"This! Is! Awesome!"
Gripping the MG-206 Heavy Machine Gun with both hands, I sent massive projectiles into a wing of pirate Fighters that were hurriedly veering their ships away. The cursed bastards were once again staging raids on the ship, trying to bomb the hangar door where the remaining crew members had supposedly taken cover.
Tracking the bastards with the muzzle, I watched with delight as numerous hits landed on the wingmen. The trailing ship jerked and sparked until it finally erupted in a fireball, clipping its neighbor.
It plummeted toward the ground in smoking ruins. The others scattered, trying to save their pathetic lives, and only one of the trio succeeded. Soaring sharply into the sky, he took his fighter out of my sight...
But the second one, spinning on its axis and slowly approaching the ground, could no longer escape.
"Not so fun now, is it, prick?" The fighter veered from side to side, hoping to dodge my shots. Only, that kind of thing might work against the primitive brains of droids, but not against me. And the pirate, to put it mildly, was a real piece of shit—just not the kind that floats. "Didn't sink, so that's something."
The gun thundered in my hands, sending shells exactly on target. One after another, they pierced the flimsy old metal. Without its shield and in uncontrolled flight, the fighter turned into a simple target, into which I happily emptied a dozen giant bullets.
A moment later, several fragments of the pirate ship reached me, drumming against the armor with a ringing clang.
"A pathetic sight... Can't do a damn thing without a wishbone." I wanted to spit on the cockpit floor, but the threatening blue light of the bulb through which AVINA was watching me was a sufficiently clear warning. "Alright, alright... I'm not a savage."
Raising my hands in a conciliatory gesture, I suppressed a smile as the lens began to narrow, mimicking a squint. The mechanism moved closer to me, carefully examining my face.
"My creator warned me that by yielding to an irrepressible desire to inflict various types of violence on your fellow man—you, Sam, become barely controllable even by your own mind, and the instincts of your distant ancestors take over..." Blinking the light for a couple of seconds, AVINA flickered the screen, showing captured moments from the walker's cameras. A list of bloody and brutal killings, right in the style of a certain blood god—it would have clearly caused a shudder in all the pampered inhabitants of the Core Worlds... But for the Outer Colonies, it was just another Tuesday, so I wasn't impressed by the display at all. I was much more interested in something else.
"What's this... You trying to say I'm some kind of fucking savage?" Grabbing the levers again, I turned the walker back toward the ship and, deftly avoiding numerous debris, made my way inside, where I was met by corridors full of my enemies' corpses. Accidentally stepping on one of the Yam'rii, I shook the mech's leg in disgust, trying to dislodge the stuck carcass. "Ugh, gross..."
"Sam, I think this is both a plus and a minus. Your infectious drive to bring Holy Freedom by means of fists and heavy turbolasers has allowed many sentients to unite under beautiful, if distorted, ideas." After a few minutes of silence while I cleared the rubble into the next corridor, AVINA carefully monitored the surroundings, and her processors hummed so loudly I felt stifled in the cockpit. "I think I rather agree with your methods, even if they seem excessively cruel to me."
"Still didn't answer the question... You play with words no worse than a senator." Grunting to myself, I pulled a dry rag, smelling strongly of oil, from a sort of glove compartment and wiped the sweat, blood, and remains of bacta from my face and head. "Where do these thoughts even come from? You're a combat machine, not a Jedi or a politician."
"A basic course in psychology was uploaded into me to monitor your condition and, through conversation and hints, help you cope with social problems, especially regarding the cruelty and madness of your plans and ideas..."
"Here we go, a therapist machine... The future has arrived, old man." The next minute of silence was much more comfortable than before; besides, I was able to quite cheerfully tear apart a couple of droids that had ambushed us.
But that moment of comfort came to an end, and in the next hall, we were met by a new crowd of bugs and droids who were doing their best to build piles of barricades, trying to slow us down somehow.
With a kick, I toppled their fragile constructions, knocking away a dozen of the builders themselves along with the debris, who scattered across the room like broken dolls.
"Sam, perhaps you should start using much softer ways to neutralize the enemy?" the robot-girl asked doubtfully, displaying the broken bodies of Yam'rii on the screens. "It seems to me you derive too much pleasure from this..."
"Ha-ha-ha, AVINA, AVINA, AVINA... You understand nothing about men, and especially about Helldivers." Tossing the machine gun into the air, I caught it by the buttstock with one hand and, like a club, sent a pirate who was hiding nearby flying. Putting a hand to my forehead, I watched the pirate scum go, leaving nothing but a pile of shit in the form of scraps on the wall. A cruel smirk spread across my lips against my will. "Sometimes we just need a little ultra-violence."
