"Search more thoroughly!"
Issuing commands, I sat atop a nearby APC, wincing and grumbling every time Shorty tore pieces from my dented armor. My favorite suit of armor, which had saved my commander's ass more than once, looked like a tin can. The Force hits hadn't gone unnoticed, nor had my stunts with the jetpack.
That's why a Jawa was currently buzzing around me with her helpers, stripping away the most problematic pieces...
"And I still have to treat the wounds and fractures, shit. Fucking Jedis."
"Ow," I said aloud, much less brutally and with a hurt look at Shorty, "can't you be more careful? It actually hurts."
"Endure it, Helldiver. You'll become a citizen."
"Joker, damn you... Ow. Okay, okay. That's enough."
"That's more like it." Rummaging in her bag, the Jawa pulled out a local equivalent of an angle grinder, and a couple of bacta patches were laid out next to her. "Get ready."
Swallowing hard, I turn away so as not to watch live as my friend from the race of space gypsies carves me up with a grinder to the sound of cheerful whistling and flying sparks.
"Empty, Boss. Like he vanished into thin air." Einz and Zwei stood before me, stiff as boards, trying not to look at the Jawa. "No body, no blood trails... nothing at all."
"Bitch. So he survived." Striking the machine's armor with my fist, I bow my head, trying to process the consequences of everything that happened. And it turned out... not so bad. Yes, a crazed fallen Jedi had declared a hunt for me, and not just some minor jerk or Padawan, but the Afro-galactic himself, who stood out not only for his purple saber... But in fact, this gave us several opportunities. Extremely profitable and lucky opportunities. "Fine. Call off the search. We won't find him now."
"Yes," nodding, Einz began to relay commands to the group, while his brother stepped closer, "what about the operation? Instructions, preferences? What are we doing?"
"What are we doing, what are we doing... We're gathering the wounded and all our toys, and then we're getting the hell out of here, that's what. Ow..."
Chuckles were heard from the soldiers' side, but they quickly stopped when the Zabrak and I turned toward the sound.
"A kindergarten, not an army."
"Well, we aren't an army. We're Assassins." Meeting my gaze, Zwei held up his hands placatingly. "Alright, don't get worked up. You need to rest more right now..."
Looking back at the results of our handiwork, the Zabrak let out a tired exhale. Apparently, like me, he perfectly understood the mountain of work ahead of us. Gathering bodies, ammunition, equipment, counting and calculating everything. A whole damn mountain of work that would be more tedious and difficult than the war with the savages.
"Boss, a request came from orbit." One of the signalmen appeared nearby. Leaning out of the APC hatch, he handed me a tablet with a full list of data. Seeing the Zabrak's questioning look, the signalman added an explanation. "The Judicial Forces have arrived. Not many ships, but still..."
"Why did they show up here?"
The second brother also stood nearby and clearly heard our entire conversation. Soldiers around us became active, receiving new orders. The bustle grew, but we didn't react to it; they wouldn't leave without us anyway.
"Enemies? There are so few of them..."
"Fuck, just shut up, you're panicking over nothing. It's Rick Dicker."
***
"What do you mean?"
"I mean exactly what I said, Sam." Repeating firmly, Rick carefully sat in the chair opposite me, reaching into his inner pocket to pull out his signature fruit cigarettes. A funny thing: none of my guys or girls who wanted the same ones could ever find the manufacturer. "Since the opportunity presented itself, the people at the top will handle it."
"At the top, then..."
Glancing pointedly at the several new diamonds on his shoulder, I give a crooked smile. I didn't like where this conversation was going, and most of all, I didn't like how my old friend was behaving.
"Don't look at me like a rancor," exhaling a cloud of smoke, the former investigator, who now sported the rank of general, leaned back in his chair, "this will fly right past me, Sam. To the VERY top."
"The Senate?" Raising my eyebrows in surprise, I finally sat down opposite him, but unlike Dicker, I paid attention to the berries in the bowl. "Isn't that a bit much..."
