"Rick, are you sure?"
"Yes, definitely." With a dignified nod, Rick Dicker carefully smoothed the sleeve of his officer's tunic with his fingers. It was extremely unusual to see him in uniform rather than his old suit, but the investigator looked imposing. "To get the maximum benefit out of this, I must participate in all of this personally."
"And expose yourself to unnecessary risk."
"I think I'm safe on your flagship, surrounded by thousands of crazy mercenaries," the man smirked ironically, yet reached for his cigarettes, clearly intending to calm his nerves. "Besides, I won't be descending to the planet itself..."
"I meant something else, and you know it."
Pressing his lips together in annoyance, the investigator didn't answer and only continued to stare stubbornly ahead through the viewport panel, which showed Orvax and the surrounding ships and stations.
Tossing my head tiredly, I left Rick alone. After all, he wasn't a small child like Kanto; he could decide his own fate.
Though it still bothered me that for the sake of some dubious preferences, he was risking his exposure, even though he had always been maximally cautious before. Even our meetings, calls, or simple contract work—everything went through third, fourth, and further hands, depending on the complexity of the task.
Now, it was as if he were flaunting his involvement in clearing out the slave traders' den. I didn't deny there would be bonuses, but there would also be plenty of trouble from the disgruntled. And while all the other heads of the participating groups could act independently without looking back at the Senate of the Galactic Republic, Rick was an official, and such stunts could put an end to our productive cooperation...
In short, it was complicated, and I wasn't sophisticated enough in the intrigues and political games of the Senate to understand how this would come back to haunt my comrade.
Shit. Why wasn't I dropped into Game of Thrones, or better yet, the Citadel Council?! After the political games of the Asari and Salarians, I would feel like a fish in water among all these politicians.
But what was the use of suffering now?
Glancing at Rick one last time, I turned away from the stubborn man and approached Somnia—who was acting as the ship's Captain.
"The last signal came in half an hour ago, so it's time to start?"
"That was the deal. By now, they should already be storming the selected targets and will have captured them by the time we appear... ideally." Shrugging, I stood next to the girl, who was leaning over a map and sending commands to the fleet. "How much time do we have?"
"The patrol will be here in eight minutes, so not much," frowning, the girl tapped the system map a few times, bringing up data transmitted directly by one of our scout drones. "I think they'll notice us even sooner. Four, maybe five minutes..."
"Then there's no point in waiting longer. Let's begin." My left hand rested on the shoulder of the startled girl. Giving her a warm smile, I nodded, then spoke loudly for everyone gathered. "Take command."
"Yes, Commander."
With a soft and slightly sad smile, Somnia snapped her fist to her chest, and then her face transformed strikingly. Instead of a loyal friend and comrade, there now stood a commander and a seasoned soldier who had participated in major operations many times.
"Emerging from the planet's shadow. Marching engines at half, auxiliary at full. Keep shields at previous levels. Seeker-1 and Seeker-2, along with escort groups, break formation and deal with the patrol."
Commands showered in all directions, and the naval personnel, scurrying frantically but with clear habit, began chattering into communicators, receiving dozens of responses at once. They felt perfectly at home in this environment, so with a final nod to the girl, I left the deck, heading where I belonged.
Running quickly through the corridors, I stepped into the elevator and only then contacted my boys. It was a shame that Arkam and the Zabraks weren't with me now, so I had to make do with Somnia's brothers. It wasn't that I had a biased attitude toward them, but...
Let's put it this way. They were excellent Helldivers, and nothing more was needed.
Smirking, I pulled on my helmet, from which cursing mixed with commands could already be heard. The younger brothers were shouting actively, hurrying the slowest ones, while the eldest showed signs of intelligence and managed the mess that had organized on the deck.
Eh, worlds change, Humans, aliens... but it's all the same. No matter how much you prepare, when the moment comes, it's chaos and anarchy.
My first step onto the hangar deck was met with a thunderous shout from Seth, forcing everyone to line up in two ranks. There was plenty of commanding voice and respect for me as a commander and fighter, so the men instantly lined up on both sides of me.
"Listen to me, boys and girls," the entire room was instantly swallowed by silence, and my voice, accompanied by the thunderous echo of metal boots, was heard everywhere. "Now, once again, we are going to push past our own limits. Today will be the most massive, bloody, and serious operation we have ever conducted."
Placing my hands behind my back, I reached the end of the ranks, stopping near the drop pods. The number of seats in them was still limited, and therefore there were no more than a thousand true Helldivers in the entire fleet... and all of them would drop with me, straight onto the capital of Orvax, in the first wave.
We would serve as the armored fist that would break the slave traders' defense, and then the full might of the Helldivers would rain down from the heavens.
