The engines of the passenger ship, which had been flying the same beaten path for years, flared with renewed vigor. A desperate attempt to squeeze a bit more out of the engines to escape the pursuers ended in failure.
Flickering one last time, the flame died out, and the ship began to slowly lose speed while precious oxygen continued to leak into open space from the damaged side. With rare flashes of fire, personal belongings of passengers, and sometimes the sentients themselves, occasionally flew through the breach.
Swearing and cheering simultaneously, the captain of the pirate ship watched with delight as each frozen body crashed with a thud against his ship's frontal armor. The bodies of Humans and aliens shattered into bloody shards, which were instantly swallowed by the infinite void of space.
With every minute, the pirate vessel drew closer. Continuing to send laser bolts into the back of the fleeing carrier, the raiders methodically stripped it of its last chances for salvation. Weapons, communications, engines, and even the emergency evacuation system...
Everything was methodically and professionally shot out, plunging the people on the ship into terror. With frightened, tearful eyes, they huddled together in fear, flinching every time a new portion of red-hot tibanna struck the hull.
Refugees and simple laborers, small-time Traders, low-skilled mechanics... Simple sentients of various species. Among them were no soldiers or seasoned mercenaries, only a couple of hunters from distant planets who had decided to move to safer places...
But irony is a heartless bitch, for far from all ships with hundreds of such enthusiasts and refugees reached their goal.
Desiring a better life, confident in happiness on planets under the protection of the famous group of mercenaries and Freedom Warriors, people left their settled places and rushed to another part of the galaxy, hoping to find a better life there.
But in the end, they became slaves in endless production facilities or in houses of pleasure. A grim fate.
A new explosion thundered in the area of the shuttle hangar. An all-consuming flame flared for a moment in open space, then instantly evaporated, as if erased by a child from their drawing.
The carrier trembled. Slowing down even more, it shook for a couple of seconds before jerking sharply, and then all the passengers heard the airlocks connecting.
"Hush, my sweet, everything will be all right..."
A young woman, sitting apart from everyone else, stroked her little son's head with care and affection. Ruffling his thick blonde hair, pressing the tiny body to her chest, she looked without fear at the single door leading into the ship's interior.
Resolve was frozen on her face, and the blaster at her belt pushed her toward foolish and desperate acts for the sake of saving her only close person.
Calming her son, the girl felt that with every second, doubts were leaving her. Hearing the stomp of the slavers' boots, the young mother prepared to do whatever it took to protect her child and stay with him.
The aura of terror grew. People spoke louder, and children's crying and women's tears mixed into a gruesome symphony of despair. The few men, ready or able to fight, stood in front of the door, shielding their loved ones with their bodies, but in each of their minds, a realization flickered like a bright dot in the darkness — even if they miraculously won, they still wouldn't be able to do anything with the ship.
"Mom, I'm scared," still mangling his words, the little boy reached his hands to his mother's shoulders and, hugging her, tried to press into the girl even harder, "pirates... those are pirates."
"Yes, honey." Smoothing the boy's soft blonde hair again, the girl couldn't hide a smile looking at her child. "Sit quietly, dear, it will all be over soon..."
But before the girl could finish, an explosion ripped through the ship. The shockwave shook the carrier, dropping people to the floor. The ship's corridors and hangars were painted in the crimson colors of an alarm. The captain's hysterical voice tried to break through the rising noise, but due to interference and poor speaker quality, only screaming and white noise were heard.
Then came the gunfire. Distant volleys of laser beams that grew closer with every second. Bombs burst, and to the screams of dying and panicking pirates was added the thunder of steel sabatons.
Like an approaching storm, the roar of battle drew near, quickly and decisively, forcing even the bravest men and women to retreat further from the door.
Clinging to each other, giving confidence with simple touches just to stand their ground and not flee, they stared tensely at the door, and when it burst open...
First, smoke poured into the hangar. Thick, gray smoke, filled with the stench of burnt meat and smoldering clothes. Spreading across the floor, it quickly reached the ship's passengers, making them grimace in disgust and cover their children's noses.
Next came slow and heavy footsteps. Through the smoke in the passage, a hand appeared. A simple human hand, reaching toward the hidden sentients. The fingers trembled slightly, and a thin stream of blood ran down the wrist.
"Help..."
Following the limb, a body tumbled inside. With half of his face scorched, missing one eye and lips, the wretched pirate, most of his body burned, fell to his knees, then collapsed face-first onto the floor with a squelching sound, triggering a new wave of screams and commotion.
"Fear not, honest citizens! In the dead of night..."
