"We are diving into the abysses of chaos."
The roar of the drop pod was deafening. Flames enveloped it from all sides. Against the backdrop of a huge planet, the tiny steel shell shone as another spark among thousands of others just like it.
The Jabiimite Salco was in anticipation. Soon he would visit another planet whose climate was so different from his home world. His fingers trembled slightly. Running them over the chips and the paint stripped from his armor, the man paused at every unevenness, remembering every mark received in battle.
Every single one of them.
His thumb passed over a large stripe along the white skull on a yellow background in the very center of his chest. A spear strike from a Korunnai.
A rough, charred surface on his shoulder. An acid grenade explosion.
The prosthesis on his left arm, whose cold fingers were frozen motionless, awaiting a command. The Akk dog of a savage Chieftain.
"On our souls, scars are imprinted—unforgettable signs of sacrifices..."
Strong, measured breathing came from under the mask. Every breath brought peace. Let the rookies worry and shake with fear in their pods; he was already used to this.
The light flickered and went out, leaving him in total darkness.
Bringing his wrist-mounted datapad to his face, Salco illuminated his battered helmet, demonstrating to an invisible observer the charred paint and traces of shrapnel, hastily smeared over before the battle.
"...Forged in the crucible of war."
The impact from the braking engines did not catch him off guard. Outside, the defensive turrets thundered, and inside the pod, movement began—releasing three drones intended to provide cover.
For a moment, the screen flashed red, showing that a rocket launcher had been aimed at the pod, but with a quiet hiss, flares shot into the air from the side mounts, knocking the simple tech off target.
"But we continue to move forward..."
"Ten seconds to impact." A robotic voice announced through a dangling speaker. Too little time had passed since the previous battle for anything in his pod to be repaired besides the main systems, though even for that, the Jabiimite was ready to say thank you.
"With an iron will and thundering steps..."
Stepping in place, sabatons clattering, Sharous removed his assault Blaster from its mount and began to leisurely check the weapon by sight. Everything had been done back on the ship, but like every Helldiver, he was too fastidious about this matter, because down there—on the surface—only your brothers and your weapon could help you.
"For even the very heart of hell... does not inspire fear in us."
Impact.
The red lamp lit up at full power, illuminating him from all sides. A warning signal hit his ears: "Exit pod."
With a kick of his foot, Salco knocked out the protective plate, then immediately entered the fray, pumping a burst of red bolts into the nearest pirate. The unarmored body slumped to the ground and caught fire, while the accomplices standing near the criminal began to turn toward him.
Gripping the Blaster tighter, Salco switched the firing mode to automatic and opened fire on the bastards sitting with their backs to him. The rattle of the light repeater was accompanied by the large-caliber fire of the turrets from the top of the pod and the beeps of drones sending precise bursts of fire into the distance.
A pod slammed into the neighboring building. Smashing through the enemy's strongpoint, it tumbled into the basement, from where the second member of Salco's team began to climb out with curses and gunfire.
Holding a replica of an old, reliable Trandoshan machine gun, the Helldiver with the callsign Major emerged to the surface. With an elbow strike, he crushed the skull of some Rodian, and with the barrel of the machine gun, he smashed the head of a human pirate standing nearby. The veteran Helldiver took a steady stance and opened a hurricane of fire on the enemy.
Assigned to them as a nanny, Billy Booker refused to take command in this "trivial" mission, so it was the Jabiimite who led the squad into battle.
Two more pods fell with thuds directly onto the trenches and barricades, scattering bodies and furniture fragments in all directions. Tibanna ammunition exploded, rockets flew off in all directions with sparks, and above their heads, the last pirate tubs flew erratically, firing haphazardly at the pilots of the Descent pressing them. The Storm Eagles handled the old fighters from the pre-Ruusan Reformation era excellently, even though they weren't particularly designed for this.
