"Commander, we are ready."
"Excellent." Putting on his helmet, Arkam Sula cracked his neck, feeling the armored collar scrape against the edges. "Call Einz and Zwei. And give the command to prepare... we'll be landing soon."
"Yes, sir."
Striking his fist against his chest, the soldier quickly began typing on his PDA screen while the Mandalorian himself began re-checking his gear for the umpteenth time. His fingers slid over the armor, confirming with just a few touches that everything was in place and in order.
Then it was time to check his baby; picking up the MG-206 Heavy Machine Gun, Sula threw it onto the weapon rack where, quickly securing it with a pair of clamps, he began his inspection.
Bringing his helmet close to the weapon, Arkam heard a noise behind him, and as soon as he turned, a most loathsome individual squeezed through the open door—one who had been pestering him for days as they flew to Melida/Daan.
"Damn it, Sam, why the hell did you dump her on me?"
Recalling the smile of his commander and comrade as he'd given him a friendly pat on the shoulder, asking for a small favor, Arkam promised "cruel" revenge.
"Miss Barow. What part of the words 'after the battle' is unclear to you?"
Proudly tilting her chin, the brown-eyed brunette walked forward with dignity, while the sentries, obeying a non-verbal gesture, stepped aside.
Having already become well-acquainted with the character of this flighty woman in a sports pilot suit, Arkam knew it was easier to answer her questions immediately than to try to hide or ignore her.
"Commander Sula, I am glad for our new meeting." Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the girl smiled sweetly, but the Mandalorian believed in that smile about as much as he would a Rancor's. "As always, you are radiant with manners."
"Pff..."
Turning away from the persistent madam, Arkam continued tinkering with the machine gun. Soon this baby might come in handy if the planet's two factions didn't reach an agreement, so it was better to prepare the Trandoshan modification for battle.
"Commander Sula, I have a small request for you..."
"No."
"What? You didn't even listen!" "Justifiably" outraged, the girl tried to wedge herself between him and his prize, but pressing his palm against her forehead, Arkam continued checking the machine gun while the grumbling and fussing girl puffed indignantly. "Why... damn it! Why won't you at least listen to me?!"
Finally conceding defeat in the physical struggle against the massive Mandalorian in power armor, Alira Barow stepped aside and, crossing her arms over her small chest, shifted her hip, tilting her nose toward the ceiling.
Except it was all pointless.
"You are an impudent and unpleasant person," the squad commander stated in a bored tone, then reached out his hand to the side, where a moment later a small drone placed a screwdriver in it. In fact, many of these small but useful and dangerous creatures hovered around the Mandalorian. Small in size, they floated about, beeping and clearly swearing at the clingy female. "Why on earth would I suddenly help you and meet you halfway?"
"Because I want to film the triumph of your squad from the front lines..."
"Beep-beep-beep..."
"What... what are you doing?" At the strange sounds made by the Mandalorian, the girl approached again, but a busy droid blocked her from its master, allowing the latter to quietly attend to his favorite and important business. "Please, take your pieces of hardware away, they scare me..."
"BEEP-BEEP-BEE-EE-EE-EEP."
"Mr. Sula!"
"Oh, forgive me." Faking repentance so convincingly that a vein popped on the girl's forehead, the Mandalorian finally turned to her. As if in mockery, the lenses of his helmet blinked. "That's my bullshit-meter, and it's going off the charts next to you."
"Ha! This is crossing all boundaries, Mr. Sula."
Stamping her foot, the girl was already about to expressively leave the ship's deck when she suddenly stopped. Performing a quick breathing exercise, the journalist went back on the offensive.
"At least allow me to film the actual process of the planet officially joining the Galactic Republic and adopting democratic values..."
"The planet is already in the Galactic Republic," the Mandalorian said, making air quotes with his fingers as he affectionately—one might even say tenderly—ran his fingers along the barrel of the machine gun, nodding contentedly at every roughness. "And nothing important is happening. Just another replacement of snouts at the trough on one of the tens of thousands of planets in the world we know."
Nodding satisfactorily one last time, Arkam straightened up and finally deigned to turn to the journalist. For once, he tore himself away from his "super-important business."
"You didn't cover the other planets, did you? Why the sudden zeal here?"
Even through the helmet, Barow felt her interlocutor smirking, ironically raising an eyebrow. She knew that he knew that she knew... and so on.
In reality, the girl wanted to film the Helldivers themselves, who were slowly but surely changing all the neighboring worlds for the better. No, they weren't becoming a paradise or Eden, but the share of pirate raids, slave trade, drug trafficking, and many other terrible things had gone into decline.
