Warhammer Survival Guide

Chapter 42 False Prosperity

The seventh grain depot, unloading area.

With a hiss as the hydraulic valves opened, five trucks slowly drove into the energy refueling station.

The logistics personnel who had been waiting there rushed forward like a group of sharks that had smelled blood.

Thick oil hoses were connected to the truck's oil tank.

A few minutes later.

A dull rumble came from the central power furnace located underground.

That was the heart of the grain depot, the sound of it beating powerfully again.

The sodium lamps, which had been dim and flickering due to their energy-saving properties, suddenly became blindingly bright.

The ventilation system was running at full power, drawing away the musty smell that had lingered in the corridor.

It delivered filtered "fresh" air with the smell of ozone.

More importantly, the heating system was restored.

The long-awaited heat wave surged through the pipes and spread throughout the entire grain warehouse.

For the refugees shivering in the cold, damp corners, this was a miracle.

Lo Wei took off his trench coat, which was covered in mud and oil stains.

Old John, accompanied by several helpers, laboriously carried over the several boxes of precious canned meat.

All eyes were focused on the several green metal boxes.

Real canned meat.

It's not corpse starch.

It wasn't rat meat paste either.

From the upper levels of the Nest City.

It's real meat from farms on other planets.

"Advisor, how... how do we divide it?" Old John swallowed hard and asked.

Even veterans like Buck, among the surrounding defense soldiers, had their Adam's apples bobbing involuntarily.

Lo Wei looked around.

He saw greed, he saw desire, and he saw fear.

"Two cans for the new recruits participating in the operation," Rowe's voice boomed across the square through the loudspeaker. "One can for the defense soldiers. One can for the technicians and foremen in key positions."

A suppressed cheer erupted from the crowd.

"The remainder will be stored in the war reserve as a reward for the next operation."

No one objected.

In this damned world, being able to earn a living through one's own abilities is the greatest form of fairness.

"Advisor..." Old John hesitated for a moment, then pointed to the women crying in the corner, "They are the families of the dead recruits..."

The cost of this operation.

Three young people were torn apart by the gene stealer before they even had a chance to learn how to engage the safety on their laser gun.

Lowe did not give a sentimental speech or offer a hypocritical tribute.

He simply took the three cans of meat and handed them to old John.

"Give this to their families. Tell them that their husbands gave their lives for this."

Then, he pointed to the several mutilated corpses in the body bags and said coldly, "As for these, send them to the fermentation tanks."

Several family members covered their mouths.

She seemed to want to cry out, but was stopped by the stern gazes of those around her.

"Don't look at me like that." Lowe straightened his cuffs. "You know, to survive, you can't waste even a single joule of heat."

"They were warriors when they were alive, and after they die, they will become fertilizer, food for tomorrow, and fuel for the power plant, continuing to protect this place."

"This is the greatest respect we can show to the deceased."

After Luo Wei finished speaking, he turned and walked towards the elevator.

Behind him, Buck shouted:

"Did you all hear that? Salute the advisors, salute the dead! And then...dinner!"

Cheers erupted again.

It was more intense and more frenzied than before.

……

The next day, Lowe woke up because of the heat.

This is a somewhat unfamiliar experience on Planet Abundance II.

Ever since he transmigrated into the body of this clerk, the underlying tone of his memories has always been cold and damp.

Accompanied by a lingering musty smell and muscle aches from overwork.

But he is indeed sweating from the warmth.

Rowe sat up from his cot, the heavy military coat covering him slipping off.

He subconsciously looked at the ventilation opening in the corner of the wall.

The intermittent hissing that used to emanate from there was no longer present.

The filtered warm air is emitted steadily and continuously.

A low-frequency humming vibration is transmitted up through the floor.

The central power furnace, located underground, is operating at full capacity after receiving a sufficient supply of high-energy chromium fuel.

The roaring sound of the machine was more pleasing to Lowell than any hymn.

He walked to the sink and turned on the brass faucet.

There was no nauseating rusty smell or sulfurous odor.

The water that flowed out was much clearer and warmer than before.

The ample power supply enabled the reverse osmosis membrane of the deep water purification system to complete a thorough automatic cleaning.

Luo Wei scooped up a handful of water and splashed it on his face.

The warm touch eased his tense nerves a little.

This is the benefit of "robbing" or "scavenging" at the fourth grain depot.

Luo Wei dried his face and sat back down at his desk.

The holographic screen on the table was flashing a pale green light.

The above is a morning report compiled by the "Case" server.

Data doesn't lie.

"The internal temperature of the seventh grain depot is 22 degrees Celsius (an increase of 8 degrees from yesterday)."

"Air humidity: 45% (down 30%, dehumidifier unit is running at full power)."

"Mold spore concentration: Low risk."

