18 Floors Above the Apocalypse novel Chapter 548

Stella could barely hold back her eye roll at Bran's shameless familiarity. "Feeling any better?"

Bran didn't miss a beat. "I told you, Dad's as tough as they come. He's got enough good vibes to fend off any illness. Even the Grim Reaper would think twice before messing with him. He'll hit a hundred, easy."

Stella let out an involuntary snort.

"Anyway, sis, the bodies on the cargo ship have been taken care of, and I've had the crew clean out the hold."

Bran got back to business. "There's quite a bit of cargo left. What's your plan for it?"

Daniel's condition wasn't critical anymore, just needed ongoing treatment for a full recovery. It was time to deal with the cargo ship.

Stella thought for a moment. "Keep the fuel on the ship. Glass, steel, timber—bring all that back here. Toss the moldy food, split the good stuff—half for me, half for you. If the military handles the glass, compensate them with the fuel. If it's civilians, pay them with food or meds."

"We'll take care of it and hand over the fuel we earn," Bran, ever the slick negotiator, chimed in. "We can take less fuel, maybe throw in a couple extra pounds of food for each soldier. How does that sound?"

What could Stella say? Bran was turning over the fuel to curry favor with the higher-ups while securing loyalty from her own troops with some extra provisions. A sly fox like Bran could make it anywhere.

If only the world hadn't gone to hell, he could've been a match for Shane in the business world. Of course, he could just as easily have ended up in jail or wrapped his sports car around a tree.

"Sis, you and Bro-in-law have been too good to me. I couldn't possibly take more from you," he said, feigning righteousness. "Don't worry, I've checked the cargo thoroughly. Nothing will go missing."

Stella, tired of his babble, took a deep breath and rubbed her forehead. "Split the food evenly, and the soldiers' pay will come out of my share."

"Bran, how can I possibly—this is stuff you and Bro-in-law risked your lives for..."

"Divvy up your share with Mark. I'll drop by and check on him in a couple of days."

Bran, always quick to speak, "Sure thing, sis."

Too late to bite his tongue now! He was proud to be under his sister's command. "Where do you want the glass delivered? Your place doesn't have the space."

Stella had plans. "I'm thinking of building greenhouses, but without the fittings and rivets..."

"Don't underestimate our Aussie ingenuity, sis. Nobody's dying from holding their pee around here," Bran boasted confidently. "Leave it to me, I'll get those glass greenhouses up in no time."

Considering his track record of being a lovable rogue, Stella's internal alarms went off. "You sure?"

"What's not to trust? With thousands of brains at Griffith Base, building greenhouses is a piece of cake. You just wait and see."

Thinking of his recent contributions and the Project Genesis, Stella decided to take a chance on him. "Alright, let's see what you can pull off."

Bran beamed, his grin stretching ear to ear.

With that decision made, she felt a sense of relief, hoping the day she'd have to turn on him would never come.

After breakfast, once Vanessa had gone to work, Stella popped next door. "Why aren't you on an IV drip?"

Daniel explained, "The hospital's overrun. Auntie Sue said she'll come by at noon."

Stella brought out some chicken soup to help him regain strength, then set up the IV drip for him. Noticing the handwritten documents still on the table, her expression darkened. "You're working yourself to the bone. Are you seriously trying to kill yourself?"

Daniel brushed it off. "The important stuff I've delegated to others."

Having narrowly escaped death once more, and with his daughter's concern, he was more open to discussing the challenges at work. "Military's fine, it's the civil matters that are a headache."

Stella was already aware of the issue. If Daniel could manage the thirty thousand people at South Base, the mere five thousand soldiers here were child’s play. But South Base was a military operation through and through, whereas Griffith was not just a military base, but one led by military personnel. Militarizing all survivors was an impossibility. Yet, if the military became too civilian, the base would descend into chaos.

In a modern society, military and politics need to be separate entities, parallel lines that only intersect during turmoil. They're complementary, yet they don't interfere with each other. Governing a society requires not brute force but wisdom.

Under the watchful eyes of the military, survivors wouldn't dare to commit serious crimes, but petty theft and brawls over trivial matters were daily occurrences. Expecting stern and stubborn soldiers to judge such petty disputes fairly would only inflame tensions. It wasn't exactly a capital offense, yet it wasn't something you could just shrug off with a shot from a gun barrel either. Day in and day out, they were completely drained by the never-ending circus of chaos.

Stella couldn't bear the thought of him working himself to the grave. "Have you ever considered," she mused, "completely separating the military from the political side of things?"