21: Chapter 21 The Nest City Begins to Change

As the transport plane landed on the edge of the Icarus base, Gluck and his teammates climbed out of the cabin. He slowly stood up straight and took a deep breath.

The air here wasn't pungent, stinging, or bitter like in the lower levels of the Hive City; it was so clean it left him in a bit of a daze. This was a world of order, where it seemed only conveyor belts flowed and work modules pulsed in a synchronized rhythm.

A small Construction Drone flew in front of him, enveloping him in a particle repair beam. The optical sensors previously damaged by implosion ammunition gradually recovered in the soft blue light. After restarting, they were crystal clear and bright, even more sensitive than when they were intact.

This was his second time here. Last time, he hadn't dared to enter, but this time he stood right here at the core of this steel forest.

Massive logistics towers blocked the light of the star. When he came here before, had the surrounding area been filled with vast fields of turbine wind generators?

He wasn't quite sure. Although the tactical module on his data panel showed the coordinates were indeed correct, much had changed.

Just then, his gaze froze.

In a corner of the base's landing pad, two chimeras were parked quietly.

These weren't the ones still on the transport plane waiting to be moved, but the two chimeras that had chosen to stay in this steel forest during the previous mission: Chimera #0037 and Chimera #0042.

Their engines maintained a low, slow idle, their headlights shone softly, and their cannon barrels drooped slightly. They lacked the sharpness of the battlefield, looking instead like two old friends waiting in silence, quietly guarding their spot.

Seemingly noticing his gaze, the headlights of both chimeras flashed simultaneously in a relaxed rhythm, carrying a hint of subtle excitement.

The next second, a private message window from a chat group popped up on Gluck's data panel. Just as he was finding it strange—

Lines of mechanical font clearly appeared:

[Chimera #0037 sent: You're finally here.]

[Chimera #0042 sent: We thought you'd forgotten us.]

[Chimera #0037 sent: We've been waiting for a long time.]

[Chimera #0042 sent: Why did you only just think of coming to get us?]

Gluck was confused.

He walked slowly toward the two chimeras. Their headlights flashed again, this time with a rhythm that carried a hint of grievance, like children who had been neglected for a long time, making a silent accusation.

He reached out and gently pressed his hand against the cold armor plating of #0037.

A subtle but warm pulse traveled through his palm, and the fluctuations of the machine spirit were clearly discernible—it was the joy of a long-awaited reunion mixed with a faint trace of complaint, feeling so real it didn't seem like cold machinery.

“I didn't forget,” Gluck spoke in a low, raspy voice. Even he was surprised by why he felt the need to explain himself to two machines. “There were too many missions, fighting everywhere... I couldn't get away.”

Chimera #0037's engine emitted a low, steady hum, as if in response, or perhaps saying, “I forgive you.”

The headlights of #0042 flashed twice quickly in a lighthearted rhythm, clearly urging: “Come earlier next time.”

At that moment, another chimera drove up slowly from the side. It was the one that had entered the Underhive with Gluck's team; its engine still carried lingering warmth.

The three chimeras parked side-by-side in front of him, their headlights flashing three times in unison, orderly and solemn.

A message popped up on the data panel again, its tone full of warmth:

[Chimera #0037 sent: Welcome back.]

[Chimera #0042 sent: It was a hard journey.]

[Chimera #0041 sent: Do you want to get in?]

Gluck slowly looked up, his optical sensors seemingly becoming blurred.

For fifty years, he had fought across the lands, accustomed to betrayal and death, used to moving forward alone. Nothing had ever waited for him so persistently, complained that he was too late, or welcomed him back with such sincerity.

After a long while, the corners of his mouth curled up slightly into a very faint smile. It wasn't a display of joy, but rather the relief and warmth of one who had endured many hardships.

***

That night, Gluck sat on an alloy plate at the edge of the Icarus base, gazing toward the distant Hive City.

The night was deep, and the lower levels of the Hive City were still shrouded in endless darkness, where not even a faint glimmer of light could be seen.

He opened his data panel, which displayed real-time surveillance footage of the lower Hive City—he had hesitated for a long time before proactively requesting access from Icarus.

