Chapter 243: The Provost
The farm attack was a serious problem beyond the immediate casualties. Kian had fifteen thousand farmers under his protection now, and the relationship was transactional — he provided security, fertiliser, and mechanised support; they provided food. If he couldn't deliver the security half of that arrangement, the farmers had no particular reason to stay.
He called the farm leaders together and addressed it directly.
"Our controlled territory has expanded too far. The outer farms are fifteen kilometres from the road — we can't maintain wire and mines across that distance, and we can't keep patrols everywhere simultaneously. That's why raiders are getting through."
He let that sit for a moment.
"So we're forming a militia. I'm issuing secondary weapons and ammunition to your communities. You'll have the means to defend your own fields."
Several farm leaders stood up involuntarily, the surprise evident on their faces. In a war zone, armed independent capacity was enormously valuable. That Kian would actively cultivate it in his agricultural workforce was unexpected.
"Ten companies, a hundred people each. You select the recruits from your communities — I want the best able-bodied people you have.
Every recruit must have family members. Those family members come to the Hive to live."
The room processed this with varying expressions. The Hive was generally considered a better life than the surface — so family relocation read as reward. It was also, obviously, leverage.
Kian said it plainly: "Yes. Leverage. I know some of you were rebel-aligned before, and some of you may still be. As long as no one causes problems while I'm in charge, I don't ask questions.
But militia soldiers carry weapons I'm paying for, eat food I'm providing, and train under officers I'm appointing. They fight under my command and no one else's. If I discover rebel agents trying to turn my militia — I eliminate the agent and everyone who knew and said nothing. Full collective accountability."
He wanted no ambiguity about this. The rebel movement had grown by flipping PDF units from within. He was not going to build a force only to have it subverted.
"Go recruit. I want the best young adults you have. Pay is two thousand Agri-Scrips per month — matching PDF standard."
Two thousand a month, against a farmer's maximum of two hundred. The rooms economics did the work. Every farm community had its answer before the leaders had finished walking back.
The thousand slots filled immediately. Kian pulled officers from his household soldiers — trusted people who had been with him through multiple operations. Family leverage plus command structure: the probability of defection was as low as he could engineer it.
The militia was distributed along the farming corridor — one hundred per position, training during off-rotation hours and patrolling during active hours. He armed them from the equipment recovered at the underground military facility, uniformed them to match PDF appearance. A raiding party seeing uniformed soldiers guarding the fields would at minimum hesitate. The ones who didn't hesitate would get a firefight, followed by Kian's main force arriving within fifteen minutes.
The second crop cycle was underway when Colonel Leo sent word: the 81st Regiment's commander had filed a formal complaint with the planetary Provost Marshal's office. Two units destroyed, two company commanders dead, attributed to Kian's command.
The Provost Marshal's office had issued a summons — Kian was to appear before a military tribunal in the Hive immediately.
Leo had responded on the regiment's behalf: Battalion Commander Voss was engaged in critical operational duties and could not be withdrawn from his sector to respond to what the regiment characterised as unsubstantiated allegations. In the current environment, with PDF-on-PDF incidents occurring regularly across the entire front, the complaint would need to be handled through standard channels without the accused's presence.
Leo's assessment: the complaint would go nowhere through official channels. But the 81st's commander was working his contacts, and the most likely next step was a personal visit from Provost personnel with the 81st's commander accompanying them.
He advised Kian to clean up anything that shouldn't be visible.
The prediction was accurate. Within days, a Provost detachment arrived at the 109th's road position.
Kian was in the middle of a seven-hundred-kilogram squat set when Egghead ran in.
"Sir — white hats. The 81st's commander is with them. They have soldiers. They're saying they're here to detain you."
"Relax."
Kian racked the barbell, wiped his face, lit a lho-stick, and walked out.
The 81st's commander and a Provost Major were standing outside. The Major, who had either been compensated appropriately or had a pre-existing relationship with the complainant, skipped the formalities entirely.
"Take him."
Two Provost soldiers moved on Kian simultaneously, one on each side, reaching for his wrists with the practiced efficiency of people accustomed to this procedure.
They pulled.
Nothing happened.
They looked at his forearms — each one considerably larger in circumference than their thighs — and revised their assessment of the situation.
Kian reached out, took hold of both soldiers by their belts, and lifted them off the ground.
He held them up for a moment, one in each hand, then set them down sharply.
The impact produced sounds that indicated the procedure would require medical follow-up.
[End of Chapter 243]
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