Warhammer Survival Guide

Chapter 38 The Blood of the Empire

Rowe and Father Alpha chatted for a while.

Then they heard a series of hurried footsteps.

Commander Buck came running over, panting, through the muddy ground.

The one-eyed officer looked very grim.

He held the newly printed inventory list in his hand.

"Advisor, the situation is dire!"

Buck wiped the rain off his face and said anxiously:

"Those red-robed men took way too much. Our fuel reserves have fallen below the warning level!"

"The current inventory is only enough to keep the power furnace running at full power for twelve hours!"

Lo Wei took the list.

I glanced at the shocking deficit figures above.

Twelve hours.

This was the "gift" left to him by the Mechanics.

They took away the life-saving supplies from the granary, leaving behind a worthless "legal certification."

……

After seeing off the Mechanicus's spaceship, Rowe returned to his office, leaned back in his chair to rest for a while, and then thought about how to deal with the shortage of supplies.

He was on the verge of collapse.

However, in this millennium of despair, rest was a luxury.

Over the communicator, Buck shouted excitedly:

"Advisor, the landing site of the airdrop pod has been confirmed. It's in Sector E-12, on solid ground, not sunk into the swamp. By the Emperor, the commotion sounds incredibly heavy!"

Luo Wei opened his bloodshot eyes and glanced at the time.

Lilith, the head of the guards, kept her promise.

Under normal circumstances, the Ministry of the Interior's approval process is enough to turn a living person into a skeleton.

The time it takes for a supply request to be stamped and circulated among various departments is longer than that of a battle.

But now, the supplies were airdropped onto the ground within hours of the talks ending.

This unconventional efficiency can only mean one thing.

The situation has deteriorated to the point that even the bureaucrats dare not delay.

Luo Wei rubbed his temples to clear his head, then got up and walked towards the mahogany conference table.

The surface was covered with oil-stained maps and data panels.

"Hurry up, Buck," Rowe urged.

Every second passes.

They are all consuming their dwindling fuel reserves.

"Don't let those damn mutant flies eat the box first. Remember, whatever's inside, even if it's just a box of toilet brushes, bring it back to me."

Half an hour later.

Heavy footsteps and the clanging of metal broke the silence of the corridor.

Four giant, dark green airdrop crates were huffing and puffing as the defense soldiers carried them into the hall.

The side of the box is painted with the double-headed eagle emblem of the Valentius family.

One of the eagle's eyes, etched with laser light to a sharp point, seemed to be scrutinizing the group of dusty, disheveled receivers.

Father Alpha extended his mechanical tentacles and skillfully and eagerly cracked the bio-lock.

With a hiss of the airtight valve releasing pressure, the lid slowly popped open.

There is no fuel.

There was also no high-energy battery pack that Loewy most desired.

Lying inside the shock-absorbing foam were ten boxes of Cadillac laser rifles, their bodies gleaming with a brand-new blued sheen.

Two heavy Astor-type heavy explosive guns.

This is the strongest individual firepower available to mortal auxiliary troops.

There are also hundreds of sets of gray-black explosion-proof armor.

Buck's single eye lit up instantly.

He stroked the cold barrel of the bomb gun and said excitedly:

"By the Emperor! This thing only needs one shot to fry those swollen plague zombies into mincemeat. The Governor has really gone all out this time."

But Lo Wei didn't laugh.

He picked up a laser rifle and checked the readings on the energy magazine.

Full.

"She gave us teeth," Rowe said in a low voice, "but she didn't give us food."

"What do you mean?"

Buck was so engrossed in the joy of the firepower that he didn't realize what was happening.

"It means that if we don't want to starve to death, and if we don't want to be riddled with bullets by the automatic turrets of the defense system because of a power outage, we have to take these guns and go and rob them ourselves."

Rowe threw the rifle back into the box with a loud clang.

"The Governor's Office didn't have any extra fuel for us. This batch of weapons is meant to help us 'be self-reliant'."

He looked around, his gaze sweeping over everyone present.

This is his current makeshift team:

Buck, the one-eyed commander of the defense force, is in charge of killing.

The Alpha Tech Priest, a half-human, half-ghost, is in charge of fixing things;

In the corner, there was also Old John, the newly promoted leader of the refugees.

He was noticed by Lo Wei when he was distributing green soup because he organized the queue in an orderly manner.

Now in charge of logistics and sanitation.

In addition, in the middle of the table, there is "Case's" brain, which is filled with tubes and soaked in nutrient solution.

