Early in the morning, the desk in the command center was covered with maps and draft papers.
When Leah pushed the door open, she saw Calista standing with her back to her in front of a large regional map, her finger slowly tracing across it.
"Calista? You didn't sleep all night?" Leah frowned slightly as she stepped closer.
Hearing her, Calista turned around. Her gray-blue eyes were still bright, even carrying a hint of excitement, but the dark circles under her eyes and her slightly pale complexion told the real story.
Calista rubbed her temples and gave a tired yet exhilarated smile.
"I couldn't sleep. My head was a mess, too many ideas… I couldn't calm down until I sorted them out."
She gestured at the papers spread across the table, filled with dense writing and sketches.
"Take a look."
Leah picked up a few sheets.
They were covered in Calista's messy handwriting, listing various entries, rules, and preliminary plans.
[Rock Fortress Contribution Point System (Draft)]
[Blackberry Ranch Terrain Analysis and Initial Planning Proposal]
[Personnel Allocation and Skill Registration Form]
[Feasibility Assessment for National Guard Reorganization]
"You… stayed up all night working on this?" Leah flipped through the pages in surprise. The more she read, the more focused her expression became, her eyes gradually lighting up.
"We can't keep acting like a charity, Leah." Despite being born into wealth in this life, Calista had always remained rational and pragmatic.
At its core, she agreed with the idea that in the apocalypse, people are resources.
You could even say she was a softer version of Negan. No terror tactics, but absolutely no free rides either.
With so many extra hands suddenly available, letting them sit idle instead of working or farming would be a complete waste.
She stepped closer to the table and pointed at the draft.
"I'm not going to wear ourselves out just to support a bunch of outsiders. We need rules. Clear and fair rules."
Rick's early philosophy had been "we're all family." The capable people in the group worked themselves to exhaustion, scavenging supplies and clearing walkers.
If you're willing to endure hardship, then you'll just end up with endless hardship.
Rick himself had carried the heaviest burden, taking everyone's weight onto his shoulders. And even then, some people relied on him while complaining about him at the same time.
That kind of dynamic might seem moving in a TV show, but in reality, especially in a world like this, it would only drag everyone down.
Calista wasn't going to allow that.
Why should the people of Rock Fortress be the ones suffering? Everyone needed to pull their weight.
She picked up the draft.
"From now on, all base rations will no longer be distributed equally per person. Food, medicine, better housing, even weapons and ammunition will all require 'points' to obtain.
How do you earn points? By working. By contributing to the base.
Cleaning and helping with cooking earn points, but not much. Search teams, reconnaissance teams, and patrol units that operate outside, high-risk work, earn the most.
Dr. Evans treating patients, Dr. Jenner's research, Mr. Howard's agricultural work, and Elena's water engineering projects, these technical roles should also earn high points."
Leah pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Do our people and the newcomers earn points at the same rate?"
"The same. But our people are already handling most of the high-risk and high-skill work, so they'll naturally earn more than those doing basic tasks."
"What about Mrs. Howard and the others?"
Calista smiled.
"I've thought that through. From now on, the same work earns the same points.
But Rock Fortress was built by us. So starting from the day it was established, we'll retroactively calculate points for our people, awarding initial points based on the work they've already done."
"More work earns more, less work earns less, and no work…" her gaze turned cold,
"then they go hungry. We have no obligation to feed idlers. This is the only way to motivate everyone and prevent people from trying to morally pressure us into supporting them for life just because we saved them."
Leah studied the draft carefully and nodded.
"It's solid. It will filter out those who are truly willing to contribute. But implementation will be complicated. Tracking, supervision, and exchanges will all require manpower."
"That's why we need to refine it quickly. As for those twenty-plus National Guard soldiers, if they're willing to be integrated into our forces, they'll earn points too and receive the same treatment as our mercenaries."
Calista glanced toward the door.
"Rickson should be here soon. Let's finalize the details together."
Right then, there was a knock, and Rickson walked in.
"Calista, you wanted to see me? The resettlement area outside is mostly stable now. Those National Guard guys are actually pretty capable."
"Take a look at this."
Calista handed him the draft.
Rickson skimmed through it, his brow tightening.
After a moment, he set it down and let out a long breath.
"This is exactly what we need. Damn it, someone in the temporary camp just asked me when breakfast would be served, like we're some official relief base.
Watching certain people act like they're entitled to it… I've been holding that anger in. We're doing it this way. Anyone who dares to complain, I'll throw them out to the walkers myself."
Calista nodded.
"I brought you in to help refine it. How do we set fair scoring standards? Who handles recording and verification? What are the exchange rates? We need to work all of that out."
The three of them sat down at the table and began a detailed discussion.
"For the Search Team, points should be based on the value of the supplies brought back and the level of risk. Same for the Reconnaissance Team, based on intelligence value and risk," Rickson said firmly.
"For example, searching for food and basic medicine is one tier. Finding the specialized equipment Professor Elena needs is a higher tier. Exploring unknown dangerous areas should grant even more, maybe double."
"Agreed, but record-keeping is an issue," Leah added.
"Each team should have someone responsible for logging what they bring back. Afterward, a logistics group, say, Bossie and Mr. Howard, can verify and assess it, then officially record it."
"How do we handle medical and research points?" Calista asked. "Those are harder to quantify."
"We can evaluate based on time spent and importance to the base," Leah said after a moment.
"For example, Dr. Evans treating a critically injured patient should be worth more than treating ten minor colds. And if Dr. Jenner makes a major breakthrough, there should be a significant bonus."
"Guard duty and routine patrols should also earn points," Rickson added, tapping the table.
"We can't let only the people going outside earn points. Those defending the base are just as important. We can calculate it hourly, but at a slightly lower rate than field missions."
"What about the National Guard?" Calista looked at them.
"I want to absorb them into our ranks, integrate them with our mercenaries, and form a stronger defensive force. Will they accept the system?"
Rickson stroked his chin.
"I've been watching them. They're disciplined and follow orders. The key is giving them hope and respect.
If they get the same treatment and points as our people, I don't see a problem. But we'll need to make one thing clear. They follow our command completely. No more thinking in terms of their old structure."
"I'll talk to Sergeant Miller about it," Calista said, nodding.
"Now, onto the next priority."
Her finger tapped a spot on the map.
Blackberry Ranch.