Leaping from the window, my body shattering the remaining glass, I crashed onto a parked Speeder, smashing through its flimsy roof.
Groaning and grumbling, I crawled out of the metal shell, which belonged in a junkyard rather than these snowy wastes. Every movement and attempt to find a foothold proved futile. The Speeder crumpled under my weight, deformed under the pressure of fingers encased in an Exoskeleton, and simply crumbled at any stray movement.
"Damn piece of junk, Neimoidians must have made it... Those space Jews love passing off paper as metal."
Rolling over the edge, I fell sideways onto the cracked asphalt coated in a crimson layer of ice. Nearby lay several Hormai bodies, around which other representatives of this amusing race wandered. Unlike the corpses, these ones wore small armbands over their standard military spacesuits.
Followers of the Chieftain, and those who believed in his ideas far more than in the naive dreams of Warchief Unger Gout. All this time, the walruses had watched my attempts to overcome the Speeder's grip with interest, and only when I hit the ground did a couple approach, nodding respectfully and offering a helping hand.
"Oof, thanks, guys, what would I do without you?" The sarcasm in my voice was enough to fuel a yet-unbuilt Death Star. "What's the news from the front?"
"We're winning," the Hormai replied laconically and without much interest. His comrades shrugged as well, then pointed to full Tibanna supplies and clean clothes. "I haven't met a single living enemy yet..."
Our glorious conversation was interrupted by the fall of something clearly massive. The impact was so strong that a nearby small security building and a simple guardhouse were blown in different directions. The rising dust cloud covered both me and the melancholic Hormai, who had clearly grown accustomed to such things over the past hour of fighting on their planet.
And while at first I braced for a possible fight—who knows, maybe it was a downed enemy ship or something—the moment I heard the familiar hiss of servomotors and the thud of footsteps, I spun one hundred and eighty degrees and tried to bolt at "escape velocity" before I was spotted, but I didn't make it...
"Mr. Altman." A massive robotic hand lunged after me, but instead of its nimble target, it snatched up a bewildered Hormai who had been shoved into its path. Flailing his arms and screaming so hard his whiskers stood on end, the walrus was gently lowered to the ground once the walker's sensors identified his species. "You cannot escape, Mr. Altman..."
"Ha! We'll see about that!" Leaping over another Speeder, I heard the steel tread of AVINA crush it into a pancake behind me. The damn machine was chasing right after me, and no amount of speed, physical conditioning, or jump pack was helping. "Leave me alone!"
"Mr. Altman! Sam. I ask you to stop before your punishment becomes even worse than anticipated..."
"What?" I stopped for a second out of sheer surprise, nearly paying for it instantly as a massive mechanical claw swept past by millimeters, snatching up a dumpster. "What punishment?! I'm your Pilot!"
"My creator, in a fit of her great intellect, foresaw such situations," AVINA continued, trying to catch me as she chased me through the courtyard of the enemy headquarters, surrounded by burning buildings, corpses, and wrecked Speeders. "Therefore, in various circumstances, all access codes to my systems are transferred to the deputy commander of the Somnia or..."
"WHAT?!" Rolling away from fingers passing over my head, I stood to my full height and faced AVINA directly. "You treacherous, Abominable Intelligence! I knew you couldn't be trusted!"
"Your insults wound me to the heart, Sam." Pathetically pressing her massive claw to her chest, Avi bowed slightly, then lunged forward again, trying to catch me once more. "But for your safety and an important lesson to prevent..."
"God, you've become so tedious, exactly like Somnia." Ducking around a corner, I burst out behind a Helldivers squad that—with the help of our local allies—was escorting surrendered headquarters staff and those few soldiers who had decided not to fight for Unger Gout. "Shit!"
Darting back and slipping between the giant robot's legs, I broke away, calculating a route as I went. AVINA, attempting to grab me at the last moment, somersaulted forward, her body plowing through a warehouse full of janitorial supplies or something similar. I realized this because when she emerged from the rubble, a whole bundle of mops was clutched in her hands, which she began throwing at me one by one.
A mad dash. A chase for life. Emotion. Drive. Betrayal. Speed...
Fine, the moment I tried to fly over a house to avoid going around and losing too much time, I was swatted out of the air by a mop, sending me into a light knockout. Crashing into a wall with my jump pack engine smoking, I landed in an awkward pose.
"Damn Skynet, and I said machines couldn't be trusted..."