And when Barow got the chance, she gladly took it. Her old friend, who had become the rector at the Baobab Merchant Fleet Academy, had somehow let it slip that she was personally acquainted with the commander of the entire organization.
As soon as she learned this, Alira squeezed a consent for a meeting out of Talia. She did everything to find out about everything from the front lines...
And what a disappointment it was when the blond handsome guy, barely older than her, declared:
"It's too dangerous, so forgive me, but you won't be able to fly with us; you'll simply perish there, but...! My dear friend and comrade, Arkam, will be able to take you on board and answer all your questions."
"Yeah, answered them, right."
Even though the first impression was ruined, the girl did not despair, though perhaps she should have...
Arkam Sula, Mandalorian, mercenary, feminist, and racist bastard, had shut her down as soon as she stepped onto the ship. Brushing off her questions, the commander of one of the Helldivers squads, even when she managed to catch him and corner him, would brush her off with one-word answers:
"Yes. No. Not permitted. Possibly. Most likely. You'll find out."
It was turning out to be a hell of an interview, especially considering she wasn't allowed anywhere and they had no intention of taking her down to the planet either. But Alira Barow was not the kind of person who gives up so easily, and judging by the change in the Mandalorian's shoulder position, he realized it too, once again quietly cursing his boss.
"Is all this really so necessary for you?"
"Of course! What a strange question."
Arkam didn't know how much truth or how much affectation was in that answer, but nevertheless, the man pondered, perfectly understanding that something had to be done. The stubborn journalist was a problem that should be solved, not postponed until the last moment.
"It's just going to be a ceremony, and we're basically acting as security..."
"Exactly! Everyone for whom it's important to know will immediately understand who is actually behind the peaceful coup on the planet! It's amazing..."
The girl continued to say something, while Arkam was glad he had managed to put his helmet on, because right now...
His face expressed sincere bewilderment.
"Peaceful coup?"
A moment flashed before the man's eyes from when he had first arrived at Melida/Daan, and the first thing he had to do was save the ships from a barrage of missiles launched from the planet. To his greetings and the message that the Helldivers had arrived to bring Liberty and Democracy, a missile exploded near the port side.
In response to such aggression, the flagship shelled the outskirts of the nearest city, completely destroying the fortresses of both factions on the planet.
The cunning Daan bastards also quietly opened fire. Not only at their enemies but also at the arriving Helldivers.
I don't know what was in the heads of the Daan president and the military leader of their opponents, but in the end, everyone got hit.
The angry Helldivers, who were forced to drag themselves here instead of helping their comrades liberate Orvax, took out all their spite and rage on the local upper echelons of power, scaring the rest out of their wits. Residences and fortresses were soaked in blood, and sometimes wiped off the face of the earth entirely.
Fifteen hundred Helldivers went through the warring sides of Melida/Daan with fire and sword, accepting no surrender. They got burned a couple of times when supposedly surrendered fortresses opened fire again.
The stupid bastards just couldn't understand that without a proper fleet and powerful Planetary Defense, their attempts were more like poking a Krayt dragon with a stick.
And now, after a week, peace would finally be concluded on the planet for the first time in nearly a hundred years of active war.
Even if it was forced. And even if it would be very fragile, and the former Daan and Melida military would hate and fear them, Arkam was satisfied with the result. The planet was full of children and those who did not want war—in time, when they stopped dreaming of constant explosions and funeral notices for relatives and friends, they would remember those who brought them the long-awaited peace. A year, two, maybe five... but people would understand that such a thin and forced peace is better than war. And the Helldivers would see to it that it stayed that way.
So in light of these events, the proposal of the girl, who didn't even really understand how exactly the coup on the planet was achieved...
"Fine, to hell with her. Let Sam, Somnia, and the others have the headaches. I was asked to make sure she didn't die and didn't spy, and the rest doesn't matter."
Being a simple soldier, Arkam decided to do as he had been taught back when he was a True Mandalorian—carry out the orders given and ask no questions, and it was best to carry out orders literally. For even if you are considered stupid for a lack of initiative... at least you won't be trusted with anything extra.
"Fine, Miss Barow." Seeing the girl ready to burst into joyful cries, the Mandalorian held out his right palm, stopping her turbulent excitement. "Deployment in ten minutes, so I suggest being in the shuttle by then, otherwise you'll fly to the planet in an orbital pod."
Swallowing hard, the girl shook her head from side to side, after which her facial expression changed abruptly and, swearing, she broke into a run toward her cabin, where all her necessary equipment lay.
"There we go. Will she make it? Fine. No? Well, I don't give a damn."
Calming himself with such thoughts, Arkam threw the machine gun over his shoulder and, together with his team, headed toward the hangars.