"A Jedi Knight ignored the will of the Senate and tried to prevent an official operation under the patronage of the Judicial Forces—what do you think?" Chuckling gloomily, the man flicked the ash from his cigarette, then took another thoughtful drag, staring at the ceiling. "If it were one of the students or someone who fled the Order, fine... But here, the fat cats will dig in their heels and try to shake the Order; they might push through a couple more restrictions or just hide this case until a better time to sting the Order harder."
"And we're left sucking air, then. My guys died on this stinking planet. We fought in the jungles and died from poisons, fangs, and spears..." I was starting to get angry. It wasn't that I didn't understand the realities or that we were just expendable meat—I realized that long ago. But in our past dealings, Rick had paid me well, and I'm not talking about money now, but about something far more valuable. "I hope you have something else to say, Rick."
There was an overt threat in my voice. And the former investigator clearly understood it, because he finally looked away from the ceiling and stared directly into my eyes. Frowning his gray eyebrows, the general gave me a fatherly and warm smile, which held a significant dose of mockery.
"You've grown, Sam. You don't just curse behind my back anymore; you growl to my face." Closing his eyes, the man cut me off with a wave of his hand, then picked up a small case from the floor that he had brought with him. Unhurriedly, carefully, and one might say tenderly, Dicker opened the briefcase with an expectant smile—the kind of case that belonged in a sixties gangster movie, not in a galaxy far, far away. "Of course, I have something to pay for such a gift."
Folders of papers of various sizes were slowly laid out on the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the crests of Judicial Forces and the Senate on some, while others sported symbols unknown to me.
"I have something you've clearly dreamed of for a long time but never even tried to speak about." A very thick folder with a bunch of seals and stamps was placed in front of me. The neat small font didn't interest me much, but the Senate mark and the clearance from Judicial Forces immediately caught my eye. "And since such an unforeseen but pleasant incident happened here..."
Opening the folder, Rick pushed it toward me. How I didn't scream with joy or start swearing is known only to the gods, spirits, the Warp, and Super Earth. Jumping up from the chair, I reverently picked up the paper with both hands and began to read the text aloud with both eyes:
DECISION of the SENATE of the GALACTIC REPUBLIC
With the assistance of the Judicial Forces Decision No. 467/2024
On the authorization for the production and procurement of large spacecraft
In the name of justice and for the sake of the peaceful coexistence of all galactic citizens, under the leadership of our highly esteemed Senate and Supreme Chancellor, we announce that by virtue of historical necessity, as well as the need to strengthen the defense capabilities of the Galactic Republic, the adoption of this decision takes on paramount importance.
The Senate of the Galactic Republic, gathered in full assembly, unanimously and solemnly declares its intention to authorize the production and procurement of large spacecraft for the Helldivers PMC. This decision is made in accordance with the highest principles of equality, justice, and mutual aid, which are the foundation of our society.
The following points are subject to execution:
1. Establish that the authorization for the design, construction, and procurement of large spacecraft is issued exclusively to organizational units recognized within the framework of the Judicial Forces, for the purpose of ensuring law and order and security in the reaches of space.
2. Determine that every ship created or acquired in accordance with this authorization must be reliable, safe, and possess all necessary technologies to perform the assigned tasks for the protection and defense of the Galactic Republic.
3. All activities within the framework of this authorization will be under the internal supervision of the Judicial Forces to guarantee compliance with legislation, as well as the protection of the rights and freedoms of all citizens of the Galactic Republic.
4. Establish that all expenses associated with the production and procurement of spacecraft will be covered with the support of the Galactic Republic Federal Fund. Furthermore, every organization that voluntarily expresses a desire to sponsor this project undertakes to submit detailed reporting on the expenses and results of the implementation of this project.
5. This decision enters into force immediately upon its signing and publication and will be subject to regular review in connection with changes in the geopolitical situation in the galaxy.