Flame flared up ahead. A pillar of fire struck the sky, then instantly dropped to the level of the barricades and began to methodically engulf houses and other enemy fortifications. Walking forward slowly, the third member of Salco's team appeared for a moment amidst the rising smog and smoke. Rubberized, covered in a thick layer of special fabric and heavy armor, with an experimental tank on his back, Jeg Wright, nicknamed Firefly, pushed forward like an unstoppable juggernaut. Around him, humans and aliens were burning; they reached out their hands toward him, hoping for help. Going mad from pain and agony, the pirates shrieked across the area, while the silent Jeg continued forward, occasionally taking stray shots on his armor.
The last to slip out of the ruins was the Myrkr native, "Reed." An old acquaintance from Haruun Kal, he understood the situation better than most, so he didn't rush into the fray—letting the psychopath and the guy with the heavy machine gun do the hardest work.
Settling in nearby, Reed unfolded his rifle and began to spray those few defenders who hadn't yet shat themselves with fear from the impending defeat with short bursts.
Jumping over a pile of debris, Salco decided to burst into the fight, following on the heels of the mad flamethrower operator he'd been stuck with during the redistribution. Squad remnants were mixed together, creating truly insane combinations where shock troopers with jump packs could be paired with sappers, and medics accompanied combat walkers. Gradually the situation was leveling out, especially now when they no longer needed to act as part of large formations and the personal files of the soldiers of each Descent unit were being reviewed, but...
As Booker told him, their composition was fixed for a long time, until someone died or they found someone better.
Debris stirred to the left, then a trash-covered door was kicked out from the inside. A huge Devaronian, holding a needle Shotgun, was about to bash Salco's head with the butt of the gun but caught a shot in the knee from Reed's Sniper Rifle. Falling to one knee, the horned freak growled, drooling.
Attempting to stand again, the alien was swept away by a wave of bullets tearing his body to pieces.
"Don't be shy, Jabiimite. Better not joke with these bastards." Passing him, Booker suppressed the few surviving pirates with occasional bursts, quickly finishing off the remnants of the resistance. For five minutes they moved forward briskly until they reached a closed hangar-type door. "There's movement inside the complex on the sensor..."
Before he could finish, Billy grabbed Salco by the scruff of the neck and jumped aside with him, escaping the blast wave that blew out the door to the underground complex.
Scraping the ceiling, a huge droid emerged to the surface, its red eye gleaming. Emitting ridiculous beeping sounds that didn't fit its imposing construction at all, the droid rushed at them, swinging a three-fingered claw.
"Scatter!"
Tossing a detonator into the face of the four-meter machine, Salco rolled aside, flying into some ditch filled with bodies.
An explosion sounded behind him, followed by the sound of gunfire and the roar of flames from all sides. Reed spoke over the radio, swearing every other word:
"That's a damn construction-mining droid! They're usually used for work near the core or on asteroids! What the fuck is it doing here?"
"You should have listened to the briefing instead of slacking in the back rows," Booker's stern voice cut off the stream of profanity, forcing them to listen to the veteran with both ears, "they mine fossil ice for sale on this planet; there should be plenty of these bastards here... My God."
Reaching the edge of the ditch, Salco understood the reason for such a sharp change in behavior. While the first droid tried to crawl to its attackers with one hand, losing parts and other limbs along the way, sparking and breaking as it went... others began to emerge from the hangar. Nearly a dozen huge machines created for work in the harshest conditions. Creaking with heavy steel limbs, making a roar as their servos worked, the construction machines threateningly clacked their manipulators, preparing to attack.
"Shit..."
Already prepared to sell his life dearly, realistically assessing their chances of victory, Salco tensed. The droids stopped dead in their tracks and did not manifest themselves in any way, merely mechanically observing the Helldivers standing before them.
With a creak of manipulators, the construction equipment parted to the sides, creating a sort of passage into the hangar. And only when the droids lowered their manipulators and extinguished the lights in their eyes did Salco, along with the others, emerge from cover.
"They surrendered?"
"Maybe." Shrugging his shoulders, Booker nevertheless kept his finger on the trigger, ready to open fire on the nearest machines at any second. "They're pirates. Maybe they have hostages or stolen cash in there!? They'll want to bargain..." Snapping his jaw shut, Billy fell silent when a golden-haired girl in characteristic clothes emerged from the depths of the hangar, through the dense rows of droids... clothes characteristic of a certain monastic Order from the Core worlds. "Call the boss or the deputy commander. This is definitely a conversation above our level."
