"How unusual..."
Standing before the mirror, I examine myself from head to toe for the umpteenth time, trying to grasp what has happened. If last time I was reborn in the body of a guy in his twenties, now I was still a teenager—younger, even. Twelve, maybe thirteen years old. Though it wouldn't be accurate to say I was reborn or occupied the body; rather, this boy awakened the memories of my life, and they suppressed everything else, clogging his entire memory with scenes from a galactic war and some rather gruesome footage.
"Holy freedom, this is just some kind of miracle. I only hope there won't be a third time where I occupy the body of an infant," I muttered. Several months had passed, but the only thing I could continue to do was smile foolishly and enjoy life. No more war, no more battles, and most importantly—no more of that vile paste for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. To top it all off, there was a soft bed that had already become dearer to me than any acquaintances from my past world. "Is this what real democracy is like?"
Yes, I had definitely lost my marbles slightly on a wave of delight and happiness.
As I said, several months have passed, and all this time, like a true Helldiver, I have been finding out everything I could about this new and mysterious world. And I managed to find out a lot...
Because here, unlike on Super Earth, you only had to want it, and information would pour into your hands. Random snippets overheard on the streets, easy access to the local equivalent of the internet, books, movies, textbooks, and of course—relatives who explained many things to me without issue. No one was afraid to speak; everyone shared their opinion. The people were easy to approach, mostly amused by my questions.
No one filed reports on me, no special service watched me, and in general, everyone couldn't care less what a little kid was doing on a remote planet in the Outer Rim. Righteous democracy—how wonderful it was. In fact, the new world I found myself in was magnificent.
I wasn't reborn just anywhere, but in a galaxy far, far away, full of its own mysteries and questions, but still... Still, it was exquisite here! I remembered little of the ancient movie that had faded from my memory long ago, but I managed to extract some basic things, supplementing the pictures from my first life. Yes, there are plenty of criminals, slavers, and all sorts of bastards like the Sith and their ilk, but! All that shit pales in comparison to what was on Super Earth. Although, I remembered there was some kind of conflict developing there between two gangs of local sorcerers—that is, Force users—but that's not particularly important right now...
All of that will happen somewhere out there, in the Core Worlds, very far from here and almost half a century later.
And the planet I ended up on—Minoris Two—was a wild backwater inhabited by barely ten thousand people. We had our own ecosystem here, our own rules, and our own life, where all issues were decided by the majority!
"Miracles, nothing less." Sliding a finger across the mirror, I cast a look full of delight out the window. A gorgeous view, full of greenery and crooked, lopsided houses, each reflecting the personality of its owner. Some were made from ships, others from mining barracks, and still others from local trees—huge green giants that reach into the heavens.
Crooked streets and off-road paths, old laundry on ropes between buildings, grumbling old men hiding from their old ladies and trying to sneak a sip of their moonshine brewed in garages.
The barking of dogs and simple people living their lives.
"Sam, come eat."
"Of course, Grandma. I'm coming."
Throwing on a light wrap, something like a poncho, I rush downstairs, finding myself at the table in an instant. A simple stew with meat and local grains was waiting for me on the table. The aroma hit my receptors, making me salivate in anticipation.
Slipping into the chair, I didn't even notice how I became transfixed by the bowl, causing the grandmother of this body—and consequently, mine—to laugh.
"Hungry? Lately, you've been devouring everything I cook... Have you grown up or something? You used to be so picky." Grumbling kindly, the old woman circled the table, stopping beside me. Her rough hand ruffled my blonde hair, after which Grandma kissed the top of my head. "Maybe a real man will grow out of you yet."
Smiling at her words, I patiently wait for the permitting nod and literally annihilate the stew, licking the plate clean.
"Ha-ha-ha, oh, if they could only see you... Oh, well." Wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, the old woman returned to her place with a limping gait, turning on a tablet with the HoloNet along the way, hoping to watch a couple of her favorite serials. Unlike me, Grandma Tilda could eat for hours, staring into the screen. "You can go for a walk..."
"Thanks, I'm done." Catching up to Grandma, I pull out the chair, helping her sit down. A simple task, but it made her happy, and... it was the right thing to do. "I'll be back in the evening!"
Waving a hand in farewell, I run out of the house, jumping off the porch onto a small dry patch of road. Planting my hands on my hips, I take a deep breath of the scent of my backwater home, enjoying this brief moment. No matter how hard I tried, habits hammered in over the years aren't so easy to live down. So, even though my life as a Helldiver was over, I still continued to observe many parts of the regulations and daily routine.
"Okay, two seconds have passed, which means it's time to get down to business."
***
Minoris was a simple little planet, one of millions in the Republic. A human colony where people hadn't even really seen aliens. Everyone who lived here was, essentially, a subspecies of human, though each considered themselves a representative of a different race.
But here it was considered prestigious to have roots from a planet that wasn't like everyone else's. We are in the middle of nowhere, after all.
A backwater and a wilderness, where ships of the local corporate giant, the Trade Federation, occasionally fly in to take our goods and disappear into the abyss of space.
Small traders or random passers-by are a rarity here, and as for talking about important people—don't even get me started. Minoris was located on the edge of the Outer Rim, adjacent to the space of the local crime lords—the Hutts. Huge slugs, long-lived and considering themselves better than other races. Often these freaks become slavers, drug lords, kings of smuggling, and other offal disgusting to my free heart.
And the Hutts themselves looked hideous, and considering the xenophobia instilled in me toward everyone who doesn't look human... well, you understand. The righteous flame of democracy flared up in my soul every time these criminals and bastards were mentioned.
