The purge operation went very smoothly, even exceeding Frederick's expectations. The swiftness the Helldivers showed while executing the mission was a stark contrast to their usual laziness in the camp.
While this satisfied Frederick, it also further highlighted the contradictions within the unit.
He returned to the temporary command vehicle set up in the center of the camp. Inside, the data panel constantly refreshed various parameters, showing fuel consumption, ammunition quota, and the completion status of each squad's mission. Everything was orderly and met every standard of military regulation.
Just as Frederick was reviewing the post-battle report, and the sense of order belonging to a Commissar was being satisfied in his heart, a burst of hearty, almost boisterous laughter came from outside the vehicle.
"Hahahaha! Commissar Frederick! Your order today was spot-on! That ghost garden of the bugs is completely gone, not a single hair left!"
Accompanying the voice, the command vehicle's door was forcefully pushed open, and Freeman strode in confidently.
He was followed by Yujiro, and Sanji, who was laboriously digging canned ant-beef out of a military ration tin with a trench shovel and shoving it into his mouth.
Frederick glanced at him, quite used to this sight. In his many encounters with this man, Sanji, the Regimental Chief of Staff, was either sleeping or eating canned ant-beef, making one seriously doubt whether he was a man or a pig.
Freeman was clearly in high spirits. He spread his arms, ready to give the rising Frederick a warm embrace.
However, Freeman's momentum-filled rush abruptly halted on the smooth metal floor for some unknown reason.
The man suddenly lost his balance without warning, and with an extremely textbook, extremely embarrassing posture, he collapsed with a loud "thump," hitting the ground spread-eagled. The collision of his heavy carapace armor with the floor let out a grating, dull thud.
For a moment, the air inside the command vehicle seemed to freeze.
Yujiro's facial muscles twitched violently, but he ultimately couldn't hold it in, turning around to cover his mouth, his shoulders shaking fiercely.
Sanji silently raised his hand and covered his eyes with his palm, as if unable to bear witnessing the humiliating scene.
And Commissar Frederick was completely stunned. His mind was blank, utterly unable to process the information before him.
Who had ever seen a Regimental Commander of the Imperial Guard trip so cleanly and thoroughly on a flat floor with no obstacles? This kind of thing simply hadn't happened.
In the midst of the awkward silence, the culprit, Freeman, remained exceptionally composed.
He tried a 'carp jump'—failed, so he switched to propping himself up with his hands, climbing off the floor without changing his expression, and then methodically dusting the dirt off his carapace armor, as if nothing had happened.
He looked back at the stunned Frederick and seriously explained: "My apologies, this black gas mask, after wearing it for too long, makes it hard to see the road clearly."
This excuse was so outrageous that Frederick was momentarily at a loss for how to respond.
He opened his mouth, but realized that any words befitting a Commissar—whether a reprimand, a query, or a concern—seemed utterly inappropriate at this moment.
Finally, he could only nod stiffly, squeezing a few words through gritted teeth: "—Be careful, Colonel Freeman."
"Yes, yes, yes," Freeman waved his hand nonchalantly, immediately pulling the conversation back on track, as if he hadn't been the one who just fell.
"Commissar, I'm here to report that the purge operation is completely finished. Fuel consumption was seven percent lower than expected, and the soldiers' morale is high. Everyone is saying they finally got to do something satisfying!"
"Finishing one mission and earning double merits—who wouldn't have high morale?" Sanji muttered indistinctly, still chewing a large piece of meat.
Looking at the commander who had been flat on the floor one second and switched to reporting mode the next, Frederick took a deep breath, forcing himself to ignore the absurd interlude and focus on official business.
Frederick's voice returned to its usual steady seriousness: "The mission was executed well. However, this report could have been handled via communication. The three of you coming here personally means there's something else, correct?"
His sharp gaze swept over Freeman, Yujiro, and Sanji. In his view, these three gathered together wouldn't just be for a minor issue like reporting work.
"The Commissar truly has sharp insight!" Freeman clapped his hands, the smile that Frederick found somewhat inscrutable returning to his face.
"There is indeed another matter. We just received an encrypted message on the comm channel; it's an allied identification code. A regiment of Helldivers will be passing through our defense sector, expected to arrive in about three hours. They plan to make a brief stop here for rest and intelligence exchange."
"Allies?" Frederick raised an eyebrow. "Which regiment?"
"The 266th Regiment, and they even have a serious name: 'The Tempests'." Freeman replied.
Hearing the name, Frederick paused slightly, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes: "'The Tempests'—I've heard of this regiment."
"You have?" This time it was Sanji's turn to be surprised. He leaned closer curiously. "That shouldn't be right. Aren't you Commissars all newly assigned to this sector? Where did you hear about them?"
"I didn't hear about them on the battlefield," Frederick's tone became subtle. "Before coming here, I was speaking with a colleague who graduated from the same Commissar Academy. The regiment she was assigned to had this very name."
"She?"
Almost instantly, three voices simultaneously echoed the question. Yujiro's voice was even quicker, carrying a hint of undisguised gossip: "A female Commissar?"
"Yes," Frederick confirmed. He seemed to be able to imagine the expressions beneath those guys' gas masks. He decided not to prolong the suspense. "You'll meet her soon anyway, so I'll tell you the name: her name is Serri Harris."
"Ooh~" Yujiro drew out the sound, saying in an exaggerated tone, "Could it be that—this game is finally transforming into the more appealing kind of genre?"
Frederick retorted: "Instead of thinking about things like that, you should instead consider just how ruthless a woman must be to become a Commissar."
"I get it," Yujiro immediately slapped his breastplate, feigning sudden realization. "A tomboy, a shrew, a tigress, right?"
The corner of Frederick's mouth curled into a half-smile: "A fairly accurate summary—but you'd better not let her hear you say that personally."
"Tch, she's still a woman. It's not like she's going to eat me alive, is she?" Yujiro muttered under his breath.
Sanji swallowed a mouthful of ant-beef and chuckled slyly, moving his eyebrows in a shameless fashion: "Maybe it's that kind of 'eat'?"
"Get lost!"
Freeman cleared his throat, interrupting the slightly off-topic discussion: "Alright, alright, be serious. The arrival of allies represents the face of our regiment. The two of you go and inform the men.
Tell them to straighten their crooked hats, and anyone who isn't properly dressed, get back to your tents. Don't come out and make a spectacle, especially don't embarrass our Commissar Frederick!"
Freeman's words sounded high-minded, but Frederick could only sigh inwardly. Wasn't the military discipline and appearance of a unit supposed to be the commander's face?
How did it become the face of him, the newly arrived Commissar, in Freeman's hands?