I expected the worst. No, seriously. Having read and heard all the pacifist speeches about these great conquerors, I feared the current ruler of Mandalore—Duke Tapal Quarre—would turn out to be a soft man afraid of open conflict.
But apparently, Lord Tapal had latched onto the Republican trough quite well, and was therefore ready to champion Democracy with every fiber of his soul.
We were able to discuss a lot, using hints to figure out how much each of us knew, after which we agreed it was easier to just get the job done quickly and go our separate ways.
After a couple of hours of substantial conversation with this stocky, powerful man who posed as a lover of liberty and equality, I realized we would find common ground. Although, it seemed to me he loved the money sent by the Galactic Republic more...
But that didn't matter. The main thing was that the government of Mandalore—the official government, mind you!—knew why I was here and who sent me, and they were ready to help in any way they could. Whether it was information, funding, official clearances, or organizing events... overall, not much of use for a band of Assassins who came to beat up separatists and rebels, but I liked the message and the attitude. There was some elusive flair of the taste of liberty in it...
Just kidding. It was no wonder Duke Quarre was cooperative and understanding.
The Judicial Forces kept a very close eye on what was happening on the planet, even if they didn't have much power or opportunity to intervene. And the Baobab Merchant Fleet did business on this planet... as they did throughout the Outer Rim.
The funding of the entire sector, particularly the planets that supported the official authorities and especially the capital, which was also under the control of the New Mandalorians and needed money. So Tapal didn't want to lose such significant sources of income, which is why he was extremely polite and helpful.
"Eh, if the Judicial Forces had bigger balls and fists, they would have cleared everything out here in the bud themselves... But what isn't there, isn't there. So we'll work under the cover of the local government."
Though things weren't entirely smooth here either. It turned out quite funny, actually. Mandalore was currently at a crossroads, and no one really had power, nor influence for that matter. Most people didn't give a damn about the squabbles, and the rest were preparing for a civil war—looking for allies while maintaining a facade of politeness.
Even the Duke talked to me personally, and I'm just some guy from nowhere. And I wasn't the only one; there were about five other such bands of Assassins here, all just waiting for the command.
"Heh-heh, though our gang is the biggest... and we have a proper ship, not these tubs."
Looking at my "allies" with disdain, I grimaced under my helmet, styled after Super Earth armor. My boys were dressed identically, while the other mercenary companies... God, it's embarrassing to even call them that... they looked like a collection of bums from the galaxy's fringes. In principle, they were, and were only meant to provide us with numbers, though I doubted it would work. Even Tapal himself understood that.
But on the bright side, these guys were honest and performed almost all contracts excellently, and we didn't need more than that.
***
Oh, these Mandalorians. They love starting revolutions and coming up with new codes. It reminds me of those monks with the colored swords. For them, too, every event means they have to change their codes. And their enemies too...
Anyway, better not think about it, or I'll blurt something like that out loud and turn every local against me. And no matter which faction on Mandalore you choose, they feel... let's say, coolly toward Jedi and Siths.
But back to our banthas.
The first step was decided: deal with the most aggressive radicals—Death Watch—who could bring a lot of trouble to the Duke's doorstep if they started biting neighbors or someone more important.
Actually, it turned out quite fortunately. Since both separatist organizations didn't have much support yet, they were forced to conserve resources and couldn't throw people away. So both gangs gathered in one place, where we would gift them a bit of Democracy one by one.
So now we were flying to Concord Dawn—another planet of the Outer Rim, covered in diverse landscapes. An agri-world that provides food for most of the Mandalorian sector.
So it's no surprise that the main showdowns were currently taking place here. Why storm a fortified capital or fight for mines that might collapse if you push too hard? But seize the food source, and everyone will immediately recognize your "brilliant" ideas for restoring the Mandalorian heritage.
And both the True Mandalorians and the Death Watch had "brilliant" ideas.
One group wanted to sell their asses to everyone for the rest of their lives, and the second wanted to start mass terror against the whole galaxy. They barely have enough food for everyone, even with funding from the Galactic Republic...
Initially, the sector government wanted to distance itself from the brewing conflict and let both groups slaughter each other, quietly taking power and winning over more supporters, but the Baobab Fleet—and consequently its people in the Judicial Forces—decided not to allow this, so a small army was assembled in record time, which was now flying to Concord Dawn.
The terrain here was varied, though the small towns and villages were depressing. It was one thing on Tatooine and Minoris with their dilapidated towns, but here... they looked like those scruffy little villages from the Wild West, and considering everyone here had guns and a wild temperament, the resemblance was one hundred percent.
The "constellation" of mercenary ships was entering the planet's orbit when unidentified objects began flocking toward us. At first, we didn't even know how to react, but then the ship scanners were able to identify the presumed enemy.
Almost two dozen small ships that I had my eye on. The black hulls were decorated with crimson crests. The straight, smooth forms of the Pursuers flickered in the darkness of space like predatory fish on the hunt.