The screen was divided into a dozen small windows, each reflecting the most authentic despair of the Hive City's bottom level:

—A frail mother, holding a starving child, knelt before a resource distribution station. The child's weak cries were intermittent, nearly swallowed by the darkness.

—A forty-year-old man curled up in a discarded pipe, covered in tattered rags. His chest rose and fell so weakly it was almost invisible. His neighbor was already waiting outside the door; Gluck knew he was waiting to exchange the old man's body for corpse starch.

—Several skeletal children with hauntingly large eyes rummaged frantically through mountains of trash, desperate to find something of value to trade for food.

—A few gang members were covertly trading “nutritional supplements” in a corner.

—In one corner, he even saw profanity symbols.

Gluck had lived like this in his youth until he joined the Skitarii. Every time he saw it, his stomach would still churn, and his heart felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand; it was the memory of the body.

The Empire didn't care. The Adeptus Mechanicus didn't care. The big shots in the upper Hive City, who wore magnificent robes, lived in clean air, and ate real food, cared even less.

They only cared if production met the standards, if resources were sufficient, if the offerings to the Emperor were generous, and if the tithes could be paid.

As for the humans at the bottom? They were nothing more than a string of cold numbers, expendable consumables to be replaced once dead. After all, the one thing the Hive City never lacked was people.

Gluck clenched his fist, the slight throb in his heart reminding him that he was still a “human.”

He remembered the first time he met Icarus:

Icarus had said, “I can produce food.” (Chapter 8)

He tapped the data panel and found the communication interface for Icarus. This was the first time he had proactively contacted Icarus; before this, they had no extra interaction.

Gluck was silent for a long time. He had fought for thirty years, seen countless comrades fall, and experienced numerous life-and-death crises, yet he had never begged anyone. Who would he beg? The Empire? The Adeptus Mechanicus? The Emperor? They couldn't hear, or rather, even if they did, they simply didn't care.

Finally, he sent a message to Icarus with absolute determination: “There is something I want to ask of you.”

Icarus's reply came quickly, direct and without any perfunctoriness:

[Please speak.]

Gluck took a deep breath and continued typing, recounting the despair of the lower Hive City: “The people in the lower Hive City are starving to death. The corpse powder bricks from the distribution stations are mixed with slag and can no longer meet their bodily needs, but they have no other choice. The children are skin and bones, and the elderly are left gasping on the roadsides. They just want to live.”

He paused, his fingertips trembling slightly as he added: “You can make food; can you make a bit more? Put it in the Underhive near the base. Not for us Skitarii, but for those innocent people.”

After the message was sent, Gluck waited quietly. He was prepared for Icarus to refuse—to say “no,” “requires more resources,” “this is not my responsibility,” “I am only responsible for base construction,” or “human matters should be solved by humans themselves.”

Ten seconds. Thirty seconds. One minute.

Just as Gluck was about to give up, the data panel suddenly lit up, and a detailed reply appeared clearly before his eyes:

[Request received.]

[You may make more requests.]

[Current Capacity: No food production line]

[Current Output: 0]

[Current Distribution Range: Base perimeter + Supply station network]

[Expansion Plan]

—Convert Quantum Chemical Plant to food production (reconfigure material input/output ports)

—Add x30 automated supply stations in the lower Hive City area

—Daily output of approximately 847,392 Protein Bars

—Source of raw materials: Slag / Organic waste / Orks corpses (Reserves are sufficient, sustainable supply possible)

[Resources Required]

—Power: Fusion Power Plant construction complete, power redundancy is sufficient to meet production needs

—Water: Need to build x5 new Pumping Station Units, can be deployed quickly

—Transport: Lay down a conveyor belt network connecting the factory to the Hive City supply stations

[Execution Feasibility: 100%]

[Estimated Completion Time: 3 days]

[Prompt: What flavors are required?]

[Note: The two chimeras you were just looking at can assist with transport; machine spirit fluctuations show their strong willingness.]

Gluck stared at the last line for a long time without speaking. He had thought Icarus would only coldly execute commands, but he hadn't expected it to notice his gaze, proactively mention those two chimeras, or even care about the will of those machines.

After a long while, he slowly typed: “What do you need me to do?”

Icarus's reply was still concise, yet carried an unquestionable certainty:

[Nothing is needed.]

[You simply made a request.]