****
I walked slowly through the dusty streets of Socorro, feeling the tiny pebbles and shards of glass under my feet, shimmering with light in this inhospitable and cruel place.
I was surrounded by angry or mocking gazes boring into my back, and only rare passers-by expressed friendliness or indifference, for which I was incredibly grateful.
The main downside of the ability to recognize emotions. Every sentient becomes like an open book to you—it takes great effort to find someone who is sincerely positive toward you, rather than trying to hide disgust and hatred behind a mask of lies and hypocrisy.
"The fate of a Jedi in the Outer Rim..."
The Force seemed to wrap around me, whispering that here, on this remote and forgotten world, I was finding myself again. Walking through the crowded streets, passing through dirty alleys, peering with my gray eyes from under a deep hood...
My goal was already close, so close and so far at the same time that an inexperienced Force user might fall into dissonance, but certainly not I...
Hundreds of years of wandering by the will of The Force. Hundreds of years of saving and protecting the innocent. And here, once again, it had sent me a sign. About thirty years ago, my fate changed, and now I hear the voice of The Force more and more often, whispering at the edge of my consciousness...
Was it for good or for ill? I do not know, but I will continue to follow its will, as I have always done.
One of my goals was very close. A bright spark, so bright and pure, with only rare inclusions of dark lines that were slowly smoldering. Shrouded in shadows and darkness, it stood out against the background of this world like an Alderaanian aristocrat in a cantina on Nar Shaddaa.
And finally, I had arrived. I found it...
The clinic.
An ordinary clinic behind doors that looked like hangar doors.
Nestled between skyscrapers, hidden in the shadows of criminal life, it concealed from me the purpose of my stay.
Mordin, a toad-like virologist, seemed to combine a rare gift for healing with a steel mind. In his every action, in every spark flashing in his eyes, shone a desire to save others.
I knew he was not just a doctor, but a sentient with a purpose that many could not comprehend. He did not treat for money, but out of a desire to help and make the world better. Over years of wandering, I had learned to distinguish people driven by greed and fear from those who truly considered their work a service. And well... of course, The Force gave me hints, and it certainly could not be wrong.
However, I felt... on the edge of my consciousness, something that had not left me for many days, a premonition, if one could call it that.
Time on Socorro seemed to slow down, and the days stretched into eternity. I knew the wait would not be long.
The Force indicated to me that a conflict was ripe and that there were forces seeking to destroy this fragile balance of criminals and peaceful people on this unfortunate planet. And not only here... but in the entire galaxy.
Every evening, watching the sun set behind the horizon, I reflected on the fact that our Republic stands on the brink of catastrophe and only a few would be ready for action. I waited, like old friends who would soon reach their destination, and in my deepest heart, I felt that this moment was closer than ever.
And then, after several weeks of my life on this planet, a rumble echoed over Socorro. An ominous sound, like a harbinger of a storm, made me raise my head and look at the sky.
The massive silhouette of a ship descended directly toward us, inspiring fear and pressing on the nerves by its very appearance. The formidable machine of war terrified commoners and pirates alike... for I was not the only one who recognized the famous black-and-gold markings with white skulls on the hulls.
And then came the thunder. Cannons roared, destroying the planet's defense system. Shells burst and bombs whistled, striking my soul far harder than my hearing... but it had to be so.
And then they came. Falling from the heavens in burning pods.
I noticed their silhouettes first—black, as if preserved and arrived from the darkest and most terrifying depths of this galaxy.
It was the "Helldivers."
They were regarded with awe, fear, respect... mixed with curses upon their heads. Though they did a good deed, bringing order to the Outer Rim... their methods... their methods would never be acceptable.
People ran. They hid among crumbling houses, lay low in shelters, or tried to take off in ships... but the massive vessel shot down anyone who dared to leave the spaceport.
And even the most fearless smugglers knew at that moment that typical survival methods brought only death. They were not just Assassins; their terrible presence caused fear in the hearts of all who dared oppose the slogans shouted by the Helldivers.
As if by the will of The Force, I felt energy boil within me. I was not going to stand aside when another danger threatened peaceful people.
