After the death of Electronic Eye, Li Qingyu ordered the Black Merchant and his subordinate to go to the reactor and search for explosives there.
A short time passed, and the Black Merchant and his subordinate returned, holding dozens of army bombs. When the last one was disarmed, the power in the Fertilizer Gang finally changed hands.
In the former dwelling of Electronic Eye, Li Qingyu received the managers of the Fertilizer Gang.
Among them was the Black Merchant Nepal, who had previously worked as a mechanic in the Middle Hive. He was exiled to the Lower Hive for his crimes.
Later, Electronic Eye took him on as a repair master, and all the mechanical work of the Fertilizer Gang was subordinate to him.
Li Qingyu, squinting, looked at the Black Merchant Nepal.
He instantly straightened to attention.
"Leader, what are you saying! Everything here is yours. What money? And whoever dares to ask you for payment – I'll snap his head off!"
Li Qingyu grinned.
"Well, since that's the case, I'll drop by your shop later. If I like anything – I'll take it, don't be offended?"
The Black Merchant winced, but immediately pretended to not care.
"I told you, everything here is yours. And who dares to argue! Otherwise, I might really get angry, ha!"
With a sly smile, Li Qingyu poked him with his finger, ordered him to step aside, and turned his gaze to another person.
His name was Lao Bai – for his gray hair and constant white coat.
In the Fertilizer Gang, he held the position of head of production and, concurrently, laboratory operator.
Noticing Li Qingyu's gaze, he bowed slightly at the waist, alert, as if ready to heed the instructions of the new management.
"Lao Bai, right?" Li Qingyu asked. "Tell me, what is the Fertilizer Gang mainly engaged in now? Where does the raw material come from and where does the finished product go?"
"Leader, we used to produce fertilizers," Lao Bai replied. "But recently, production has been switched to explosives."
Now we have four reactors: three make explosives, one makes synth-steel.
Every month, we receive raw materials from other primary chemical plants in the Lower Hive. Our plant performs the final processing stage: it produces the finished product and sends it to the Middle Hive via the Great Lift.
"And what's the benefit of this? And what will happen if you don't deliver the products on time?" Li Qingyu asked.
Lao Bai scratched his head.
"Leader, I don't know exactly what we get for it. Electronic Eye always communicated with the higher-ups; he didn't let anyone near such matters. But once, when he was drunk, he blabbed: as if after each delivery, a large sum is credited to our account. How much exactly – I don't know.
If we miss the deadline, the first time they send a warning from above and demand that we deliver everything before the next installment is paid.
The second time, the warning is stricter and accompanied by a fine.
And the third time, bailiffs will arrive with an armed squad, shoot all the gang leadership, and appoint a new leader – so that production resumes."
Li Qingyu whistled – it was very "Warhammer-esque," one must admit. The main thing is that the taxes go through, and who pays is not important.
"Well... can you maintain production until the next delivery?" he asked.
Lao Bai nodded.
"Of course, leader. We have reserves for at least three months. If we consider that the monthly capacity is ten conditional units, and only seven are delivered, then the remaining three are always in reserve. Electronic Eye specifically created reserves so that there would be no interruptions and no warning would come."
Li Qingyu laughed. He hadn't expected that, after dying, Electronic Eye would leave him such a gift – three months of finished products! What luck.
"How much exactly do you have in reserve?" he clarified.
"Leader, we currently have thirty tons of plastic high-energy explosives, fifteen tons of Synsteel Powder, and sixty tons of fertilizer in the warehouses – the ones left over from the old production," Lao Bai replied. "We don't use them anymore."
"What do you mean, you don't use them!" Li Qingyu perked up. "Of course, we use them! Gather a couple of people – have them load a ton of fertilizer into a cart. I'll need it."
He understood: with fertilizer, he could strengthen ties with rebels outside the Hive, which meant getting food and people. These reserves were too expensive to sit idle.
"By the way, do you still have the capacity to produce fertilizer?" he asked.
Li Qingyu pondered whether he could establish a steady supply for the external rebels.
Lao Bai nodded, but looked a bit awkward.
"Leader, producing fertilizer isn't complicated. Our equipment is universal – it can make thousands of types of chemical products. The raw materials are the same as for explosives, so there are no problems with materials. The bottleneck is only in capacity. As you can see, we have four reactors, and each can only work on one product. Currently, three are occupied with explosives, and one with Synsteel Powder. There's simply no equipment left for fertilizer."
Li Qingyu suddenly remembered that very reactor in the neutral zone, for which the Fertilizer Gang had waged war with the Chemist Gang. It seemed he would now have to inherit this conflict and continue the struggle for the reactor himself.
Having sorted out the production issues, he turned his gaze to the last of the leadership – a massive, bearded man.
He was in a rough work jumpsuit, his face like stone – clearly, he had worked too long on the death assembly line. Neither the death of the old boss nor the appearance of a new one had made the slightest impression on him.
His name was Zhuangsen, and he was the foreman – he managed the workers.
"Zhuangsen, report how many workers we have now," Li Qingyu asked.
The foreman nodded, with the same stony expression.
"Leader, we have a total of one thousand five hundred and eighty workers. Roughly equal numbers of men and women. Of these, a thousand are young people under twenty-five, the rest are older. They already have physical issues, not enough strength. And there are also one hundred and twenty-five children – under ten years old."
Li Qingyu was astonished: it turned out that those over twenty-five were no longer considered combat-capable, while ten-year-olds, on the contrary, were driven into the workshops. Human life here was cheap, terrifyingly cheap.