"Helldivers Company, all of you! Emergency assembly in front of Company Command! This is urgent!"
The players, who were either resting at their posts or watching a tabletop RPG session, paused for a moment before springing into action. They dropped what they were doing, grabbed their lasguns, and rushed towards Robert and Joker's location at top speed.
"Holy cow, what's going on? The Company Commander made an all-server broadcast?"
"Emergency assembly! Something big is happening!"
"Hurry, hurry! Don't dawdle, or you'll miss out!"
The players' enthusiasm was instantly ignited. In less than three minutes, a hundred players had assembled in the open space in front of the command post. While their formation wasn't perfectly neat, their surging morale was undeniably real.
Such a large and rapid mobilization naturally alarmed Commissar Walter. With a serious expression, he strode out of his temporary office and went directly to Robert.
"Robert, what is this about?" Walter's sharp gaze swept over the assembled soldiers.
Robert handed the walkie-talkie microphone to Joker, then turned to face the Commissar, explaining concisely: "Commissar, while debugging the walkie-talkie, I unexpectedly made contact with a unit of Adeptus Mechanicus forces in the Mid-Hive. They are surrounded by heretics and are calling for aid. We need to go rescue them."
"Mid-Hive?"
Hearing that term, Commissar Walter's usually composed expression instantly became serious, his brows furrowed: "Are you sure? The giant elevator to the Mid-Hive is the only passage you can take. There will be no friendly forces along the way to provide cover. And, I can assure you, it must be heavily guarded by cultists or some other heretics."
His voice was full of warning: "Reaching the elevator does not mean victory. You will have to fight in a completely unfamiliar Mid-Hive… That means you will have to walk at least tens or even hundreds of kilometers and encounter hundreds or thousands of unpredictable skirmishes along the way."
"Don't worry, Commissar, we are confident." Robert's gaze was firm. He looked at the players who had already assembled behind him, their faces full of excitement and anticipation as they watched him. "Defense won't solve the problem; we must counterattack."
After he finished speaking, he added: "Once we depart, the defense here will be up to you, Commissar Walter."
Walter's expression became somewhat complex. He looked at the young man before him and the group of soldiers behind him, who seemed to know no fear.
After a long moment, he slowly exhaled: "I never thought that after so many years as an Imperial Guardsman, I would be lectured by a recruit who just joined a few days ago."
He reached up and adjusted the military cap on his head, a symbol of authority and death. The shadow of the brim obscured the flicker in his eyes.
"Go. This place will not fall. As long as we are here, the position stands. The Emperor wills it."
Amidst Robert's unwavering determination, the players' almost blind optimism, and the series of military miracles they had previously created, Walter felt a long-lost emotion called "hope." This faint spark quietly ignited in his weathered heart, which had long been hardened like iron by war.
How long had it been since the humans on Perditia had experienced victory?
But he also feared that this fragile spark of hope would vanish in an instant. He dared not place too much expectation on the Helldivers Company.
As a veteran who had survived countless desperate battles, Walter knew better than anyone that sometimes, the greater the hope, the greater the disappointment. If he truly began to hope that the Helldivers Company could lead humanity to victory, what if… what if they were defeated and annihilated? That immense disappointment and grief would likely completely break him, causing him to lose the courage to continue fighting.
And Walter had already made up his mind that regardless of whether hope existed, regardless of whether the outcome was victory or destruction, he would fight until the very last moment.
Having received Walter's assurance, Robert no longer delayed. He turned to face the assembled and eager players, giving the order to depart.
"All units, objective Mid-Hive, move out!"
"Ura!"
"For the Emperor!"
"Charge, charge, charge! Kill those Chaos bastards!"
The players erupted in thunderous cheers. The nearly hundred-strong team, led by their squad leaders, quickly formed a marching formation and majestically exited the Chemical Refinery gates, heading towards the distant, towering hive city central district.
Commissar Walter and his remaining Astra Militarum Soldiers stood at the camp entrance, seeing off this peculiar company. Watching their vibrant backs, an Astra Militarum Soldier accompanying Walter showed deep confusion on his face.
"Sir…" he whispered to the veteran beside him, "The Helldivers Company… haven't they been fighting without rest these past few days? First a defensive battle, then an assault, and now they're going on an expedition… Don't they need to rest?"
Of course, the players didn't need to rest.
For them, death was merely a momentary blackout, followed by a respawn a few seconds later. In most cases, they didn't live long enough to experience muscle soreness from high-intensity combat. As for mental fatigue, that was even less of a concern.
Playing in an advanced game pod was, in itself, equivalent to a deep sleep; at most, continuous play for too long might lead to oversleeping and a slight headache upon waking.
However, the indigenous inhabitants of Perditia knew nothing of these internal workings. In their eyes, this Helldivers Company, formed just a few days ago, was a group of tireless, death-defying war fanatics. They ceaselessly rushed to the battlefield and always brought back victory from blood and fire.
The Astra Militarum veteran who was asked the question watched the players' receding figures with a complex gaze and shook his head.
"Who knows? Maybe they're just made of special stuff," he sighed, his tone tinged with awe and emotion. "But, I think I understand now what separates our regular units from those illustrious legions… At least before, I wouldn't have believed for a second that a company of new recruits could possess such indomitable courage, absolute confidence in victory, and… a track record of continuous success."
Robert, who had already gone far, naturally couldn't hear the exclamations of the Astra Militarum NPCs behind him. At this moment, as he led the team forward, he was rapidly browsing the system store in his mind, considering what type of armored vehicles to add to the company.
Commissar Walter's words were not without merit. Their journey was long, and the path to the Mid-Hive was bound to be fraught with obstacles. Without heavy firepower, relying solely on infantry lasguns and scattered heavy weapons, they would be delayed for a long time if suppressed by superior enemy firepower. If the Adeptus Mechanicus forces in the Mid-Hive couldn't hold out, their expedition would be in vain.
The Helldivers Company needed its own mobile heavy firepower platforms to ensure powerful strikes against the enemy and rapid breakthroughs. After all, based on past experience, most cultists were disorganized mobs; a sudden, fierce artillery barrage would often cause their lines to collapse immediately, allowing the players to easily break through.
Furthermore, even after purchasing a portable walkie-talkie for each squad leader, his merit points were still very abundant. Each walkie-talkie only cost two hundred merit points, and he still had over nine thousand merit points available.
First, main battle tanks were out of the question.
Even the cheapest leman russ "Conqueror" variant cost nine thousand merit points. Once acquired, it would be completely silenced after its Bring your own ammunition was expended. At that point, the only means of attack would be to use the tank to run over enemies—not to mention the mechanical wear and tear on the tank itself, doing so among cultists with psykers would be tantamount to driving a giant tin target into a suicidal charge.
Players at this stage couldn't afford tanks. At least, not until they successfully rescued the Adeptus Mechanicus forces and gained the ability to produce their own ammunition.