Apocalyptic Rebirth: With a repairman system space, she rises again.-Chapter 618: Breeding of greed.

Heath cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet of the mess hall. He stood up, wiping grease from his beard with the back of his hand.

"Alright," Heath announced, his voice booming. "I’ve heard enough. And I have to say that this has given me a purpose. I have found my purpose."

"What do you mean purpose?" Arwin asked, leaning back. "To trade? To an alliance? That would be great, we can trade grain for advanced medicines and weapons. Finally, we will not have to be afraid of all the superhumans the Watchers are throwing here. Maybe we can build our own territory like the way the Quinn’s have built Fortress Four. I already have ideas; you are going to love them."

Heath put a hand on his son’s shoulder and grinned, a predatory glint in his eye. "Why get horns when you can have the entire bull? We need to come up with a plan and loot every single thing they’ve got."

The room went dead silent. Arwin froze with a cup halfway to his mouth. Paula stared at him, her fork clattering onto her plate. The dining hall, once filled with the clatter of silverware and the warmth of a reunion, turned cold enough to frost the desert air.

Arwin stared at his father, his appetite vanishing faster than a mirage. He knew Heath Burton was a man of many vices_ selfishness and vanity being his primary hobbies_ but this was a new level of delusion.

"Are you serious right now?" Paula asked, her voice flat. She didn’t look shocked; she looked like someone watching a car wreck she’d predicted weeks ago.

Heath settled down, his chair creaking under his weight. He popped a piece of gristle into his mouth and chewed with a thoughtful, rhythmic smack. "Serious as a sandstorm, girl. Look around. The Drift lands are gasping their last breath. We are overpopulated and superhumans are escaping my control. The heat is rising. Disease is spreading. The wells are coughing up mud and rust. Yesterday, the hunters brought back three gazelles, and two of them were already half-rotted and the other was so dry. The land is souring."

He sighed, a rare moment of genuine fatigue crossing his weathered face. "And don’t get me started on the desert. Those mutated worms are as big as anacondas, and they are coming further inland every night. If they don’t eat us, the mutated beasts from the Northern mountains will. We’re sitting ducks in a drying pond."

Arwin pushed his plate away, the sound of ceramic sliding on wood echoing in the quiet room. "So, let’s go to the Quinns, father. They have technology we haven’t even dreamed of. They have water systems that turn toxic water into drinkable one. Heck, they can turn urine into water and use it on their farms. They want grain and we have seeds to trade. If building is so hard, then we ask for sanctuary. We join them. They have a whole city; we can fit there."

Heath let out a bark of a laugh that sounded like a shovel hitting stone. "Join them? You want me to bend the knee to the Quinn’s? I was leading companies before Hades Quinn could negotiate his first deal. I’ve spent my whole life making sure no man tells me when to piss or where to sleep_ I am a Burton. That’s not an option, boy. Never was. Being turned into a beggar is not in my cards."

Arwin’s face reddened. "The Quinn’s saved Paula’s life! They fed us, they gave us this war craft to return home, and they treated us like equals. And your ’thank you’ is to plan a home invasion?"

"Exactly!" Heath shouted, slamming his fist on the table. "They showed mercy to my daughter. Because of that, I’ll be a gentleman. When we take Fortress Four, I won’t kill them. I’ll let them leave with their skins intact. That’s more than most would get from Heath Burton."

"Fortress Four has a formidable army, father," Arwin countered, his voice rising. "They have soldiers who have fought more wars than your mercenaries ever will."

Heath wrinkled his nose as if he’d smelled something foul. "Army? Is it the flying suits you mentioned that worry you? We’ll have a solution for that. I have desperate men with nothing to lose. I’ll make alliances if I have to. I’ll pull in other dying territories. One way or another, that sanctuary is mine. Or at the very least, their armory is. Imagine our boys with those pulse rifles. We wouldn’t just survive the desert worms; we’d hunt them for sport."

"We can just trade!" Arwin yelled, standing up. "It’s simpler! It’s safer! It doesn’t involve a massacre. What in the world is going through your mind right now. They are good people who want to help us, must you make enemies of them?"

Heath scowled, his eyes narrowing into dark slits. "Grow some balls, Arwin. You’re talking like a poet, and poets don’t survive such times." He turned his head slowly toward Paula, who had been sitting in unnerving silence. "What about you, Paula? You always were the one who thought with your head instead of your bleeding heart. Tell your brother how the world actually works."

Paula clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, a sharp, rhythmic sound. She looked at the high-tech war craft visible through the window, then back at her father. "Father’s right," she said calmly.

The room went silent. Arwin felt like the floor had just dropped out from under him. "Paula!?" he yelled, his voice cracking. "Are you out of your mind? You were there! You saw how they lived! And you would be dead if they sent you away."

Heath threw his head back and roared with laughter, a triumphant, ugly sound. "That’s my girl! God, I love it. We have so much in common, you and I." He leaned over and slapped the table, looking at Arwin with pure mockery. "I swear, I wish Paula had been born with the cock and not you. You got the hardware, but she got the drive."

Arwin’s face went from red to a ghostly, furious white. He pushed his chair back so hard it flipped over, clattering loudly against the stone floor. "I’m not doing this," he hissed. "I won’t be a part of this... this wickedness. You’re talking about destroying the only good thing left in this world because you’re too proud."

Heath’s smile vanished. "Sit down, Arwin."

"No."

"I said sit down." Heath waved a hand toward his men lining the walls. "Grab him. He needs a night in the basement to clear his head."