(Again, 52 BBY)
"Brag Fesat, I need those cloaks before we arrive at the planet."
"I understand, Boss." Brag Fesat bowed his head respectfully, then looked around as if afraid he had done something wrong. The deputies and assistants standing next to him followed their chief's lead, though sincere bewilderment was written on the faces of some. "I will speak with the Miss right away..."
"Miss? What Miss?" Pretending not to understand, Sam made a dumb face, then slapped his forehead as if remembering. "Ahhh, you mean the Shorty? Well, well, who would have known she's a noble little ass now... and unmarried to boot."
Seeing the Ukian turning pale, then red, and looking ready to faint, the little Jawa decided to take pity on the poor fellow and, stepping forward, boldly turned the holoprojector to face her, then folded her small arms across her chest.
"Having fun?" Over the long years, having fully mastered Galactic Basic, the Shorty still hadn't stopped using a translator, constantly leading newcomers, clients, and everyone who suspected her of ignorance by the nose. Even now, she was dubbing her speech through a vocoder, and only the few who had spent long years with her understood that she was doing it specifically for the rookies. "Tell me. We will get everything."
"Good to see you," a smile on Commander Sam Altman's face looked a bit surreal, which was why some recruits in the technical department were afraid to even breathe. This was especially contrasting for those who were undergoing mandatory combat training, preparing to become techs on ships and in combat units. "Completely forgot about your old friend..."
"We would see each other more often if you returned to Tatooine and Rishi..." Scratching her chin thoughtfully, the Jawa broke into an untranslatable tirade full of curses and insults, though fortunately, she was cursing the mythical air and the whole world rather than the commander talking to her. "...But you took off. Buried us in work. And you're chilling at the other end of the galaxy. You showed up. Threw on more tasks. Who does that, Sam?"
"Sorry, sorry... An important job came up. When I arrive, we'll gather everyone and I'll tell you."
"I hope so. You've been gone a long time. We only show you to the recruits via holorecords." Exhaling, the Shorty reached a hand into the darkness of her hood, where she diligently massaged the bridge of her nose. "Many are wondering. Who is the real commander? You or Somnia?"
"Ooooh, I was only gone for a year, and you've already got a mutiny brewing." Narrowing his eyes, Altman picked up the Jawa's playful mood, though no one but them understood it, so the joke started to go a bit too far. "Brag Fesat, it turns out you've also joined the new leader of the Helldivers. And I asked you to keep an eye on the situation at the base while I was gone..."
Clutching his heart, the aging Ukian looked around, afraid to squeeze out a single word. Despite their long acquaintance, the man still felt a layer of fear and respect for his boss—who was famous as a reckless fighter and a dashing warrior.
Sweating profusely, feeling a panic attack rolling in from all sides, Fesat was already about to repent and confess to all sins, but was stopped by Altman's boisterous laughter and the Shorty's quiet, nasty giggling.
"Ha-ha-ha, no, did you see that, did you see?"
"Of course. You can't hear it through the link. But his teeth are chattering like a sandmouse before Tuskens..."
Exchanging expressions understood only by the two of them, the pair continued their conversation while the grumbling and cursing Fesat stepped aside to pull himself together.
The subordinates who followed him remained tactfully silent, sympathizing with their immediate superior, though each of them was ready to strangle the pair of "jokers" themselves.
"Alright, enough joking." Instantly returning to a serious mood, the Commander of the Helldivers drew the attention of those gathered in the hangar. "You've heard the instructions, I'll send the full volume... though Somnia will surely add something to it."
Tapping his index finger against his chin, Altman closed his eyes thoughtfully.
"But the most important things are the cloaks, a supply of thick moisture-resistant clothing and under-armor... Oh, right. Don't forget a triple dose of antivirals, antitoxins, and other such shit. The planet we're heading to will have extremely aggressive and venomous fauna, so it's worth taking care of that issue in advance."
"Got it, Boss." Thrusting a fist upward, the Shorty quickly scribbled instructions on her datapad. "Weapons? Vehicles?"
"The full set. And take a couple of those walkers; I want to test them in conditions that are tough for them."
"Excellent. It's about time they were taken out into the field. They're gathering a lot of dust in storage." Even through the vocoder, the little Jawa's sarcasm was audible as she continued to fill out lists of necessary supplies and equipment. "Ships?"
"We'll take four Gozanti-class cruisers," after thinking for a few seconds, Sam poked around in his PDA, then added, "the ones for ground operation support..."
"Those tubs? They're useless in space."
"But they're useful on the planet."
"I doubt it. Fine, I've noted it down."
