Antor and Annie turned out to have a genuine aptitude for engineering.
In the Federation, vocational aptitude could be tested and confirmed.
Training could even be delivered through neural implants.
Whether a person truly absorbed the knowledge, made it their own, and applied it with flexibility, that came down to individual talent.
it wasn’t absolute.
“This might sting a little.”
“Ah!” Annie flinched and pulled her head back.
A neural implant had just been inserted into the base of her neck, connecting directly to her central nervous system.
“A first-grade apprentice engineer module has been loaded for both of you.”
“The information you need to learn can be accessed directly.”
“From now on, this is where you work.
For the moment, your only task is ammunition production.”
It was already far better than the mines.
No more breathing that foul, metallic air outside.
The ship’s internal filtration kept the air inside consistently clean.
“Familiarize yourselves with this first.”
This was…
knowledge?
Accessing knowledge was considered blasphemy.
The Imperium of Man’s doctrine made both siblings tremble.
Antor placed a hand on his sister’s shoulder.
“It’s alright.
we’re with the Commander now.”
Annie gave a small nod.
A clone soldier approached Aldric and held out a sample ration tin.
Freshly prepared, still warm.
“These greenskins are part plant?”
He thought back to those green-skinned creatures.
Plant components?
Did they actually contain chlorophyll?
The nutritional breakdown read: rich in plant protein, quality protein, vitamins, and more.
“The processing yield is that low?”
The energy cost of processing them was high.
One energy unit only produced thirty tins.
A standard human-grade fruit ration, requiring minimal processing, could yield several hundred tins per unit.
For the Federation, which had access to virtually unlimited energy, a high processing ratio was a non-issue.
If it improved quality of life for citizens, if the food was good and the supply was plentiful, the energy cost was negligible.
Aldric didn’t have much energy to spare right now, but he didn’t have better options either.
Better than eating his own kind.
“Try this.”
He held the tins out to the two siblings.
Antor didn’t hesitate and opened his.
He had caught the word sample and understood what this was.
A test, using him as the subject.
He trusted Aldric completely, whatever was inside.
He had said he would do anything to make things right.
If being a test subject was the price, that was fair.
A rich, meaty aroma drifted out of the tin.
“What is this?
What is this?”
The texture was unlike anything in the standard starch ration, even on the rare occasions when a few scraps of something meat-like had turned up in the mix.
This was entirely different.
A thought formed in his mind: this is the best thing in the world.
“Is this a punishment?”
This wasn’t a punishment.
It was clearly a reward.
Antor and Annie ate quickly, barely pausing between bites.
They had never eaten meat before.
Just as they had never eaten fruit before.
“How is it?”
“It’s delicious.”
“We’ve never eaten anything like this before.”
A tear ran down Antor’s cheek.
“I always thought eating was a painful experience.”
“Will we ever get to eat again?”
Aldric smiled.
The warmth of it came out like sunlight.
He reached over and ruffled Annie’s hair.
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“The Federation won’t mistreat its own people.”
Aldric took a small bite himself.
Hmm, it wasn’t as bad as he’d imagined; it was even quite delicious.
It reminded him of canned luncheon meat, though with a noticeably better texture and far more fat content.
The ingredient had a quality somewhere between mushroom and meat, a pleasant combination that sat well on the tongue.
Federation food processing technology had been refined to a high art.
Harmful compounds were stripped out, residual energy neutralized, and the flavor profile enriched in the process.
“Distribute tins to all clone soldiers.
Let them adjust.”
“More rations!” Drool leapt to his feet the moment the tin landed in his hands.
The Premium Starch experience had left a mark.
The memory alone was enough to turn his stomach.
All ten players wore matching expressions of dread.
“I would rather starve than eat another one of those.”
“Same.
I’m seeing them in my dreams now.”
“Have you even slept?
When did you find time to dream?”
“Afternoon nap counts.”
“This is a direct order from the Commander.
Severe hunger leading to loss of combat effectiveness will result in revocation of exploration privileges and return to stasis.”
Bruceus tugged at his collar, steeled himself, and said, “I suppose it’s not completely out of the question.”
When the greenskin ration went down, his expression shifted into something genuinely surprised.
“The taste…
is actually not bad?”
Drool stared at him with deep suspicion.
“You’re tricking me again.”
Vrekk grabbed Drool by the collar, pulled him close, and spoke through gritted teeth.
“As I recall, the one who started the tricking around here was you, you little rat.”
“Calm down, calm down, I’ll eat it, I’ll eat it…”
“Wait.
This is actually good.”
“The texture is incredible.
It’s like some kind of mushroom braised with meat.
The base taste is close to beef, but there’s this pork-fat aroma underneath…”
“Oh, this is amazing.” Drool inhaled the rest of his tin without ceremony.
“The Commander asked me to pass this along: don’t eat anything from outside going forward.
It isn’t healthy.”
“Why does that sound so familiar?”
Vrekk was staring at the analysis report a clone soldier had left behind, the one covering the rations they had eaten earlier.
“What does it mean by premium starch, produced from the people?”
“These are words.
Why, when I put them together, do they stop making sense?” Vrekk’s face was filled with clear bewilderment and stupidity.
“You animals.
Every last one of you!”
“This entire Imperium of Man is full of animals!”
“Drool, you absolute animal!”
“What?
What did I do?” Drool looked at the two of them like they had lost their minds.
“Read it yourself.”
“I’m a warrior.
I don’t read.”
“Then I’ll read it to you.”
“I’m deaf.
I can’t hear.”
Bruceus grabbed Drool by the front of his shirt and shoved his face right up against his.
“You little rat.
Do you understand that what you did is a crime?”
….
“This is your workspace from now on.”
“The wash room is over there.
If you need food, just ask Septimus.
they’ll bring you rations.”
“Commander, does that mean we can stay here permanently?”
Aldric gave a small nod.
“There are rooms there, these will be your rooms from now on.”
They were, in truth, the engineering section’s orderly rest rooms.
“From now on, you will need to receive regular medical care.”
“medical care?
Commander, we don’t need that.”
“How long do you think you have left?”
“Past our mid-twenties, maybe…” Antor’s voice carried a quiet resignation.
He was already eighteen.
By everything he had seen and lived through, a few more years was the realistic expectation.
Annie too.
“Theoretically, if you continued living out there, you would reach thirty at most.”
Theoretically and actually were very different things.
Any day could bring someone’s breaking point, and there were worse ends than illness in a place like this.
Forced gene-splicing to breed new hybrid stock was one of them.
“Your genomes have been modified too many times and are at risk of collapse at any point.
Time in the ecological pod or the medical bay will stabilize them.”
“Septimus will tell you when and where to go for maintenance.
If there are no pods available, come to my command room.”
Antor dropped to his knees with a thud.
“Our lives belong to the Commander…”
“Your life does not belong to me.
It belongs to you.
It belongs to the Federation.
You are not a slave.
you’re a human.”
“A human being.”
Antor knelt on the ground, tears streaming down his face.
If this is a dream, please don’t wake up.
After explaining things, Aldric left.
The food problem was solved.
Now it was time to expansion.
Ten players were no longer enough.
Collecting energy, holding the defenses, all of it needed more bodies.
Aldric was planning to bring the roster up to thirty.
…
BOOM!
An explosion tore across the sky.