"He-he-he, little Natsuki! Come to me..."
Giggling nastily, Mizuna's son ran through the village, chasing a young neighbor girl who was his age. Young Kanto was a peculiar fellow, to put it mildly. Simple and straightforward, he was also a notable pervert who would probably screw a corpse if it had big tits.
Because of this, all the girls in the village were in danger, as this lustful animal didn't shy away from using any methods just to get under their skirts.
The young, naive girl was too attached to one of the few peers she'd played with since childhood, so even as they both grew up, she still forgave his antics, constantly coming back.
"First love..."
"You sound like an old man, Sam," Mizuna coughed, spitting out clumps of blood and saliva, trying to pretend he was fine, but my ironic gaze only elicited a cheerful snort from the old man. "Squirt. You've grown into a big brute and think you can boss me around? You haven't even grown hair on your balls yet to..."
"Ugh, you've become too grumpy and vulgar. Now it's clear where Kanto gets those quirks from."
"Don't compare me to that blockhead. Six years have passed, and he hasn't changed a bit, still the same young fool... Sigh," sitting down on the bench next to me, Mizuna smacked his lips, watching his son's stupid games intently. "One fool can't manage to lift a skirt... The other has filled his head with nonsense."
"Old man..."
Tucking my pant leg into my boot, I tied my ankle tight so sand wouldn't pour in. Listening to Mizuna's grumbling, I checked my gear for the desert trek.
The beige cloak kept slipping off my back. Its thick, heavy fabric, which helped keep heat in at night and stay cool during the day, seemed determined to block my view.
My eyes flickered over the metal bench we were sitting on. Covered in banthas skins, this little bench was another of Mizuna's finds that he and I had hauled out of the desert.
Speaking of banthas. When I first saw those adult beasts, I dreamed of feeling the heavy weight of a machine gun in my hands again or having a couple of Cruisers in orbit to glass the entire canyon where they lived. Two-meter beasts, packed into a herd, with teeth as long as my forearm, jumping with the speed of a cracked-out cheetah... Fortunately, the locals had long ago learned how to beat those bastards, so over time, I managed to master that difficult science as well.
Shrugging off the memories, I switched back to the conversation.
Yes... the old man was a marauder, as were all the inhabitants of Tatooine, searching the sands for anything useful. That day, six years ago, he happened to be nearby and was the first to arrive at the crash site of my pod, where he gathered most of the salvaged metal and equipment, then headed toward home, which by a lucky coincidence I was also trudging toward.
Noticing the explosions in the dunes, the old hunter was spooked at first, but then curiosity got the better of him. Logic and reason told the old man not to poke his nose where a krayt dragon was likely having fun, but he didn't listen... And so, here I sit, saved on that hot day—in every sense of the word.
"Pff, enough. I'll say what I want." Stubbornly furrowing his brows, the old hunter, unexpectedly for me, jumped up briskly and hobbled into the house. For a few minutes, he rustled something, cursed, and puffed under his breath, then returned to me with a rifle wrapped in a rag. "Here, take it. I wanted to give it to you when you turned twenty, but since you can't wait any longer... Unbelievable! Such talent, such skills, and you waste them on nonsense."
Carefully accepting the gift from the man who had become a father to me in this strange world, I suppressed any objections or hurtful words that wanted to slip from my lips and only smiled warmly, seeing how much he appreciated my sincere gratitude.
"Thank you." One simple word, and Mizuna's grumbling and cursing vanished instantly.
"Eh, Sam," pulling the hat off his head, he shoved it onto mine, "take care of yourself... kid. The village won't survive if its favorite disappears in the sands."
"Of course," smiling at his gruff tone, I laid the rifle on my knees, carefully pulling back the protective cover and removing the cloth, "are you sure you want to give this to me?"
"I've saved my own for Kanto, and this one will do for you." He muttered, turning away, yet I noticed a flush on his cheeks. "With this little lady, you can carry any nonsense you want—genocide, Democracy, to any worlds. A real savage weapon for war from destructive times."
I ran my fingertips along the rifle, if it could even be called that. It looked more like a revolving carbine. All that was left was to load my new weapon and prepare a supply...
As if reading my thoughts, Mizuna pulled a couple of boxes of ammunition from his tunic.
"Anti-personnel rifle cartridge with an explosive bullet," he grimaced disdainfully and spat on the ground, "not like your... bla-a-asters..."
Grimacing, he waved his hands, glancing sideways at my belt where a standard Pistol of an outdated model hung. All scuffed, with parts modified by local craftsmen, it nevertheless had good specs, but Mizuna didn't recognize such weapons and was right in some ways. The Tibanna gas used for them was becoming scarcer every year. Because of this, the villagers had tacitly agreed to dilute the gas with some local equivalent so they wouldn't accidentally end up with a bare ass at some point.
