In the command post on the other side, after Herbert left, Robert sat back down in the command chair, his fingertips lightly tapping on the cold metal desktop, still replaying the Inquisitor's remarks about the Astra Militarum in his mind.
Just as he was starting to sort things out, an adjutant walked in and saluted.
"Your Excellency, Commander, Commissar Walter requests an audience with you."
"Commissar Walter?" Robert's thoughts were interrupted, and he repeated the Name with some confusion.
He certainly remembered him. The Astra Militarum Commissar who had fought alongside him in the early stages of the war and always diligently performed his duties, his stern face had left a deep impression on Robert. But why would he want to see him at this time?
Ever since the Helldivers Legion rose like a torrent and took over most of Perditia's military operations, the original Astra Militarum and Planetary Defense Force found themselves in a very awkward position.
They belonged to two completely different command systems from the Helldivers Legion, and more importantly, the players of the Helldivers Legion were not too keen on letting these NPCs go to the main battlefield—in their view, they were just there to steal their kills.
Therefore, after Robert took full control, he thought about it and then assigned these still-structured units to perform daily patrols in the hive city and security work in some important areas. In the past, such boring and tedious tasks were usually taken on by casual players looking to earn exp .
Those players played this game mainly to enjoy the 1:10 thought acceleration, so they weren't attentive during patrols. The only way they usually discovered enemies was by reporting to their superiors at the resurrection point after being ambushed and killed.
Now, with these well-trained NPC soldiers taking on this part of the work, at least the probability of discovering those enemies who didn't shoot and were lurking would be greater.
So, with Commissar Walter's sudden visit, could it be that some remnants within the hive city were planning something big again?
Robert's mind raced, but he quickly dismissed this guess. Now that the overall situation in Perditia was stable, what big waves could those insignificant fellows stir up?
"Let him in," he finally told the adjutant.
A moment later, the door to the command post was pushed open. Commissar Walter walked in with steady, forceful steps, his posture ramrod straight, his black Commissar uniform impeccably ironed without a single wrinkle, and a bright red sash prominently displayed across his chest.
Robert rose to greet him, and the two exchanged a standard aquila salute.
"Please sit, Commissar," Robert gestured.
Walter did not stand on ceremony. He pulled out a chair and sat down, but his back remained perfectly straight, as if he were ready to spring into action at any moment. His gaze was sharp, fixed intently on Robert, and he spoke directly: "Governor, I won't beat around the bush. I wish to return to the battlefield."
Facing Commissar Walter's undeniable gaze, Robert quickly waved his hand, his tone softening as he tried to defuse the overly serious atmosphere in the air.
"Commissar, there's no need for honorifics; it feels strange. Just call me by my name, like before."
Robert's gaze swept across the spacious command post; the pale blue light cast by the holographic star map played across Walter's resolute face. He hesitated for a moment, then continued, "As for your return to the battlefield, I don't object. After all, now that we've re-established contact with the Imperium, we'll certainly have to resume campaigns against xenos and heretics in other worlds."
The implication of these words was very clear: the previous situation where the Helldivers Legion worried about you NPCs stealing kills, and thus deliberately excluded you from the main battlefield, would no longer happen. The enemies outside the Imperium were endless, the market was a complete blue ocean, and supply far exceeded demand.
"But," Robert's tone shifted, raising a practical question, "there aren't many of Perditia's original Astra Militarum left, are there? With all due respect, the Helldivers Legion would not welcome you directly as a senior officer, but if your subordinate units are insufficient in numbers…"
"I understand." Walter's reply was without a trace of hesitation, his back still ramrod straight, as if he were a sculpture merged with the chair beneath him. He stated firmly, "Therefore, I hope you can grant me the authority to recruit, allowing me to train a new unit with the surviving Perditia Astra Militarum as the backbone, and return to the battlefield."
"Why… must you return to the battlefield?" This time, Robert was truly puzzled. "Perditia is stable now, and the blood tithe isn't unpayable. Patrolling within the hive city and maintaining order isn't exactly idleness, is it?"
"I know you arranged these important tasks for us specifically to preserve our dignity, to make us feel we aren't useless dependents." Walter's voice was deep and strong, filled with sincerity, but even more so, with an unshakeable persistence. "For that, I am grateful. But please also understand that to sacrifice ourselves for the God-Emperor on the battlefield is our destiny."
Robert fell silent.
Only the faint hum of the instruments filled the command post. He looked at the Commissar before him, at his weathered yet still resolute face, and suddenly understood. For men like Walter, the ease of peacetime might be more agonizing than the cruelest battlefield. Combat, sacrifice, shedding their last drop of blood for the Emperor—that was not a job, but the entire meaning of their existence.
After a long moment, Robert let out a deep sigh, as if that breath carried away his last shred of incomprehension. He finally nodded, solemnly promising, "Very well, you may proceed with confidence. I will not hinder you logistically."
"Thank you for your understanding." Walter abruptly stood up, his movements crisp and clean, and once again gave him an impeccable aquila salute, his metal boot heels clicking crisply on the floor.
"My deepest apologies," he said finally, his voice imbued with an almost fanatical piety, as if repenting, yet also swearing an oath, "I truly cannot imagine a world without war. I must die for the God-Emperor."
He paused and said,
"For the Emperor!"
Robert slowly rose as well. He gazed at the pure fanaticism and loyalty in Walter's eyes, and an unprecedented emotion surged within his chest. He solemnly raised his hand, returning an equally standard aquila salute, his voice deep and solemn:
"For the Emperor."
This was the most serious and heartfelt Robert had ever been since he started playing this game.