If someone had told me in the past that it would take fewer than twenty thousand people to storm a planet, I would have laughed in their face.
But here, this will be more than enough.
A cruel smirk crept onto my face; fortunately, the helmet hid it from the anxious soldiers.
"We don't do this for money. Not for glory. Each of you knows what we are fighting for..."
"FOR HOLY LIBERTY!"
"We will drop in fire from the heavens onto this filthy, vile planet... a planet of disgusting Brutes who think they are better than everyone else." My voice was heard from the adjacent rooms and the speakers overhead. Apparently, Somnia had seen to that, but there was no time to dwell on it. "And in the flame of liberty, with purifying fire, we will march through their foul way of life, bringing to this sick world..."
"DEMOCRACY!"
"Now go and show the whole world that everyone who encroaches on Liberty—dies."
"HUA!"
The synchronized strike of hundreds of fists against chest plates was accompanied by shouts across the entire fleet. Soldiers, technicians, pilots, and many others listening to the speech—all those who wore the Helldivers crest on their black-and-yellow uniforms.
***
The metal door slammed shut with a crash, leaving him in pitch darkness. Billy Booker, who had run away from the Merchant Fleet Academy, leaned his head back against the special mounts, securing his helmet so as not to break his neck on impact.
Swallowing thick saliva, the eldest son of a successful captain in the Baobab Merchant Fleet closed his eyes, feeling the mounting vibration through his whole body as the pod moved along the catapult.
Dropping out of school, an idealist at heart, he had found what he had been looking for so long. Those who didn't just flap their tongues talking about benefits and successful deals that would bring profit to everyone.
They didn't impose "protection" agreements or levy taxes by right of the strong.
No, he had found exactly what he was looking for.
Rhythmically, once every ten seconds, the ship's hull shuddered from the launches, and a new batch of Helldivers was sent into flight, interrupting Billy's thoughts.
He remembered his father's rage, his mother's tears, and the reproachful looks of his other prominent relatives who served in the Baobab Merchant Fleet.
But now... in moments like these—the last doubts receded into the background, leaving only the certainty that he had done the right thing.
During the briefing, he had seen where they were flying. He had seen what they would be fighting. And...
Let him die.
At the very thought, Billy's knees shook slightly, and only his drill-hardened reflexes helped him calm down.
Yes, let me die! But our cause is just, and for something like this... even life is not too much to give.
His lips were dry. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes, not from fear, but from the rising cold and excitement. The young man's whole body was shaking, and every time he entered a pod, it felt like it was happening for the first and last time.
Without realizing it, Billy began to repeat the words of the oath he had taken at his swearing-in. A short chant escaped his mouth in a quiet whisper as his pod moved closer to the catapult.
"Group nineteen. 'Apoc,' 'Balance,' 'Sigma'..." hearing his squad number and the list of nicknames, Billy confirmed his readiness by pressing the required button. His name was last, and though he didn't like it very much, it didn't matter. Thanks to it, he felt like one with his... brothers. "...'Major.' Ready for drop. Three... Two... One..."
The launch was mirrored by his heartbeats. Heavy breathing echoed hollowly inside the helmet. Grabbing the handrails, Billy thanked his father and mother for everything they had done for him. Even if this might be his last day, he wouldn't hold a grudge against them.
"Launch!"
The impact on the pod almost knocked him unconscious.
The flight speed grew exponentially with every second. Terrible G-forces pressed against his body, and only thanks to modern medicine and technology did they manage to stay alive after such stunts.
His legs began to cramp, and, damn it, of course he suddenly had to use the bathroom. His ears were popping even with his mouth slightly open, as the veterans had shown them during training.
And his head was filling with heaviness.
"Twenty seconds to impact."
A mechanical female voice was heard through the cotton wool in his ears. Struggling to realize what was happening, Billy shifted his gaze to the screen, which schematically depicted his flight through the atmosphere.
Squinting his eyes, he tried to make out anything through the endless shaking, but suddenly the pod was rocked by a nearby explosion, and all the worries and anxieties rushed back, while his body seemed to find a second wind.
Shaking in the pod, "Major," even through the roar of the flames, heard explosions going off around him. It seemed to him that blasters were flying by just millimeters away, that if he reached his hand out, it would immediately be riddled by thousands of slave traders who only thirsted for Billy's blood.
Clenching his teeth tightly, Booker stared at the screen, where a new countdown began in the last hundred meters.
"Braking."
G-forces again. Slumping toward the floor, Billy felt like his spine wanted to push lower and crawl out through his ass. His knees were buckling, and only thanks to the power armor was he able to stay on his feet.
