NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 47: Chapter 047 - Administratum
"Commander! Commander! Come on, come on! Let us show you the new home we've built!"
Next to the naval base of the shipgirls, Saratoga and Lexington dragged Reuel along with infectious excitement.
The two transformed girls looked like puppies awaiting praise—their faces lit up with innocent anticipation.
"Alright, lead the way."
As the leader of this new civilization, Reuel felt compelled to understand their living conditions more thoroughly. While he hadn't fully grasped the principles behind Azur Lane's technology, he believed it was still important to know the basic functions of various facilities on the base—from the perspective of popular science, at least.
Accompanied by Richelieu and followed closely by Saratoga and Lexington, they boarded a small boat piloted by a yellow Manjuu chicken wearing a naval captain's hat. Several other Manjuus rowed diligently, as if that were the most natural thing in the world.
"This entire base is modeled as a miniature version of the Minato harbor area," Richelieu explained with a calm but proud tone.
"We've integrated every production line necessary to support naval operations for up to a hundred units—including carriers."
In the world of Azur Lane, "units" weren't measured by ships, but by shipgirls. One hundred shipgirls equaled one hundred warships—a figure that would sound absurd by real-world standards.
For comparison, the Royal Navy—the maritime powerhouse of the Azur Lane faction—only possessed around five hundred warships, and that count included small-tonnage frigates.
But the logistical capability to sustain such force? Reuel could only draw one conclusion: the gold content inside Bulin must be even more ridiculous than he thought.
"Strange… ever since I met these shipgirls, why do I keep thinking about Bulin?" Reuel mused. "The way they build infrastructure—like playing with Legos—definitely reeks of Bulin's influence. My brain's already infected with Bulin logic."
That thought lingered in his head, even as they continued the tour into the production facility.
"This is the carrier-based aircraft assembly plant," Richelieu continued. "Here, aircraft carriers can be equipped with fighter jets, torpedo planes, or bombers."
Upon entering the plant, Reuel was greeted by rows of classic propeller aircraft: F6F Hellcat, Sea Spitfire, Barracuda, Meteor, Flying Dragon, and many others—iconic models from World War II, hailing from the U.S., Britain, Germany, Japan...
If it weren't for the presence of the shipgirls, Reuel might've assumed this was a military history museum.
"Sooner or later, I'm replacing all of these with starfighters from Warhammer, Star Wars, and StarCraft…" Reuel thought. But he knew that was still a distant dream. There were many steps to take before such ambitions could be realized.
Richelieu's voice pulled him back from his thoughts.
"At full capacity, this facility can produce around 300 to 350 carrier-based aircraft per month, across various types. But since there's been no major battles lately, it's not currently in operation."
She glanced at the report in her hands and then looked at Reuel with a composed, professional expression.
Suddenly, Reuel asked, "Can I fly one of these planes?"
Their size and design were nearly identical to the real WWII-era fighters. The difference, of course, was that shipgirls didn't fly them conventionally—they used Mind Cube power, which enabled full integration with ship equipment and dramatically boosted combat efficiency.
"Eh?!"
Richelieu and Bulin both froze, exchanging a surprised glance. Apparently, neither of them had ever considered that question before.
"In theory… it's possible."
The voice came from behind them.
Akashi had somehow appeared out of nowhere, carrying a suitcase and a data module. Her body was still dusted with red Martian soil from a long journey.
"Just got back from Mars. The Adeptus Mechanicus are still as stubborn as ever," she said with a meow.
"All the equipment produced here at the naval base can be used by the Commander~~, whether it's carrier-based aircraft or other weapons, nya~~."
Akashi explained with her usual sing-song intonation, each sentence ending in a cute, dragging pitch.
"But since you're not a shipgirl, you can only use their basic functionality, nya~~."
Reuel nodded thoughtfully, then sighed inwardly.
I was planning to replace all of these with starfighters from the Imperium of Man in the near future… but oh well.
"...."
And with that one second of silence, the plan was quietly scrapped.
Without the Mind Cube buffs from the shipgirls, all those fighter planes were nothing more than old prop-driven antiques—fit to be anti-air target practice. Like turkeys on Thanksgiving. Flying them would be pointless. Better to rely on the Emperor's psionic power and punch the enemy out of existence.
They continued the facility tour.
"This is the torpedo factory. Monthly production runs between 4,800 and 9,500 units," Richelieu explained calmly. "From anti-ship torpedoes, anti-submarine variants, and aircraft-mounted ones, to experimental prototypes."
