Day 285, Year 986, 41st Millennium
Hive Karthion
Hive Spire
In the tense atmosphere, prominent commanders lined up around a table: a white-haired, high-necked archbishop, a few ostentatious noblemen in elegant robes, several PDF colonels, and the one who instantly calmed the room when he stepped in: Inquisitor Korvin Hale. He announced his name in two syllables softly, but with weight. Everyone tilted their heads.
Vann stood at the side of the table, his hands and feet shoulder-width apart, his pace steady. Although his face bore the mark of fatigue, his gaze was sharp. One look revealed he was ready to speak to everyone about the problems at hand, even though he knew there would be strong opposition from the ignorant.
"Be clear, General Vann Korvax. What are you proposing? Don't waste my time." Korvin Hale nodded, signaling the meeting to begin.
Vann opened the holographic map, though he wasn't particularly pleased to be addressed by his last name. He stepped back slightly and pointed to the main elevator shaft, a path leading from the lower hive, now occupied by the ignorant. The geenstealer and chaos cultis had already been destroyed. This elevator could serve as a supply route for the enemy, and it was the main supply route.
"Gentlemen, the enemy's main supply route isn't just the roads or the ground. It's these elevators. The mutants and rebels use these routes to push supplies up from the lower hive, in a way that our response is slow and bloody." His voice was calm but forceful. He pointed to the warehouses that would be used to pay taxes to the administrarium. The tanks, armored vehicles, and armored vehicles were stored as 'Imperial property', which the central administrarium, or administrarrum, would be distributed to key fronts for the Imperial Guard.
"I propose temporarily seizing these tanks and armored vehicles, sending them to the front and attacking them to capture or destroy the main elevators. If we cut off this supply line and control the elevators, we will gain a short- to medium-term advantage, and the opportunity to disrupt the enemy's supply would be sufficient to turn the tide," Vann explained calmly. The room fell silent. Papers clattered against the table occasionally. Vann's brother, Valen Korvax, the man he despised most in his family—a ruthless, overly decisive, family-interested brother—stood across the table, his face innocent but his eyes cold. When his last name was pronounced, he raised an eyebrow in displeasure.
"And this would be the embezzlement of Imperial tax funds," Valen said calmly. "If the Central finds out, our party could be considered traitors. The nobles throughout the Upper Hive will decide, and the consequences will be the Empire's punishment. Do you really want to risk that?" Vann didn't immediately respond, but his eyes seemed to glow with flames.
"I don't want to discuss the tax now," he replied directly but politely. "If we wait for the Central to decide, we'll surely lose before the order arrives. The Central sent the order even later than the rebels sent their forces. We can't wait," Vann replied, recognizing the painful truth. He knew the Empire's bureaucracy was incredibly slow. He didn't know if his assistance would be considered.
"Aren't you afraid that this kind of seizure would raise suspicion from the Inquisition or other clerical councils?" The bishop in the room lowered his head, seeking words with a monkish demeanor. It was as if the room was empty of inquisitors. The noise grew louder and more chaotic, but then Inquisitor Korvin Hale gathered the silence. He stepped to the center of the table, his dark gaze falling on my face, but not harshly. It was a testy gaze.
"I heard General Vann's words," Korvin said coolly. "And I saw this map. I saw the transportation flows you pointed at. I don't consider using resources that are almost rotting away as treason, if using them will lead to victory." He paused, turning to look at everyone individually. "I'm the judge, and I agree with using these taxes to win."
"I agree with General Vann. Right now, we must preserve Hive City and defeat the rebels and mutants. If the taxes aren't enough, we can increase the workday to 20 hours," Magos Genista added, much to Vann's delight, even though he didn't necessarily agree with the idea of civilians working 20 hours a day at the factory.
Whispers and sighs filled the room. Valen's face darkened even more than usual. He stared at the Inquisitor as if defying his authority.
"Inquisitor, would you grant such a permit without any guarantees from the Central?" Valen asked, his tone more legal than moral. Korvin was silent for a moment, then answered decisively.
