"For freedom and right, for brotherhood and light,
We'll repel the darkness, our union is might!
Strong together—inspired by a dream,
Helldivers, coming for you!"
Reflexively snapping my fist to my chest, I felt relief and lightness not only in my head but in my whole body. As if having a moment of clarity, feeling the full depth of a new life, I recite the oath of allegiance to the flag, then continue my way under the skeptical gaze of the shorty.
"!№%;:?!№;№%"
"You don't understand anything. It sounds great," waving off the silly lover of smells rather than good music, I speed up, climbing a steep dune that was bypassed in an arc by tracks of paws and wheels. In some places, characteristic waves created by the anti-grav from Speeder were even visible, and that meant only one thing: I was on the right track, "besides. I don't remember you singing anything better yourself. Your song sounded like the foul-mouthed limericks of astromech droids."
Climbing the dune, I nevertheless did not lower my vigilance and constantly tracked everything in the vicinity, and therefore, when the characteristic sound of a blaster shot was heard in the distance, I first of all fell to the ground, simultaneously knocking the shorty down... though, that sounds a bit wrong, I suppose... I just put my hand on her head and she fell after me.
Wallowing in the sand, the little Jawa was clearly showering me with her native curses. Having swallowed dust, she grumpily tried to stand back up, but seeing my serious expression, she froze like a frightened Wompa.
"Quiet." Placing my index finger to my lips, I was the first to crawl forward, hoping that this time my hearing had deceived me, but... "Oh, hell."
Having reached the top, carefully peering from the crest of the dune, I caught an extremely unpleasant sight. A real caravan of desert-dwellers was moving about three hundred meters away from us. Mounted on their favorite beasts—Banthas—the sand people were slowly but surely advancing.
Some rode, some walked, but most—apparently women and children—rolled on hitched sleds.
There were many of them... A lot, and the most unpleasant thing was that in the very center of their caravan, they were leading about a dozen Humans, among whom miners and residents of local settlements were easily recognizable. Whether they were captives bought from the raiders or the few who survived the raids and could not resist a large tribe of sand people?
That was unknown to me, but the fact that I could help these people was obvious.
Without noticing it while observing, I had already unwrapped Mizuna's gift and was now looking through the crosshairs of the front sight at the riders at the head of the column.
"Filthy slave drivers... Animals who trampled upon great liberty..."
Hissing the words through my teeth, I sighted in on the first bastard, preparing to pull the trigger, but then I was yanked by the arm, dragged back behind the dune.
"Shorty, if you don't want to help, then stay out of it..."
Snarling back angrily, I was already about to crawl back when the little Jawa blocked the path with her body, pointing her finger somewhere to the side.
"Well, what else is it? A new tribe? A krayt dragon, or maybe raiders showed up right here so we wouldn't have to go looking for them... Shit."
Glancing in the direction she was pointing, I saw most of the above. The Desert Rules gang was charging on riding beasts, buggies, and a pair of Speeders, fleeing from a massive krayt dragon that was about six times larger than the one that had chased me.
The massive beast opened its maw, revealing a set of teeth so impressive that the largest Terminid bugs would look like children's toys.
"Let's get out of here."
Swallowing hard, I was the first to run in the opposite direction, but as if by the prompting of fate, the bandits turned toward us, and consequently, the krayt dragon charged this way too. With one sweep of its tail, the monster leveled a dune much larger than the one we had been sitting on a couple of minutes ago.
"This way, this way, this way!"
"!№%:?;:№%!*"
"I know the Sand People are there! What, is there another option?"
Vaulting over the crest, I tumbled down head over heels, but even through the rustle of sand trying to crawl into my ears, I heard the thunder of gunfire, the roar of the approaching dragon, and the characteristic hooting of the desert dwellers as they converged toward the threat, preparing to join the fight.
And at first, things were going well for them.
Thumping down on my backside, I had to quickly scramble away, taking cover behind sand hills and dry rocks while high-caliber laser bolts flew behind my back. The natives' favorite rifles fired slowly and weren't particularly accurate, but if that hunk of junk hit you—it was all over.
Diving behind a rock at the last moment, I released Shorty, whom I had been carrying the whole way.
Glancing at the corner of my cover, I realized with horror that the aborigines' rifles were gradually eroding the stone.
"Just what kind of caliber do you people have?"
Crawling further away, I almost exposed myself to a shot when the rock behind me abruptly ended. Fortunately, my hand slipped and I fell to the ground, letting a whole wave of green flashes plow through the sand over my head.
But then the lead actors stepped onto the stage.
The appearance of the bandits' strike force didn't scare the desert dwellers; quite the opposite. Fired up, they rushed to meet the new enemies. Confident in their victory, they fired at the bandits driving past them, hoping to hit someone, and they even succeeded.