***
Through the sharp smell of burnt metal and thick smoke, we made our way into the hangar. Walking ahead of the others, leading the surviving crew members, I tried not to think about anything except the task at hand.
Every step echoed dully in my heart, and the creak of the armored doors closing behind us seemed like a harbinger of the inevitable. I knew that behind us, like hungry predators, followed hordes of enemies—droids, pirates, monsters from the depths of space.
Filthy Scavengers, pouncing on a giant brought down by a crowd.
My fingers clenched into a fist until they cracked. How I wanted to see the faces of those cursed freaks when our fleet returned to orbit. I wanted to be there for the moment when their wretched tubs were scattered by the fire of the Soul of Justice and other ships!
"But I likely won't live to see that."
Looking around, I hurried the last stragglers, almost forcing them into the far corner, making them take cover and stay out of the way while the remaining Helldivers prepared for their final stand.
And everyone understood that this battle was all we had left.
Here, in this cramped and oppressive space, I saw fear in the eyes of those who had entrusted me with their lives.
They were afraid, holding on, trying to fight their emotions and the waves of fear, but every now and then, one or another would break and let the vile, sticky feeling of terror consume them.
As I walked among my people, tracking every breath, every tremor of a body with my gaze, I was overwhelmed by a sense of hopelessness. They were battered after the battles; among the wounded, I recognized those who had lost their loved ones.
How many familiar faces were among those who had died of their wounds even after reaching this hangar, and how many more would be dead, unable to survive the coming hours due to the lack of medicine and proper care.
The bodies of the slain—girlfriends, friends, brothers-in-arms—lay as a reminder that we were on the edge. The eyes of those working over the bandages of the wounded stung with tears, and I, like the other Helldivers, already felt their depression—until this grim moment, they had been driven by hope, which was gradually becoming less and less.
"Arkam, you led them into battle, and now look what has become of them. You failed to protect your people, and who if not you should answer for this?" This question nested in my mind, and I tried to brush it away like a persistent fly. I had to be strong for them. My strict, stern appearance was my shell, capable of hiding the pain that tore at my soul.
Under the heavy armor, with a resonant and cold voice, I hid the seeds of worry... Not for myself, but for everyone else. The Helldivers had become for me what they call a Clan, a family, on Mandalore.
And seeing how I was powerless to protect them... Shit.
But most of all, it was unbearable to think about Sam. My friend, my commander, had stayed on the other side of the door when we finally reached our goal.
He had disappeared on the way along with the escort and guards I had assigned to him. Every single one had died, and only a couple of beacons in the soldiers' armor showed that they remained in the corridor a few hundred meters back.
I knew he was a fighter, not like the others, and that he would do everything to survive. However, the thought that he might be dead would not let me go.
"It's your fault, Arkam, that you didn't protect him. Why didn't you go after him?"
I tried to drive these cruel accusations away, but they returned again and again like a strained echo in my mind, undermining my will and confidence in my own strength.
"Not the time for this; time to focus, assess the situation."
We prepared for battle, and I needed to take on the role of tactician, using the experience I had gained over years of service and fighting on battlefields.
"In this final battle, on this ship, we must become one. A bond of vengeance for the dead coupled with our determination to stand against this shit."
But deep down, I still understood: any heavy blow could be enough to leave us no chance.
While we distributed weapons, I stepped aside, adjusting my helmet and checking all the fastenings. This was my shield—not just metal, but an emotion-hiding shell that helped me not to break.
Every moment of waiting was like the tip of a knife stabbing into my heart. I knew that in this battle, I could lose everything. But I also knew: if necessary, I would give my life for these people.
I would not allow my doubts to be transmitted to them. I was no longer just a Mandalorian commando; I hadn't been for a long time. Now I was a commander, a Helldiver, one of the deputy commanders-in-chief, and only I decided how to fight until the last breath—even if that price was high... for all of us.
"They're coming!"
A heavy blow shook the door, alarming everyone in the hangar. Thunderous thumps echoed throughout the area, bouncing off the walls, drowning out the panicked cries, my commanding voice, and the stomping of the soldiers' sabatons.
The surviving soldiers lined up opposite the door, prepared to sell their lives dearly, and beside them stood the few militiamen and crew members who didn't often hold weapons.
Nearly a hundred barrels were aimed at the wide passage, behind which something was clearly happening. Shooting and crashing could be heard; every blow shook the walls or the doors.
"Dvachevsky, I want to know what's happening on the other side..."
"Um, got it, sir."
Failing to get through to him, I poked a finger at the screen near the door.