"I grant it, and I am personally responsible for it. If the Central disagrees, they have a way to demonstrate that later. But now is not the time." He pointed at the map. "Vann is responsible for coordinating the movement and seizing the main elevator. Unlock the designated tax treasury using the PDF. I will send Inquisition representatives to inspect the budget and the reimbursement. Make it clear that your goal is to protect the population and Hive City, not to seize private property." The room fell silent, until the din of a jet stream was heard. Then there were some approving voices, but also numerous dissenting voices. Some warlords nodded, others snorted. But ultimately, under the authority of the Inquisitor's orders, Vann was granted temporary power. Valen turned to Vann coldly. "You made this decision without consulting me. Who will be held accountable if the Central punishes you?"
Vann stared back with determination, his face glowing white with a blaze of conviction. "I will take responsibility. If it costs my freedom or the people's survival, I choose the people." His tone wasn't a plea for approval; it was a declaration. Korvin glanced at his brothers briefly, then turned to command.
"Propose a plan of action, identify the units to be used, and prepare for an after-action review. I will immediately submit written orders to delegate partial command authority to Lord Vann."
When the order was issued, Vann's heart beat faster, but not only with relief. It was doubled in pressure. He knew this decision meant both opportunity and risk. If he failed, not only would the lives of those on the front lines be lost, but he himself could become a target for punishment.
The room was filled with whispers of criticism. Some stomped their feet in disapproval, others exchanged glances of approval. But most importantly, Vann's eyes briefly twitched as he returned to the others. He briefly recalled the shy, white-haired woman in his memory before returning to his new duties.
"I will begin organizing immediately," Vann said calmly, and began writing down the details of the plan. The meeting shifted from debate to planning, but the tension remained. ...and it continues to exist.
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Day 287, Year 986, 41st Millennium
Upper Hive
Refugee camp area near St. Lucia Church
Rosa, Maria, and Livia's room
The noise outside the refugee camp had died down, with only distant announcements from the staff's loudspeaker and the occasional footsteps walking through the narrow corridors remaining. The three girls' small room, PDF, was cleaner, warmer, and more lively than the others, judging by the neatly folded pile of clothes in one corner and the array of helmets, armor, and guns hung on the wall.
And now, Eric sat cross-legged on their lowest bunk. He wore only a pale gray tank top and shorts, clothes he "didn't dare" to wear only when he was with them, because they were the few people he could trust. Although he was a little shy at first, he must have grown more courageous and had long since stopped being shy when he started showering with them frequently, which was a huge win.
Eric was truly, truly happy now, since he'd woken up in this dark future. Still, he'd get the same corpse starch, and the rules were stricter. At least he had more friends and wasn't lonely.
Livia sat behind him, intently arranging and braiding Eric's white hair. The soft ends brushed through her fingers as she braided it into a single braid.
"Stop moving, Erica. It'll all fall out," Livia murmured kindly.
"I didn't move...the table just shook," Eric muttered, though he was actually fidgeting a little. He wasn't used to having someone play with his hair for so long, though he was getting used to it.
Maria sat on the floor, kicking her legs, playing with her pocket knife rhythmically. Beside her, Rosa lay face down, reading an old paper. Eric recognized it as a literary work. It was probably quite expensive, and he might consider borrowing it. He needed some entertainment, too.
Eric glanced at the book and sighed softly.
It had been about a month and a half since he'd woken up in the Under Hive and made it up here. Even though life has gotten a little better, he still feels it's bad. At least he's met new friends and new things. And this dark future holds many more amazements for him. But he hopes he doesn't encounter too many wonders if they're bad. But if they're good and useful, he'll want to try them out or experience them at least once.
"What's wrong, Erica? You're looking worried again. You're overthinking things," Maria asked, still focused on the book. Eric wondered what it was about and how entertaining it would be.
"Well... the frontline situation. I hear the gunfire getting closer every day, and the PDF reinforcements are bringing tanks and armored vehicles," Eric replied. He honestly thought that the central government or whatever governs this place was sending so many troops, it must be a fierce and important battle, and the situation could get even worse.