The first converted transport burst into flames from the explosion of a dozen torpedoes launched long before the patrol ships themselves appeared. And I had no doubt these were the former soldiers of Concord Dawn.
Our escort, which—unlike their opponents—had completely white hulls with the sector crest, rushed forward, not at all justifying their party's policy.
"Pacifists, yeah right..." Smirking, I admired the characteristics provided by the scanners with delight. The Pursuers lived up to all my expectations. "Boys, take care of this rabble, gather the others around you so they don't get shot like wompas."
Pulling the helmet onto my head, I gave the final command, then handed over the ship's control to the co-pilot. Leaving the bridge with a quick step, never ceasing to track the space battle, I headed toward the hangar.
And things didn't look rosy at all.
Two dozen Death Watch patrol ships were tearing the mercenary fleet to pieces, and only our CR-90 remained an island of calm in this sea of chaos. The turbolasers of our proud Freedom Rider had already managed to turn a couple of attackers into dust, which made them try not to get too close, but they had to.
The other gangs had already realized that fighting agile combat ships—designed to chase pirate bands like their tubs—wasn't going to work. And now everyone was slowly circling around us, repositioning so as not to leave any part under fire for long.
Oof, and the fire was hot.
Three Pursuers, circling in some strange dance, continuously poured fire onto one of the two Gozanti-class cruisers. Flying up close, easily avoiding return fire, they darted aside, clearing the path for the torpedoes that had been flying right behind them the whole time.
The right side of the space transport, converted for mercenaries, buckled inward, and then a flame fluttered out of it for a moment, only to disappear instantly. The ship began to lose headway and tilt to the side, going into an uncontrolled flight away from the planet.
"Charlie, how are things?"
"Extremely shitty, sir. I'm afraid at this rate, nothing will be left of our 'allies'."
"They are dying for a righteous cause, Charlie. For the liberty of Concord Dawn and its unfortunate residents, oppressed by separatists."
"Oh, I doubt they think so, sir."
With a hint of amusement in his voice, my co-pilot cut the connection. Charlie was a good guy. From some distant planet, born and raised there, he had Asian features... which is why I had hesitated for a long time whether to trust him with the ship. But you can't leave everything to a pilot droid either, so I had to slowly train him in responsibility. So far, I was lucky...
And the battle in Concord Dawn's orbit continued. With great difficulty, we fought off the attackers swarming us, swatting them away with everything we had. The blackness of space lit up with multicolored flashes, and the nozzles of torpedoes and rockets flickering here and there only completed the picture.
Slowly, a cloud of debris was forming around the fleet, where the frozen bodies of mercenaries and Death Watch fighters occasionally drifted. But finally, the battle was coming to an end. Considering that the New Mandalorian patrol ships had dealt with their enemies and were already racing toward us at full speed... the wait wasn't long.
The Freedom Rider shuddered from an impact, and a few seconds later, I received a call on my personal communicator. Red lights flared in the hangar, and the familiar battle alarm siren from my past life hit my ears. The few technicians began running around, briskly putting on spacesuits or pulling on protective masks, and only the emotionless droids continued their work, steadily preparing our shuttle for departure.
"Bad and good news at the same time, sir."
"Come on, out with it." Running into the hangar, I waved off the technicians, being the last to jump into the shuttle's maw, checking the number of my men on the go. Everyone was present, which meant it was time. "Just don't tell me the landing is canceled?"
"Negative, sir. Quite the opposite. The survivors on the damaged Gozanti blew the reactor, and most of the attackers burned in the ship's explosion. Greedy bastards. They should have left it to die and they would have survived..."
"Ha, well that's excellent news!"
"The explosion knocked out the shields on the starboard side, and we took a couple of torpedoes. Repairs will cost a pretty penny..."
"NO!"
Not at all theatrically falling to my knees, I raised my hands to the sky. The damn Death Watchers dared to break the Freedom Rider! The ship's damage was extensive, and one twin laser turret was completely pulverized, while two turbolasers ceased functioning.
"Damn bastards. Attacking Democracy? Well, now we'll see who's who..." Checking the ship's status, I calculated the cost in my head, and it turned out that even with the discounts on buying Pursuers, we'd be in the red. "Charlie! Has the data from the Duke changed? I want to drop the whole lot on the Death Watch hideouts!"
"Negative, sir. No changes..."
Cutting the connection, I stood up straight, looking at the quiet Helldivers who were waiting for something from me...
"Think there's going to be a cool speech? No, damn it! We're just going down there and killing every single person who thinks too much of themselves and talks shit about Democracy and the Galactic Republic, is that clear?"
"YES!"
Raising their right fists, the motley crew of various humanoid races began flopping into their seats. I still had to train them and train them. But these crazy bastards were loyal, bold, and reckless, and I didn't need any others.
Eh, how I wished to see the blinding light of dozens of pods falling onto a planet again. To hear the roar of retrorockets in my ears, with shells exploding around in useless attempts to shoot us down.