A ringing voice caught everyone's attention. A measured and steady step brought a new face into the hangar. Covered in blood from head to toe, a mercenary in the famous black-and-gold armor.
"Or in the light of day..."
Placing his foot on the pirate's back, he lowered his blaster to the back of the groaning wretch's head, then delivered a coup de grâce to the slaver's nape.
"Liberty shall protect you!"
Flinching in sync at the sound of the shot, the passengers looked at the scene unfolding before them with the strangest feelings. Raising his fist to his chest, slinging his rifle over his shoulder, the Helldiver tilted his chin up and was clearly waiting for something. Most likely words of gratitude, but in response was only an awkward silence, for the terrified-to-death people couldn't think in the realities of crazy mercenaries at all.
"Mda, tough crowd here..."
Apparently, the soldier realized this too, as he took the rifle in both hands and was about to leave his glorious post of triumph when he noticed movement to the side.
His first reaction was to shoot the approaching enemy, but noticing a small silhouette and an innocent child's face, the Helldiver knelt on one knee, calming the startled, frightened mother with a wave of his hand.
"Hello. Are you a Helldiver?"
"Hello, kid. That's right," settling at the child's eye level, the soldier looked him over from head to toe, then shifted his gaze to the woman fidgeting behind the boy's back. "You shouldn't have run off without your mother's permission. I could have been one of the pirates, and... aren't you afraid of me?"
"No." Smiling happily, the child was positively beaming, and it seemed his good mood was infecting everyone around, including his mother and the mercenary. "I'm not afraid of pirates either!"
"So there's at least one brave soul among these fine people? We need guys like you!" Smiling cheerfully, the Helldiver also wanted to ruffle the boy's magnificent hair, but glancing at his hands, he hastily pulled them away from the innocent child's face. "And what is the name of the future warrior for Holy Liberty?!"
"Anakin. My name is Anakin."
***
"Yeah, yeah... Screw you, Jimmy." Tearing himself away from his mug of caf, the dispatcher of the pirate space station Spice Terminus, Alzak Typer, raised his voice, clearly feeling rising irritation. "I already told you, you stupid bastard, that if you want to see your share of the money, then give me my things, you goat..."
Ripping the headset off his head, the dispatcher threw the device against the wall with all his might, watching with delight as the apparatus shattered into small pieces.
Propping his feet on the table and crossing his arms over his chest, Alzak grumbled under his breath, cursing the stupid friend with whom he had decided to start a small business. Working as a dispatcher brought in shitty income, so a drunk Typer had succumbed to the urgings of an acquaintance and pawned his weapon and armor, which he had saved for years.
The venture, as is clear from the context, paid off, but during that time the buyer managed to resell his favorite things, so now Alzak had no idea what to do. For the buyer had stocked up on spice and departed in an unknown direction, most likely along one of the smuggler routes.
"Bitch!"
Taking his feet off the table, the dispatcher rose from his chair and went for the mop standing in the corner. Simultaneously, Alzak opened his personal PDA and, dialing the shift commander, began explaining the situation to him.
"Yes, it broke. Well, what can I do, it happens." Brazenly lying to his boss, Typer felt a slight satisfaction that immediately grew into true delight, especially when his boss said exactly who would bring the new headset. "Super, I'll be waiting then!"
Even though he could have done without it, the commander of their detail was a meticulous and tedious type, for which, by the way, he was extremely disliked. It was completely unclear how such a character ended up on a pirate station and became the leader of so many people.
Ten minutes of waiting passed without any problems. Almost jumping in place, Alzak joyfully turned around in his chair when the door to the dispatch room opened and an extremely attractive girl appeared on the threshold.
"Hi, Lucy!" Jumping up from his seat, the man stretched his arms out to the sides, hoping for a hug, but the nimble girl easily slipped away from them and, standing on the opposite side of the table, handed over the new headset with a slight disdain. "Cold as always..."
Not at all embarrassed by such treatment, Alzak tried to touch at least the tips of the girl's fingers, but Lucy's reaction was much faster and better. Jerking her hand away, she looked at the dispatcher with reproach, while Alzak, like a boy, scratched his head, pretending to be embarrassed by her reproving gaze.
"A try is not a crime, right?"
"I'm going..."
"Um, already? Hey, wait, hold on," overtaking the girl, Alzak blocked her path with his body and, leaning forward slightly, breathing stale air and the scents of an unwashed body on her, tried to persuade her to stay, "the station will soon turn toward the local star! Don't you want to watch it with me?"
Having listened to advice from elders and acquaintances, Typer once again tried to invite the girl to at least some semblance of a date. This was far from the first and apparently not the last attempt.