But behind the loud roar of engines came another.
Bursting through a dune with its head, showering us all in a rain of sand, the mighty krayt dragon crushed a dozen natives with its belly, burying a couple of the raiders' vehicles at the same time. Tossing its head and snapping its jaws, it tore through the front ranks of both groups, easily crushing the flimsy defense.
Panic broke out everywhere, and those few warriors of the sands who had remained to guard the caravan took off at full speed into the sunset, carrying their families away from this monster.
However, they weren't the only ones who did so. The "tough and dangerous" guys from the Sand Grimm gang high-tailed it out of there, burning the last bit of fuel in their vehicles just to get away.
Total Chaos reigned here... But it is precisely in such situations that Helldivers feel best.
Shoving the rifle to Shorty, I dropped my backpack on the ground and took off from a low start, picking up good speed as I rapidly approached the abandoned slaves.
Frozen in a daze, bound hand and foot in a single chain, they could barely move at a normal pace, let alone escape a krayt dragon.
"Damn it!"
Dropping to one knee, I slid under a vehicle flying over my head. A spinning buggy was flying belly-up, and looking up, I locked eyes with a couple of bandits screaming at the top of their lungs, clutching the handrails and steering wheel. Their eyes were bulging. I had never seen so much fear and horror mixed with sheer shock in my life!
Sliding out from under the buggy, I jumped to my feet, leaning back just in time to let the body of one of the Sand People pass in front of me. Wailing in his native tongue, he hurtled somewhere to the side, slamming into a hill and kicking up a new wave of dust.
One of the bandits lunged toward me, riding a local wonder of fauna—an eopie. A malnourished-looking elephant with a small trunk and spindly legs. The poor beast was even more terrified than its master, and when it saw me, it bucked its rider to the ground and bolted, making funny gurgling sounds.
The raider didn't appreciate his fall or the escape of his transport, so he let out a frantic scream and rushed at me with a mace held high.
Dodging the first two swings, I kicked the idiot under the knee and then knocked him out with an elbow, leaving him face-down in the sand. But I couldn't stay to watch his smooth, slow fall, because I had to keep running. The krayt dragon was rampaging or roaring with joy, causing the Chaos to spread.
Several banthas, treading heavily on the sand, ran parallel to me, dragging dead riders behind them. One of the bandits ran on all fours behind them, hoping to catch hold and escape this hell, but he was clearly losing in speed.
The sand began to settle, and more silhouettes became visible around us, converging on one spot. It was as if a pack instinct was drawing us together against the common threat. But that didn't make us friends, and the first desert dweller tried to chop my head off, only to collapse into the sand with a grunt, paralyzed by a Blaster shot.
The crowd around me grew, and everyone was running, fighting each other, or simply screaming in panic.
Several other desert dwellers attacked me, but after catching a few slaps and shots, they remained resting on the sand while I pushed further ahead.
"Phew... Holy Liberty, I almost missed this," I said, falling out of the sand cloud at the feet of the slaves. Leaning on my knees, I reached them, spitting out the sand that had filled my mouth and nose. "But don't be afraid, friends. Democracy is here."
Pointing to myself, I approached the first slave and, without a second thought, shot the chains off his hands and feet, helping the man—stunned by what was happening—to break free.
Not quite understanding what was going on, he thanked me politely and quietly, then stepped aside and sat down on the sand, staring at the battle unfolding nearby. The man was in clear shock, and judging by his well-fed appearance and smooth face, he had become a slave only recently and was likely unprepared for such situations.
Next came other Humans and Aliens. There were several Jawas, a pair of Zabraks, and even some guy who looked like a lizard.
Some thanked me, others fell to the ground in silence, unable to believe in their beautiful liberty, while others began searching for any kind of weapon so as not to be defenseless against their former masters, who were slowly emerging from the veil toward us.
Truth be told, they didn't look their best. All battered, covered in blood... their own or their comrades'. Some dragged the corpses of their tribesmen, and occasionally carried them out on their shoulders.
Slightly to their right, the surviving raiders began to emerge. Fewer than ten people, in not the best condition. And while the desert dwellers helped each other and dragged the bodies of the fallen, these ones tried to distance themselves and keep all their "comrades" in sight.
Not everyone who escaped the krayt dragon's wrath had a weapon. Most made do with knives or maces, so popular in the desert.
And here was the picture perfect moment.
The sand settled completely. The krayt dragon—having had its fill—slunk away, leaving us to deal with all the problems ourselves. And we stood there, divided into three groups.
The Good. The Bad. The Ugly.
Though both terms applied to my opponents, but...
Snatching the Blaster from my belt, I aimed it at the bandits as the most heavily armed group. The former slaves stood beside me, holding their former chains and other junk they had managed to find.