They moved on to the next area.
"This is the naval gun assembly facility. Currently, our capacity is limited to calibers under 380 mm. If you need anything larger… please visit the Trade District."
Next stop:
"This is the shipyard. Used for hull repairs and construction of new warships. Monthly production—"
"This is the small arms plant."
"And over there," Lexington pointed to another building, "the shipgirl dorms and bathhouse. Wanna take a look?…"
Reuel only nodded slowly, like a military inspector who'd witnessed one too many absurdities.
What stunned Reuel wasn't the number of facilities, but their efficiency and technological advancement. Azure Technology, powered by the Mind Cube, could bring WWII-era weaponry to life and turn it into operational military equipment.
And all of it—on an industrial scale rivaling the combined output of the entire European Union.
Even crazier, Akashi was currently researching tech from Warhammer and StarCraft.
Reuel suddenly pictured a day when shipgirl carriers launched squadrons of starfighters from every known franchise: X-Wings, Valkyries, Thunderhawks, Talon Interceptors.
And hopefully… their gear wouldn't evolve into flying gothic churches plastered in skulls and digital candles.
After that long tour, Reuel suddenly realized one disturbing fact.
"Wait… we've been touring weapons factories all day. But what about the other sectors?"
He turned to Richelieu and asked,
"What about agriculture? Light industry? Civilian manufacturing? What do you grow here? Potatoes? Wheat? What's the crop yield?"
"….."
The shipgirls' expressions turned blank.
"Agriculture?" Akashi blinked. "What agriculture?"
"Light industry? Like washing machines and microwaves?" Bulin glanced around, as if trying to find a manual.
"Commander, we're shipgirls. We don't farm."
"….."
Reuel frowned. "So what do you eat?"
"We drink warship fuel and coolant," Bulin replied innocently.
Reuel immediately pointed at the production document in his hand.
"Then where the hell did the bread and black tea in the port come from?!"
"Oh, that's just for style. Only humans actually eat."
Reuel let out a long sigh and collapsed onto the nearest bench, beginning to recalculate the broken logistics ledger.
No agriculture, no civilian industry, no education, no healthcare, not even basic science… and yet this civilization somehow reached military dominance.
Then he realized another insane fact:
With this level of production, the shipgirls could toss artillery and jet fighters into another world and just rebuild them the next week like it was nothing.
Azur Lane technology was utterly ridiculous.
"Whose field got overrun by military tech first, huh…? Goddamn." Reuel grumbled with a heavy sigh.
Maybe the people in Warhammer and StarCraft went down the same path: build the war machine first, figure out the supply chain later.
No wonder his food supply kept running short. The root cause had been here all along.
Reuel made a firm decision:
He would personally review every single order he'd ever issued to these lunatics.
And maybe…
It was finally time to form a Ministry of Agriculture in this trigger-happy world.
The Technology Tree Grew Crooked When the Civilization of the Imperium of Man Was Built
That was the conclusion Reuel reached after observing the development of the settlement under his command.
With full support from the Kanmusu—Shipgirls of Azur Lane—the settlement rapidly advanced to a pre-space-age level. But not just any version of the space age—this was the gothic-flavored type, filled with hallmark elements from the most iconic human factions across multiverses: Star Wars, StarCraft, HALO, Gundam, Stellaris, Mass Effect, even Warhammer 40k.
In the palace district, gothic-style buildings with golden pillars and stained glass windows rose high, reflecting the architectural influence of the Imperium of Man. In the heart of Europe, the main campus for educating future imperial leaders and officials was nearing completion.
However, despite its majestic and powerful appearance, the civilian and scientific foundation of this civilization was fragile. Military technology was growing at an exponential rate—borrowing brutal elements from Warhammer and the mechanical efficiency of StarCraft—but scientific research, agriculture, and light industry were virtually untouched.
The concern peaked when Reuel opened the inventory records of his residence.
As an immediate response, he ordered the deployment of Universal Bulins to various planets in the Milky Way, to help build colonies and sustain the lives of over 6.1 billion citizens of the Imperium of Man.
---
Richelieu's Report
The next day, Richelieu arrived carrying a stack of thick reports and elegantly placed them on Reuel's desk.
"Commander, I've had the shipgirls recount the inventory. This is the complete list of our equipment and resources. Please review it."
