database yet?" Archer declared, stretching dramatically. "Alright, let's get this tech review over with. The front line is currently in a defensive crouch —so let's talk logistics. Get the data slate ready."
Reddito reluctantly activated a hovering data slate, projecting flickering Gothic script and schematics onto the wall of the penthouse chamber.
"First up: The battlefield asset performance review," Archer said, pointing a finger at a list of assets, including the Leman Russ Destroyers and the Mechanicum-supplied targeting tech. "The crews—the Helldivers, that is—are praising the 'Mark IV Pro-Vision' system you installed. What's the official Mechanicus designation?"
Reddito's mechadendrites whipped the air in disapproval. "The system is a synthesis of advanced Chronos-pattern psycho-reactive augury and salvaged, but highly illegal, Oculus Ferrum long-range spectral analyzers.
It allows our gunners to pierce the Tyranid spore smog and provide near-perfect targeting data. The Helldivers' casual description of it as a 'wall hack' is both blasphemous and accurate to its operational function, which is… an affront to the purity of battle."
Archer leaned forward, beaming. "Accurate, you say? Good. Because that means I don't have to actually put effort into tactics. I want more of the 'affronts to purity.' Mass-produce the component. And figure out why we can't integrate it with our basic Lasgun scopes yet.
I, the Governor, need to be able to see through walls too, not just the tank crews. Do you have any idea how much less I have to move if I can pre-aim? Efficiency, Reddito! It's like O-S-H-A for the future!"
"The Oculus Ferrum requires psycho-reactive calibration only possible via the integrated cerebral cortex of a tank commander, or a heavily augmented Servitor. The energy draw would render a Lasgun battery useless in three seconds,"
Reddito countered, his optics flashing red. "You seek to apply a sacred, rare adaptation to common soldiery! Such deviations threaten the Machine Spirit!"
"The Machine Spirit needs to loosen up, maybe watch some instructional vids on proper ergonomics," Archer said dismissively. "Look, if the Helldivers can see through the fog, they stop dying, which means less time spent dying, which means more lasgun shots downrange. Now, secondary concern: the Lasgun. I need a Lasgun that Helldivers won't keep blowing up when they overcharge it to hit a Tyranid Warrior."
"Heresy!" Reddito boomed, his voice momentarily overloading the vocoder. "The standard Lasgun is a flawless STC design! Any failure is user-based!"
"Precisely. And users are idiots. Especially new ones fresh off the shuttle who have to fight a horde of Orks and figure out the user interface simultaneously," Archer said dismissively. "I want a 'Lasgun Light.' Lower damage, faster cooling, higher rate of fire. I don't care if it defies three thousand years of STC wisdom. We need volume, and we need to keep the cannon fodder happy during the training phase. Reduce the casing thickness by 40%."
"The casing thickness is a matter of containment integrity! Reducing it by 40% ensures frequent, lethal, non-repairable energy leakage!" Reddito countered, his optics flashing red. "It is designed to safeguard the user!"
"It is designed to weigh down my infantry and ruin their posture," Archer shot back. "Helldivers prefer mobility over minor inconvenience. We'll add a little text in the item description: 'Warning: May explode if dropped. Use at your own risk. Seriously, don't be an idiot.' That's their problem. My problem is getting 50,000 of them produced by yesterday."
Reddito looked as though he might throw himself into the plasma generator to cleanse the chamber. "You command me to intentionally manufacture flawed, non-compliant wargear based on the whims of… the mob?"
"I command you to innovate within the limits of my budget and the constraints of Helldiver demand. The Machine God likes results, and I am delivering results: a steady stream of trained, if slightly singed, soldiers ready to face the real enemy,"
Archer reminded him. "Now, final logistics query from a new Helldiver, quote "why are the Orks and Cultists in the lower hives only dropping stub-pistols and rusty knives? I want the loot table updated. I need the tutorial zone to drop more fashionable items, like 'Custom Turtleneck Patterns' and 'Astartes-grade Martini Glass Schematics.' It's a huge morale issue" ."
Reddito could only sputter. "The Orks are not a programmable entity! Their inventory is dictated by their primitive nature!"
"Then we better give some rewards for their ongoing 'quests'!" Archer insisted. "Figure it out, Reddito. And who is your daddy?"
Reddito reluctantly bowed his head, the joints of his neck clicking violently. "You… are the Governor of Super Earth, Temporary designation. Understood. The fabrication facilities will be instructed to initiate the heresy and the loot table optimization."
"Excellent. Now, the final requisition list," Archer grinned, picking up a stack of paper. "I'm signing off on the community-submitted designs. We need to boost morale. Approval granted for the 'Astartes-grade Espresso Machine' for the Primaris Apothecaries. Yes, they need their caffeine. And approval for the 'Titan-Sized Novelty Foam Hat'—it's for the New Year parade, they swear. Just make sure the hat doesn't interfere with the Titan's auspex readings."
Reddito stared at the requisition list, his mechanical hand shaking. "A foam hat… for a Warlord-class Titan… For a parade?"
"It builds community spirit! It brings up the vibe!" Archer insisted. He leaned back in his hydraulic chair, the LEDs cycling rapidly from blue to green. "One last thing, Reddito. I need you to personally re-route the main power conduits running to the command hub and install this."
Archer gestured to a large, surprisingly ornate, spinning mirror ball lying on a velvet cushion nearby.
"This… sphere?" Reddito questioned, utterly lost.
"It's a disco ball," Archer said, clarifying nothing. "I need it over my throne, with its own dedicated power line, synched to the LED timing. I need the room to sparkle when I deliver my next address. Think of it as a crucial psyker amplifier. Now go. You have heresy to manufacture and lighting to install.
The Omnissiah demands style."
Reddito let out a sound that was a mix of a prayer and a software crash, then turned his voluminous body and stalked out of the chamber, his mechadendrites dragging dramatically on the ferrocrete floor.
Archer watched him go, then leaned back, a satisfied smirk crossing his face. He finished his martini. This was the good life. He was a governor, a military strategist, a logistics manager, and a morale officer, all rolled into one bizarre, overpowered player character.
He had the respect of Astartes (grudgingly), the fear of the Technocrats (definitely), and the adoration of the masses (maybe). He had redefined war, bureaucracy, and good taste.
He took a sip of wine.
"Life is good..."
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But unlife is better - Ainz Ooal Gown