Shipping goods from the game to the World of Warhammer

More than a dozen weapons opened fire simultaneously, instantly filling the bridge with muzzle flashes and the whistling of explosive rounds. The boy in agony, who was crouching on the star chart platform, was knocked to the ground by the intense firepower, and the holographic projection platform was also blasted with several smoking holes.

But Rhodes didn't have time to confirm whether the green-skinned guy was completely dead, because a second white light exploded next to the spare control panel on the left side of the bridge, and another green-skinned gun-wielding kid was teleported in.

The flashy kid was clutching a crudely made double-barreled rifle—a green-skinned gun—made of iron pipes and springs. The muzzle was thicker than Rod's fist, and the gun was covered with crooked, unidentified patterns painted in red paint.

The moment the gun-wielding kid landed, he pulled the trigger, not caring whether there was a target in front of him. He fired a burst of shrapnel at the ceiling, shattering the overhead lights. Sparks and glass shards rained down on the floor.

Then another chaotic battle ensued.

"Bridge corridor, new intrusion signal!" The Thinker's alarm sounded again.

Rhodes looked up and saw a flash of white light on the circular patrol corridor above the bridge, and another green-skinned kid was teleported out.

However, this one was incredibly unlucky. Its teleportation point happened to be at the outer edge of the corridor. The moment its feet materialized, they landed on the outer edge of the corridor railing, causing its body to lean backward—

"Waaaa——"

A long howl came from overhead. The green creature, flailing its limbs, plummeted straight down the corridor. On its way, one hand tried to grab the edge of the huge transmission gear set below the corridor, but its fingers were bounced away by the rotating teeth as soon as they touched the gear teeth. The entire green creature tumbled and disappeared into the maintenance shaft at the bottom of the bridge. The howl grew farther and farther away, and finally fell silent.

There was silence on the bridge for about two seconds.

Everyone looked at each other in bewilderment.

A bridge officer instinctively walked to the shaft opening, peered down, and then silently retreated, his expression complex.

No one commented on this.

As the fourth and fifth beams of white light appeared almost simultaneously in different locations on the bridge, two more gun-wielding kids were thrown in. One of them was relatively normal, firing as soon as he landed. The other had half of his body stuck in the gap of the gear assembly below the corridor, with his upper body outside and his lower body between the gears. His two short green legs were kicking wildly in the air, and he was roaring angrily, but he just couldn't get out.

The bridge is no longer a command center, but has become an arena where green-skinned creatures spawn randomly.

While directing his officers to clear the intruders from the bridge, Rhodes took control of all human combat units on the ship via the psionic command network.

Inside the corridors of the Christina, the battle had already begun.

Marines formed a fire blockade in the corridors of each compartment, with Gauss rifles firing incessantly. High-velocity projectiles struck the thick skin and muscles of the green-skinned soldiers, but the soldiers seemed unfazed and charged forward with their weapons raised.

They charged forward, howling, carrying all sorts of crudely made weapons. Although the randomness of their teleportation often resulted in taking down a group of green-skinned soldiers first, and the accuracy of their firearms was unpredictable, with bullets frequently hitting their own comrades in the back.

But there were too many of these greenskins, and their pain tolerance was ridiculously high. Some of the greenskins had already been hit by several Gauss rifle bullets, and blood was flowing all over the ground, but they were still howling and charging forward.

The Reapers played a crucial role in the narrow side corridors. These lightly armed assault soldiers, equipped with jetpacks, used the ship's complex pipes and maintenance passages to move at high speed, using double-barreled pistols to accurately shoot the Greenskins in the head at close range, and then using their jetpacks to jump away from the contact, preventing the Greenskins from getting close.

The Marauders' grenade launchers were positioned at several key junctions between compartments, using area-of-effect weapons to block the passageways where the Greenskins were most concentrated. The force fields of the gravity shock grenades distorted and exploded in the corridors, knocking groups of Greenskins to the ground.

Medics moved behind the lines of fire, their healing beams constantly sweeping over wounded Marines, maintaining the operational capability of the entire defensive line.

But what truly captured Rhodes Flower's attention was the fire bat.

The firebats, clad in CMC-660 heavy power armor, were organized into two-person incineration squads, following behind the main combat force. Their mission was not to engage in direct firefights, but to deal with the corpses of the greenskins on the battlefield.

Whenever a battle in a corridor ends, the Firebat Squad immediately moves forward, unleashing two-meter-wide jets of plasma from their twin-barreled destructive jets, completely incinerating the fallen green-skinned corpses from head to toe. The blood splattered on the floor, the scattered tissue fragments, and even the blood stained the walls are all reduced to ashes by the intense heat.

This is not a waste of firepower, but a necessary epidemic prevention measure.

The Ork, or Greenskins, are biological weapons of war left behind by the Ancients. They possess a characteristic that plagues almost every race in the galaxy: their regeneration and reproductive abilities are absurdly strong. If even a small fragment of an Ork remains in a suitable environment, it will soon begin to grow, divide, and eventually grow into a completely new Ork.

If you want to harvest a tribe of greenskins, the method is very simple: find a habitable planet, drop a small piece of greenskin remains or tissue samples onto it, wait patiently for months to years, and you will harvest a large group of green creatures that will wave weapons at you and howl "Waaaaaagh".

Of course, this assumes you can control them, but the answer is usually no.

Therefore, Rhodes absolutely could not allow even the slightest trace of Greenskin tissue to remain on the Christina. If a piece of debris were to fall into some inconspicuous gap in a maintenance pipe, a few months later, he might find a nest of howling Greenskins on the planet he had visited—the mere thought of that scene was enough to send chills down his spine.

The firebats diligently carried out their incineration mission, the corridors filled with the acrid smell of burning organic matter and the pungent odor of plasma combustion. After each area was cleared, Rhodes also had the Marines collect the teeth left behind by the green-skinned creatures.

Orc teeth serve as currency in Greenskin society. Rhodes wasn't sure if he could find a place for these teeth, but since they were spoils of war, he'd keep them for now, since they didn't take up much space.

However, even though the firebats were highly efficient at burning, the marines and raiders also had fierce enough firepower, and the battle remained deadlocked.

The enlarged teleporter on the orcish megalith was feeding greens into the Christina like it was free. The teleportation accuracy was still terrible. Every now and then, greens would be teleported into the wall with only half of their bodies showing, or they would appear directly in the airlock and be sucked away by the vacuum. But even with such a terrible loss rate, the number of greens pouring in was still increasing visibly.

After cleaning the bridge, Rhodes stood in front of the tactical console, staring at the constantly refreshing red markers on the holographic screen, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper. This couldn't go on; relying solely on defense and mobbing would never end them. As long as the teleporters on the orcish megaliths were still operating, these greenskins would keep pouring in like a flood.

He must address the problem at its root.

Rhode opened the system shop panel in his mind and quickly scanned the list of unlocked units.

You're teleporting to steal my base, right?

Come on, let's go straight for it.