"This little lady will blow a krayt dragon's face off with one shot," hesitating at my skeptical look, the man coughed, "well, at least the one that tried to nip your heel."
"Powerful..."
Krayt dragons. The local fauna was full of such beasts. As a hunter, Mizuna frequently crossed paths with all the joys of the desert, and krayt dragons were the local alpha predators. Yes, people found ways to deal with them too, but for the most part, these massive dinosaur-like monsters dominated the sands, feasting on other inhabitants and travelers.
"Yeah, so if you're going to follow your goals, don't shoot 'people' with it."
With a snide smirk, Mizuna turned away, returning to his surveillance of his pervert son so he wouldn't do something that would get him hung by his balls or put in a cage in the sun.
The old man didn't understand me, and in recent years he had begun to mock my dream and goal: "to settle conflicts with peace and diplomacy, and only impose Democracy on the dregs and bastards."
He called me an idealist and a fool, for how could I know who was actually a scoundrel and who was a good guy? But I wasn't offended by him. Over the years we spent together, we had become good friends, and I admit, I even began to see him as something more—maybe even a father? A strange feeling, unfamiliar.
Packing the rifle, I carefully tied the straps, checking the reliability of the case. In the desert, a careless attitude toward equipment always ends the same way. And even though Mizuna's gift could probably fire in mud, underwater, and in space... it was better not to risk it. Sand is dangerous and treacherous, and after so many years in a water-mining settlement, I had learned this rule much better than others.
"Six years have passed... Quick, though; I didn't even notice."
I won't recount my entire life in the village; too many things have happened to me during this time. Starting from getting to know the local crowd to brawls with the Tusken Raiders, who turned out to be far more cruel, mysterious, and misunderstood than I thought.
I worked at the well and helped out in the village. I could be seen at the construction site or in the kitchen. Loading the catch from the hunt, and as I got older, I even led hunting parties a few times for the local fauna that provides us with meat.
But most of all, I trained.
From morning till night, according to the Helldivers schedule—recovering my old skills and reflexes, working on myself until I dropped, forcing my body to get used to the fact that it was no longer weak. I broke the remnants of Sam inside, reshaping them into something more—something that could survive on Tatooine.
"Then, I'm off." Attaching the carbine to my backpack, I slung it over my shoulder. Raising my head to the sun, I adjusted the simple goggles meant to keep the ever-intruding sand out of my eyes. "Don't think ill of me."
Without saying goodbye, I waved a hand in the air, feeling Mizuna's watchful gaze on the back of my head, following me all the way to the edge of the village.
***
Three days later.
"Damn... maybe it really was a stupid idea?"
Hiding behind a rock, dodging a couple of blaster shots at the last second, I ducked my head, escaping the last, most accurate one.
Everything around me was blackened and charred. The plasma-heated stone was ready to crack at any second, and the screams coming from all sides only made the situation worse.
The very first encounter with other settlers...
Well, of course. What would an armed mob do the moment they saw a lone traveler in the middle of the desert? I didn't even have time to say a word before the charges from a blaster rifle and a local version of a Shotgun riddled several stones.
No, I wasn't a naive idiot, though to some extent maybe...
Anyway, I understood that I would often run into dregs, bastards, monsters, raiders, and so on... But the very first encounter!? What kind of injustice is this?
Forced to hide, I zigzagged through the canyon like a hare, turning down a narrow gully at the last moment. With a few shots, I managed to drive them back, but then among these individuals consumed by greed, someone with a couple of brain cells must have been found. And having climbed up the canyon, they were now shooting at me from above.
The incredible sensation of flashes constantly sparking behind your back and over your head, and buckshot tearing off chunks of rock, is indescribable. It felt just like nostalgia. All that was left was for a nuclear charge to hit from orbit and it would be perfect. All for the glory of Democracy!
Tucking my legs in, I pushed off sharply to the side, diving like a fish behind a pile of rocks that created an excellent natural cover. Protected from most sides, I could only occasionally fire back at the canyon peaks, driving away the most persistent pursuers.
Wiping sweat from my face, I allowed myself a moment of relaxation, and at that moment, a grenade fell at my feet.
"Oh, no way!" Having no better idea, I snatched up the detonator and threw it back, missing the explosion by a couple of seconds, but the effect was incredible.
I clearly overdid it, and the explosion didn't occur at the base of the rock ridge but closer to the peaks, causing a small landslide that slowly but surely grew into something more.
"Aaaah! Run, this psycho blew up the cliff!"