The startled raiders spread out in a wide front, trying to keep everyone in sight, while the desert dwellers remained standing still, burning me with their gaze.
"Shoot... Kill them."
Someone whispered behind me. The voice was clearly male and, to my surprise, strong and calm, as if he hadn't just been pulled out of slavery.
"People might get hurt... Better not to risk it." Everyone was clearly listening to my words, and then, as soon as I saw the smiles on the bandits' faces and heard a sigh of disappointment behind my back, I opened fire. Four laser bolts instantly crossed the distance separating us. The first two knocked the weapons out of their hands, and two more shot through the legs of those holding maces. Falling to the ground, they erupted in screams, begging for help. "Phew, that's more like it."
Without lowering the Blaster, I continued to track the reaction of all my opponents, and it seemed I was understood correctly. Both the desert dwellers and the raiders threw their sticks, knives, maces, or even guns far away, closely watching my reaction.
But then a commotion started behind me. Glancing back quickly, I saw some red-haired man being tackled by a pair of Zabraks. One of them pinned the redhead face-down in the sand, pressing a knee between his shoulder blades.
Not dwelling on that, I turned back, where both teams tried to reclaim their weapons. My first shot ended the life of a desert dweller. Dressed in rags like all his kin, he was already picking up a rifle from the sand, reloading it on the move.
My Blaster bolt hit him right between the eyes, snapping his head back and causing his body to fall prone. Sprawled on the sand, he jerked in convulsions for a few more seconds until the tremors throughout his body stopped.
Shifting the pistol's muzzle to the next armed opponent, I met the gaze of an adrenaline-addled bandit aiming crookedly in my direction. He might hit one of the slaves, so I pulled the trigger without delay, but I was too late.
A thunderous shot rang out across the area, and the unfortunate raider's body blew into pieces, covering the sand with a bloody smear. An anti-personnel rifle round with an explosive bullet didn't leave the poor soul even a chance of survival.
Somewhere in the distance, on the dune from which I had begun my descent into this theater of madness, clouds of sand rose into the air. Accompanied by the disgruntled squeaks of Shorty, who was struggling to hold my rifle. Apparently, the shot had kicked her back a good four meters.
Closing my eyes, I ran a hand over my face, wiping away droplets of blood that had flown a dozen meters.
"Mizuna, for God's sake... What kind of hand cannon did you build for me?"
***
I didn't end up killing the desert dwellers and the raiders; I simply didn't have time. As soon as the echoes of panic subsided, the Bellicose Zabraks led their fellow sufferers against the enemy.
I thought about stopping them, but then I took another, closer look at the torture-racked bodies of the former slaves... and turned away. Wheezing and groans echoed behind me as twenty captives strangled their enslavers with their own chains.
The execution didn't last even a couple of minutes before the last desert dweller fell dead, trampled into the ground by angry sentients wanting more than just the death of a few bastards.
Fortunately, the Zabrak brothers were able to pacify the unfortunate souls, and both came out to me, preventing a lynching of the raiders as well—which, by the way, told me a lot about the desert dwellers' slaves.
"We are grateful."
"Correct."
Though they spoke in turns, the impression wasn't the most pleasant, as if you were talking to robots. The intonation, the speed, even the stress... everything was so identical that if I hadn't seen their lips moving, I would have thought it was one person. And their speech was measured and calm, even though I clearly remembered the expressions on their hellish faces when they stood just behind me in the three-way standoff.
They looked extremely striking. Tall, broad-shouldered with brown skin. Lean bodies corded with muscles, not from an easy life. And most importantly, their eyes—calm and heavy, like a boundless sea.
"How can we repay you?"
"How can we help?"
"Ma-a-a..." Scratching the back of my head, I looked up from cleaning the rifle, which was completely clogged with sand. It turned out Shorty hadn't flown anywhere; the rifle itself had flown out of her hands, nearly getting stuck in the dune. "I don't really need anything."
"Supporters..."
"Helpers."
"No, no, guys. I travel alone," as if on cue, the two brothers turned toward Shorty, who was now listening with an air of importance to her kin who had been in captivity, "well, almost alone."
"We can watch your back."
"Plenty of weapons."
"Well, yeah..." The conversation was becoming wonderfully awkward. And I wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible and continue following the bandits' trail.
"Though... I should interrogate a couple first, in case this is all a decoy and they're somewhere else."
Nodding resolutely, I listened to most of the Zabraks' words. Getting to my feet, I walked through our improvised camp, hoping that while I was busy with my gear, they hadn't finished off the raiders yet... or rather, what was left of their impressive squad.
Bypassing the people huddling together, I reached the kneeling bandits who were staring blankly at the battlefield.
***
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