Kahim, along with the other hunters, watched another caravan of Balawai. Huge steam Sandcrawlers dragged themselves slowly through the forest, destroying everything in their path. Snorting at such hypocrisy, the young man raised his spear, but before throwing, he turned back, looking at the stern features of his father, who had returned to the ranks again.
Battered, missing one arm, and with a bunch of scars all over his body, Ridan, Kahim's father, was the embodiment of a warrior and masculinity. Even with such a serious injury, he still remained a respected member of the family—an elder and a keeper of knowledge and wisdom. Though he was no longer such a mighty warrior, he was still listened to and placed in charge of the young ones.
"Father?"
"Something is not right here..."
The parent answered quietly. Kahim was about to protest, but Ridan's stern gaze pinned him to the spot, making him choke on air and shamefully look away.
"You are too harsh with him, ghosh-adan." Kahim's elder brother stood nearby. Placing a hand on the father's shoulder, he smiled softly, then spoke louder. "These are just Balawai and their corrupt mercenary servants. We will crush them, as always. I will lead us, if you do not want to take all the glory for yourself..."
And it was true. Though they did not participate in major battles like other ghosh, all the battles their father led them into were won, and that meant a lot.
Only, even a streak of victories has bad consequences.
Kahim gripped his spear more confidently, listening to his older brother's words. The kinsman was holding forth before everyone else, drawing all the attention to himself. Young, strong, from a good family... His brother had many supporters and influence, especially compared to the crippled father who had retired from affairs.
Therefore, it was not surprising that the hunters and warriors listened to Kahim's brother, believing that Ridan was being too cautious. No one dared to call him a coward or a fool, but the sidelong glances and quiet chuckles remained.
"Then go," the one-armed Korunnai exhaled slowly, closing his eyes, "and return alive. It is not fitting for parents to bury children."
Turning away from his satisfied offspring, the father grabbed Kahim by the arm and dragged him away, but the boy did not want to miss such a glorious battle and easily broke free from his father's weak grip.
"I will go with them."
"Boy." Flaring up, the father was about to give him a clip round the ear, but Kahim was shielded by his older brother. Smiling insolently, he put an arm around the boy's shoulder and led him toward the others, leaving the sad father alone. "Little fools..."
That was the last thing Kahim heard from his father. He wasn't even allowed to turn around and look at him one last time. For as soon as he and his brother reached the warriors, the signal to attack was immediately given, and almost a thousand Korunnai rushed from their spots, attacking the Balawai convoy.
****
"START!"
Kicking out the hatch on the roof of the Sandcrawler, I raise the MG-206 Heavy Machine Gun. The old Trandoshan craft had undergone a ton of changes, and now little remained of the famous slave traders' gun. A huge muzzle, an ammo belt leading to a back-mounted pack, and rounds that could knock down a small shuttle.
"FIRE!"
Arkam shouted nearby. The crazy Mandalorian activated his jetpack and, along with a dozen similar psychos, rushed down, engaging in close-quarters combat.
Setting up the bipod, I pull the bolt and open fire on the savages who continued to run toward us. The first shot recoils into my shoulder. Didn't secure it properly, and now it's going to hurt... the subsequent shots went much better, but not for the Korunnai.
Huge bullets tore the savages' bodies to pieces. Severed limbs flew along with wood chips from trees or plant ichor. Large-caliber bullets pierced through bodies, hitting three or four people at once.
"DE-MO-CRA-CY!"
One of the fighters shouted nearby, and in the next second, his head was pierced by a spear. Thrown with considerable force, it almost came out the other side.
"Fucking wannabe Jedi!" Shifting fire toward where the spear had come from, drenching a large section of the forest where the Korunnai were trying to hide in a stream of lead. Only ten seconds had passed, and the air was already filled with the aromas of blood, gunpowder, and Tibanna, overpowering the powerful smell of the wild forest. "Rockets away!"