"Three Corellian carriers. And a screen fleet of purely combat ships..." Catching the attentive gaze of yellow eyes from under the hood, Sam looked away sheepishly. "Just in case."
"What have you dragged us into again?" Realizing there would be no answer in front of witnesses, the Shorty continued her work. "Is that all?"
"I think so... Ah, right. Prepare plenty of drinking water supplies."
For a moment, a deafening silence fell over the hall as the Jawa jerkily raised her head to the projector. Tilting it thoughtfully to the side, she stepped closer, switching to a whisper and lowering the vocoder volume.
"You want to take the Jabiimites?" Specifically clarifying, the Shorty hoped to hear a negative answer, but seeing her old friend's face, she realized it was otherwise.
"Correct." Ignoring her look of total indignation, Sam nodded decisively. "It's time they tasted blood in a real fight, not just in minor skirmishes with pirates and slave traders."
"You are definitely dragging us into some Bantha poodoo."
"You'll see." With a careless wave of his hand at the end, Altman scanned the hangar hall. "Alright, see you soon. I'll be with you in a couple of days."
****
Coming in for a landing, the shuttle delivered me to the main spaceport of Rishi, where the main base of the Helldivers currently stands. Although, in fact, we have many branches, fortresses, recruitment points, and other deployment sites, there are two particularly large ones: on Tatooine and Rishi.
I didn't want to go back to those cursed sands that ruined my childhood fantasies, so the smugglers' haven was slowly but surely turning into a true center for the entire sector.
People of all kinds flocked here. For work, in search of a better life, to be hired by the Helldivers, and simply in the hope that it was safe here compared to many other planets in the Outer Rim.
In principle, that's how it was. Rishi had changed significantly in the decade of our presence here. Scant spaceports with a couple of cantinas and an arena for gladiator fights had turned into major cities filled with many representatives of the most diverse races.
The rulers of Rishi—religious folk—couldn't be happier that we took over all the legislative and military aspects, leaving them with only civil duties and work with the population, which was arriving on the planet in industrial quantities.
"And all it took was providing security and stability."
Grunting at my own words, I toss my bag over my shoulder, being the first to step outside. Today I arrived here alone; I decided to quench my adventurer's thirst and walk around the planet, which had completely changed under our influence, without armor or guards.
Pushing through the crowds in the spaceport, listening to the din of thousands of people, I strangely felt delight and satisfaction. Everything around breathed the life of a big city, and the very fact that I was involved in its changes... was inspiring.
Bypassing a pair of Ukians poking a finger at an upside-down map and arguing among themselves, I dodge a pickpocket kid who wanted to rummage through my cloak but instead caught a clip across the ear, after which he vanished at "escape velocity," making a comically frightened face.
"Sazala seeds! Get your sazala seeds! Two decicreds a bag!"
A fat blue alien with crests on his head was shouting across the whole station—shoving bags of white seeds in transparent husks into the hands of passersby.
Next to him sat a dissatisfied old Twi'lek woman who had laid out a variety of vegetables and fruits in front of her, which she was trying to sell, but her shouting neighbor was scaring away all potential buyers, so the Matron was clearly unhappy.
A team of humans dressed in identical athletic clothing passed me. With a bunch of backpacks on their shoulders, they were humming some song, staying in one group and strictly following their route—forcing everyone else to step out of the way.
The leader had a holoprojector clutched in his hands, which broadcasted an image of a pair of Zeltrons singing songs and dancing, showing off their beautiful bodies and clearly hinting at what prize would await the winners upon their return.
"Present your documents, citizen." A pair of Helldivers dressed in lighter armor pulled aside a tall Devaronian with one broken horn. Looking like a devil from mythical stories, the man clearly didn't want the local representatives of power and law in one person for company.
Grumbling dissatisfiedly, he made excuses as best he could, slowly trying to retreat from the pressing Helldivers until two more from the patrol approached him from behind. Unsheathing their electric batons, they struck him across the legs without ceremony or questions, putting the Devaronian on his knees, after which the quartet dragged the xeno behind the nearest corner, away from prying eyes.
Drones flew over my head: mail couriers, recording cameras, and even armed ones. Of all kinds and capabilities, they cruised the skies over Rishi alongside air-taxis and ships.
"Watch where you're going..."
Several Aqualish, surely refugees from the Andoan War, tried to harass a pair of young people. Pushing a snotty boy who was protecting his girlfriend with his chest, they clearly wanted to lead him further into an alley when security drones with rifles drawn descended toward them from above.
A second of astonishment, and the xenos who had fled from conflicts tried to disappear into the crowd.
