"Ha!? Damn..."
Jerking his rifle to the side, the young Jabiimite Salco looked around nervously. Trying not to disturb the cursed foliage, which was many times more dangerous than what grew on his home planet, Salco covered the rifle barrel with his hand, shielding it from the drops dripping from the leaves.
There was almost no protective gel left, and it was better for the rust to eat through his glove than to ruin his only surviving weapon. The Jabiimite had seen with his own eyes how the armor of a combat walker corroded before his eyes, exposing its vulnerable interior. Just half an hour, and instead of a harsh machine of war, they were left with an ordinary loader, only capable of carrying ammunition.
"Bitch..."
Ducking a snake's lunge, the Jabiimite caught it in mid-air, then slammed it against a branch with all his might. The disoriented creature dangled from his outstretched hand.
Simply tossing it into the nearest bushes, just a minute later Salco heard munching sounds from there. A few squeals, the clacking of claws, and a guttural growl at the end.
The last part Salco disliked intensely, so he immediately aimed the muzzle of his blaster there, freezing in place in agonizing anticipation.
Mud squelched under his feet. Covered to his knees in local silt mixed with earth, the Jabiimite paid it no mind, accustomed to much more viscous soil under his soles.
Droplets hit his armor, falling from somewhere beneath the tree canopies. It caused a dull irritation, as any one of them could contain the sap of local mushrooms or toxic plants, which would quickly make the suit useless.
But a minute passed, and silence draped over the small grove again; the sluggish struggle for the snake's corpse ceased, and then a large centipede, the size of an adult man's arm, peeked out from the bushes.
"Tfu... Disgusting." Spitting symbolically, the Jabiimite made a move as if to go toward the insect, and in that same instant, it vanished back into the bushes. "Yeah, right. I'm coming, don't hold your breath. I know you creatures... Probably waiting with the whole pack."
The horrific, cursed forest.
A nasty place swarming with squads of savages, among whom cannibals were not uncommon, users of Dark Side magic tricks, as they said in the briefing, and other rabble with horrific and bloody rituals.
The black-skinned highlanders irritated Salco, as they did all the Helldivers and Balawai. Hypocritical, arrogant, wild, and believing their way of life was far more important than others. But as it turned out, they weren't the only danger in these woods. As soon as the loud and large-scale battles died down, huge arachnids, snakes, lizards, and other filth crawled out from every crack. And that's not even mentioning the sentient vegetation, which didn't mind feasting on the flesh of humans or other sentients.
His fingers tightened on the blaster. Over the month of fighting, Salco had learned one simple thing in this god-forsaken forest—as soon as it gets quiet...
You're fucked.
And right now, it was very quiet.
Looking around, he quickly gave up on that useless task. As practice showed, spotting anyone in this thick foliage was no trivial task, and even the newest and most powerful Tech sometimes failed, letting raiding parties or other filth into their rear.
Glancing at his wrist-mounted PDA, the Helldiver sighed and pushed a stray thought away. There was a temptation to just call in a napalm strike on his position with a safe radius around it...
But remembering the list of punishments the commanders used to threaten them... Salco only shuddered fearfully, choosing an inglorious death in the jungle at the hands of savages over the anticipatory smiles of Sam Altman and his cute deputy.
A snap came from the left. Knowing how such things usually ended, Salco dropped to one knee, snapped his rifle up—bracing the stock against his shoulder—and then emptied half a Tibanna battery, burning everything with laser bolts within a radius of a few meters.
The suppressive fire echoed through the forest, flushing out flocks of birds and causing prides of small predators to bolt and hide far away while the humans settled things among themselves.
"Thunder!"
"Lightning!" Not missing a beat, Salco shouted the password back, then stood at the ready, preparing for the worst. A couple of times, situations had already occurred where treacherous colonists had leaked their main encryptions, leading to the deaths of nearly thirty people. Fortunately, they started making separate ones for each squad during operations in an area, but still... The Jabiimite didn't want to risk it. "Come on out of the bushes. Why the hell are you hiding there like a damn savage?"
Shouting, Salco dropped to one knee again, but he held the rifle with one hand, while with the other he grabbed a miraculously saved detonator, which he immediately activated. If he let go of his fingers, it would blow, destroying everything within a couple of meters. Just the thing to kill a couple of fans of scalping or taking Helldiver helmets as trophies.
"Hey, quiet, swamp-ass. Why are you screaming?"
Another Helldiver soldier stepped out from the thick of the jungle. All battered and covered in mud from head to toe, his very appearance answered Salco's questions about his survival. The poor guy must have dived headfirst into the local muck to escape a hail of glowing plasma.
And the Jabiimite himself clearly relaxed, as he had only heard that nickname used toward his countrymen among the Assassins.
Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, Salco stood up to his full height and went to meet the other Helldiver, who was dressed in different armor.
Instead of the standard black-and-yellow, he wore the entirely green light armor of a reconnaissance squad used for infiltrating enemy territory. A slightly bulging helmet with a large piece of glass, backlit in yellow. A small cape to cover his shoulders and head. And plates that looked light even to the eye, which would more likely protect against large shrapnel and stray bullets than a strike from a savage's bone spear or a blaster shot.