Several Helldivers, hiding until the right moment, hoisted launchers onto their shoulders, then released a swarm of smoking rockets into the jungle. Soaring into the sky, the projectiles rapidly dived down, exploding ten meters above the ground and showering everything with burning fragments capable of melting metal.
"Ha-ha-ha! That went well! Mira, one more time."
Grinning in a bloodthirsty smile, the blue-skinned Twi'lek gave a new command, while she herself began to aim a laser designator. The ancient method for firing worked as it should, and there was no need to struggle to get simple electronics to guide the rockets to the target.
A new series of explosions swept over the forest, and the war horns of the Korunnai began to fall silent.
"Release the walkers. Finish off the survivors."
To the clank of metal doors, combat robots armed to the teeth poured out of the spacious interiors of the Sandcrawlers. Huge, heavy machines sagged slightly on the soft soil but marched forward confidently, sending hundreds of shells, plasma bolts, and rockets into the backs of the retreating Korunnai.
In ten minutes, the lush green jungle turned before our eyes into a blazing hell with fallen ancient trees and craters from shells. Hundreds of Korunnai bodies lie in heaps, mutilated by large caliber, mines, and rockets that fall on their heads without stopping.
"Cleanup squad, report in. Pelican Main, how far are you?"
"Moving into position, Commander, we see the enemy." Having reported, the pilot wagged the wings, flying out from behind the trees. The mighty machine, hung with rockets, greedily moved the muzzle of the gun under the pilot's cabin. The weapon was ready to snap with fire at any second, and I didn't make it wait.
"Open fire! Don't let a single one get away!"
A barrage of ammunition rained down from the heavens. Pulling a steep turn, the Pelicans turned almost sideways to the ground so the gunners could fire more conveniently. The door-mounted machine guns spewed thousands of rounds or laser bolts, finishing off the surviving wretches who thought they had escaped.
"This is a victory for all the free people of Haruun Kal!" Raising a fist over my head, I trigger a chain wave as hundreds of Helldivers repeated after me, deafening the ruined forest with their battle cries.
****
Kahim was running with the others... with the few survivors who were able to leave the slaughterhouse. For so many weeks they had successfully killed the Balawai and their corrupt servants... how could such a thing even happen?
"And yet Father warned us." Swallowing tears and the bitterness of pain, the boy tried to push the image of his brother, who was torn apart by a burst from a walker's gun, out of his head. His kinsman's blood had splattered on his face, so the young hunter was ready to fall to the ground and burst into tears from grief and fear. "Damn it, damn it, damn it..."
Jumping over wide tree roots, running around numerous animals and insects also fleeing the battle, Kahim ran out into a small clearing.
Tripping over a stone, he went tumbling into its center, losing his spear and miraculously staying alive. Flipping onto his back, the boy covered his face with his hands, trying not to think about what had happened half an hour ago.
"Everyone is dead... every single one. Just like back then... maybe it's because of me?"
But panicked thoughts didn't knock the brains out of the boy completely. Only hearing loud footsteps and the shouts of pursuers behind him, the boy dove into the nearest bushes and, picking up a stone, prepared to sell his life dearly.
After ten seconds, two soldiers burst into the clearing. Moving the muzzles of their blasters in different directions, they peered intently at the tracks left on the ground and the branches broken during the fall.
"That little freak is somewhere here. Let's look in the bushes..."
"Maybe we should skip it? They already gave the order to return."
"Fuck, don't annoy me. We need to catch the little shit and shoot him." The first one was clearly more aggressively inclined and was now approaching Kahim's hiding spot. "He killed Valtsevki. Pierced him with a spear like a pig..."
The unknown avenger didn't have time to finish. Ridan, Kahim's father, flew out at him through the bushes and severed the talkative head with a circular strike. With a battle cry, the one-armed warrior rushed further, deftly dodging blaster bolts. Engaging in a fight with the mercenary, the father initially pressed him, but as the fight progressed, the absence of one arm took a heavy toll, and Ridan took a buttstroke to the head, after which he fell to one knee.