[I will do the rest.]

[Note: Speak up earlier next time.]

***

Construction officially began the following morning.

Gluck stood on a high platform at the base, watching the two massive Quantum Chemical Plants gradually reconfigure. Output conveyor belts extended from the factories, emerging and locking together like building blocks, winding like blue blood vessels toward a small storage warehouse.

Three days later, the thirty automated supply stations in the lower Hive City area were activated simultaneously.

The silver shells shimmered with a soft light in the darkness, their blue interfaces clear and easy to understand. Printed on the side was the Icarus emblem—a simple gear encircling a band of light, low-profile yet solemn. They were like thirty stars fallen to the mortal realm, lighting up the darkness of the Hive City and dispelling a bit of the haze of despair.

On the day the supply stations opened, Gluck stood beside Supply Station No. 7, silently watching the people who came to collect food.

There were elderly people leaning on canes, walking with staggering steps as their trembling hands reached toward the interface; there were children hiding behind their mothers, their eyes timid, only daring to peek out with one large eye to curiously and warily size up this 'free miracle'; there were mothers holding infants who cried incessantly, their faces full of exhaustion and despair, yet a faint light flickered in their eyes the moment they saw the supply station.

They held the Protein Bars they had just received, their faces devoid of the expected joy, showing only deep confusion—in the Underhive, free things were either traps or came at an even deeper cost. They had long been accustomed to trading suffering for survival and had never dared to hope for a gift that required nothing in return.

A little girl walked up to Gluck. She was about five or six years old, thin and frail, with eyes so large they were startling, filled with a timidity and wariness ill-suited for her age. She looked up, her hands tightly clutching the Protein Bar she had just received, not daring to eat it. Her tiny voice was as thin as a mosquito's buzz: "Is this... really free?"

Gluck slowly crouched down, making his voice as gentle as possible: "It's free. You can eat it without worry."

The little girl looked at him for a long, long time, as if judging whether he was lying, or perhaps confirming if this 'luck' truly belonged to her.

After a long while, she lowered her head and carefully took a small bite of the Protein Bar, chewing it slowly before swallowing.

Gluck reached out and gently patted her head.

"There will be more tomorrow, more the day after, and every day from now on."

He spoke softly.

The little girl looked up, her eyes full of doubt, but a tiny spark was igniting—a glimmer of light rekindled after being drowned by despair.

Praise the Emperor!

At that moment, Gluck's Dataplate received new information—a message synchronized from the supply station's interface:

[Welcome to the Icarus Automated Supply Station]

======================================

Currently available for pickup:

- Edible Protein Bar x2 (Daily limit, per person per visit)

- Purified Water x1 Liter

- Basic Medical Kit x1 (Weekly limit, per person per visit)

======================================

Protein Bar Flavor Selection:

Original (Standard nutritional formula, balanced energy supplement)

Chocolate (Most popular, rich taste)

Mixed Fruit (Protein fortified, suitable for children)

Ork Flavor (Experimental formula, taste not guaranteed)

======================================

Please select flavor: [1/2/3/4]

Gluck looked at the 'Ork Flavor' option, and the corner of his mouth couldn't help but twitch—it was so typical of Icarus to be this blunt even with experimental flavors.

He raised his hand and selected 2—Chocolate, the same as what the little girl had in her hand.

---

On another evening, Gluck sat again on the alloy plate at the edge of the base, his gaze fixed on the distant Hive City.

The Hive City seemed a bit brighter than before. The Icarus Power Induction Towers had begun supplying electricity to parts of the Underhive. Faint light spilled through the gaps in the buildings; though dim, it carved out a small patch of light within the endless darkness.

The people of the Underhive had begun to migrate, gradually moving to live near the Icarus base.

"How wonderful would it be if everyone in the Hive City could eat Protein Bars?" Gluck murmured softly.