As Reuel's personal secretary, Richelieu was known for her professionalism and meticulousness. Every day she compiled statistics on colony status, personnel availability, logistics consumption, and production rates, then handed them directly to the Emperor himself.
Her handwriting was elegant, her pages neat, and the strategic indicators laid out like a parade formation.
"Thank you for your hard work," said Reuel, opening the first page.
As the Emperor of Mankind and Supreme Commander, understanding logistics and resource reserves was a vital part of his duty. From there, he would determine the direction of expansion and the next phase of development policy.
---
Strategic Resources
Iron ore:
Reserves — 20,000 tons
Monthly production — 950,000 tons
Coal:
Reserves — 35,000 tons
Monthly production — 620,000 tons
Tin:
Reserves — 5,000 tons
Monthly production — 420 tons
Beyond that, there were refining operations for aluminum, magnesium, copper, and even uranium ores. Some types of ore weren't even recognized by Reuel—likely results of technology from other galaxies.
An expedition fleet led by Essex had sunk its industrial claws into the Balkan Peninsula, building a network of mines and smelters in record time.
Although the Bulin and Manjuu populations weren't yet sufficient to run full-scale operations across all colonies, the output already matched mid-tier mining industries from the Imperium of Man in Warhammer 40k.
---
Heavy Industry and Logistics
On Azur Lane's main world, heavy industry had begun to grow rapidly. Every two weeks, Universal Bulin logistics fleets ran shipping routes between Athens and Constantinople—as well as orbital lanes from colony planets to the Milky Way capital—transporting massive quantities of ore.
"Make sure Minato District sends more labor once the interdimensional corridor reopens," Reuel said.
He looked very pleased. Iron and coal were the foundation of industrial civilization. The more they produced, the faster infrastructure and war machinery could be built.
Even mysterious ores were starting to be used to manufacture standard Imperial Guard equipment, various Warhammer 40k weapon systems, and technology devices from StarCraft.
Although the Warhammer and StarCraft factions hadn't entirely gotten along—their cultural and philosophical differences were stark—Reuel was confident time would bring them together.
After all, they were all entities he himself had summoned from their respective universes.
---
Azure Lane Military Inventory
Richelieu continued her report.
"At present, there are 5,892 carrier-based aircraft, 1,483 torpedo bombers, and various types of fighter jets available at the port."
"Torpedo stock stands at 6,430 units, including 670 units of 610 mm torpedoes and 860 quadruple 533 mm magnetic torpedoes."
"620 self-propelled artillery units of 155 mm caliber, and 12,200 aerial bombs."
"26 hydrogen bombs."
"13,500 nuclear bombs."
When the pioneer fleet prepared for departure, the port area supplied them with an absurd amount of equipment—enough to last long-term, even if the local naval base ceased production entirely.
But Reuel felt like he was witnessing something completely insane.
"Where the hell did you get hydrogen bombs and nukes?!"
Richelieu replied calmly, as if he were talking about a box of emergency biscuits.
"Ah… Akashi built them a while ago, using captured Siren technology," she said, thinking for a moment.
"And the nukes were a gift from the Tech-Priests of the Mechanicus. They said it was... experimental, enhanced, far more efficient."
"The port was worried we'd face powerful enemies, so every carrier shipgirl in the vanguard fleet was given a few."
Reuel blinked, as if his brain had just tripped over reality.
"So Phoenix, Formidable, Essex, and Glory... all have nuclear strike capabilities now?!"
A flashback of the fight between Da Feng and Richelieu earlier suddenly invaded his mind—over nothing more than a dispute about who would be the Secretary Ship. Luckily, neither of them had thought to use Mechanicus-made nukes at the time. Who knew what kind of monstrosity those bombs actually were... most likely a brand-new definition of utter annihilation.
"Incredible," Reuel muttered. "We have thousands of planes, hundreds of artillery units, and now... weapons of mass destruction. This isn't military strength anymore. This is martial virtue gone completely off the rails."
Back on Earth, this kind of power was only possessed by major global superpowers. But now? If the United Nations were in session, he could probably order all Permanent Members off their chairs—and sit alone in the middle of the chamber with a nuke in hand.
He shifted his attention to the next report.
The "miscellaneous supplies" section included:
Agricultural products: 200.000 kilograms of rice, 100.000 kilograms of corn, and a few grains.
The rest? Still in the growth phase.
Reuel kept reading. There was a long, unending list of military gear manufactured by citizens of the Imperium and troops from the StarCraft sector. The report was as thick as Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix—without pause, without hope.
