Chu Guang replied bluntly, “I know. The worst choices are always the easiest, while the best are always the hardest. That’s why we won’t become like them.”

Methods raised a brow. “Then which are you?”

Chu Guang rose from the table.

Glancing at the tear-streaked survivors of Shelter 100 around them, he spoke without hesitation. “We’re in between. Neither the best, nor the worst.”

...

The recovery of Shelter 100 concluded. 22 black boxes were recovered, along with a massive haul of machinery.

Shelter 100 left behind a staggering technical legacy. Most notable were the Turtle-class engineering exoskeletons. They were far better suited than the New Alliance’s standard KV and Miner models for construction in complex terrain. They could even scale vertical workfaces.

Since the supervisors of Shelter 100 had expected to live underground for life, their creativity had long focused on making the shelter livable with limited resources and space.

Then there were the Crunchies.

Their genetic source was likely beetles, but the DNA had been altered beyond recognition, making them effectively a new species.

Their molted shells provided high-quality chitin, usable both for composite armor plating and for carbon-based integrated circuits.

Shelter 100’s database contained complete experimental data and industrial processes for the materials.

With them, the New Alliance could treat the chitin piles in the central shaft like ore deposits.

Given there were still over six million little critters, Shelter 100 would serve as a biological mine for a long time.

Meanwhile, ecological impact studies were underway.

New Alliance biologists noted that West Continent Municipality’s ecosystem, mutated water striders, Battleship shrimps, even Crackleclaw Crabs, were all natural predators of the Crunchies. That’s why they hadn’t spread across the wasteland like Deathclaws.

But precisely because of that, those that survived had grown fiercer. Their abdominal stingers were sharper than a century ago.

Based on Shelter 404’s recommendation, the New Alliance’s Biological Research Institution formally designated their name as Ghostface Bugs in Wasteland Year 213, launching studies into their potential as bio technology and industrial applications.

In short, Shelter 100’s spoils would keep the New Alliance’s research institutes and factories busy for a year.

...

In Shelter 100.

Gazing at the warehouse stacked with machines like mountains, Darkest muttered, “Is there no such thing as a normal shelter in this wasteland?”

The Scientific Expedition Team needed to appraise the haul before settling the Storm Corps’ rewards.

It would take days.

Even if the coordinates and passwords had been handed to them, and all they’d done was pry open the coffin lid, credit for saving the shelter still counted. The final payout in silver coins and contribution points wouldn’t disappoint.

Spring Water Commander had already logged major merit for the players who went deep into the shelter.

Hearing his comrade’s grumble, Spring Water Commander chuckled, “Or maybe normal shelters don’t need us digging them up. Over two centuries they finished their programs, either joining surface settlements or becoming settlements themselves.”

Leaving aside oddities like the Enlightenment Society, blue coats had been joining Boulder Town since the 50th year of the Wasteland Era.

The Enterprise’s roots lay in a single-digit-numbered shelter.

The New Alliance itself had the same origins, even reviving a few shelters on the brink of failure.

“Survivor bias, huh?” Darkest sighed, then glanced at the metal orb riding its spider-bot, smirking. “By the way... why are you out here?”

Bell, perched on the machine, rolled its head indignantly, “You’re asking me? I should be asking you! Didn’t you promise to make me a museum guide? So where’s this New Alliance museum? How long do I have to stay in this dump?”

Darkest shot it a strange look.

Can the weird robot really sell tickets?

Just then, footsteps echoed outside. They turned to the doorway, where a stranger stood. They weren’t alone either. A loose crowd, nearly 100 people strong, stood behind him.

They wore blue coats, but their skin was lifeless gray. They were like mannequins in a dusty shop window.

No doubt, they were androids.

Yet their artificial traits were deliberately obvious, even crude. All of them were bald, all with only vague outlines for features.

They looked exactly like Frost and Eclipse when they had first come to the New Alliance.

Darkest hesitated before gasping in shock, “Who are you?”

“My name... is Googel.” The man seemed to recall it only after a pause. Hand to chest, he bowed slightly. “We are survivors of Shelter 100.”

Darkest froze.

Spring Water Commander’s face mirrored his shock.

Bell stared wide-eyed at the android.

“Googel?! You? You... actually came back? Strange. My master said the cowards all died, and that he would die soon too. Why are you still alive?!”

At Bell’s babbling, sorrow flickered across Googel’s abstract features. He sighed, unwilling to recall further, and turned to Darkest and Spring Water Commander.

“The people here told me we could find you, and through you, find the administrator.”

Spring Water Commander steadied himself, then asked with a strange look:

“What do you want with him?”

“We wish to see him again.” Googel paused, then spoke earnestly, “We intended to rest forever in Shelter 101, but it can no longer bear our guilty souls. So rather than spend our last days in remorse, we wish to fulfill the dreams of those who died because of us. If you mean to rebuild the wasteland, our knowledge may be of use, and perhaps ease our torment. We hope he will take us in.”

Spring Water Commander opened his mouth to reply, but a resonant voice rang from outside.

“The New Alliance is not a charity. We do not take in anyone.”

All eyes turned to the source of the voice.

An azure exoframe stood in the sunlight, smiling at the group at the warehouse door.

“But...”

As Spring Water Commander expected, the tone shifted.

“... Anyone who sincerely longs to end the wasteland, and chooses of their own will to devote themselves, we welcome them. Whether they are living, or already dead.”

Seeing Googel’s features flickering slightly, Chu Guang extended his hand.

“Welcome, survivors of Shelter 100. Tell me what skills you have, then we can begin.”