"Mo-o-o-o-o-o-th-e-e-e-e-r-f-u-u-u-u-ck-e-e-e-r!"
The braking thrusters blew off—having spent their entire supply.
With excitement and terrible anticipation, Billy waited for the impact with the ground, but no matter how he tried to calculate the moment, the hit still happened unexpectedly.
With great difficulty holding onto the handrails, Booker tumbled out through the pod's jettisoned door to find himself in the very epicenter of the battle.
"I told you! Helldivers never die that easily!"
Slapping him on the shoulder, "Balance" caught Billy by the elbow and, shoving a heavy repeater into his hands, began without permission to strap a battery with a charging belt onto his back.
"They're advancing!"
Shells were exploding all around. Before Billy's eyes, one of the skyscrapers disappeared in a mushroom cloud, only for its debris to start falling onto the neighboring building a moment later, from which erratic fire was being directed.
"Droids coming!"
A pair of Strike Craft flew past. Rounds of large-caliber bullets rained down on the street in front of them, turning everything there into ground meat. The rear blaster cannon was firing non-stop somewhere into the sky, and a second later, enemy starfighters dove into the atmosphere following the Strike Craft.
Veering their wings, they scattered in different directions, pursuing their targets and deftly bypassing the massive high-rises.
"Right," slapping his helmet, "Balance" pointed a finger toward a giant palace from which laser bolts, rockets, and machine-gun bursts were flying in all directions, "we're going there. Kick the ass of anyone who moves! Got it?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Good boy! Now, rich kid, show these freaks that not all of the younger generation is lost!"
Raising the repeater, Billy gripped it tighter with both hands, aiming at the massive palace. Huge blue-skinned figures held the defense firmly, but from all sides, more and more Helldivers squads were converging on them, each dragging something lethal along.
Squeezing the trigger, Billy began to stomp forward at a slow pace, as he had been drilled in boot camp. A stream of white-hot plasma struck the palace walls and quickly moved toward the nearest balcony, from which they began to return fire.
Droids, slave trader guards, Tsurr... hundreds of freaks were firing erratically, and the longer Billy fired, the more gun barrels were pointed in his direction.
Then a swerving rocket flew from behind Billy's back. Spinning on its axis, flashing a blue light, it slammed without any mercy into the palace wall above the balcony, bringing down part of the floor and roof onto the defenders.
A massive explosion forced many to cover their faces, but the battle didn't even think of stopping because of it.
"Keep firing!"
Running forward, "Balance" dropped to one knee, beginning to spray the palace with his blaster rifle. Following his example, "Major" raised the repeater's muzzle again and, squeezing the trigger to the stop, began to emit a solid blue beam. The heating barrels continued to spit out thousands of shots per second, and Billy felt every one of them.
Climbing higher, bracing one foot against a fragment of a fallen statue, inhaling the scent of the ruined city through his armor's filter, Billy Booker felt his lips stretch into a smile.
The repeater roared in his hands. His brothers shouted nearby. And from the heavens, righteous, FREE shells rained down on the pirate scum, burning out the slave trader infection at the root.
Without realizing it, Billy began to scream into the general comms, fiercely swinging the repeater's muzzle, drenching all the palace walls in plasma and expending ammunition on an industrial scale.
"AAAAA-HA-HA-HA-HA!"
His terrifying, strained laughter broke into the airwaves, but no one said anything to him; rather the opposite. Hearing these sounds that would terrify normal people, the Helldivers braced themselves and ran to storm the palace, continuing to pick off enemies on the move.
Strike Craft streaked overhead again, dropping tons of rockets and bombs on the palace. Bringing it down almost to the first floor and turning most of the defenders into ground meat.
Nevertheless, there were many enemies, so Billy did not stop firing, continuing to walk forward and feeling the weapon in his hands begin to melt from the rate of fire and temperature.
Stepping forward, at one point he stepped on the chest of a Tsurr lying on the ground, and instead of walking further, Billy stopped and looked with doubt at the twitching body.
The battered giant, missing its second pair of arms and with a huge hole in its body, should definitely have been dead, but "Major" felt that something was wrong here.
Standing like that for a couple of seconds, he was about to just walk on, but then the Tsurr opened its eyes. Covering itself with one hand, it shook its head negatively, and its lips whispered something about mercy and pity.
Frames from the briefing flashed before Billy's eyes. Smiling slave traders, thousands of innocents, the ruined lives of millions who had fallen victim to these foul creatures...
Without hesitation, aiming the muzzle at the wounded Tsurr, Billy jammed the trigger to the stop, riddling the body until nothing but a pile of smoking shit remained.
Mom, Dad... you'll be proud of me. I promise.
***
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