The boy did not want to lose his father as well, so with a frantic scream, he jumped out of the bushes, striking the helmet of the cursed enemy with the stone. Several blaster shots flew past him, but not one hit! Emboldened by luck, Kahim struck another blow to the helmet... then another, and another, and another. Until the fragile electronics gave way and blood sprayed through the helmet.
Falling to his knees, the boy looked at the work of his hands, amazed by the amount of blood that had leaked out. It was as if it was everywhere, especially on his legs and stomach.
"What? What the?"
"Kahim!" Jumping to him, the father carefully caught him under the arms, not letting him fall face-first into the mud. He was panicking so much; his eternally stern face had changed greatly, and now the boy saw on it... fear? "Hold on, son. Hold on."
The father fussed over him, and Kahim couldn't understand why. His head was spinning, and a weakness was felt throughout his body, which rolled over him in waves and receded, threatening to seize him every second.
"Father..."
A hoarse, quiet voice escaped his mouth. In the first second, Kahim didn't recognize it and refused to believe until the last that it was he who was speaking.
"Quiet, quiet, quiet..." Pressing his hands to the boy's chest, Ridan shook from the oncoming tears. His face was distorted by a grimace of sadness and rage, which he held back until the last, not letting his youngest and beloved son see him like this. "Everything will be fine. The ghosh will not leave you. I will not leave you."
"Dad..."
"Be silent." Bulging his eyes for a moment, the father tore off his pant leg and began to apply it to the boy's chest. Pressing somewhere in the area of the solar plexus, he pursed his lips, preparing to cry at any moment. "No, son, no. Please, Spirits, no."
"..."
The empty eyes of the young hunter stared into the sky while his restless father continued to struggle over his body. He did not want to believe that he had lost everything today. A brazen and foolish, but nonetheless an heir. As well as the smallest, youngest, and just as foolish younger son.
****
Dear Mom and Dad. I did it!
I joined the Helldivers to fight for our LIBERTY (specifically with a capital letter, there's no other way here), even though Grishko said they don't take idiots like me there. Ha! They certainly do. It doesn't matter if you're an idiot or not; the main thing is that you can follow orders exactly and on time, and the rest will follow.
I'm writing to you from the planet Haruun Kal. A beautiful place, just incredible. I'm sure Mom would really like it here. Everything is so bright, colorful, active. She would be like a fish in water here. I've never seen so many trees in my life, and there are so many unusual animals here...
It's a pity we flew here for a war. I would gladly make you some holophotos or even bring you here.
Well, okay. Don't be sad. The message should be sent this evening. It's a pity we can't talk live, but those are the rules. Regulations and all that.
Anyway, kisses and hugs. Squeeze my sister for me.
Your son, Sush.
Hello everyone. How are you doing? I hope everything is going well. Certainly better than it is for us here.
We've been sitting on this planet for a month and a half now. You know, I won't tell you about what I've seen... but you watch the HoloNet, so I won't lie and say it's not happening.
Sigh, it still comes out awkward.
Mom, I know you're sitting there crying right now. Please don't. I'm fine. I'll be home soon, and we'll spend my whole leave together. We'll go to your silly fields and dig parola every day if you want. We'll make preserves afterward, go fishing with Dad...
Everything will be fine. Wish me luck.
Corporal Sush Belski.
Hello Mom and Dad. For four months now we've been sitting waist-deep in this dump, where I foolishly wanted to bring you.
There is no worse place than this cruel and poisonous world.
I've started smoking. I remember laughing at Dad's words and saying I definitely wouldn't start. Naive fool.
Everything is fine with me. I was recently wounded in the shoulder, so I spent two weeks in the sickbay, staring at the ceiling and flirting with the local nurses. Damn, Dad, don't let Mom or my sister read this.
Overall, everything is fine; I even got a promotion. Though there are no problems with that right now.
Anyway. The Commander said we have about a month left to sit here, maybe two, and then I'm coming to you.
Corporal of the 237th squad of the shock regiment, Sush Belski.
****
On a small farm on the planet Ord Pardron, there was a festive dinner. An entire family of hereditary workers gathered in a large house, celebrating a great event: the second son had found a bride and was getting married.