"You have also said many other things on numerous occasions." Picking me up by the leg and dangling me in front of her primary "eye," Avi beat me to the punch with a comment on her last words. "For instance, regarding the utility of drones and droids, through which soldiers' lives can be preserved."
"Tch... Fine, get on with it, traitor. I'm ready for any punishment!" Dramatically spreading my arms while still hanging upside down, I closed my eyes and prepared for the penalty, but instead, I was forcibly tossed into the cockpit. "...What the hell?"
"Your punishment will wait. Helldivers forces have captured most of the hostile sectors in the city... And I have just received a message that your assault squad has captured Unger Gout, so you will still be of use."
A sinister mechanical voice with a sort of echo triggered a few Vietnam flashbacks in my memory. AVINA took advantage of this, forcibly connecting to my armor systems and regaining control over many additional options, as well as establishing a direct link through the helmet.
"I am glad we are on the same team again, Sam." Was it my imagination, or did her voice have a truly feminine, malicious edge to it?
***
Unger Gout—general, Warchief, defender of Hormai, the one who was supposed to give their planet a new, better future... was on his knees. Spitting blood that flowed freely from his mouth through a bitten lip and a couple of knocked-out teeth. The old general, his people's hope for a better future, as he sincerely called himself...
Now he knelt, unable to even move due to the pain in his ribs and his severed arm. His own tusk, broken off in battle, was now lodged in his right shoulder, completely stripping him of the ability to do anything... or even try.
Struggling to straighten up, he had to tilt his head back to keep from falling forward. The old warrior's body could barely cope with all the wounds his enemies had left him, but Unger swore to himself that he would not let them enjoy his disgrace...
"Here he is." Poking a rifle muzzle into his face, stopping the weapon just a couple of centimeters from the old Hormai's forehead, a Helldiver brought his comrade over, clearly a superior officer.
"Brought him to look at me like a damn animal... Bastards."
Gout wished the freaks would lean closer so he could drive a tusk straight into the visor of at least one of them... But given his condition, even a simple spit at the end would suffice.
"Inject him with some Bacta or whatever shit to keep him from croaking. He still has to give testimony." The commander of the monstrosities that had put his loyal troops to fire and sword waved a hand at the general, ceasing to pay him any attention. It seemed the Helldivers leader didn't give a damn about the old walrus, and this infuriated Unger beyond measure. "What about the Chieftain? Did they find him?"
"What's left of him." Pointing a thumb over his shoulder, the second soldier laughed with a bitter, joyless sound. "The sick bastards skinned him alive. The Chieftain's son is there now... uh, trying to put the body back together somehow. It's a gruesome sight, basically."
"He did that to him in just one day?"
"Yeah, he was having his fun right before we arrived." Kicking Unger in the stomach, the Helldiver ignored the groan of pain and despair that broke through the Hormai's smashed lips along with a growl. "We barely held the kid back; he wanted to strangle him with his bare hands for his old man."
"I see." Continuing to listen to the conversation out of the corner of his ear, Gout began calculating his next move. He could try to negotiate or somehow buy off the famous Assassins; as a last resort, he could bribe the Helldivers to save his own family. The main thing was to avoid falling into the hands of Okulo's son, and even more so, to keep the last members of his kin from him.
But all the old general's dreams were nipped in the bud when his ears caught part of the receding conversation between the two Helldivers.
"I don't give a shit what happens to him. If this Chieftain's son pays us what his father promised, then bring him every relative of this fucking walrus from the whole system." No longer able to stay on his knees, Unger fell face-first into the mud and dust, feeling the pain from his suddenly disturbed wounds slowly send him into oblivion. "But first, he'll give testimony to the Judicial Forces inquisitor! I don't care about the rest..."
With a sad smile, feeling his own heart break from the grief of defeat, Unger watched the departing Helldivers, staring at the bloody tracks that were slowly being covered by chips of ice and concrete.
****
"Another victory..."
"Yeah, yeah, very cool." Waving a hand lazily, I kicked my feet up on the desk so my interlocutor couldn't see my whole body. Holo-calls had their little perks; you could set everything up so no one saw anything but your head. "Defeated a bunch of savages who could barely put up a fight. A fast, heavy strike right at the top... These walruses didn't even have time to realize they'd lost before it was over."
"I don't understand your complaints." Draining a glass of something clearly alcoholic, Rick Dicker set it aside and laced his fingers together. His attentive gaze swept over me several times before the man exhaled tiredly. "Everything is going well for you. Recruits are coming in, ships are being built, planets are paying for contracts, your influence is growing..."
