The woman's name was Israel, and unlike the countless downtrodden laborers of the Hive, her mother was a concubine of an aristocrat from the Top Hive.
As a result, Israel was the illegitimate daughter of a nobleman. Although she didn't know who her father was, the highborn blood flowing through her veins spared her from the grueling toil endured by ordinary Imperial citizens. Instead, she had more freedom to observe and think.
As a child, she had heard whispers of aliens hidden among the stars—fearsome beings from beyond the Emperor's light. Among them was the most dangerous species, said to be blue aliens: the T'au.
Curious, she once asked an old storyteller why the T'au were the most dangerous of all alien species. The elder avoided answering directly, instead recounting tales of terrifying alien beings: how they practiced equality, showed kindness to captives, and upheld bizarre ideals. These stories, vastly different from the Empire's official teachings, deeply intrigued her.
Back then, young Israel had innocently asked, "But they don't sound very dangerous, do they?"
"They are," the elder said through gritted teeth. "That's what makes them the most dangerous of all."
The elder didn't provide much detail. His descriptions of the T'au were limited to their blue appearance and habits differing from other aliens.
Now, staring at the strange, blue creature before her, Israel couldn't help but remember the elder's words.
"A T'au?" Doraemon cocked his round head, puzzled. "No, I'm not one of those. I'm just here to help you."
Considering how hostile the other inhabitants had been, Doraemon chose not to reveal his identity as a robot. Given the widespread distrust of machines in his own world—especially after the Iron Legion incident—he suspected the same prejudice might apply here.
"Help me?" Israel hesitated, her gaze cautious. "For the Greater Good?"
"I don't understand what you mean." Doraemon shook his head. He rummaged through his pocket and pulled out a vial of medicine. "I only want to help you distribute these to those in need. If I go myself, I might scare everyone."
Israel's eyes darted between the medicine and Doraemon. The closure of the Middle Hive's tunnels had cut off access to supplies, and medicine was now a lifeline. Accepting it was a matter of survival.
"Alright," she said, nodding firmly.
"Thank you!" Doraemon said, visibly relieved.
He reached into his pocket again and pulled out a Replication Mirror. Placing the medicine in front of the mirror, he began duplicating it. One dose became two, two became four, and soon the ground was piled with vials of medicine.
"I'm not sure if this is enough. If you need more, just come find me." Doraemon's round body leaned forward in a polite bow.
Israel stared at him, bewildered.
This strange, blue creature was helping humans—people it didn't know and who might even be its enemies. And then it had thanked her?
But… wasn't it the one who had just saved her life?
"No… no need to thank me," she stammered.
Seeing the gratitude on Doraemon's face, Israel couldn't help but feel conflicted.
To her, the concept of an alien being so selflessly altruistic was incomprehensible.
---
Meanwhile, Doraemon returned to his makeshift hideout and pulled out another gadget:
Home Satellite.
Using the device, he spied on the gas-masked leader Roy, who was walking among his community. Children with scars and discolored skin played nearby, while Roy gently lifted a stranded child off a high ledge.
The Hive's artificial lights flickered intermittently, casting eerie shadows on the dim streets. As Roy walked, the shadows revealed more figures silently marching beside him.
Some looked like ordinary humans, but as Roy ventured deeper, grotesque and mutated beings joined the procession—figures blessed with the "Emperor's gifts" according to their faith.
At the end of the road, the crowd stopped, bowing before a towering figure wrapped in black carapace armor.
The being, over five meters tall, radiated a terrifying presence. Four muscular arms extended outward in a display of alien grandeur.
It did not speak. Instead, a robed figure holding a staff stepped forward as its voice.
"The Hive reeks of plague," the robed figure declared coldly. "This is no mere coincidence—it is betrayal! A conspiracy! Someone is poisoning the Emperor's holy land. If this filth spreads, the Emperor's armies will abandon this world forever!"
The crowd erupted in fury.
"Damn heretics!"
"War! We need war to protect the Emperor's glory!"
"For the Emperor!"
The zeal and rage of the crowd filled the air. The robed figure nodded in satisfaction before addressing another being beside him—a war commander armed with a massive blade and gun.
"Our investigation has revealed that the first plague victims all purchased a cheap starch-based food product. There is no doubt this is the heretics' method of spreading their poison."
The commander unsheathed his blade and raised it high.
"In the name of the Emperor, we shall eradicate this filth before it consumes the Hive!"