It's possible. Or maybe the central government or the rulers here saw a chance for victory and increased their efforts to fight these mutants and madmen.
"Don't worry about it." Reinforcements are coming. The PDF and soldiers from other districts just arrived this morning."
Livia reached out and straightened a lock of Eric's hair, then spoke softly.
"Seriously, you don't have to worry so much. We have Space Marines stationed at the camp right now. They're the Emperor's angels, and may they be defeated by the enemy," Rosa replied immediately. Eric lowered his head slightly, feeling a sense of guilt. From his observations and the behavior of these so-called Space Marines, he found them to be rather indifferent and somewhat disdainful of ordinary humans. They were even quite arrogant.
He didn't like them at all.
"I know… it's just… I'm still not quite ready. I'm in a place like something straight out of a war movie, and… um…" He stopped talking because Livia had pulled his hair a little too hard.
"Ouch… take it easy," Eric said, softly, telling Livia.
"Because you kept moving," Livia laughed a little at Eric's behavior. Maria looked up and sighed.
"But seriously, I never thought a girl from the Lower Hive could adapt so quickly. At first, she was so tense that she felt like she was always trying to avoid everyone," Maria said, adding an observation.
"...I still want to run away when I see those Arbites," Eric said quietly. He didn't really like them either. They were so inconsiderate. Rosa snapped back immediately.
"Them? No one likes them, even the powerful ones. I'm so annoyed I want to burn their big ticket!" Rosa said in a slightly high-pitched voice.
The three girls nodded in unison, as if they'd rehearsed it. Eric let out a rehearsed laugh. It was a sincere, exhausted laugh, the kind of laugh someone tries to relax as much as possible. The feeling of laughing together felt... better than expected. He had forgotten how gossiping about someone he didn't like or hated could make him feel better. Livia tied a small ribbon into the end of his braid and patted him lightly on the head.
"All done," Livia said, a little pleased as she finished styling his braid. She seemed incredibly proud of her work. Eric touched his new hair, still a little shy, but his smile was even more genuine than when he first met them.
"Thank you," Eric replied softly, wondering if Rosa's story about Livia being a hairdresser was true.
"So... what's life like in the Lower Hive, Erica? I don't want to ask again. You've said it's terrible and difficult, but I really want to know the details of what you do there," Livia asked, her tone suspicious. But her question came out more sincere than the previous sarcasm.
Eric was silent for a moment, his hand holding his glass twitching slightly before he raised it to buy time. He looked at his three friends warily, then sighed and spoke as honestly as he could, because he didn't know how to explain it.
"It's... bad. Crime is common there, but it's all around. Gangs fight almost every day, before and after work. Sometimes they steal things, sometimes they just mark their territory with a shootout, causing a lot of deaths." He spoke softly but clearly. His words came out smoothly, but deep inside, he was exhausted and paranoid. Eric reached out and rubbed his arm lightly, trying to calm himself. He didn't want to think about the crazy things going on down there.
"There are crazy people... who disregard the rules. And then there are the freaks and mutants. Some are cruel, some are just lost, but they're making the area below even more dangerous. It's crazy. You wouldn't believe me. I found a walking dead body and a talking corpse before I shot it to death. I managed to get up here through a secret staircase, and was rescued by a sister and a PDF named Vann," Eric continued, thinking about everything down there: the three-armed, bald mutant (Geenstealer Cult), the perfected Geenstealer, and the insane, super-perverted Chaos Cult. Maria tilted her head, not expecting Eric to be so obvious.
"That sounds really scary," she said softly.
"I'm not someone who would easily be harmed, but my paranoia is already built into me. It makes me distrustful of others," Eric smiled wryly, a little self-deprecatingly.
"That makes me understand why you seemed so tense at first... But you made it up here," Livia nodded in understanding. Eric looked at his arm, still in a cast, and thought about his old room in the lower hive. His room was much larger than this one. It wasn't safer than here, as it was farther from the densely populated areas, and there were people he'd had to fight on the way back, but it felt like he had more space to himself.
