Andy followed Ball to the pharmaceutical production line.
What was originally a purification room for domestic sewage had been completely transformed. Several constant-temperature fermentation tanks, fashioned from salvaged oil drums, emitted faint bubbling sounds as the strains within happily gorged on starch. The air was thick with a strange aroma—a mixture of yeast and alcohol.
At the far end of the workshop sat a simple, newly installed filling line. Andy walked over and picked up a freshly sealed vial. It was a transparent glass bottle no larger than a thumb—an old ampoule recovered from the ruins, reused after high-temperature sterilization.
Inside was a clear, pale yellow liquid: the officially launched "Andy Bio-One."
Andy held the vial up to the light. His STC vision activated instantly, providing a detailed data report:
[Product Name: Penicillin G Sodium Solution - Modified]
[Active Ingredient Content: 800,000 units/ml]
[Impurity Content: <1.5%]
[Pyrogen Reaction: Negative]
[Production Cost: 5.0 Standard Starch Units]
Looking at these stats, Andy's logic core couldn't help but run a little hot.
Currently, the antibiotics circulating in the Underhive were primarily the "Green Mold Soup" produced by the Beak Doctors—a concoction of mold scraped from rotting entrails. The problem was that the active ingredients in Green Mold Soup were extremely unstable, roughly one-hundredth of the potency of Andy Bio-One, and it was riddled with cadaverine and unknown pathogens.
Whether you survived after drinking it was entirely up to fate; chances were your liver would fail before the infection cleared. Yet, even for such garbage, a single bottle fetched a sky-high price that ordinary people could never afford.
Then there were the official pharmaceuticals from the Helios Group in the Spire. High quality, high purity, great results. However, the price was... complicated. A single box of standard Helios antibiotic injections could be traded on the black market for a brand-new armored personnel carrier. Furthermore, these drugs were strictly regulated. If a commoner was caught hoarding them, they were summarily executed for "theft of military supplies."
And the vial in Andy's hand?
Its potency was a hundred times that of Green Mold Soup, and its purity rivaled Helios's official stock. But the cost... Andy glanced at the data again.
5 starch units. That meant for the price of five starch balls—less than a kilogram of starch—he could produce a bottle of this miracle drug!
"What's the capacity?" Andy turned to ask Ball.
Ball looked ecstatic as he pointed to the fermentation tanks. "With these three tanks running at full load, we can produce about forty bottles a day. If we add more tanks, we can double that!"
This number gave Andy pause. A minimum daily output of forty bottles at medical standards wasn't just a metric; it was a power capable of altering the entire ecology of the Underhive.
In the past, if an Underhiver got hurt, they wrapped it in a dirty rag and waited to die or face amputation. Even gang bosses had to bow to the Beak Doctors and pay a fortune to save their lives. Now, once this batch hit the streets, the mortally wounded could survive, and limbs destined to rot could be saved. This meant a massive increase in labor survival rates and a faster recovery speed for gangs after turf wars. It might even lead to... a population explosion of sorts?
But that was a concern for later. The key now was how to sell it—and how to extract its true value.
"Ball, don't be in a hurry to ship these out," Andy said, his tone turning serious as he placed the vial back on the rack. "Give them to our people first. Every member of the guard gets one for emergencies. Any workers injured in the workshop get priority treatment."
"As for external sales..." Andy walked to the Underhive map pinned to the wall.
The map was now a dense web of markings, denoting spheres of influence and resource points. Their shelter sat right at the intersection of several major Underhive arteries.
North: The giant elevator shafts leading to the Lower and Mid-Spires, controlled by a coalition of major gangs.
South: The deep mining zones, largely the territory of Genestealers and mutants—a complex labyrinth of natural hazards.
West: The Acid Lakes of the Beak Doctors. This unique environment served as the terminus for countless industrial waste pipes; over millennia, it had formed a massive sulfuric swamp. The Beak Doctors used this environment to extract toxins and culture mutant strains, monopolizing the Underhive drug supply.
East: A vast, abandoned industrial zone inhabited by various factions and scavengers. The Rust Brotherhood, with whom the shelter had already established a preliminary relationship, was one of the major powers there.
If Andy sold the drug directly on the open market, it would trigger a buying frenzy. At worst, it would invite a siege by the major gangs. It was like a child carrying a gold bar through a crowded market; anyone with a pulse would be tempted. He needed a proper proxy, or... his own distribution network.
"Contact Sisyphus," Andy decided after some deliberation. "Tell him to mobilize all his channels. Tell him I have new stock, ten thousand times better than his Green Mold Soup. But I don't want cash. I want resources."
Andy's finger traced across the map. "High-grade metals, electronic components, rare ores, even discarded ancient relics. Anything of industrial value that their channels can dig up can be traded for medicine."
His eyes sharpened. "And another thing. This medicine is only for those who are 'obedient.' If anyone dares to attack our transport teams or play games behind our backs, they won't get a single drop—no matter how badly they're hurt or how high they bid. Furthermore, anyone who fails to cooperate will face armed retaliation from the Shelter."
In this lawless world, these were the new rules Andy was writing.
Just then, Gamma-9 rushed in. "Lord Archmagos! We have a situation!"
"What is it?" Andy frowned. "Aren't the Flayed Ones mostly dealt with?"
"No... not them." Gamma-9 caught his breath, his single eye flickering with unease. "It's the Helios Group. Something seems to have happened at their new factory. Our sentries found a transport vehicle that escaped from that direction. Everyone on board was dead, and..."
Gamma-9 lowered his voice as if speaking of a taboo. "The corpses... they were covered in purple crystals."
Andy's heart sank. Purple crystals? Was it a sign of Genestealer infection, or... some even more horrific biochemical mutation? What kind of monster had those fools at Helios cooked up in that sealed processing plant?
"Take me there."
Andy didn't hesitate. This couldn't wait. If it was a Genestealer outbreak or a bio-leak, the Shelter's current assets could be wiped out in minutes. If things got that bad, he'd have to consider an exit strategy. With his grand agricultural dreams on the line, the last thing Andy wanted was a man-made catastrophe.
Andy strode out of the workshop and hopped onto the newly modified "Underhive Joyride" vehicle. "Gamma-9, round up ten combatants. Bring the heavy weapons!"