"What are you staring at? Apologize already. You almost finished me!"
"Should've thought of that sooner," Salco clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, turned around, and began scanning the jungle behind him. They could talk like this, but leaving his ass unguarded for long was pure idiocy, especially on this cursed planet. "What brings you to our neck of the woods?"
Moving the rifle muzzle further, smoothly and carefully, Salco felt the back of his newfound assistant lean against his own, and now they circled together, smoothly shifting their feet and examining every bush.
"What do you think? The raid on the lowland villages was... Unsuccessful."
"Shit," his mouth felt dry, and he had also caught a cold and was now constantly sniffing, causing a nasty lump to form in his throat. "Kha... Nasty. Did many of ours fall?"
"Two squads, not counting me." Bitterness was audible in the new acquaintance's voice. As far as Salco understood, situations like this—where one survivor remained from a tight-knit four-man team—were rare. Either more survived... Or everyone died. "But we cut down quite a few of the black bastards too!"
Chuckling at his companion's bloodthirstiness, the Jabiimite nodded understandingly. Over a month of war in these foul jungles, all those who had doubted the choice of the new big assignment had lost their last doubts. Though the Korunnai weren't armed like the Hutt Cartel, as devious as pirate barons, or as strong as the Tsurr... They were worthy enemies. Fast, invisible, agile, with magnificent intuition, and extremely dangerous in close combat.
And also... They were cruel and ruthless. Never leaving prisoners or the wounded alive, rather the opposite, making their fate much more miserable and horrific.
How many times had they found whole rows of poor souls hanged on their own intestines, left in giant anthills, or soldiers infected with some kind of parasites... Too many to count.
Horrific and bloodthirsty deaths. And as announced at the briefing—they didn't do it for nothing. Every local savage possessed a talent for the mythical Jedi Force, and with these bloodthirsty executions, the Korunnai nourished themselves with power through pain and suffering.
"Sick bastards."
For the umpteenth time, the Jabiimite wanted to spit, but the damn airtight helmet prevented that simple action.
"Where are you from? Are there any of ours nearby?"
"Hell no," grimacing, Salco looked in the direction he had come from. Somewhere there in the thickets lay a downed Pelican that had been rammed by the savages' hand-reared birds packed with bombs. "Shuttle got shot down, flying back from a mission... Pilots got dissolved to hell, their screams are still in my ears, and the rest died during landing or at the hands of the local fauna."
"Fucked up." The new acquaintance expressed it succinctly...
"By the way. What's your name?"
"Reed," and my mother called me Merak."
"Can't even pronounce that." Chuckling, the Jabiimite felt a light elbow strike to his back but took it with dignity—proudly ignoring it. "I'm Salco Sharous. Callsign 'Targeter'."
"Beeping non-stop in space?"
"Yeah, almost," accustomed to jokes about his callsign, Salco came up with what he thought was a worthy answer, "it's just that my dick is so big it can be seen in the dark from any backwater..."
"Lovely. Let's hope the savages don't spot us because of your dick," a moment later Reed's voice came over the internal comms channel, "did you notice?"
"Yeah," answering his comrade in distress in tone, Salco continued to pretend he didn't notice the shadows flickering around. Young, arrogant, which meant not as dangerous as their older kin. They would never have seen a grown, experienced Korunnai hunter, which meant there was a chance to get out. "If they came without a nanny, we'll manage."
"We're far from the front lines, so it's quite likely." Moving the muzzle further, smoothly and carefully, "Reed" activated a countdown on the screen. "Ready?"
"Never been readier." The thermal detonator had been warming his thigh for a long time, so Salco grinned wickedly; hot flames of freedom awaited the bare-assed barbarians soon, he only hoped they would fully enjoy them before they died. Watching the countdown with excitement, the Jabiimite impatiently waited for the number zero and immediately hurled the detonator into the largest cluster of enemies. "Let's go!"
***
"Nonsense. You think too much. It's not like you. Helldivers don't do that. — Folding her arms over her chest, Shorty leaned back in her chair, studying me with an attentive gaze. — Maybe you caught something? A planet with a high level of biological hazard. Plenty of chances. Better check..."
"Quit the joking," jerking, I got a smack on the head from Somnia, who was now personally bandaging my wounded arm. "Ow... What was that for?"
"You're fidgeting too much."
"Some kind of women's revolt." Ducking another clip round the ear, I try not to listen to the snide laughter of the little Jawa, who, pressing her palms to her mouth, was mockingly laughing her head off at this whole scene. "Enough already! Einz, Zwei! Your Commander is being oppressed and beaten, and you're just sitting there eating like nothing's happening!"
Glancing at each other, the brothers met eyes with Somnia, then awkwardly pursed their lips and, taking their dry rations, turned their backs to us, continuing their lunch.
I sat there in genuine shock, my mouth hanging wide open. I couldn't believe these two big lugs had just ditched me like that, and against whom!? Against a woman? Small, weak...
"Ow." A new smack came from a satisfied girl, who hid her amusement behind a feigned scowl. "What now?!"
"So you don't think stupid things. It's written all over your face... And how you even participate in negotiations, and so successfully at that..."