"My room there...was much larger than this," he said casually. "Maybe because it was an old, abandoned apartment, but...it felt like he had some breathing room. Even though it was scarier in many ways."
"What was the situation like before you got out of there?" Rosa asked, tilting her head in interest. Eric gulped slightly.
"It was still the same, violent and dark... I was working in the ammunition factory like every other day...until one day, there was an uprising by mutants and heretics... Luckily, someone helped me out...even though the person who helped me was dead." He answered briefly, trying not to go into too much detail. Certain memories weighed heavily on him, particularly those of being lost and encountering hordes of zombies, including that blue, armored Space Marine with the mustache, and Raoul's tragic death. The three of them were silent for a moment.
"At least you're here safely. You're with us now. Don't keep it all to yourself," Maria said, placing her hand on his lap in a friendly manner. The words were simple but firm. Eric felt a warmth, a small sense of security surge through his chest. Even though his suspicions hadn't completely disappeared, having someone seemingly normal, understanding, and unjudging him made him feel much better.
"Thanks…" he smiled back shyly. Oh, and now he'd forgotten he had an appointment with the doctor. His right arm would finally be free.
.
.
.
.
.
Eric walked slowly down the narrow corridors of the refugee camp. The smell of dust and a tinge of metal remained in the air. Everything felt a little lighter now. His right arm was free, after more than two weeks in a cast. This futuristic technology was truly amazing. As the doctors slowly unwound the bandages from his arm, he could barely contain his smile. Although his muscles were still a bit sore and tight, the feeling of "normal use" was so good that he could barely hum a little as he walked.
Good…his arm was back. He could now perform more tasks, including better self-defense. He wouldn't have to fire a lasgun one-handed anymore. He'd also be able to wash his hair and scrub his own back more easily, even though he'd much rather have someone else rub his back for him. (Author: Okay, it seems our Eric is starting to get more addicted to showering with others.) He thought with a glimmer of hope, a glimmer of hope that had resurfaced after about a month and a half of waking up in this terrible future.
Of course, "if he had a choice," he wouldn't apply for a job that required him to handle a gun or go out shooting people. He'd killed someone with a gun, but he didn't like it at all. It was pure necessity. Because if he doesn't take action, others will. And the worst part is, he might end up being the victim. He used to be just an ordinary office worker, planning projects, managing documents, meeting, keeping track of schedules, and solving impromptu problems. These things were definitely "safer" than holding a laser gun and shooting mutants. It wasn't the hard work he'd done in the factory in the lower hive, either.
And this was the upper hive, a more developed place than the lower hive, and safer too. He'd definitely have more opportunities to find work. I guess he'd have to wait until the war ended.
Thinking of this, Eric put his hand to his chin and frowned in thought as he walked. He also thought to himself that there was little to no guarantee of his abilities. Maybe there were tests. Or maybe this place was so strict... to the point where even if he had the skills, he couldn't work because he didn't have a license or certification... Maybe there was a test for his abilities. I hoped that was it.
As he walked and thought, Eric's gaze drifted to the center of the camp. The old fluorescent lights flickered rhythmically, half-lit, half-dark, as if they were going out at any moment. Eric took a deep breath. The smell of wet cloth, dampness, and old metal… it was a smell he couldn't easily get used to. He also saw dozens of Leman Russ tanks and Chimera APCs stopping at the camp to rest and resupply before heading out to the fiercely fighting front.
He was considering asking the same camp officer for advice, the one who had once told him he could work in information services if his arm healed. As he thought this, Eric looked down at his right arm and smiled again.
He thought with a soft chuckle in his mind. But before he could even make it through the narrow turn, the wall covered in rust and scrapes…
Thump!
Eric felt his face hit something hard and fairly large. The impact wasn't very loud, but it was strong enough to knock him back a step.
"Ouch!" Eric cried out in shock rather than pain. He quickly looked up to see what he had bumped into, and the sight made him turn even paler with shock, worry, and fear.