A report suddenly popped up on his Dataplate. It was the Daily Food Production Report sent by Icarus, still in that cold mechanical font, yet it felt a bit more grounded in reality:

[Icarus Industrial System - Food Production Daily Report №001]

======================================

Date: Uncertain (No time records in the Underhive)

Project: Underhive District Food Support Plan

======================================

Production Data:

- Operating Quantum Chemical Plants: 2 (Running at full capacity)

- Raw Material Input: Slag (42%), Organic Waste (33%), Ork Corpses (25%)

- Daily Output: 847,392 Edible Protein Bars (Target met)

- Flavor Distribution:

· Chocolate: 71% (602,648 units)

· Original: 18% (152,530 units)

· Mixed Fruit: 9% (76,265 units)

· Ork Flavor: 2% (16,949 units)

======================================

Distribution Data:

- Automated Supply Stations: 30 (All online, zero malfunctions)

- Number of People Served Today: Approx. 120,000

- Child Collection Ratio: 34% (Priority given to child nutrition)

- Average Collection Time: 3.2 minutes/person (Good order maintained)

======================================

Nutritional Improvement Monitoring (Sampling):

- Average weight gain within 3 days: 0.7kg (Child demographic)

- Anemia symptom relief rate: 41%

- Diarrhea incidence rate decrease: 68%

======================================

Notes:

Pilot phase complete, demand verified.

Target: Full demand for 87 million people: 174 million bars daily.

Tomorrow's Plan: Build new Quantum Plants * 4,026, Fusion Power Plants * 8, estimated completion within 12 hours.

Ork Flavor stagnation issue: Suggest renaming to 'Soldier Special Edition' and re-packaging for release.

Surge in Chocolate flavor demand: Tomorrow's plan includes a 30% production increase; raw material reserves are sufficient.

Chimera #0037 and #0042 completed 18 transport trips today: machine spirit fluctuations stable and pleasant, showing 'Very Happy'.

Raw Material Warning: Based on current reserves, future expansion will not be affected; can be maintained for 6 months.

Warning: You're doing okay. Next time, please say 'feed everyone' sooner.

======================================

Seeing the last line of the report, 'You're doing okay,' Gluck couldn't help but smile again. This cold machine always used the most blunt methods to convey the warmest kindness.

But his smile faded when he reached the final note—so that's what 'you can make more requests' meant?

He looked up toward the distant transport route. Two chimeras were carrying the next batch of Protein Bars, slowly driving toward the Underhive. Their headlights traced soft trails of light in the darkness, and the engine sounds were steady and powerful, like they were singing a song about hope.

The Dataplate vibrated again. It was a private message from Chimera #0037, its tone full of joy:

[Transported the ninth batch today.]

[Those children smiled when they got the Protein Bars.]

[I never knew that hauling cargo could make one feel this happy.]

[It was worth it.]

Gluck's fingers moved slightly as he replied: "Thank you."

Almost simultaneously, Chimera #0042 also sent a message, with a hint of complaining:

[No need for thanks.]

[Transporting again tomorrow, aiming for a few more trips.]

[Note: Remember to pick Chocolate flavor. Ork flavor really is no good; nobody wants it.]

Gluck burst out laughing. This time, the laughter was no longer suppressed, carrying a sense of ease and relief.

He stood up and slowly walked back to the base. As he passed the Quantum Chemical Plant, he took a deliberate look at the raw material input—Ork corpses were being sent in orderly fashion by the conveyor belts. After high-temperature quantum decomposition and atomic restructuring, those enemies who once brought death and destruction were ultimately transformed into life-sustaining proteins, carbohydrates, and vitamins.

Enemies became food.

Death became survival.

War became production.

Gluck didn't know if such practices were sacrilege in the Imperial Creed or heresy in the traditions of the Adeptus Mechanicus. But he knew that in the Underhive, in the eyes of those starving children, in the eyes of those mothers crying while holding Protein Bars, and in the eyes of those people whose hope had been rekindled—

This was simply living.

And living was enough.

At that moment, a final message popped up on the Dataplate from Icarus, still concise, yet every word was powerful:

[Tomorrow's production plan generated.]

[Chocolate flavor production expanded by 30%.]

[Ork flavor maintained at 2% (for voluntary selection).]

[Note: War is production. The enemy is raw material. Victory is no one starving to death.]

Gluck turned off the Dataplate and walked toward the two chimeras on the landing pad.

The headlights flickered on, their soft light shining on him, warm and bright, as if saying "Goodnight."

He reached out and gently patted the armor plate of #0037. Beneath his fingertips was that familiar, warm pulse.

"See you tomorrow," he said softly.