On the dimly lit bridge of the transport and supply ship where the Helldivers were located, filled with the scent of engine oil and incense, Ghostface sat idly in his command throne.
He leaned his full weight against the back of the chair, his legs stretched out casually, his mask staring blankly at the unchanging darkness outside the viewport, adorned with stardust. Around him, bridge personnel were busy at their stations, the flickering lights from data panels reflecting on their focused faces. Only he, the legion's supreme commander, seemed out of place.
Suddenly, a harsh burst of static erupted from the bridge's main communication channel, as if someone had forcibly tapped into the line. The static lasted for a moment, then was replaced by a slightly younger voice:
"Commander, we are currently on the fleet's wide-area channel."
With just that one sentence, Ghostface's previously unfocused gaze instantly sharpened. He shot up from his chair, leaning forward. Ghostface immediately realized the immense amount of information and potential storm contained within.
"Captain!" His voice was not loud, but it carried an undeniable penetrative force, "Broadcast this communication to the entire ship immediately!"
A flicker of hesitation crossed the captain's face, who stood beside him. Broadcasting an unknown communication of unknown content directly to the entire ship severely violated the fleet's communication protocols.
"Commander, this..."
Ghostface didn't look at him, his gaze still fixed on the communication panel. He spoke again, his voice now bearing a tone of command: "I want every single person in the Helldivers Legion to hear this. Quickly!"
The captain felt the pressure and no longer hesitated, immediately issuing the order to his subordinates. Thus, a moment later, a steady voice, through the ship's internal broadcast system, echoed in every corner, from the engine room to the medical bay, from the soldiers' quarters to the weapon decks:
"...Yes, this operation was costly, but the T'au were repelled by us."
Ghostface could tell it was the voice of rogue trader Lucian Greet, one of the War Council members. Therefore, the younger voice just now was undoubtedly his son.
As expected, Lucian's son claimed in the communication that the T'au had not been repelled by Humanity; on the contrary, they had reassembled their forces on Dalis, their main planet in the Fourth Quadrant.
He stated that the expeditionary fleet must face reality; this xenos species was not the small empire occupying one or two star systems as they had imagined. Its territory spanned at least an entire star cluster! What Humanity had faced before was only an insignificant fraction of them, and their full military might was advancing towards here!
It should be noted that the end of this statement was clearly incorrect. The T'au Empire's main fleet must guard their homeworld, T'au, and the vast Red Sun Sector ork Empire also required considerable forces for defense, while the home world of K'or'shan, located on the other side of their territory, also needed heavy guard due to constant raids from other xenos species.
However, for the Humans in the expeditionary fleet at this moment, they were completely unaware of this intelligence. And as Lucian's son, given his identity, he clearly had no motive to lie in such a public setting. Therefore, this statement was like a giant rock thrown into a calm lake, and the fleet's wide-area channel almost immediately descended into chaos, exploding into a cacophony of panic and doubt.
Just as the wide-area channel was completely overwhelmed by the countless questions, shouts, and demands from the captains of other ships, turning into a chaotic electronic noise, Ghostface slammed his hand on the armrest and roared into his communicator, his voice overriding everything else:
"No matter what, the Helldivers will resolutely strike down all enemies of Humanity!"
His voice, like thunder, instantly silenced the entire channel. The chaotic din fell into a brief, eerie silence. Just as the other captains, in shock, were about to retort or express their stance, a cold voice rang out, carrying an undeniable authority.
"Well said, Commander Ghostface. I truly wish everyone had your attitude."
It was Inquisitor Grande.
And so, the wide-area channel fell completely silent. The deathly stillness was more unsettling than the previous clamor. Ghostface knew no one else would speak, and he curled his lip in disdain, casually turning off the communication.
"Why are you getting involved in this mess?" As soon as the communication was off, his adjutant immediately leaned forward, asking in a low, urgent voice.
"What do you know?" Ghostface leaned back in his chair, casually propping his boot-clad feet on the control panel in an almost lazy posture, and retorted, "I'm finding missions for the Helldivers."
"Hmm?" The adjutant made a clear sound of doubt.
"In any era, the army most entrusted with important tasks is always the one that steps forward immediately and unequivocally states, 'I obey orders,'" Ghostface explained at his leisure, "From your perspective, I am rashly choosing a side in the power struggle among the fleet's high command, and could easily suffer in future factional infighting. But in fact, I am merely fulfilling the most basic duty of an army. It's because the performance of the other captains was so poor that I stood out."
He paused, then continued: "Honestly, when I read the original novel, I was also very surprised by the terrible performance of these captains, but now that this scene is actually playing out before me, I naturally went with the flow."
"Didn't you notice? What I just said is as politically correct as it gets in the Imperium of Man. Whether the moderates come to power in the future as in the original novel, or the exterminationists hold power from beginning to end, they won't deal with us—the titans of the War Council are very shrewd; who would be foolish enough to casually break a blade?"
The worry on the adjutant's face did not dissipate. He took a step forward: "Then why did you broadcast that conversation between the rogue trader and his son to our entire ship?"
This was what puzzled him most; pledging loyalty to the higher-ups was one thing, but actively spreading potentially panic-inducing news among the sailors of his own transport and supply ship was another.
"He himself specifically switched to the wide-area channel; if I amplify it further and execute the order two hundred percent, is there a problem?" Ghostface countered, a hint of playfulness in his tone, "Besides, isn't transparency, letting soldiers know what they are fighting for, always been our principle as the Helldivers?"
"Alright, alright," the adjutant finally gave up arguing, raising his hands in a helpless gesture of surrender, "You're the commander, you call the shots..."