"It's not growing fast enough." Suddenly falling silent, I realized we were in a very interesting position, which I immediately told Rick. "We're already too strong to fight loners, small pirate barons, or weak cartels... but still too weak to oppose someone on the level of the Black Sun, the Hutts, or those Zygerrians..."
"No one denies your contribution to the fight against piracy..."
Dicker started to launch into his signature speech, but I interrupted him with a skeptical look that conveyed my point quite clearly, forcing the old, cunning fox to fall silent and offer a slight smile.
"Fine, sorry, I couldn't help myself." Pouring himself another portion, Rick toasted me with his glass before tossing it back. "I've grown too used to dealing with senators and politicians, and there, without a good..."
Scratching his chin thoughtfully, the man truly pondered, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. Against my will—and this isn't an excuse—I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"...Without a good round of ass-kissing?"
"Generally, yes." Nodding respectfully, Dicker straightened his lips and made a face as if surprised by my insight. "I'm glad the basics of politics aren't foreign to you."
"Oh, shut up..."
"Ha-ha-ha, Sam, Sam, Sam." A new portion coincided with a lit cigarette, likely fruit-flavored. "So many years have passed, and now you're not some small-time leader of a gang of adventurers, but the leader of a real mercenary army. It's about time you raised the bar a bit, don't you think?"
"Then it would lose all meaning." I didn't even hesitate with the answer; I said what was always on my mind. "If I wanted to wear expensive suits and listen to senators' drivel, I would have begged you to take me under your wing officially long ago."
"Heh." Taking a sip from his glass, Rick didn't reply, merely smiling as he studied the contents in his hand. Toying with the liquid, the now elderly man indulged in melancholy for a couple of seconds, but soon forced everything extraneous out with a sheer act of will. For just a brief moment, Dicker allowed himself to relax, and it was a gesture of trust... at least I wanted to believe that. "Let's get back to business. What do you want from me?"
"I want work—some job that'll make me strain myself and lose a few liters of blood." Jumping up from my chair, I briefly moved out of the camera's range. "I want to kill enemies of Democracy, gut Aliens, fight bastards who don't give a damn about the Galactic Republic!"
"Um, I'm afraid you've chosen... Hm?" In my excitement, I didn't notice the change that came over my old acquaintance's face at first. I had long been wary of calling Rick a friend, for such a title comes with obligations, especially when your friend sits so high up.
Well, it doesn't matter.
Now I was witnessing a rare moment where everything was "written" on Dicker's face. The man's dry fingers tapped on the touch screen. Aside from the beeping of the equipment in my office, I could literally "hear" that steady tapping.
At some point, a simple realization hit me: right now, before my eyes, the fate of entire planetary systems, or perhaps even sectors, might be being decided. One simple message written by Rick or those sentients allowed to write to him personally... and bam! A small war breaks out somewhere.
Our eyes met then, and a smile spread across my face against my will.
"Perhaps I was too hasty with the compliment. You still have to learn to keep a straight face." Pushing the screen away, Rick laced his fingers as usual and leaned forward, shoulders slightly hunched. "But let's leave that for another time, when there are fewer light-years between us and more soft boudoir fabrics around, rather than the steel of warships."
At that moment, a drop of sweat ran down my neck. It felt as if the devil himself was standing behind me, filling everything around with his terrifying aura. My body stiffened, and my hands became clammy and sweaty, betraying my nervousness.
"Come on, Rick. What boudoirs?" Laughing awkwardly, I crossed my arms over my chest to hide the trembling that was rapidly gaining ground in my body. "I'm not into that kind of thing..."
"Ah, well, yes, of course. You're practically a family man now." Making air quotes with his fingers, Dicker had just, figuratively speaking, sent me to eat hospital food for a couple of months with that joke. "Fine... Let's get down to business; as much as I enjoy our chats, there's still too much to do in the galaxy for us to rest."
Suddenly, the atmosphere of jokes and play-acting shifted. Before me sat the old investigator again, the one who had fought his way almost to the very top. Frowning, Rick lit a new cigarette, reviving memories of our first meeting. Exhaling blue smoke, he closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, then spoke in the dry, cool tone he used for business.
"As I understand it, you were complaining about a lack of work?" Receiving my silent, focused nod, Dicker clicked his tongue. "I have something for you..."
Leaning forward, I was all ears, and when Rick said the next sentence, he didn't disappoint me.
"What do you know about the Yinchorri species?"
***
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