Chapter 39 Time Is Running Out

Commissar Yarrick observed the battle situation displayed on the holographic map. Under the command of that pig-headed governor, the sacrifice and bloody battle of the planetary defense army were meaningless. He kicked himself into the Hades Hive of this damn subcontinent and let the soldiers of the main continent die.

The frightened pig-head concentrated all his forces on the defense of the Tartarus Hive, treating the other three orc clans as nothing. The retreating planetary defense army did not even have any decent counterattack, just like the fart spirits driven by the orcs with whips.

According to the report sent two days ago, the orcs invaded the subcontinent and divided their troops into two groups during this volcanic active season. Two of the three clans attacked eastward, directly into the Pale Mountains and rushed to Hades Hive, and the other clan went west into the mountains and headed towards the port of Helsrich.

Yarrick knew clearly that he had no time to waste. He had to integrate all the forces that could be used in the entire hive to resist the invasion of the orcs. God Emperor, he didn't care about his own life or death, he just wanted to save this planet belonging to the Emperor from the greenskins.

He was afraid, afraid that his sacrifice was meaningless, afraid that his dedication would be in vain. But he couldn't show any hesitation or panic. The commissar was the strongest backbone of the entire imperial army. Even if everyone chose to surrender, the commissar would only curse those cowards and then raise everything in his hands to die for the Emperor.

Yarrick sorted out the documents on his desk and walked out of his office. A soldier saluted him at the door.

"Soldier, select the best team and go with me to the bottom to meet those gangsters."

——————

Toxic air, deadly mutant animals, and those dark corners, Yarrick, who passed under a swaying pillar, observed everything at the bottom of Hades Hive.

This was not the first time he came to the bottom of the hive, but the bad conditions of Hades Hive, or the bottom of the hive on the industrial planet Armageddon, still exceeded his imagination. On the way through several huge abandoned refineries and industrial lifts, the temperature of the muzzle of the bolt pistol in Yarrick's hand never dropped.

Those huge fish living in industrial wastewater, if the appearance of that thing can still be called fish, except for the tail and dull eyes that can show a little fish flavor, he can't believe that this monster with arthropods' sharp feet all over its body is an edible fish.

The wastewater that came down from the upper layer was basically sent to the depths of the planet without any treatment. For those industrialists and nobles, purifying and recycling industrial wastewater is a troublesome and wasteful thing. These wastewaters have been discharged downwards without restraint for hundreds of years until the pollution of the entire groundwater system is irreversible.

The soil on the ground is infiltrated by deep wastewater, and the chemical toxicity in it can make the needle of any detection instrument twist to death and never go back. The lush forests and vegetation were dying under the double pollution of wastewater and exhaust gas. So far, only the center of the main continent has retained the huge equatorial forests. These forests have survived the pollution of wastewater and exhaust gas and adapted to them. A unique ecosystem has been formed, in which the plants have become ferocious and huge under the catalysis of chemical agents. They can easily swallow the entire Leman Russ tank into their tough pods, and then use the extracted chemical wastewater to corrode the tank into a pool of metal solution, and then absorb it.

Those mutant animals with different forms make it difficult for any imperial biologist to summarize and classify them. There are new biological mutations almost every day, and a new creature will appear every few weeks, and the old creature will die.

This is why these nests are built within tall and thick metal walls, and under a giant mechanical dome that can block periodic planetary sandstorms and acid rain.

"Sir, we are almost there. Go to the left of the mark made of Hades scorpion shell in front, and we will see the Chameleon gang."

This skinny soldier with short hair and a steel ring on his nose is the result of the Planetary Defense Force recruiting soldiers from the lower-level nests. It is said that he was a gangster who made a living in the lower-level gang. He was arrested by the military police of the Ministry of Justice within a few days of joining the gang and sentenced to serve in the Planetary Defense Force. But he didn't care much. After all, making a living in the lower level is making a living, and making a living in the Planetary Defense Force is also making a living. From being easily shot by the gang leader to being shot by the political commissar, there is no difference in form.