This order was adopted in a warm atmosphere of unity and high ideals that guide our galactic history. We, the members of the Senate, solemnly assure that such a significant decision will further lead to the strengthening of our peace and the well-being of all who inhabit the boundless reaches of our universe.
Signed on the day: 4.5.10.948
By Senator Luren Korta, Chairman of the Defense and Security Committee
Seal of the Senate of the Galactic Republic
"Oh-ho-ho-ho..."
Gently running my fingers over the paper, I set it aside, then bolt toward the smiling Dicker and pull the old man, who wasn't expecting such a thing, into an embrace.
Lifting him in my arms, I spin around with joy, feeling an unprecedented spiritual lift.
"Alright, that's enough, that's enough..." Patting me on the shoulder, a laughing Rick was set back on the ground. The old man immediately began straightening his uniform, casting slightly reproachful looks my way, but a smile was clearly visible in the corners of his eyes and lips. "If I knew there would be such a stormy reaction, I would have sent the message by mail."
"Sorry, old man! It's just hard to keep myself in check, especially after such wonderful news." Re-reading the paper again, I return the sheet to the folder, then turn back to Dicker. With a sly smirk on my face, I lean my hand on the table, starting to tease the old man who had so pleased his "grandson." "I'm even afraid to imagine what kind of reward awaits you, if they dropped this much on me..."
"Ahem, I'll have you know," wagging a finger at me, which caused a new bout of uncontrollable laughter from me, Rick returned to his seat, lighting a new toxic stick, "I did everything for the sake of the Republic and its citizens. Their sincere gratitude alone is my true reward..."
For a few seconds, we sat in silence, after which the old man broke into the same croaking laughter.
"Alright, we've had our laugh, and that's enough." Sitting opposite him, I toss a handful of berries into my mouth, enjoying their pulp and sweet juice. "But seriously... Will you tell me what you got?"
"I will join the team of Senator Luren Korta, Chairman of the Defense and Security Committee. With the help of my acquaintances in Judicial Forces and a couple of benevolent senators, I was one of the candidates... But now," picking up one berry, Rick saluted with it and swallowed it with equal pleasure.
"Is it an extremely good spot?"
"Now I will have to report directly to the senator or, if everything goes sideways, to the chancellor." Clasping his fingers together, Dicker clearly thought about some of his own problems. Not surprising that he had them, especially in a structure like the Judicial Forces. A recent investigator had flown so high... I imagine everyone who could was putting spokes in his wheels there. "Our hands will be untied a bit more, which can't help but please. We'll be able to bring a little more good into this galaxy..."
Looking at me intently, Rick nodded satisfactorily when I closed my eyes in agreement. Our silent dialogue lasted only a few seconds, but we understood each other much better than during the long hours before.
"And so that the good has fists," I tap my finger on the folder, roughly understanding that I'm binding myself even more tightly to the official authorities, though it seemed impossible to get any closer, "there will be no possibility of refusing work now?"
"Well, why is that?"
Exhaling relaxedly, clearly expecting something else from me, Rick demonstratively wiped sweat from his forehead and smiled broadly.
"I won't drag you into the dirty work, politics, or filth. And besides, you don't have that kind of reputation, and Senator Korta understands that perfectly. So you will continue to work in the same vein, only now you will be deployed more often in other parts of the galaxy."
"Not that I'm against it, especially if it involves shredding pirates, Hutts, savages, or other scum. You know our slogans, and as long as we live up to them, I'll gladly continue working with you."
"Glad to hear it."
***
Having escorted Dicker to his ship, I remained standing on the launch pad, watching the lone ship rise into the atmosphere.
The conversation had been interesting and difficult, especially considering that every few seconds I was burned by the attentive gaze of the former investigator...
"There's no such thing as a former investigator." Smirking crookedly, I don't turn around when soft footsteps sound behind me and Somnia stands beside me. "What do you think?"