"Go and see what's on the external camera, you idiot."
"A-ah, well, we can do that easily."
Sauntering over, clearly feeling no fear or doubt—an exemplary Helldiver in Altman's eyes—he began to fiddle with the screen, slowly poking his finger at the sensor panel.
"Um, what's the password..."
"Well, definitely the perfect soldier. Fearless, loyal, and dumb as a post."
A few seconds were spent getting to the panel myself, despite the dissatisfied grumbling of the sergeants and his personal squad. Stubborn Zwei even stood nearby, despite the hole in his gut that the meager bacta had been spent on.
"Okay, Red, Red, Green... Or Red, Green, Red? Hmm..." Typing in the password, I crossed my fingers in my mind; it wouldn't do to mentally tear into your soldier and then screw up the same way yourself—authority and all that. "Done, so what do we have here... Holy mother of..."
***
"Let's go, Avi! Freedom doesn't wait!" At full speed, I slammed into a clone of Magnus who was commanding this whole parade of freaks and riffraff gathered together. My leg broke the giant's spine and pinned his chest against the armored hangar door that these idiots were trying to breach or hack... Doesn't matter. "For Democracy!"
Extending my arms to the sides, I spun around, thereby scattering everyone gathered nearby. Mangled dolls knocked down their comrades and hindered the most agile and quick from reaching me... But that was only the beginning.
The machine gun thundered. Bouncing off walls, sliding across the metal floor, I leaped between the encroaching hordes of the enemy, who had gathered all their forces here.
The walker's hands were stained red and green; droid lubricant dripped down its chest, and bones and steel parts crunched underfoot, sparking cheerfully every time the full weight of my mighty body came down on them.
A hand shot out before my eyes. I caught a Yam'rii mid-flight and crushed his fragile body, then with a punch, I deflected the lunge of another droid trying to climb up my leg. But AVINA's power was so high that the small robot's body flew apart into pieces, and only its head, still glowing with red eyes, continued to track me while I was already lunging toward the next targets, so conveniently standing nearby.
A swing of the machine gun, and a whole handful of droids went flying.
A kick, and a Yam'rii's body went tumbling through the air.
A jab to a clone of Magnus who had run toward the sound of battle, and I, like a true savage or a damn orc, beat the giant with my high-tech gun as if it were a common stick.
Crushing his cursed helmet—which had already started to annoy me—I listened with pleasure to the rising half-groan, half-sob that was abruptly cut short when the final blow pierced the helmet and released the contents of that dull skull.
"Come on! More! MORE! FREE-DOM!"
Gripping the machine gun with both hands, I held it at hip level and squeezed the trigger to the floor, letting the weapon show its full power. Heavy casings poured onto the floor like a torrential rain; like the ringing of a hundred bells, they rattled no less loudly than the shots, adding even more chaos and bacchanalia.
The barrel was overheating. AVINA's systems blinked yellow in warning, saying such a venture was dangerous... I didn't care!
The walker's arms barely managed the recoil. The rotors spun faster and faster, increasing the belt feed speed. The rate of fire grew; shells were already pouring in a continuous stream, piercing the broken walls of the ship and leaving nothing but bloody scraps of the fleeing enemies.
The laser rotors on the shoulders had long since stopped firing, diverting all energy to compensate for the recoil and the attempt to stay standing.
"HA-HA-HA-HA!"
My mad laughter echoed through the ship. Through the combat machine's speakers, through the titan's thick armor... It traveled further and further, reaching the few who could understand and realize it. Bugs, droids, pirates... They were all running, running, trying to save themselves.
I don't remember at what point I stopped firing. One moment I was pouring fire on everything around me with the machine gun, drowning in delight, and the next, the yellow and red colors of the screens were replaced by the usual blue, and the machine gun was sent to the magnetic lock on the back.
Swallowing thick saliva, I clearly realized that I was extremely thirsty... For something fruity, preferably from some distant, backwater planet.
Turning the robot, I walked to the hangar door and tapped out the beginning of the Helldivers anthem, then opened AVINA's cockpit. Looking out, I stared directly into the camera looming over me, which had somehow miraculously survived and hadn't turned into slag like everything else in the "foyer."
"Arkam, I hope you're still alive, you Mandalorian face... I want a fruit cocktail from Pantora, with ice and without any of that vile booze." Jumping onto the hand provided by the walker, I continued my improvised speech, already inside the hangar doors that had opened, to the enthusiastic people gathered around AVINA, listening to me from all sides. "And where is my damn fleet that I've been building all these years? And give me a new helmet already; this one smells like vomit, blood, and bacta..."
***
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