Relatives and friends gathered from many surrounding settlements. Having fun and celebrating. The women put on their best outfits, and the men from the fields tidied themselves up. They shaved and washed, and some even put on cologne, counting on a successful continuation of the evening in the company of their ladies.
The celebration was in full swing. Toasts were made, stories were told, the best times were remembered, those from long ago, long before the birth of the newlyweds.
Politics, neighbors, beasts, taxes, pirates, and much more were discussed. The alcohol flowing like a river loosened tongues, allowing the stern workers of Ord Pardron to blurt out too much.
But none of them were despondent or afraid. Everyone here was among their own... well, almost everyone.
Stepping out onto the porch with the other men, Kizh Belski rolled a cigarette, generously pouring himself some tobacco, at which chuckles were heard from all sides. The tipsy men laughed at the old miser, who poured so much free tobacco that it would have been enough for everyone.
The jokes brought smiles, but even through the fun and joy of his second son's wedding, Kizh sometimes looked into the distance gloomily for a long time. His eyes jumped around the area every now and then, and he often touched his PDA, checking for new messages.
"Still hasn't written?" An old friend and loyal comrade, and most importantly, a reliable drinking buddy, Rick, approached and stood nearby. Moving slightly away from the others, the two men leaned against the wooden railing of the veranda, enjoying the aromas of smoke with a slightly sweet aftertaste.
"No, you know I would have already blabbed to you." The elder Belski answered somewhat irritably. Taking a drag of his cigarette, he blew a ring of smoke, closing his eyes conciliatorily. "Sorry, my heart just isn't at ease, so..."
"It's fine. My dummy also wants to sign up; I'm afraid to even imagine how he'll be pouring poison over the whole neighborhood when he succeeds."
"Sush said they'd even take your fool," laughing with his old friend, Kizh spoke much more quietly and soulfully, "did you try to talk him out of it?"
"And what do you think? Did I wave a handkerchief at him for the road?"
"Obviously not. You never know... and it was the same with mine. He dug his heels in: 'I want to join the Helldivers. To carry Liberty! To help people.'" Frowning his bushy eyebrows, Kizh sniffled, checking his PDA for the umpteenth time. "Dunderhead. Just like his mother..."
The man's lamentations were interrupted by the hum of a combat shuttle coming in for a landing. Easily recognizable colors and predatory features gave the old man an incredible thought. Shocked, tugging at his beard, he led the men down the steps, almost running toward the shuttle, the ramp of which had already begun to open as it touched down.
Holding his straw hat, the man swallowed thick saliva, feeling his eyes begin to sting.
"Little rascal. His mother will hug him, kiss him, and I'll stripe his whole backside with a belt!"
Already imagining himself hugging his matured and grown-up son, Kizh froze like a pillar of salt when, instead of him, five soldiers began to descend the ramp.
The first and most senior of them walked in front, carrying the emblem of the Helldivers in his hands. Atop the folded cloth lay badges, documents, and a small medal—depicting a bird with large wings.
The four others walked with a steady marching step, carrying a massive steel coffin on their shoulders, wrapped in the exact same emblem.
Falling to his knees, unable to comprehend what was happening, Kizh felt tears flow like a waterfall down his old, wrinkled face. His lips shook as if in a fever, and his heart pounded wildly, threatening to send him back to a hospital bed.
Somewhere nearby, the screech-cry of his wife was heard. His daughter screamed and cried with her, while the guests gathered around. The soldiers were answering something, trying to fend off the crowding throng.
The men pressed their hats to their chests, and his best friend knelt beside him, hugging him with all his might. Kizh's empty eyes looked at his wife, who had collapsed onto the coffin. Guests, relatives, and friends bustled around her. Someone was calling him, asking for help...
The voices around him sounded as if through a fog. Rick grabbed his shoulder and shook him insistently, but the elder Belsky stared fixedly at the coffin. At the gruesome steel coffin in which the body of his boy rested.
***
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