"I blew it up?" At such audacity, I even poked my head out, hoping to find the arrogant prick who thought he could blame all the problems on me. But instead of grim, hostile faces, I only saw approaching boulders and tons of earth and stone rushing down the slope. "Holy mother!"
The Pistol was in its holster with a practiced motion, and I crawled on all fours behind the largest rock, pressing my back against it and praying to gods and spirits that the local elements would leave me alone.
But I wasn't alone behind the rock. A small dwarf in a brown robe, putting my idea into practice, pressed his back against the stone, muttering in his native language.
"Jawa? What the hell are you doing here, kid?"
Covering me in what was clearly choice profanity, the Jawa waved his hands vigorously, squeaking and screeching... I honestly didn't understand a damn thing, but it looked amusing.
These little creatures were one of the two indigenous races of Tatooine. Small, sneaky Traders who haul off any Tech they find and then trade it with the locals. I'd already had to deal with them more than once... and it's an extremely difficult business. Jawas communicate through a strange mixture of sounds and smells, so simple black-legged laborers like me just can't grasp the full magnitude of the thought they're trying to convey. There's a special trade language, but it's just a quiet horror if interpreted into simple words: "Me you trade. You me money give."
Settling in next to him, feeling the growing roar, I held out my hand palm up, and a moment later, a tiny Jawa paw gripped it.
At that moment, a somewhat pathetic mood washed over me, and I tried to compose a haiku.
We sit, hiding behind a rock,
Screaming at the top of our lungs.
Total disaster behind us.
With a crash that shook the earth, the rockfall collapsed behind us, trying to crush the large stone. It felt as if the landslide was trying to get right to us, so fiercely and long did it pound against our boulder-protector.
The roar didn't subside. My teeth stopped chattering against each other. From the shaking, everything around was in motion, and the vibration lifted us off the ground, threatening to carry us further...
And rocks flew around, mud fell on our heads, and the air was clogged with sand that covered the area like a fog.
For several long seconds, we screamed until sand started flying into our mouths, after which we continued to cling to life in silence.
A minute? Maybe two?
When the roar stopped, for some time I didn't dare open my eyes, fearing to see something unpleasant, but courage eventually won out, and I resolutely snapped my eyelids open.
"Well, it's not all that bad." Patting the crying Jawa on the shoulder, I stood up, pushing aside several large rocks that had fallen near us. It took a couple of minutes to walk around the huge boulder that had taken the main blow with its mighty body. And to see what had become of the rest of the canyon. "Holy hell... that was awkward."
Half the canyon was gone. The entire side where the grenade exploded had slumped down and apparently, in a chain reaction, dragged down the other mountain ranges that stretched for several hundred meters.
Placing a palm to my forehead, I squinted, trying to see how far the destruction extended.
Whistling, I realized that the entire path I had covered during the chase now lay in ruins.
"Hey, it's him! That maniac! Save yourselves!"
On the other, surviving side of the canyon, the escaped bandits were now hiding, pointing fingers at me and hurling curses my way, while some simultaneously threw their weapons with tears in their eyes.
Scratching the back of my head from the awkwardness and absurdity of the whole situation, I returned to the Jawa.
"Basically, everything ended well," seeing the little rogue trying to pick the lock on my backpack, I grabbed him by the head, pulling him aside and lifting him slightly off the ground, "what are you doing, brother, trying to rob me? I've heard all sorts of things about you, but I didn't think you'd turn out to be one of them."
"!№;%::?
A mixture of indescribable sounds and squeaks rained down on me as the squirming Jawa tried to free himself from my grip.
"And the same to you..."
Releasing the shorty, I slung the backpack onto my back, taking one last look at the destruction I'd caused. A small mountain ridge, a canyon safe from the sun, destroyed in an instant.
"Maybe no one will ever know. The desert is big..."
%":;?%*";:?!
"Yeah, yeah," patting the indignant Jawa on the head, I shifted the backpack on my shoulder to settle it more comfortably, then took a confident step forward, stepping over a particularly large pile of rocks, "time to continue the journey. If the beginning was this active, I dread to imagine what comes next."
Hurried footsteps sounded behind me. Overtaking me, the little Jawa began jumping in place, waving his hands and pointing somewhere toward the horizon. His head jerked amusingly, and a pair of yellow eyes peering out from under the dark void of his hood watched me intently, hoping I would understand him.
"You want me to go with you?"
"№:%?*;!"%№"
"Problematic," scratching the back of my head, I looked in the direction the shorty was so determined to go, but it looked no different from the rest. Sand and stony wasteland with rare cliffs. "Fine, what the hell, let's go. Otherwise, you'll get lost on your own."
***
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