Luo Wei switched the view and brought up the surveillance footage of the living area.

The corners of the walls in the corridor, which were originally covered with moss due to dampness, have now become dry.

In some places, dry flakes of skin have begun to peel off.

The laborers, originally wrapped in tattered cotton wadding, were shivering.

At this moment, quite a few people have taken off their bulky outer garments and are only wearing thin work clothes while moving supplies.

The surveillance camera then switched to the cafeteria.

There was a long queue there, and the order was very good.

After a night of physical recovery and psychological counseling from the veterans, the new recruits who had completed their mission were in good spirits and began to enjoy their reward, using bayonets to pry open the dark green cans of meat.

A crowd of envious people surrounded them.

When the aroma of real meat fat wafts out.

Luo Wei could hear the sounds of people swallowing their saliva through the screen.

This is the most direct form of motivation.

In this damned place, talking to them about imperial glory is less effective than giving them a can of food with visible bits of meat.

Instead of talking to them about future plans, you should turn the heating up a bit.

Then, Loewe opened the long list of applications.

"Application Form for the Second Phase of the Armed Scavenging Team".

The list is three times longer than the first one.

Some of the cunning people who used to hide in the corner pretending to be sick are now pounding their chests and vowing to shed their last drop of blood for His Excellency the Advisor.

However, it only looks good on the surface.

Luo Wei was very clear-headed.

This false prosperity was bought with lives for five truckloads of fuel.

Once the fire is extinguished, the cold and darkness will return, even more intensely than before.

He must keep this "positive feedback" going.

"Case, how did the pension distribution go last night?" Rowe asked casually.

"As you instructed, the full amount has been disbursed by Old John. There was no withholding or deduction," the Case server replied. "However, according to the emotion monitoring algorithm, there are three data anomalies."

"Something's wrong?" Luo Wei frowned slightly. "Is someone causing trouble?"

"The sadness index is too high."

A video clip from last night popped up on the screen.

The location is at the entrance of collective apartment building E-14 in the front residential area.

Old John was handing out pension money to three young women.

The widows of the three recruits who died in action yesterday.

They were all very young, looking only eighteen or nineteen years old.

On this planet where the average lifespan is forty years, this is the golden age for marriage and childbirth.

In the video, their hands trembled violently as they received the compensation money.

As old John turned to leave, the trembling turned into a breakdown and weeping.

The crying was so heart-wrenching.

So much so that it didn't sound like she had lost her husband.

It was more like the desperate cry of a cornered beast driven to the brink of despair.

Luo Wei replayed the video over and over again.

Not right.

In the Abundance II, marriage is not the emotional union that Luo Wei knew from his previous life.

Labor marriages here are more like a kind of "production assistance agreement".

Community elders and foremen would assign men and women of marriageable age to be forcibly paired up.

The purpose is to merge allocation quotas and create new labor force.

For these women from the lower classes, the death of their husbands truly meant the loss of a ration of a strong laborer.

But it also means that they are single again and can apply to the community for redistribution of their pension.

Sadness is certain.

After all, we lived together, so there were some feelings involved, but not many.

It's definitely not enough to be that grief-stricken.

Loewe keenly captured the edges of the image.

In a dark corner of the corridor, several pairs of eyes were watching the three women.

It wasn't a look of pity.

It's a greedy gaze, like a vulture eyeing carrion.

"Old John," Rowe pressed the communicator, "come to my office. Or, just go straight to the front area, I'll be waiting for you downstairs at apartment building E-14."

Rowe put on his coat and picked up his explosive pistol.

I checked the insurance, then stepped out of the warm office.

……

Front living area.

The environment here is better than in the refugee camp, but it's still very depressing.

The heating pipes are working, but due to years of disrepair, some joints are still leaking hot air.

The narrow corridor, like a honeycomb, is divided into countless cubicles, each only a few square meters in size.

Lowe did not bring a guard, only old John followed behind him.

He was wearing a regular military overcoat without rank insignia, and his hat brim was pulled low.

"Advisor, this is it." Old John pointed ahead to a half-open iron gate.

Even before you get close, you can hear arguing coming from inside.

"What are you crying about? It's not like your whole family died!" a sharp female voice yelled.

"Get the canned meat out right now, that's the rule! You're taking up such a big room, if you don't pay some 'shared area fee,' believe me, we'll kick you into the sewers tomorrow!"

"This...this is compensation..." a timid voice protested, accompanied by sobs, "It was given to me by the advisor..."

"You, the advisor, are in charge of everything, including the shitting and farting in our area?" another rude male voice roared.

"Stop talking nonsense. According to the community agreement, without men, you are 'ineffective labor force'."

"Either get lost, or... hehe, leave the door ajar tonight so the guys can go in and warm up, and we'll call it even."