Somnia asked herself the question, then proceeded to bandage the next minor wound. Not that I needed it after all the upgrades, but my dear deputy insisted on it, so I had to overcome my masculine bravado and pride and sit like a good boy on the staff holographic projector table, listening to the jokes of the gathered team.
The other commanders, who had reached this rank through battle and experience, diplomatically left the high command alone and were probably gossiping and having fun in the next room right now, but I didn't care. We aren't an army yet, but a mercenary group, so as long as they perform their duties in full, I don't care how they spend their leisure time.
"Observation. Pay attention to two beautiful girls. Stop daydreaming." Shorty swung her legs, sitting on the exact same table. If the staff officers, logisticians, and other workers under Somnia's patronage saw us now, they would be clutching their hearts at the hypocrisy and injustice. After all, they are forbidden from even putting down cups of caf, let alone sitting.
"Well, I see one beauty," glancing at Shorty from head to toe, I suppress a snide smile, feeling the rising bloodlust beside me, "but where... I... Was joking..."
Somnia's cold eyes looked down at me with a sort of entomological interest. Her left eyebrow slowly crept up, and her lips imperceptibly tightened into a thin line.
Glancing back at a sudden noise, I saw Arkam, Zwei, Einz, and Somnia's bumbling brothers pick up their plates and retreat. The damn Mandalorian gave me a posthumous salute, and the Zabrak brothers were mockingly wiping away non-existent tears.
Turning back to the girl, I noticed she had started wrapping a bandage around her fist. Thoroughly, as if preparing for a fight...
"I was just joking." Holding my hands out in front of me, I slowly stand up from the table and start backing away, listening to Shorty's laughter in the background. "I didn't mean that Shorty is the beauty..."
"Oh, you idiot." Sula snapped his helmet onto his head, then was the first to leave the room. The others followed him. The proud Mandalorian began singing a battle song about the death of brave heroes who fell defending their home, and the other morons joined in, burying me in advance.
"When you're finished, don't finish him off. Leave some for me."
Snorting amusingly, the Jawa, chin held high, followed them out, clearly suppressing laughter with her last bit of strength. Wiggling her legs absurdly, she was parodying those rich little girls we sometimes guarded at the persistent request of their parents, but she was... mediocre at it, to put it mildly.
"Definitely." Nodding goodbye to Shorty, Somnia began wrapping the second bandage, looking me over from head to toe. Her eyes slid over my face, and her cheeks took on a barely noticeable flush. Something strange was going on with the girl, but her next words knocked me for a loop. "Shall we have a drink?"
***
Martio Batch was an ordinary guy. For years he had remained a gray mouse, one of millions on Ord Pardron. An ordinary job, a small salary, and a boring life.
No girlfriend. No friends either. Just a couple of acquaintances and colleagues—hateful after years of monotony. Every day he knew his schedule in advance, and nothing could change.
He didn't become a pilot, as his family had hoped. He didn't get an education and didn't become a man of art, as they are called on his home planet. Those who devote themselves entirely to their passion and don't give a damn about money or the attitudes of others.
And the younger Batch despaired. He lost hope, all meaning, and any reason just to get out of bed. Every day, lying through the rest of his life, he stared blankly at the ceiling—dying from melancholy and the grayness of life.
Immersed in his own dreams, where there were far more bright colors, he hoped that one day he could escape this hell and become... someone.
Every time he opened his eyes and surfaced from his fantasies, the desire to live left him, and he wanted to fall asleep or immerse himself in dreams as quickly as possible.
Martio lived a miserable life. One that he loathed so much that when the chance presented itself... A horrific, dangerous, frightening, and—let's be honest—thrilling one, he grabbed it with joy.
And now he is here.
Under the roar of the combat walker's guns, Batch leaped forward, covered by his comrades and combat vehicles. Shells exploded all around, and thousands of blasters showered the fortifications of another village, destroying it to its foundations. To horrific and blood-curdling screams, the soldiers unleashed all their fury upon the Korunnai village.
Exhausted by battles, constant ambushes, night attacks, the horrors of the forest, and its horrific inhabitants, they vented all their anger as soon as they discovered another dwelling place of the local savages.
Everyone. Every single one of them. But not Martio Batch.
Raising the muzzle of his flamethrower, the former farmer released a stream of liquid flame, drenching the surroundings. Advancing slowly, paying no mind to the all-consuming heat, Martio added more death rattles to this terrifying picture.
Dressed in a sealed fireproof suit. With a gas mask on his face and the proud emblem of an arsonist on his shoulder, Batch walked forward, incinerating anyone who dared stand in his way.
A horrific lone silhouette walking through the Korunnai village, ruthlessly burning warriors, the elderly, and children, Martio breathed heavily through his gas mask...
And enjoyed the new colors. No one would ever see this or know. But beneath the horrific helmet, its eye sockets glowing with crimson lights, was a childishly happy face that examined every detail with interest.
Wide-open eyes burned with delight as the next tongues of flame engulfed a new target. As if listening to the most beautiful melody, Martio tried to whistle in time with the screams, continuing to walk forward, living in his own, beautiful, and colorful world.
***
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