Excessive Bureaucracy

"Regarding acquisitions, please direct your attention to appendix 7b figure 86-c-i, wherei..."

Lā-Raṣû was interrupted by alarm-bells, as Wardum Ehlû ran through the Office shouting:

"Five-thirteen! Mashers called in code five-thirteen on Habblock-11! Five-thirteen!"

This was met with general grumbling and discontent from the assembled logisticians, as they shuffled their papers away and began trudging out of the conference room. Parākum, though, was the first to articulate an actual complaint:

"Really, must we do this? I've been keeping track, and did you guys know this is the third - Khorne as my witness, third - five-thirteen we've had just this half-quarter? It's unsustainable!"

Lā-Raṣû, evidently in a foul mood since being interrupted, shot Parākum a dark glare. He accusingly asked:

"Are you suggesting we leave heretics be?"

Parākum scowled, replying:

"Of course not! The only good thing about this omnishambles is giving us the occasional chance to crack heads."

The logisticians, having reached the armoury, were now changing out of scribe's robes and into crude body-armour, while grabbing shivs or clubs. Fastening their spiked shoulder-pad, Parākum continued:

"But I question the wisdom of the breeding programmes. 'Course I've seen the arguments for "the blesséd conclusion", as those Taruoduron nerds call it: even under pessimistic assumptions about the violent crime rate, the best means of increasing rage and murder on net is by increasing population density."

Parākum had affected the nasally voice of a Taruoduron scholar, eliciting chuckles. They continued in their own voice:

"Sure, in theory. In practice, though, they've yet to find a way of encouraging breeding that doesn't generate so many bloody five fucking thirteens that the disruption to our work doesn't outweigh whatever benefits we'd accrue."

Soon after, as the armed and armoured logisticians sped towards Habblock-11 in the back of an APC, junior logistician Tarādum spoke up:

"Picking up on what Parākum said,"

- Lā-Raṣû grunted in irritation, but Tarādum went on undeterred -

"maybe we should kill Taruoduron's project director? If we cleave his skull surely that'll prove Khorne is with us, so their argument must be mistaken?"

Lā-Raṣû laughed dismissively before cutting in:

"Paperwork arranging that duel would be worse than for five-thirteens! You lot need to have a bit more faith in our goremages. Sure, right now our fertility rituals keep generating Slaaneshi cults. It's frustrating, I get it. But that's why we have phased roll-outs! These small-scale implementations let us iron out the kinks."

(Lā-Raṣû pretended not to hear his colleagues laughing at his accidental pun.)

"You'll see, eventually we'll optimise the ritual for reproduction without generating a single orgiastic sex-cult."

The van screeched to a halt, opening its back door to reveal the Habblock-11. Intense small-arms fire was being exchanged between surrounding Mashkim and maniacally laughing cultists within. All the while, purple empiric energies along with daemonettes' beguiling calls flowed from the windows.

Parākum muttered:

"Yeah, well, until then..."

But left the rest unsaid. They lowered their visor, raised their serrated blade, and charged into Habblock-11 while bellowing their hate.