Meanwhile, the agricultural logistics report... was just fifty pages. And even that read more like an emergency rations brochure.
Reuel reaffirmed the numbers.
"This is really kilograms, right? Not tons. Not tens of thousands of tons."
Richelieu nodded slowly.
"That came from your birth planet. It's still in recovery."
Silence filled the room.
The shipgirls didn't need food—they only consumed snacks occasionally, and even that was for memory's sake or as a hobby. So it made sense they never developed agricultural technology.
Meanwhile, crops from various planets in the Milky Way were still in incubation phases.
More hydrogen bombs in the warehouse... than rice?
Reuel let out a long sigh.
"Commander," Richelieu finally asked, "what do you think we should do next?"
After reading a statistical report intense enough to trigger an existential crisis in anyone, Richelieu looked at Reuel in silence—waiting for their commander to decide the future direction of the Imperium.
Reuel said nothing. His brow furrowed, fingers tapping the desk slowly, marking the weight of thoughts piling up.
At present, there was no meaningful interstellar economy. The warehouses were overflowing with weapons and military equipment from all ages and dimensions—so much so that there were debates about whether they needed a warehouse for the warehouse.
"We now have two options," he finally said.
"First—develop agricultural technology and light industry here as much as possible. For survival. For the future."
"Second—turn our neighbors into vassal states... and exploit them sustainably."
The room fell silent again. No one laughed. Even the logistics printer in the corner seemed to hold its breath.
Reuel ultimately chose the first option.
The first reason: current time-travel capabilities were on cooldown. There was no way to send Warhammer troops or Imperial shipgirls to ambush neighboring worlds from orbit—at least, not yet.
The second reason: he was a true child of the Nusantara. Born of soil enriched through sweat and effort, not nuclear fire. He knew how to rebuild civilization—from the first machete cutting through the brush to the foundations of megastructural society.
Yet even now, the emperor's instinct embedded in his DNA screamed for domination and absolute control... only to be stopped by the simple logic that they couldn't even grow their own vegetables yet.
Even if shipgirls didn't need food, agriculture was still necessary—for emergency scenarios, or to welcome guests from other worlds. Not every species could survive on liquid fuel and liquid nitrogen as a welcome drink.
He stared at the superdimensional star map glowing across the screen. There were millions of shipgirls—tiny lolis, fully armed—still waiting to be rescued across distant worlds.
"Alright," he said firmly. "Which one of you knows how to farm, fast?"
The entire pioneer fleet of shipgirls looked at him. And in unison, they shook their heads.
"No idea."
Their heads moved like synchronized metronomes. Almost dramatic.
But then, in a small voice, someone spoke:
"Uhh... I know a little... just a little..."
"Sometimes I do some gardening in Minato's park," Ning Hai said quietly, followed by Ping Hai, then Akagi and Kaga who raised their hands hesitantly.
"Oh?"
Reuel looked at the four petite shipgirls. Representatives of the Dragon Empery and Sakura Empire. They… were special. Capable of farming. Probably considered defective units in the warship assembly line.
"What can you grow?"
"I've grown wheat, rice, cabbage, peppers… a few fruits too. Apples, strawberries, watermelons… if we have the seeds."
Akagi answered in a humble tone, as if she wasn't holding a royal flush in a world running out of food.
Reuel fell silent. These girls… were way too modest. Like genius scholars pretending to pout because they "only scored 98" on an exam even the professors couldn't pass.
He gave each of them a firm pat on the shoulder.
"Ning Hai, Ping Hai, Akagi, Kaga—I appoint you all as Acting Ministers of Agriculture."
"From now on, all agricultural affairs—here and in any colony within the Imperium of Man—will fall under your coordination."
"You'll be placed within the Ministry of Agriculture… or more accurately, the Administratum Divisio Agro-Logistica."
Kaga blinked.
"Just… the four of us? From the shipgirl side?"
"Relax," Reuel nodded. "I'll assign plenty of Manjuus to each of you."
A hopeful sigh escaped from the four shipgirls.
"Those little yellow chickens are smart. They can already carry cargo and dig holes—they can definitely be trained to handle hoes."
"And you won't be working alone. There will be human support. Additional Administratum staff will be dispatched—top graduates from the Schola Progenium, Hive Training instructors, Hive World veterans, and consultants from the nearest agri-worlds."
"You four will be the face of agriculture… among the shipgirls."