***
Tapping his fingers on the instrument panel, Yan Dooku read the report from Blaze Varne, commander of the Freedom Warriors, on the results of the operation on Orvax.
With every line, with every new sentence, the Jedi Master felt his emotions jump and his mood change. The Force around him raged, giving its master away completely, but fortunately, he was currently in the cockpit of a lone fighter in the middle of space.
Combing his beard with his hand, Dooku set about drafting his own report for the Masters of the Order, but as he wrote, he began to realize that everything he listed... could be served under different sauces, and depending on that, a completely different outcome awaited the Helldivers and their allies.
Revolutions. Seizure of power and influence. Collection of their own taxes. Mediation with smugglers... and these were just the headlines from a whole list of what could be classified as crimes.
On the other hand:
The liberation of tens of thousands of slaves. Honest work for hire. Protection of planets from pirates and other creatures from the voids of space. A real war with the Cartel. Aid to underdeveloped planets.
Glancing to the left, Yan fixed his eyes on the yellow cast of the desert planet where he had spent a considerable amount of time, communicating and studying everything that had happened there over the last decade.
And the way Tatooine had transformed and what it had ultimately become, despite the short-lived rule of the Hutt... it inspired hope for the better.
For six months now, he had been traveling through the places of the squad's military glory, returning here every time, to the former den of pirates and other rabble. In person, he watched as the desert planet transformed, changed, and became something normal.
It was no longer necessary to be afraid to go out into the street. No one demanded a bribe for parking in the spaceport beyond measure. There were no palaces, saloons, or cantinas left that accepted only a certain circle of people who were at odds with the law.
Biting his lip, the Jedi spent a few more minutes reflecting on his own in the void of space. His monthly report to the Order was supposed to begin in a couple of minutes, but he could not decide to send the final message.
Returning his gaze to the screen, Yan pressed his index finger into the single button on the keyboard and watched with some relief as the text of the message was slowly erased. Line by line, his report disappeared until only a couple of the first sentences remained, which Yan deemed appropriate.
"It will be better this way," the Jedi Master whispered in a low voice, shaking his mane of chestnut hair, in which the first gray was beginning to show, "for everyone."
Adding something of his own, Dooku sent the message, and a few seconds later they contacted him, confirming that the Masters were eagerly waiting for his message to establish a link.
"Master Dooku. We are glad to see you."
Yan did not make out exactly who greeted him, for the Jedi's eyes were fixed on the one who had been his teacher. The little green shorty, reading his sparse words with one eye, twitching an ear in dissatisfaction, then turned off the holographic screen and focused all his attention on his former student.
"Your sympathies, clear to me they are. But... sure are you? Think it right in mind? Not in heart?"
"Yes, Master." Looking firmly ahead, Dooku answered with steel in his voice. His staring contest with the Grand Master of the Order caused a wave of whispers among the others, but neither of them paid any attention to it. "I believe that their actions do not pose a threat, but rather the opposite..."
While Yan gathered his thoughts, Yoda once again flicked his ears. Tapping his cane on the floor, regaining the attention of the distracted student, the green shorty grunted quietly.
"Ambitious they are, too much. Naive. Daring. Blood, all this may turn into. Thought of this have you, hm?"
Raising a bushy eyebrow, Yoda tilted his head to the side.
"I understand. But this is cold calculation, not..."
"Only? Reports of yours, carefully I read." At the command of a finger, a PDA flew into the air and, opening all the reports sent by Yan, demonstrated them to the others. "With every new discovery, your heart with warmth and confidence filled. Toward their words. Actions. Ideas."
"No," the Master's pressure did not catch the former student off guard, "I evaluated everything from the outside. Firmly and clearly, without any sympathies."
"Hm." Scratching his chin with a large claw, Yoda nodded to his own thoughts. "Good, if so it is. Hope I do, your next report—more informative it will be."
"Of course, Master." Acknowledging his mistake, Yan bowed his head, but a second later he snapped it up again. Sometimes it's easier to retreat. "Where should I fly?"
"To Orvax, evidently, arrive you must."
"Orvax? So the slave planet was taken by storm?"
"Truly so. Many speak of this..." Smacking his lips, Yoda looked piercingly at his former student. "Wish I do, to converse with the young mercenary. Bring him here."
"There are ten thousand soldiers guarding him, and a fleet..."
"The Freedom Warriors will help you; agreed I have already, with their commander. As well as the Judicial Forces. Hope I do, necessary this will not be. For wish I do only to talk, not in shackles to put him."
"I..." Not knowing how to react, Yan nodded in agreement. His squared shoulders and proudly tilted chin bowed slightly toward the floor. "Very well. It will be done, Master."
"May the Force be with you."
****
***
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