To witness once again that unstoppable force of liberty that sweeps through the enemy ranks like the wind...
Licking my parched lips, I pushed the images out of my head. It wasn't time for that yet... But when we are ready, Tatooine will be the first to see the full power of the Helldivers.
"Pilot! Get the Nuna into the air!"
The light laughter of the pilots and crew was my answer. It was all about the name. I didn't want to come up with a dangerous and pretentious name for this fat-bottomed tick, so I asked to name it after the fattest and most useless bird in the galaxy.
Not that my thugs knew about many bird species... damn, they barely know anything at all. Good thing they at least understand which end of the barrel shoots.
But they found a suitable name. Nuna—fat, clumsy turkeys from the swamps of the planet Naboo. Their meat is tasty, they breed fast and in large numbers, but their stupidity and defenselessness by all criteria make them easy prey.
Exactly like our shuttle.
"Let's go!"
***
We had to act fast. While our allies were finishing off the remains of the Death Watch Pursuers, we should land right on their heads to get rid of these upstarts once and for all.
Since they were so desperately defending the planet's orbit, there was definitely something important here, so I had no doubt of success.
Wheezing from the strain, clattering like an elephant in a china shop, and constantly shaking like an epileptic—our Nuna carried us down, threatening to fall apart at the first sign of danger.
There were no viewports in the hull. In fact, instead of a bunch of useless crap, I made the Shorty put on more armor, which might save our lives one day.
"Entered the atmosphere, thirty-six kilometers north to the point. Descending."
Getting up from my seat, I walked to the ramp and, without waiting for the pilot's command, opened the hatch. The beautiful view of the planet was a sight for sore eyes. Forests, mountains, jungles, and plains. A huge number of plains sown with food, tended by entire clan families living in this wilderness and ignoring the concerns of politicians.
"No better place to hide."
Shaking my head, I returned to the cabin, where my boys had already started lining up in two rows.
"Boss, the Duke's Pursuers are coming toward us. They want to support the fight."
"Ha-ha... Like I said, excellent pacifists."
My statement was met with sparse laughter. Everyone except me felt nervous, and some of those who were younger and newer to our team even started praying or feverishly re-checking their gear.
"As soon as we reach the target, drop us down immediately and fly off a bit. Keep watch so no one escapes!"
"Got it, boss."
Making a sharp turn, the shuttle threw us toward the ground, almost going into a dive. Skillfully handling the fat-bottomed ship, the pilot carried us over the treetops, forcing us to desperately clutch the safety cables.
"Twenty seconds!"
"Get ready!"
The heavy thud of the landing gear hitting the ground announced our arrival. Without wasting time, I was the first to jump out, sweeping my Blaster rifle from side to side.
"Piece of shit weapon... Well, no matter. Soon I'll be able to arm us properly, to the envy of all xenos, kings, and dictators!"
Following me, the others poured out, pointing their rifle barrels in all directions. Thirty guys scattered around, taking up defensive positions, aiming at the bewildered farmers and a few Mandalorians in armor who bristled with guns in response.
"What the fuck..."
Looking around, I contacted the pilot, but the information was correct. Only instead of a Death Watch operational base, we had landed in some village where there were—one, two, and that's it—hardly any people.
"You aren't welcome here, government rats!"
Insults rained down on us from the window of some house. Trained by me, the Helldivers immediately shifted their rifle barrels there, preparing to open fire on my command.
"Stop this madness."
Shielding the house windows, a man in signature Mandalorian armor ran forward. Blue armor with red accents and a completely different crest on his left shoulder.
"My name is Jaster Mereel, and I urge you to stop." Here, from all sides, from behind houses, from roofs, and even behind a few vehicles, guns began to aim at us. Hidden all this time while their leader distracted us, they were ready to jump into battle. Almost a hundred Mandalorians, whose armor was decorated with the exact same crests as the leader's. "Before you all get killed..."
I felt the bastard was grinning smugly, feeling like the king of the hill, but I, motherfucker, served in the Helldivers and I know how to negotiate... my way.
"Charlie," I said, demonstratively contacting him via communicator, looking around the entire village. Here and there, people sympathizing with the separatists were huddling. Some of them had managed to run for weapons and were clearly preparing to defend their idols. Not on my watch. "Requesting fire on my position. ID code..."
While the stunned Mandalorians stared at me through their helmets, I was typing a message on my wrist-comp. The leader of this gang was still shouting something, but I wasn't listening to him until the Pursuers that had come to our aid hovered over us.
"And now." Pointing the Blaster barrel at Jaster Mereel, I let sarcasm seep into my voice. "Lay down your weapons and armor, after which you will follow us... Otherwise, our CR-90 corvette will shell this village from orbit."
For a few seconds, a deafening silence hung over the square. Even my own fighters hadn't expected this and were now waiting for the resolution, sweating profusely. But it all ended when one of the Mandalorians was the first to throw his weapon at his feet, saying:
"And these 'pacifists' called us bloodthirsty bastards?"
***
***
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