Peace on Rishi was bustling and alive. Even if this planet would never become as significant and populated as Coruscant. It wouldn't be a center of machine building and piloting like Kuat and Corellia...
But it was a world full of potential and opportunities, and only about ten years had passed.
Catching a bout of melancholy, I ducked into the nearest cafe, ordering the most popular dishes, then sat outside with a satisfied smile, periodically waving off a persistent waitress who kept bothering me with trifles. An ordinary girl with a cute and pleasant appearance, her cheeks flushed and she often mumbled to herself, hiding behind a nearby column, thinking I didn't see.
But right now, I was much more interested in the fruit cake than the flailing of another damsel in distress.
"You weren't in a hurry."
A familiar voice sounded behind my back, after which two girlish palms covered my eyes. The scent of perfume hit my nose, and a couple of hairs fell on my face, though I already recognized the owner by her voice alone.
"Nice view..."
"To the port square and the eateries? Indeed." Chuckling, I was released from captivity, after which Somnia walked around the table and sat down opposite me, lounging casually in a fragile chair that barely held the weight of her armor. Noticing my gaze on her gear, the girl rolled her eyes, waved me off, and beckoned a frowning, dejected waitress. "Don't look at me like that, I'm fresh from orbit."
At my questioning look, Somnia held up an index finger, asking for a minute, and repeated my order exactly.
"So." Tapping her fingers on the tabletop, my deputy watched the waitress's back with a thoughtful gaze, then gave an ambiguous chuckle in a victorious smile. "I was on an inspection at our station. Had to wear standard armor and change the whole team..."
"Problems?"
"Hm, you even have to ask. Snitches, bribe-takers, those fond of pocketing a bit extra, extortionists, and plenty of others." Quickly receiving part of her order, Somnia bit into a piece of cake with pleasure and a lewd groan, letting droplets of sweet juice trickle from the corner of her lips. "Fucking awesome... Mmm, what was I saying?"
"About the problems in the officer corps..."
"Right, right." Licking her fingertips, the girl popped the last piece into her mouth and, with a playful smile, moved on to the next, deliberately taking her time, clearly taking revenge on me for all the business I'd dumped on her. "People have been sitting around too long, Sam."
"..."
At first, I didn't even understand what she was talking about, so I had to clarify.
"I'm saying they've grown fat on power and money, and so they're starting to wither. Assignments are on autopilot, our rears are secure, there are enough volunteers for pirate wars... So many of the old-timers—or the lucky greenhorns who just arrived—have started to lose their minds."
"I certainly wasn't ready for that..."
"None of us were," shrugging, the girl finished her cake and started on something like a smoothie, only purple with green stripes of an eye-searing color, "as if we had any experience managing this many people."
"True enough..." Recalling the sheer perseverance with which we fought the mounting problems... No, seriously! They crashed down on us like a snowball, and each time these problems became larger and more complex. "What do you suggest?"
"We need a job. Something dangerous, harsh, long, and as soon as possible, so we can rotate everyone who's grown a fat ass on a good salary."
Smiling bloodthirstily, the girl leaned closer, resting one arm on the table. A slightly mad glint burned in her eyes, and I almost felt sorry for all those fools who had managed to grate on her nerves, for Somnia clearly intended to send them all into battle.
"And it'll be a miracle if she gives them armor and weapons beforehand, instead of sending them in with bare asses."
"I've already interrogated the Shorty and she gave up all the safe houses," the girl's voice became sultry and excited. Barely restraining herself, she licked her parched lips and exhaled heavily, hitting me with the scent of fruit, "tell me... Who are we going to war with?"
I struggled to suppress a smirk. Despite all her words, Somnia was just as much of an adrenaline junkie as most of us. And as soon as we lived a full-fledged peaceful life, the girl clearly felt out of her element.
And what can you say? Checking papers, fining stupid subordinates, and approving vacations...
Or from the cockpit of an Eagle Shock Trooper, hosing down bastards of all stripes with thirty-millimeter cannons at four thousand rounds per minute?
"Yes," not dragging it out, as I got the feeling she might pounce on me if I didn't say something in return, "Rick sent some work. The Judicial Forces can't intervene in full, but we..."
"Ho-ho-ho, if that polished investigator asked you for something, then I'm already anticipating sleepless nights." Leaning back, she looked somewhere behind me and smirked victoriously again, then returned to the conversation. "Well, don't keep me in suspense!"
"We are heading to Haruun Kal," taking a sip from my glass, I set it on the table with a thud, feeling a similar smile spread across my face, "we'll be hunting Force-sensitive savages in the jungles."
***
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