What the cargo ship unloaded was not weapons or ammunition, but mountains of strictly inert gas-packaged and low-temperature-preserved—organic food.
Grains, meats, vegetables, fruits, and even some rare seasonings and beverage ingredients.
The variety was complete, and the quality was all top-grade.
When the logistics officer reported the total weight data in a tone of disbelief, even Qin Bei Wang was taken aback.
"How much?
Three hundred thousand tons?
Are you sure the unit is correct?"
"Commander, it's absolutely true.
The precise figure is three hundred thousand, five thousand, four hundred tons.
Here are the cargo manifest and quality inspection reports."
The logistics officer's voice trembled slightly.
Three hundred thousand tons of organic food!
Qin Bei Wang quickly did the math in his head. His fleet currently had a full complement of about six hundred thousand personnel.
Even by the highest standards, with three meals a day consisting entirely of organic food, each person consumed approximately 50 kilograms per month. The entire fleet's monthly consumption would be around thirty thousand tons.
Three hundred thousand tons... enough for the entire fleet to feast lavishly for ten months!
Beside him, Zhuang ZhiXuan and several other squadron commanders exchanged glances, their eyes filled with shock.
They had all suffered from synthetic food and knew full well the preciousness of organic food within the military system.
On the market, the price of a gram of high-quality organic food typically fluctuated between 3 to 5 Star Credits. These three hundred thousand tons... roughly estimated, their value had already reached an astonishing one trillion, five hundred billion Star Credits!
This was no longer "support"—it was practically a movable, extravagantly luxurious mountain of gold!
Zhuang ZhiXuan said in astonishment,
"This scale... Commander Qin, your friend's influence is truly terrifying."
Qin Bei Wang looked at the endless list of containers on the virtual screen, his heart equally turbulent.
When Chu Lixuan casually made that promise at the "Stellar Glory Summit," Qin Bei Wang had taken it as nothing more than a showy boast from a wealthy young man—at most, a symbolic gesture of sending a few tons to improve the meals of high-ranking officers.
He never expected the other party to be serious, and to start with such an astronomical figure.
Amid the shock, a trace of doubt quietly surfaced in Qin Bei Wang's mind.
Merchants seek profit—that is an ironclad rule.
Chu Lixuan's family was one of the Federation's largest suppliers of organic food, but such a massive quantity of top-tier goods would undoubtedly involve extraordinary costs and tie up market inventory.
Even to befriend a "potential stock" like himself, the investment return cycle and risks seemed far too high.
Unless...
Qin Bei Wang narrowed his eyes, considering a possibility.
Could it be that Chu Lixuan, or rather the family behind him, intended to use this opportunity of "free aid" to deliberately create an "incident"?
For example, soon after, news might "coincidentally" spread about certain major agricultural planets experiencing large-scale reductions in yield due to "climate anomalies" or "genetically modified crop diseases."
Or perhaps several large-scale breeding star sectors would suddenly report outbreaks of "new epidemics," causing a sharp drop in meat production.
At that time, the supply-demand balance of the Federation's organic food market would be disrupted, and prices would inevitably skyrocket.
Meanwhile, the Chu family could make a fortune through their stockpiles and any futures operations they might have conducted in advance.
However, Qin Bei Wang felt not a trace of anger or dissatisfaction.
Instead, a cold understanding flickered through his mind.
Business tactics and capital games were simply the survival rules of that social stratum.
If the Chu family could truly seize this opportunity to reap even greater wealth from the affluent class—those who pursued quality of life and were less sensitive to price—that was their skill.
As for the common people at the bottom?
Qin Bei Wang curled his lip slightly.
What difference did it make to them if the price of organic food rose to ten Star Credits per gram, or even a hundred?
Their daily sustenance relied on the nearly free, abundant synthetic nutrient paste and reconstituted protein blocks subsidized by the Federation.
The luxury market for organic food had never been relevant to the true bottom tier.
His fleet had gained this immense, unexpected benefit out of thin air. The stomachs and morale of six hundred thousand officers and soldiers would be satisfied as never before—that was what truly mattered.
He shifted his focus back to the handling of these three hundred thousand tons of organic food.
Such a massive quantity of precious supplies must be utilized well and managed strictly.
"Relay orders to the Logistics Department and all levels of food service units within the fleet."
Qin Bei Wang's voice was clear and decisive as he issued a series of meticulous, almost stringent commands.
"First, effective immediately, all officer and soldier dining halls within the fleet shall serve only organic food for three meals a day.
Variety should be as rich as possible, with rotating combinations to ensure nutritional balance."
"Second, principle of supply: eat freely, until full. But there is one point—"
His tone intensified,
"Absolutely no waste is permitted!"
"Not a single grain of rice, not a leaf of vegetable, not a piece of meat may be left uneaten!
Catering units must calculate precisely and ration reasonably.
Diners must adhere to the 'clean plate' rule. Establish supervision posts for random spot checks."
"Violators: first offense, severe warning and deduction of that month's allowance.
Second offense, permanently revoke their eligibility for organic food supply within the fleet, reverting to standard synthetic meals."
"Third, strictly prohibit taking organic food from dining halls out, packing it, or hoarding it privately. Furthermore, absolutely forbid any form of private trading or resale.
Violators will be treated as theft or trafficking of military supplies, and depending on the severity of the case, handed over to court-martial."
"Fourth, these regulations and the source of the organic food are classified as internal restricted information within the fleet.
Strictly forbid officers and soldiers from disclosing details to non-fleet personnel, including family, allied forces, or media.
The unified external statement is 'special logistical improvement supplies approved by the war zone.'
Those who leak information will be severely punished according to military law."
The orders were swiftly relayed through the internal communication network to every corner of the fleet.
Initially, when officers and soldiers received the notice, most thought they had misheard or that it was some temporary "extra meal" celebration.
Only when they entered the dining halls and saw the mountains of genuine rice, vegetables, and meat piled on the counters—exuding natural aromas instead of the suspicious colors and monotonous tastes of synthetic paste—did the entire fleet nearly erupt!
"My God... is this... real meat?!"
"This rice... has the natural fragrance of rice!
Not the taste of synthetic starch!"
"And fruit!
I've served for five years, this is the first time I've seen fresh fruit in the mess hall!"
Exclamations of astonishment and the sound of swallowing saliva rose and fell in dining halls across various compartments.
When it was confirmed that all of this was real and would be supplied long-term, ecstatic emotions spread like an explosion.
Many veterans even felt their eyes grow warm. Having endured long patrols and grueling battles, they understood all too well how much a proper meal could boost morale.
Yet the strict regulations announced afterward reined in this excitement with the bridle of discipline.
No one dared risk permanently losing such a "privilege," and even fewer would challenge the severe military law.
When collecting their meals, they became exceptionally cautious, and during mealtimes, they achieved an unprecedented level of "clean plates," almost to the point of licking the trays clean.