In addition, some clerks, military officers, and technical staff also attended the meeting.

"Let's have a meeting." Rowe pulled out a chair and sat down, then slowly began, "We need to discuss how to survive the next forty-eight hours."

No one spoke.

Everyone consciously found their place.

This is silent and respectful obedience.

It was through Lo Wei's accurate judgments and the life-saving green soup that he achieved this.

"Alpha, open the holographic map."

With the priest's series of binary instructions.

A pale blue map of light and shadow was unfolded above the conference table.

A complete view of Planet Abundance 2.

However, at this moment...

The green areas that once represented vitality have been eroded by large patches of red and black.

shocking.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I know that many of you were born here, will grow old here, and have spent your whole lives staring at this gray-yellow sky. But you may never have truly understood the planet beneath your feet."

Lowe stood up and picked up a pointer.

A holographic planet projection, gently tapped, slowly rotates in the air.

"Abundance II, a Tier 1 agricultural world in the Imperial Gothic Sector."

"Many people think we are small, with only 1.2 million people on the entire planet, which is less than the population of a single slum in the neighboring Nest City world."

Old John and some of the participants nodded.

Although he never left the planet Abundant II, he never left the area of ​​the Seventh Granary.

However, I also heard some information about the outside world, the Nest City.

Those large-scale city-states often have populations of billions or even hundreds of billions.

In comparison, the Plenty II satellite appears too spacious.

"But this is precisely the cruelty of the agricultural world, and the coldest logic of the empire."

Lowe instilled new knowledge in them.

Although there are risks involved, it is necessary.

"The empire has no need for extra mouths to consume even a single gram of food. The 1.2 million people here are not residents, not citizens, not even farmers."

"We are the 'maintainers,' the watchdogs."

The pointer swept across twelve huge dots of light on the map.

A city of twelve fortresses serving as granaries.

"Beyond these twelve settlements lie hundreds of millions of acres of highly mechanized farmland."

"Old John, do you think those tireless figures toiling day and night in the mist at the edge of the fields are living people like you?"

Old John was stunned, a hint of confusion flashing in his cloudy eyes.

He had indeed seen those shadows from afar, their backs hunched, their movements stiff and synchronized.

But he always thought it was an unlucky fellow from another grain warehouse.

"No, they are not human." Lowe coldly revealed the truth.

"Those were tens of millions of serf-like machine servants whose frontal lobes had been removed and who had been implanted with command chips."

Serf servants were semi-mechanical slaves transformed by the Mechanic Church.

They are cyborgs stripped of their consciousness.

The only "robot" permitted by the Empire.

"They feel no pain, need no rest, and can wield scythes until their parts break down, simply by being injected with nutrient solution. They are the true labor force of this planet, while you..."

Luo Wei's gaze swept over everyone present, his tone cruel:

"You're just consumables used to oil these flesh-and-blood machines, tighten screws, and serve as replacements when they're scrapped."

Old John's mouth gaped open, a chill running from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head.

He always thought of himself as a diligent cultivator of this land.

Only now did he realize that in this vast imperial machine, he was not even a cog in the machine, but at most a lubricant.

"However, even 1.2 million people seem too 'crowded' in the empire's agricultural landscape."

Luo Wei pulled up a more macro-level set of data.

The holographic projection changes.

Countless points of light lit up in the star map, densely packed, like dust in the Milky Way.

"Within the territory of Holy Terra, there are more than 200,000 agricultural planets like Plenty II."

"This is still a conservative estimate, because territory is expanding and numbers are growing. And on most of these planets, the population is much smaller than ours."

"Some highly mechanized planets have only a few hundred thousand technical priests and overseers who manage the machine servants of half the continent."

"The reason we still have more than a million people is because the equipment here is outdated, and we need more manpower to fill the technological gaps."

Luo Wei paused, his gaze becoming profound.

"We are like insignificant red blood cells in the blood vessels of the empire. Though tiny, we are responsible for transporting oxygen."

"Once we shut down, or this lifeline is cut, those hive worlds with billions of people who are good for nothing but producing garbage and soldiers will turn into cannibalistic hells within three months."

He turned around and looked at the pale-faced crowd.

"That's why the governor would rather give us guns than send a fleet to pick us up."

"Because in the Interior Ministry's calculator, the value of 1.2 million lives is far less than the planet's food production for three quarters."

"We must die on the job, we must grow the food."

"There is no third way."