Chapter 306: Waste of Natural Resources!!

Dalchana - the people who landed on this planet due to the voyage four hundred and seventy years ago called their home this way, a gray, barren planet that was always blown by molten obsidian debris sandstorms.

The colonial fleet of this border world lost on the edge of the galaxy once included a major state religion pilgrimage ship, the Currency of Consolation, an exploration ship converted from a retired naval ship, and several wide and fat civilian merchant ships filled with immigrants.

It was undoubtedly extremely lucky that all the people could be vomited back to the real universe alive from the voyage caused by the subspace storm.

But the first generation of colonists who used up all their luck in returning to reality found that the planet they arrived at was probably not the agricultural planet Dalchana promised to allocate to them by the Imperial Ministry of the Interior - but it didn't matter much, because now they called it this way, their home, Dalchana.

Since they were originally required to cultivate a planet that was to be an agricultural world, the first generation of colonists were loaded with a large number of hydroponic farms and crop seeds, which allowed them to survive the first bad winter after the fall. Hydroponic equipment can not only be used to preserve seedlings of crops that are not easy to use seeds, but also equipped with agricultural tools, fertilizers and corresponding equipment for initial reclamation. But there are no more and larger machines. Because they arrived at the wrong planet, the things sent later will never be delivered to the people they should have been delivered to.

Sometimes, when the nominal ruler of this settlement, which was made up of a few rough cement concrete, rocks and old interstellar ships and weapon armor plates, and was in fact a super-large abandoned shantytown, Jirus Urumal, who was called the regent, looked out from the observation tower of the Comfort Currency, which served as his residence and office, overlooking the entire desolate and dilapidated settlement, he sometimes thought.

How many gray winters will they have to go through here? How many more bad winters can they go through here?

Some things must be borne by the Grand Regent alone, and some things must be kept secret and must not be told to the people on this planet who are trying to survive.

- For example, a few years ago, the distress signal and resource support request that had been broadcast continuously in the direction of their arrival for four centuries and seventy years finally received the only reply communication full of noise and interference from the depths of the galaxy. Only the throne knew how it successfully crossed the galaxy and arrived at the edge of Dalchana.

Its content cannot be said to be simple and crude, but it can only be said to be a straightforward hint under the elegant words: "Remember, the Holy Emperor knows everything, remember, even in the darkness you will be protected, remember, stay firm, endure the test, and wish you prosperity."

- Your request has been received, you just need to stay there honestly, live honestly, and die honestly. You are not worthy of our rescue and delivery of supplies, and then everyone will forget you.

Indeed.

An indescribable bitterness surged from the bottom of his heart to the root of Regent Gallus's tongue.

This planet is extremely barren and terrifying, a veritable death world.

If it weren't for their colony fleet heading to the agricultural world, Gallus doubted that most people would not have survived the first winter here - the gray winter was named after the low temperature and deadly sandstorms. When the gray winter comes, unless necessary, everyone except those wandering predators can only huddle in collective shelters, relying on the little rationed food and recycled water, as well as the few heat sources provided by each other and the collective to survive the entire season.

Even the looters who were driven out of the settlement only dared to rush into the settlement to steal some things when the gray winter began. The winds above this dead planet would teach any civilian aircraft who dared to conquer it a lesson in their next life. During the gray winter, these inconspicuous but flesh-cutting air vortices would bring the low temperature closer to the surface, freezing and then literally cutting anyone who dared to stay outdoors - they did not have enough shell protection to protect everyone, because there was not even any decent metal resources to be mined on this damn planet.

There was no fresh water, no iron or other minerals, no life, only the eternal obsidian deserts and mountains, and the sandstorms and strong winds that blew forever.

Even if they were lucky enough to have a Mechanicus exploration ship pass by here, they would only stay and talk for a few words before leaving quickly because this place was worthless and could not trade supplies. The last time Regent Gallus was even more lucky or unlucky to contact a Space Marine Lord who was patrolling here, the other party first expressed sympathy for the plight of the people here, but told Gallus three things: first, this place is now under the protection of the Origin Chapter; second, there is no more room on his ship to carry more mortals; third, his patience is limited, and he believes that if Dalciana has his own psykers and astropaths, then astropathic communication should be tried first.

Thinking of the number of psychic newborns on Dalchana and the creatures who were sent to the temple, who only worshiped the sun and ancestors, always spoke incomprehensible words, it was hard to say whether they were astropaths, I deeply wrinkled. Appearing on the brow of Regent Gallus: Just like the previous five generations of Grand Regents, strictly extending mercy to certain psykers and the newborn Emperor who has no human form is also one of the orders he must give, if there is no strict justice distribution, discipline, self-discipline and obedience, then it would be impossible for everyone here to survive until now.

And this time.

Is the promise that it will come to the ground again a hope, or another desperate blow?

Regent Gallus sat in his private room, bedroom, office and living room, with wine from four hundred and seventy years ago in front of him, waiting for the final judgment.

——————

"So this is your original so-called 'development' plan for this planet?! Huh?! Talos! How did you have the nerve to write such a damn thing and show it to me?!" followed by a crisp " With a snap, a stack of densely written parchment was thrown onto Talos' breastplate, and the latter carefully picked up the document full of shame but confusion.

"My Lord," Talos said, "Through your teachings and the success of the Cursed Echo, it is clear that our navigator Octavia can shoulder this responsibility - to convey the screams of the painful souls of twenty million people to On hundreds of worlds and over Terra, declare your return to the wights and followers of lies, and scatter the ashes of their corpses here and over every world our warships reach. , is the best way to ridicule the puppet emperor’s lackeys who came after hearing the news——”

"A waste of natural resources!!!" Lamizane put a finger on his temple, which started to throb, "These people have been trying to survive and reproduce on this planet where no grass grows for more than four hundred years, and they can even survive. A basically functioning society and a precious people who are willing to endure hardships, you deserve it! These ten thousand years old men are so poor that they still rely on cheating to get supplies! !

(*Hey! These are not your descendants! Why are you angry at them? The soul hunter’s suggestions are not without merit...)

"Shut up! Isn't this all your responsibility?! You understand very well, don't you? Then you will do it?!"

(*...(humming and chirping sounds that immediately died down))

"(Gutela swears), I knew..."

Lamizane turned to Talos who was at a loss and said, "Go and find Macharion. I want to talk to him. At the same time, I will notify the regent of Temple City and tell him that I will visit him in three standard hours. "

"The night protects you, my lord, as you wish."

"Oh, right." Lamizane called to Talos as if he remembered something.

"Go and tell the people who are assigned to go down to the ground to remember to restrain the creative speech habits provided by Savita Leon. I know it is very smooth, but at least don't cause me any extra trouble now!"

"At your command, my lord, long live the Lord of the Night!"