After chatting for a while, Alex saw that Sea Hare's state had adjusted, the gloom between his brows had dissipated considerably, and his speech had regained its usual vitality, so he said no more.
He patted the other's shoulder and rose to return to the Transversal Chamber.
As the familiar sensation of dizziness swept over him, his figure once again vanished from the real world, stepping back into that dark and despairing Warhammer World.
Alex, now conscious, took a deep breath, allowing the air filled with the scent of oil and metal to fill his lungs—this was his battlefield now.
Stepping out of his bedroom, an attendant saw him emerge and immediately approached with a datapad to report: "Sir, the escort request for the Third Supply Fleet requires your signature and approval, the Mariupol Forge World demands more Adamantium, and also…"
Alex raised a hand to signal the attendant to wait, striding towards the command center while rapidly scanning the datapad.
Information flowed swiftly across the datapad, displaying the real-time status of various key nodes in the Kherson system.
As the most crucial logistics hub for the Rostov Expeditionary Force, hundreds of transport ships shuttled through the Starport every minute, transporting tens of thousands of tons of ammunition, fuel, and supplies to the front lines.
"Tell the Adeptus Mechanicus representative that I will provide more Adamantium, but they must deliver the promised Leman Russ Tanks before the next cycle." Alex quickly made a decision, noticing the flashing red alert on the star map, "Why has the unloading efficiency of the Seventh Cargo Stack dropped again?"
"Because… uh…" The attendant flipped through the data: "The local guild has made new demands for treatment…"
"Execute them, send a Holy War Army unit to take over the cargo stack." Alex rubbed his temples.
This was his daily routine—not only overseeing the logistics support for the entire Expeditionary Force but also dealing with countless similar trivial issues.
As the supreme Commander of the Expeditionary Force, the burden on his shoulders was far heavier than it appeared.
Although some minor matters could be delegated to subordinates, Alex had to have a clear understanding of the overall situation to ensure he had sufficient control over all affairs.
In front of the massive tactical platform in the command center, the holographic projections of the Expeditionary Force's Commanders were already in place.
Alex straightened the collar of his uniform, hiding all fatigue behind his sharp eyes.
A new round of combat meetings was about to begin, and the logistical gears of the Kherson system had to continue operating precisely under his control.
—
Meanwhile, Sea Hare also returned to the 40k World, though the situation he faced was considerably less stressful than Alex's.
As the supervisor of the Dome, he only needed to manage this one facility, and it was entirely under military control, orderly, and far less complex than Alex's situation.
Although the Department of Military Affairs was routinely inhumane, and the Astra Militarum's medical supplies were always short, with bandages, painkillers, and anti-infection drugs constantly on the verge of depletion.
However, in terms of procedures and regulations, the Department of Military Affairs' rules were outrageously strict.
Even to apply for a single box of the most common hemostatic gel, one had to use blessed parchment, strictly adhere to the standard format stipulated by the Department of Internal Affairs, and fill out the application form in neat High Gothic.
If even one letter was wrong, the ink smudged, or the blessing mark on the parchment was not clear enough, the Quartermaster would not even glance at it, sending it back for a rewrite.
Even more ridiculous, even if the form was perfect, the Quartermaster might still reject the application a dozen times on the grounds of "not submitted according to standard procedures"—such as "signature not made with a standard-sized quill," "ink color not compliant with regulations," "application time not within Holy Terra standard office hours," and so on.
In short, they could always find reasons to make things difficult.
However, for Sea Hare, this actually saved him a lot of trouble.
In terms of discipline and procedures, Sea Hare had nothing to worry about; he only needed to ensure everything followed the process to maintain the smooth operation of this Dome.
It should be noted that most of the wounded sent to this Dome hospital had already received initial treatment at field medical stations behind the front lines, and their injuries were largely stable.
Their transfer here was not for emergency rescue but for long-term recuperation and functional recovery.
Therefore, even if the Department of Military Affairs' bureaucratic procedures were lengthy and cumbersome, these wounded could afford to wait—after all, their vital signs were stable, and the most dangerous phase had long passed.
Sea Hare's main job was to manage the reception and placement procedures for these wounded.
Whenever a transport ship arrived, he would organize medical officers to conduct initial examinations of the transferred wounded, verify their identity information, and then register them according to the Department of Military Affairs' outrageously complex standard procedures.
Just filling out various forms would take most of the day, not to mention waiting for approval and seals from different departments.
The most absurd part of the entire process was that some lightly wounded soldiers would fully recover while waiting for the procedures to be completed.
But because the Department of Military Affairs' regulations required all registration procedures to be completed before official "discharge," these soldiers, who were already lively and healthy, had to remain in the hospital, spending their days idly counting cracks on the ceiling.
For these soldiers, apart from those eager to return to the battlefield to prove their loyalty to the Emperor, most actually enjoyed this situation, as not having to fight on the front lines was truly a blessing for them.
Such black humor-like scenes were perfectly normal within the Imperium—after all, who could guarantee that seemingly recovered soldiers were not carriers of Chaos corruption? Who could be sure that simplifying procedures would not give Tzeentch's demons an opportunity?
"Better to kill ten thousand innocents than let one guilty person go" was the Imperium's consistent approach.
Even the Inquisitor sent by Alex privately expressed dissatisfaction with such inefficiency and repeatedly offered Sea Hare suggestions for improvement.
"These procedures have been in place for thousands of years, but times are changing, and we should try to improve efficiency." The Inquisitor once said with a frown, "Look at these recovered soldiers, occupying valuable beds for nothing just because the paperwork hasn't been approved."
Sea Hare naturally agreed wholeheartedly.
He did try to implement some improvements: while strictly adhering to regulations, he redesigned the document circulation route, trained a batch of clerical servitor skulls specifically responsible for pre-screening forms to ensure every submission passed on the first try, arranged for recovered wounded to reside in specific areas to free up medical beds…
He even installed a servitor skull on the Quartermaster's desk specifically to remind them to prioritize overdue applications.
However, limited by the Imperium's stringent procedural regulations, the room for maneuver was simply too small.
Ultimately, all Sea Hare could do was, within the cracks of these bureaucratic formalities, provide as much convenience as possible for process review and shorten those clearly unnecessary waiting times.
"At least, we can now control the average processing time to within 20 standard days." Sea Hare said with a wry smile to Willian, "This is already considered a paradigm of 'high efficiency' in the Department of Military Affairs' records."
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