The minutes of silence between them became increasingly embarrassing. Lucy looked him straight in the eye with cold eyes, while Alzak himself felt a strange itch throughout his body.
But then time passes and the girl exhales heavily, folding her arms under her large chest and turning her face away.
"Fine." Hesitating slightly, Lucy bit her lip in dissatisfaction, then spoke much more warmly and shyly. "Only I don't have protective goggles..."
"Oh! Oh-oh-oh-oh! Don't worry, now, now, now..." Scuttling around the control room, Alzak turned everything upside down. He would have continued to demolish his own workspace if he hadn't finally found two pairs of goggles—the kind used by captains of crappy ships that lacked protection against sudden glare. "Here, I have two pairs. So we can watch the star's emergence together..."
"Ugh, fine. Give them here." Reluctantly reaching out, Lucy took the goggles from Typer's hands, even allowing him to brush against her fingers, which nearly caused the poor boy's nose to bleed from sheer nerves. "But right after, I'm leaving..."
"Of course, of course." Nodding happily and rapidly, the poor dispatcher looked like he might break his own neck. "Right, let's go over there; that's the biggest window..."
Leading the girl to his favorite spot, where he loved to watch space while lost in thought or his own fantasies, Typer suggested she sit, while he decided to settle on the floor. His uniform was dirty and wrinkled enough that Alzak sat at his beloved's feet without a second thought. At first, he seriously considered sitting in a way that would let him rest his head on her knees, but he discarded the idea, fearing he would scare off the cold beauty.
Time began to flow more slowly.
Sitting in anticipation of the miracle, both remained silent. While this brought Lucy only a sigh of relief, the boy had already cursed himself three hundred times for his stupidity and indecision.
The girl he liked had rejected him so many times, but now it had happened—she was sitting right next to him! Yet instead of fulfilling all those fantasies of conversation, light flirting, and banter, Alzak remained as silent as a partisan, managing to sweat even more profusely. The poor girl nearly fainted from the sheer gas attack. Pinching her nose, Lucy checked her watch, clearly calculating that no event was worth such torture. But at that exact moment, the station nearly completed its full rotation, and a stunning view opened before the eyes of everyone on the eastern side of Spice Terminus.
A bright flash, like a turbolaser shot to the face, swept across the object, which looked tiny against the backdrop of the star. All instruments cut out instantly, displaying data regarding overload and the start of a system reset. The reboot promised to last a couple of minutes before the station's eyes and ears could once again see everything in this system, situated at the intersection of two hyper-lanes.
"Stunning..."
Lucy whispered softly, and even the anxious Alzak was forced to silently agree. Even though he had seen this spectacle hundreds of times, every time felt like the first.
Staring through the goggles at the star, the dispatcher mused on life and indulged in melancholy, when he suddenly heard the voice of the captor of his heart again.
"No matter how many times I watch this, every time... every time is like the first." The girl's voice was taking on frantic, fanatical notes. Now the boy felt a bit creeped out, but he still couldn't find the strength to turn around and interrupt the speech of the ice queen of the dispatch watch.
"The embodiment of Holy Liberty in this destructive power. The potential of Humanity, Democracy, and the Republic—encapsulated in this work of art."
Lucy's voice was gaining strength, and now Alzak sat like a naughty child, but...
Out of the girl's entire speech, he heard something that felt wildly out of place.
"Um, sorry, Lucy... but did you say Holy Liberty?" Laughing awkwardly, Alzak began to slowly turn around. "Ha-ha, you're talking like... like you've joined the Helldivers..."
At that moment, the equipment finally rebooted, and Alzak Typer, as the man responsible for deep space surveillance, heard the alarm signal rapidly escalating. Screens turned red, and on the map around the system's star, dots began to sprout like mushrooms after a warm rain.
"What the..."
But the boy didn't have time to do anything. The thin blade of a dagger, hidden in the sleeve of a jacket, pierced his throat in one powerful thrust. Grabbing the dispatcher by the head—touching him for the first time in the boy's memory—Lucy effortlessly lifted the young man's body and turned him toward the panoramic window.
Choking on his own blood, feeling the cold, strong fingers on his head and neck, Alzak spent the final minutes of his life watching the Helldivers ships forming into a battle order. Dozens, hundreds of vessels of various sizes, and ahead of them sailed a ship of terrifying, gargantuan proportions. Silhouetted against the shining star, it drifted slowly and inevitably straight toward them.
"Perfection..." Casting the dead body aside with disdain, Lucy ran her bloody fingers across the glass, as if wishing to touch the cosmic giants. "Absolute perfection."
***
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