The Acid Swamp, Andy's Military Base.
Clang!
The crisp sound of metal striking metal rang out.
A head wearing a yellow tactical helmet traced a less-than-perfect parabola through the air, smashing into the crossbeam of a derelict gantry crane dozens of meters away. The head bounced once before plunging straight down.
Glub, glub.
Below lay the steaming green acid of the swamp. The head bobbed only twice before being corroded into nothingness by the powerful acid.
"Oops? Missed the shot."
Andy stood on the shore, watching the rising green bubbles as he idly shook his hand.
The person Andy had just used as a football was the captain of "Wasp," the special operations squad sent by the Helios Group.
Just thirty minutes ago, these six individuals—self-proclaimed masters of electronic warfare—had crept toward the perimeter of Andy's base clad in state-of-the-art optical camouflage cloaks. They had set up high-frequency signal jammers and attempted to remotely access Andy's logic interface using military-grade data probes.
To be honest, Andy had been dumbfounded.
Someone actually dared to play hacker offense and defense against an Ironkin from the Dark Age of Technology? One had to admit, that required immense courage. It was like a primitive man who had just learned basic addition and subtraction challenging a quantum computer capable of billions of calculations per second with nothing but an abacus.
Even though Andy's current body was merely an engineering model and many advanced tactical modules remained locked, the logic firewall in his mind was a top-tier defense system designed by Golden Age humanity specifically to combat Warp-tainted scrapcode. The decryption codes Helios had cobbled together based on current Imperial technology didn't even trigger an error pop-up when they hit Andy's firewall.
Andy didn't even bother deploying his weapon systems. He simply followed the data links of the enemy's probes and sent back a cute little program: a Deadlock Logic Virus.
The result was predictable. The heads of the six infiltrators instantly turned into pressure cookers. Their electronic brains overloaded, their nerve bundles fried, and before they even realized what was happening, they were twitching on the ground in unison, eventually dying as their brains boiled.
While the process was tedious, the loot was decent. Andy's previous yellowish hazmat suit had disintegrated under the radiation of the Reconstructor, and he had been worried about having nothing to wear. "Wasp" squad had conveniently delivered six "Cameleon" cloaks.
These were high-quality items with built-in optical arrays that automatically changed color according to the environment when powered, achieving near-perfect optical invisibility. However, there was a minor issue: when inactive or unpowered, the default color was an extremely conspicuous industrial bright yellow to prevent friendly fire. Furthermore, human sizes were too small for Andy.
But this was no obstacle for an Engineering Ironkin. Andy stripped all six cloaks, trimmed the edges, and stitched them back together. Now, he wore an oversized, hooded, bright yellow robe. Not only did it hide his conspicuous metallic skeleton, but it could also activate stealth mode when needed—a perfect artifact for sneaking and ambushing.
As for his daily appearance... the bright yellow robe, paired with his mysterious demeanor, made him look even more like a Tech-Priest Archmagos with some unknown eccentricities.
"Not bad, actually quite stylish," Andy admired himself briefly before turning toward the training grounds inside the base.
The training grounds were bustling. Two hundred and thirty fully armed soldiers were lining up. In recent days, the shelter's population had exploded. In addition to the original refugees, there were large numbers of stragglers and even members of small gangs who had come to defect. Andy accepted them all. After rigorous screening to eliminate potential Genestealer cultists or Chaos worshippers, he expanded the force to its current size.
They wore brand-new T-9000 exoskeletons, held fully-modded CBS high-explosive crossbows, and carried quivers and throwables at their waists. Although their training time was short and their tactical proficiency wasn't fully formed, the raw power provided by their equipment compensated for it.
At the very front of the formation stood a group that looked somewhat out of place: Roger Castor and his Rust Brotherhood. This group now wore uniform attire instead of their previous scavenger rags. Roger was currently adjusting his newly replaced mechanical arm with an expression like he was suffering from chronic constipation. This arm was made of high-strength alloy produced by Andy's Reconstructor, with precision far exceeding his old piece of junk.
But Roger didn't look happy. The reason was simple: he had been forced into this.
As the shelter's industrial capacity hit full throttle, the large processing centers and electrolysis tanks became absolute power hogs. Without a word, Andy had sent men to triple the thickness of the power cables connected to the fission power station. This sudden draw had instantly collapsed Roger's power grid. With the power station's output at its limit, Roger's side couldn't even power their machine tools, let alone light up their living quarters at night. The entire camp had been plunged into darkness.
When Roger went to argue with Andy, Andy simply spread his hands: either lose power or move in.
Roger looked at his brothers—emaciated with hunger and now unable even to watch holographic "short films"—and then at the shelter's fragrant starch balls and bright lights. What choice did he have? He brought everyone, packed up all the unburnt fuel rods, and moved his entire "family" into the shelter.
Now, the Rust Brotherhood was officially renamed "Shelter Engineering Department II," responsible for power maintenance and auxiliary production. Though he lost his independence and the thrill of being the boss, Roger had to admit—this place was damn good! Unlimited food, endless high-grade parts, and the advanced blueprints Andy occasionally tossed over. For a tech-geek, this was essentially heaven.
Beyond the changes on the surface, underwater construction hadn't stopped either. Andy glanced at the surface of the nearby acid lake. Below, the underwater base that formerly belonged to Doctor Beak was undergoing massive renovation. Four engineering drones had been busy underwater for days, cutting open abandoned chambers, expanding foundations, reinforcing outer walls, and laying new ventilation ducts.
The base had now become a massive underground storage center. Andy had moved most of his sensitive materials there—such as unstable biological samples and the Genestealer corpse kept in the cold storage. This was for security and to ensure a way out. If the surface base fell, everyone could retreat underwater and escape through the subterranean rivers directly to the Upper-hive.
Of course, that was only the worst-case scenario. Andy was now powerful, well-supplied, and held the "map-hack" for Sector 9. He had no intention of running.