Although Yarrick hated the sloppy look of this gang soldier, his temper has improved a lot since he witnessed the extravagance of those nobles and the ultimate mental retardation of von Straub's tenth-generation single heir. After all, with a very low bottom line, being a gang soldier who makes a living is a great improvement.

Walking past the statue made of Hades scorpions, Yarick's biochemically modified ears heard the sound of machinery rising. Without hesitation, he fired in the direction of the sound. Under the light of the explosive bomb, it was a gang-made automatic machine gun turret. Yarick shot the barrel and ammunition feeding device, and it caught fire.

"What an amazing shooting accuracy. I didn't expect that a big shot like you would come to a place where we scum live. What an honor."

A sturdy man wearing armor welded from building steel plates squatted on the pipe above Yarrick's head, holding a well-maintained hot melt pistol in his hand. Although hot melt weapons generally have the problem of short range, in this hive with complex terrain, it is obvious that there will not be too many opportunities for long-range combat. The power of a hot melt is enough to help any sane person burn his opponent, his bunker, and even the floor under his feet into a pool of flaming molten iron.

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Yarrick looked at the guy above his head with a dangerous look. He also did not dare to act rashly. God knows whether this hot melt pistol modified by gang members shoots hot melt flow or hot melt shrapnel. Even if he gets a little bit of it, he will not be able to get out of here alive today, and there is no way to talk about the sacred oath and duty to protect this planet for the Emperor.

"He is an old thug of the Chameleon Gang, known as Flame Mord." The soldier with a ring on his nose quietly revealed the information of the sturdy man to Yarrick.

"I am Commissar Sebastian Yarrick. I am here to discuss an important matter with your leader."

"Let me guess, you want us scum to help you fight those orcs to death?"

"Not to die, but to serve the Emperor."

"Emperor, Emperor, that sounds good. If the Emperor could really hear our prayers, we wouldn't be living in this damn place."

Yarrick resisted the urge to curse and ignored Reid's disrespect for the Holy Emperor. He squeezed out a sentence from his teeth, "That's because you are too cowardly."

"What did you say? How dare you say that an old thug who has been struggling at the bottom for decades is cowardly?" The angry Reid raised the melta gun in his hand and pointed it at Yarrick and his soldiers.

An MK8 melta gun

"The Emperor never let you live in such a desperate place. It was your own choice."

"Oh my God! Look what weird things I heard! As long as we crawl out of the sewers at the bottom, those damn nobles and officials will loudly scold us as traitors of the Empire, and then send those guys dressed like toy soldiers in for massacre. Now you tell me that these are all chosen by ourselves? Without the Emperor's approval, how could those officials act so recklessly through his mouth!"

"The Empire only cares about tithes and loyalty, not who rules the planet, do you understand?"

Yarrick stared at Reid with gloomy eyes. He swore that if this ignorant guy dared to disrespect the Emperor again, he would fight for his life to kill him.

"Uh, you mean, if we pledge allegiance to the Empire and pay taxes, you will leave us alone?"

"Yes."

"You are lying!"

"I swear in the name of the great God-Emperor, if I tell even a single lie, I will be disgraced after my death and will never see the sacred light of the Golden Throne!"

Listening to the oath of Commissar Yarrick, the fire-breathing Ryder, who only knew how to fight and fight, was also a little confused. Is it really as he said, that the Empire never cares about how the planet is ruled, and it only cares about whether taxes are paid and whether they are loyal? Ryder, who was still a little hesitant in his heart, decided to ask the last question.

"Tithe tax, how much is it?"

Yarrick reported a few numbers, which made Ryder a little difficult to accept. (In fact, I don’t know what the tithe of Armageddon is. The book says that there are 500 trillion people in this world. God knows how to collect taxes, but it must be much lower than the taxes of the planetary governors and nobles. After all, they can exploit as much as they want in the name of the Emperor. And the tithe of the Empire may have never changed since the Great Crusade.)

“You lied!”

Hearing Ryder’s somewhat relaxed tone, Yarrick grinned coldly, “The Imperial Commissar never lies.”