"Buck."
Rovi's clear command rang out from behind his gas mask.
"Go get the spare collapsible fuel bladder from the trailer and drag it over here."
"What?!" Buck thought he'd misheard. "That's for storing fuel, Advisor."
"We need it to store something much more valuable now." Rovi pointed at the leaking incision in front of them. "Pump it out."
"Advisor, this is plague bathwater! It's soup boiled from shit and corpses!" Buck was on the verge of breaking down. "If we put this stuff in the fuel bladder, how are we supposed to store fuel in it afterward? The Ordo will burn us all alive!"
"The Ordo only burns useless trash that can't pay its taxes," Rovi said sternly. "Listen, Buck. Our land is dead. Ordinary fertilizer can't save it. We need stronger medicine!"
"There are viruses and contaminants in here, sure. But once we get back, we can dilute it a thousandfold and sterilize it at high temperatures three times. Then it'll be the best nutrient paste."
When Buck still looked uncertain, Rovi went on. "Buck, you've seen the way those refugees stare at cans of meat. The moment the food supply runs out, hunger will strip away their humanity in an instant and turn them into beasts that tear each other apart."
"When that happens, to balance the Granary's books, we'll have no choice but to throw them into the fermentation pit as inferior raw material and turn them into corpse starch and fertilizer."
"Now tell me: would you rather use a truckload of plague-tainted water to water the fields, or tens of thousands of lives?"
After hearing Rovi out, Buck stopped arguing.
"Now carry out the order. Insert the hose, crank the pump to full power. I'm taking this asset with us."
At that moment, Buck thought