"A leash. A carrot and a stick. A rancor's scrotum..."
"Pff, where did that last one come from?"
"It's just as big a problem and smells just as bad," grimacing, the girl leaned her shoulder against the Pelican standing nearby, "they're rubbing our faces in it, and quite insistently."
"Glad you understand that too."
"I don't think Rick had a choice," Somnia shook her head, also shifting her gaze to the trail remaining in the sky, "he climbed high, and to avoid catching a laser bolt in the back of the head, he's forced to adapt and maneuver among those sharks."
"I understand that... That's why he flew out of here alive." Hiding my hands in my pockets, I relax my shoulders with pleasure, allowing myself to slouch a bit. "So now our asses belong to the Defense and Security Committee."
"You could say that. But it's not like it was different before. The scale has changed, but otherwise, everything remains as it was."
"Not quite," pulling out the folder, I gently run my fingertips over the first page, which had evoked my only sincere emotion during the entire conversation, "the Senate in its arrogance gave us too fat a carrot, and it would be a sin not to take advantage of it."
***
The corporate meeting in the boardroom consisted of a large round table surrounded by austere gray chairs. Reports, charts, and slides lay on the table, and tension and rivalry hung in the air.
The unspoken head of the Santhe/Sienar Technologies corporation, Narro Sienar, watched with a motionless face and a tired gaze as his fellow board members traded barbs and reproaches. Their debates went in an endless cycle of mutual verbal stings, quarterly result assessments, and future market forecasts that barely inspired any thoughts in him.
As chief designer, Narro preferred to spend time in the laboratories, creating and developing new technologies that, in his opinion, could change the market. Unlike the other directors, for whom every word meant an opportunity to display a spirit of rivalry, he didn't understand why so much time was wasted on empty chatter. While the others continued to discuss insignificant marketing details, Narro was already dreaming of his new projects, the sounds of mechanizing parts, and the hum of machines.
Suddenly, as another director began wrapping up with the usual loud arguments about the need to deepen strategic partnership with some corporation, his tablet screen flashed quietly, drawing attention. He involuntarily opened his eyes, checking the contents of the notification.
It was personal mail, and the message was a true find amidst the dull routine. The sender's address was quite extraordinary—"Helldivers Logistics and Supply Division."
With difficulty tearing himself away from the conversations that continued to gain momentum in the room, Narro opened the message. From the first line, it was clear that his dark thoughts about routine and exaggerated disputes might soon be dispelled. The message didn't contain much text, but the clarity and straightforwardness of the phrase immediately attracted him, causing his pupils to dilate excitedly. The customers were looking for a technical specialist to develop innovative strategies and mechanisms capable of increasing the effectiveness of their squad. Weapons, equipment, armor...
But that was just an additional and not the most important point. At the end of the line, it was added that if he didn't want to do it himself, they would gladly turn to whomever Sienar himself pointed out.
Among the formulations and specific terminology, he noticed something mysterious: it wasn't just about simple development, but about creating something completely new and non-standard, which hooked his engineering spirit.
Developing a new type of ship. Large, powerful... A true weapon for war.
The "Helldivers" were a well-known mercenary squad, and their request implied something riskier than ordinary corporate work. This could be something that would make his name more prominent in the market, or even—what was much more intriguing—a chance to escape the monotony of his current position.
Unable to restrain himself, Narro pulled back from the tablet screen the next second, trying to recall the entire text of the message and the details of the order. Deciding that this offer could well be the breath of fresh air he so desperately needed, he began to sharply contemplate how he could interact with the mercenaries without putting his interest on display before his current colleagues.
Meanwhile, the words of the other directors were already merging into a gray mass, and it seemed none of them noticed how his facial expression changed. In his head, a plan and new opportunities were already being developed, just waiting to be realized. He instinctively knew that for him, this step could be the beginning of something great. And finally, the boredom vanished, giving way to determination and excitement that flared up inside him.
***
***
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