Yes, many on this planet were pirates, slavers, smugglers... many, but not all.
Though I never used my lightsaber, it remained with me as a reminder of the gifts of The Force and of my destiny. I directed my steps toward Mordin's clinic, where everyone hoped for salvation, and I knew that it was here that the changes must begin.
Bypassing people, helping to clear rubble on the go, I brought dozens of people with me, simply seeking shelter while hell broke loose over their heads.
Mordin looked surprised for a moment when I entered, but quickly returned to his natural state. His swollen toad-like cheeks twitched, but his eyes sparkled with intelligence. He immediately began asking questions, wasting no time on formalities:
"Fay, what is happening? Danger? Invasion?! Most likely. Helldivers invaded Lannik two months ago. Not surprising. Warned authorities. Ignored. Fools."
"You are right, my young friend. The mercenaries have unleashed their forces upon the planet; I have come not for help, but to warn you. We need to prepare," I said, feeling my heart beat faster. The moment of truth was arriving; I only had to do everything right so that a catastrophe would not occur. "Trust me, my friend Mordin. And your clinic will survive."
"M? Trust? Do Jedi have connections with the Helldivers? Personal connections? Don't understand... Games with The Force? Foresight? Possible option... Most possible. Good. I will trust."
In that moment, as I explained the situation, I saw a fleeting fear stop on his face. But that feeling was quickly replaced by determination. We formed a temporary alliance—he, as a brilliant mind and master of medicine, and I, a Jedi whose connection to The Force could guide us in the right direction. This path was not easy; many needed help, and it was important for them to know that no one would be left alone in this gloom of military cruelty. Many wanted to flee, hide deeper, or conversely fight, turning the clinic into a hospital for soldiers ready to fight for their home.
But we were able to prevent this. The Force whispered to me that if even one shot rang out from their side, it would all be over...
And something like that almost happened. A foolish boy, a technician's assistant from a construction crew. With his desire to help, he was condemning us all to certain death, and only my and Mordin's intervention could sober him up, making him let go of the control panel.
"I must go... The Force calls me."
"Not rational. Foolish. Dangerous. Many epithets about Jedi recklessness." Pattering his words, Mordin walked anxiously from side to side. A blaster Pistol dangled at his belt with every turn. "Won't be able to talk you out of it? Definitely not. Stubborn as a bantha. Strong... on the other hand. Humans and xenophilic tendencies predominate in the Helldivers. Fay is a human female. Beautiful. Elegant. Might work. But the chance is painfully small."
"Ha-ha," my ringing laughter echoed through the hangar serving as the clinic's foyer. The parting construction droids opened a path for me, and I waited patiently as I stepped out to the soldiers standing outside. "My dear friend, you should not be afraid. Sometimes you just need to trust the will of The Force..."
Taking the first confident step forward, I felt approval from the Great One and thereafter walked much more boldly and optimistically. I felt I was doing the right thing, that everything was going as it should.
Shielding myself from the sun's rays, which were trying to blind my vision, I saw four Helldivers surrounding me from all sides. They were anxious, clearly communicating in secret from me... but they could not hide their emotions.
Cold and gloomy in one. Having gone through many battles, he, like an old krayt dragon, scrutinized me, expecting a trick at any moment.
The second was insane by nature. In his head burned a flame full of life and death. Mixing together, it created something new, frightening and enchanting at the same time.
The third was quiet as a mouse and just as cunning. He watched her, amused and admiring; in his emotions was a youthful zest and excitement, especially when a response came from the ship in the sky.
The last was cold. Gloomy and heavy, like a downpour outside the window. In a continuous stream, his skepticism and readiness to end everything with one blow poured over me. He didn't care about my beauty, my goals, or plans... if for even one moment I represented a danger to his commander—he would kill me.
A smile traced my face, causing a momentary stupor in the four fighters. Closing my eyes, I raise them to the sky, fixing my gaze on a single point in the heavens. Thus I froze in one pose.
Against the backdrop of a ruined world, smoking skeletons of houses, and a massive black-and-yellow ship, from which another bright light, full of golden color, was descending toward me.
***
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