Rostov II, a desolate world, was first charted over a century ago by a merchant dynasty. Their tenure was brief. Thirty years later, a decommissioned Astra Militarum regiment settled here, transforming the planet into an Imperial world under the Adeptus Administratum's direct control. The merchant dynasty lost its claim, and the details of that transition remained murky. Unlike the usual practice, where such dynasties retained ownership of their developed worlds, Rostov II was wrested away.
The Administratum poured significant resources into the planet, funding initial construction and securing food imports for a hundred years. Even deducting a portion of tithes from a nearby agricultural world, this was a colossal investment—enough to feed over a billion people for a century. With seventy years consumed, Luka had thirty years of food security left, a generous buffer for a new governor.
"So, Rostov II must achieve food self-sufficiency within thirty years or secure funds to buy food," Luka summarized, unperturbed. Thirty years might seem short, but it was a manageable challenge.
He held back from making snap judgments. Without a full grasp of Rostov II's situation, reckless proposals—like strip-mining the planet or selling its population to the Mechanicus—would be foolish.
Rachel, however, offered promising news. "The previous governor secured a deal with Sage Olivia of the Mechanicus. She's overseeing the construction of a protein processing plant capable of feeding the entire population. It's halfway complete."
Luka's eyebrows shot up. "A Mechanicus sage is building a protein plant here? Has the Machine God started a charity drive, or is there something on this planet they want?"
The Mechanicus were notoriously stingy, hoarding advanced technology while the Imperium struggled. High-ranking sages, especially, viewed ordinary humans as beneath their sacred machines. A biologis sage aiding a backwater like Rostov II? Either something valuable was at play, or this sage was an anomaly.
Rachel's response was cagey. "I'm not privy to the details. If you're curious, you can ask Sage Olivia yourself." Her tone suggested she knew more but wasn't sharing—wise, given the Mechanicus's reputation.
Luka's lips curled into a wry smile. Even the previous governor likely avoided prying into a sage's motives. Crossing the Mechanicus could spell trouble. For now, Luka dropped the topic and shifted to the planet's defenses.
"What's the state of the Planetary Defense Force?" he asked.
Rachel's eyes lit up, her military background evident. "The Rostov II PDF comprises ten regiments, trained to Astra Militarum standards. However, they're underequipped, limited to light weapons. No heavy assets like Hydras, Basilisks, or Leman Russ tanks." She paused, enthusiasm creeping in. "If you plan to expand or upgrade the PDF, that's where I'd start."
Luka sighed. "Maybe, but we don't have the funds." Military expenses were astronomical. From his Warhammer knowledge, a single Guardsman's salary was roughly fifty throne coins monthly, with equipment—flak armor, lasgun, bayonet—costing about four hundred fifty. Training added another thousand per soldier, two thousand for officers. A standard Cadian infantry regiment of 5,000 (3,500 combatants, 1,500 support) cost 6.5 million throne coins to train and equip, with a monthly payroll of 300,000.
Adding heavy weapons like bolters, meltas, or plasma guns pushed costs up by 4.1 million. Wartime expenses were worse: daily food and water per soldier ran thirty throne coins, ammunition another hundred fifty. A regiment's daily upkeep could hit 600,000.
With ten regiments—50,000 troops—training and arming them could cost hundreds of millions, excluding operational expenses. Luka had no idea what Rostov II's annual revenue was, but expanding the military was a pipe dream for now.