The rebels exchanged glances, their eyes showing the primal purity of people untouched by schooling.
"What is this starch synthesis from promethium fertilizers?"
The commander scratched his head.
Although in the Warhammer 40k universe, humanity freely roams the cosmos, the level of education on different worlds varies like a jagged line on an electrocardiogram.
Most worlds of the Imperium cultivate ignorance, and their inhabitants have no idea about the true structure of the universe.
A peasant digs the earth his whole life, a worker turns a nut until his death – for them, there is no world beyond their usual field of vision.
The idea that food for billions could be produced literally from garbage and energy seemed like fantasy to them.
I wonder what they would think if they knew that space was teeming with xenos devouring world after world, and demons lived in the warp, craving human souls?
Li Qingyu briefly explained the essence of starch synthesis from promethium technology, but the rebels only exchanged distrustful glances.
"That's impossible. If such a thing existed, why would we be slaving away in the fields? Everyone would just eat this synthetic stuff," the commander reasoned, showing unexpected practical wisdom.
"Firstly," Li Qingyu began to explain, "this stuff is not tasty. Even, I would say, disgusting. It's called 'corpse starch' – the very name speaks for itself. Secondly, it's harmful. It lacks the nutrients found in food grown on real land. You can't live long on such rations – you'll ruin your health. Thirdly, this is an agri-world. Its mission is to supply neighboring sectors with natural products. Heh-heh, you probably don't realize that the ordinary food you eat every day is a rare delicacy for other worlds of the Imperium. At certain periods, Imperial transports arrive, pick up dehydrated grain, press it, and take it away. There, they make dishes for the aristocracy and distinguished servants of the Imperium from it. This is why you live – to produce elite food."
Now it dawned on the rebels: what they considered ordinary was considered a treasure somewhere else.
The Imperium could switch to synthetics if necessary, but under normal conditions, it preferred natural products.
Suddenly, the commander's face turned pale, and a chill ran down his spine.
"You're saying our purpose in life is to supply natural food to other planets. What if we lose that purpose?"
Li Qingyu stretched his lips into a sinister smile.
"Then you will see giant steel cities in the sky, raining fire upon the earth. And then it won't matter who you are – exploiter or freedom fighter, conservative or revolutionary, hero or scoundrel. You will all see the true face of this world."
The deal was made after all. Formally – because Li Qingyu could supply the rebels with weapons and scarce medications.
But a spark of curiosity ignited in the commander's soul. The guest had awakened his interest in the reality hidden behind the usual veil.
These rebels had lived on agri-world 496b since birth. They only knew: nearby there was a forge world, a little further – a knightly world, and what lay beyond was a mystery shrouded in darkness.
Illiterate peasants helped their parents from childhood, and upon growing up, they took up the hoe.
Their fate repeated the lives of their fathers: plow the land, get married, raise children, and die on the same patch of soil.
But when they raised their heads and saw starships gliding in the sky, orbital stations shining with lights like celestial cities...
When shuttles, piercing the atmosphere like fiery balls, slowly landed on the spires of the Hive, reaching into the clouds... Didn't they feel the monstrous gap? Didn't curiosity arise in them?
It did. And when the oppression of the Planetary Governor became unbearable, they rebelled – not only against tyranny but also against ignorance.
The revolution had not yet won. The bastion of power stood, and the truth was still somewhere beyond reach.
But now Li Qingyu appeared – a man laughing in the face of a dozen rifles, behaving calmly where others trembled.
His composure was astonishing. Every word seemed like a revelation.
It seemed to the commander that this stranger had lifted the edge of the curtain hiding the essence of the world, and he decided to risk his trust.
The ropes on Li Qingyu's hands were untied. He stood up, stretched, and said:
"Prepare three tons of grain. Next time, I'll bring another auto-gun. There are many of you here – you can help carry the cargo to the drop-off point."
"I want to talk to you," the commander suddenly said. "Alone."
Li Qingyu raised an eyebrow.
"Alright, lead the way."
A private conversation is the foundation of an alliance. He didn't mind spending time strengthening ties with the local "chieftain."
The commander led the guest into a hut, closed the door, and asked worriedly:
"If we win and seize power on the planet, how will the Imperium react?"
Li Qingyu mentally noted: a smart question. Strategic thinking.
"The Imperium doesn't care who is in power," he replied. "It doesn't matter to them: capitalism, feudalism, utopia – the Imperium only cares about the tithe."
"Then what does it want?" the rebel wondered.
"The tithe," Li Qingyu repeated. "After seizing power, declare loyalty to the Imperium and pay the tax diligently. No one will touch you. The fate of the former Governor doesn't interest them."
The commander exhaled with relief. They knew about the existence of the Imperium, though they imagined it vaguely, but they all understood: it was all-powerful.
The rebels' main fear was the question – what to do about the Imperium after overthrowing the Governor?
And now it seemed the answer was simple: pay taxes and live.
Li Qingyu grinned sinisterly:
"Heh-heh-heh... Judging by your face, you think the tax is a trifle? You think all the troubles come only from the Governor and his officials? You believe that by taking his place, you will make life better?"