Although I doubt the Hutts even knew about us, otherwise they would have enslaved everyone long ago. No one knew about us at all; these parts were just too wild. The hyperlanes that connect the galaxy to itself don't pass through here; there are no important stations for research or refueling ships, no exotic goods like precious metals, fabrics, fruits, animals, or drugs either. Only ordinary cheap ore, which consistently goes for sale in small quantities, providing the entire settlement with a livelihood.
Yep, you got that right. There was only one town here, and it housed the spaceport, the mines, and the dwellings of all the people on Minoris.
Low walls, a couple of generators, and a basic sewage system that ran to the nearest lake, where underground springs bubbled at the bottom.
Overall, the residents of Minoris had enough in life, and no one particularly complained about their existence; there was no point in it anyway. Want to fly away? Go ahead, just save up enough money for the traders from the Federation, and they'll easily take you out of here.
The fact that a normal person would have to save such a sum for two or three lifetimes didn't bother these creatures. Yes, the owners of the Trade Federation mostly consisted of rather disgusting-looking xenos—greedy, cowardly, and cunning, dreaming of getting rich off anyone foolish enough to come bowing to them.
Ah, the world of Star Wars. There are a lot of aliens here, and I wouldn't say that makes me happy. Intellectually, I understand there's nothing wrong with it, but the habits hammered into my subconscious tell me otherwise, especially when I find out that this place is full of cyborgs or insectoid races.
My shoulders flared from the memories. Just one mention that creatures similar to Terminids live here legally was enough to scare and unsettle me to death.
But I tried not to think about it often and just live my new life peacefully, at the end of which, I hope, I will quietly go to the local equivalent of heaven.
Right now, I intended to live an honest and decent life, without violence and the other joys of a Helldiver. I even chose a new profession for myself.
"Come closer, don't be shy, for this is not just juice—it is the juice of equality and brotherhood for all people!"
Donning an apron and gloves, I begin squeezing juice from local fruits that grow at every turn right in the middle of the street.
Tired laborers crawling out of the mines walked right down that street and happily tossed me a small coin to quench their thirst as quickly as possible. I set the price at a minimum, which, considering the demand, still paid off.
At first, I wanted to make the drinks free, but that smelled like some kind of commie crap, so after reciting the oath of allegiance to democracy, I returned to the righteous path of the capitalist.
I hoped to use the money to buy a ticket off the planet, because despite all my delight with Minoris, I had no doubt that in a couple of years I would start looking longingly at the starry sky, dreaming of being on a ship again.
And leaving here would be difficult. Surely there would be a bunch of problems and obstacles, but I think I can handle it. After all, all the current problems that, for example, Sam had before my arrival seemed like such trifles.
And all of them were easily solved with words, not fists. Bullies, lack of money, skills, or hobbies. Little Sam was too kind a fellow and suffered on the planet after the death of his parents, who were buried in a mine collapse. He considered himself useless and overthought things a lot, as children are wont to do. And his soft and kind-hearted character overlaid perfectly with my dream—not to take up arms, sometimes forcing me to take a hit but not enter a conflict.
Whether this was a downside or would become my plus—I didn't know, and so I tried to distract myself from reflecting on it by any means.
Selling juice to workers wasn't the only thing that helped me earn. Every evening I went to wash droids, pestering their owners with questions, who also worked in the mine, and for this, they gave me some vegetables, allowing Grandma to save on food. I took them apart and cleaned them as much as my skills allowed, and then reassembled them myself, following the simple steps when taking apart an unfamiliar thing—writing it down.
Not that my technical skills were bad for this universe, but it's one thing to know how to reassemble a machine gun with your eyes closed, fix a radio, or start a car, and quite another thing to do this!
By selling off toys and trading unnecessary things, I was able to afford to indulge in everything that interested me, from building droids to riding a small neighboring speeder, which I looked after in exchange. I even helped Grandma in the garden, happy that I was finally creating something rather than destroying it.
Life flowed easily and pleasantly, and only constant mentions of this galaxy's problems caused an unconscious grinding of my teeth.
Ugh, there was so much shit here. Pirates, slavers, cartels, syndicates, just bastards and scum who are happy to torture people. I even found out that many races practice cannibalism, and some quite seriously believe that other sentients are servants and inferior beings to them.
There are races that feed on others' brains, and others who wouldn't mind snacking on anyone at all after engaging in sexual intercourse. Some are aggressive by nature and often attack their neighbors, while others are conversely such pacifists that they aren't ready to defend their sacred right to freedom!
And all this under the banner of rhetoric about freedom and equality pushed by the Republic we lived in. And everything was seasoned with a corrupt Senate and megacorporations that had almost seized power in the galaxy. If I didn't know that all this was done on purpose, I probably would never in my life believe that all this was real!
I was torn by contradictions. On one hand, I no longer wanted to participate in conflicts, and the word I gave to myself helped in minor scuffles, but on the other...
The mere word "slavery" could send me into a rage. The dogmas of freedom and equality hammered into my head pounded like a drum in my ears, and only the absence of enemies in my direct line of sight allowed me to maintain control.
The most terrible thing was that many acquaintances, neighbors, and just residents of Minoris—they all thought it was normal. Like, "It's not that scary, and there's nothing wrong with it. All sentients are different... Besides, it's not our problem."
What kind of nonsense is that?
What if pirates or some other freaks suddenly fly to us? What then? Will we just surrender to their mercy? And what if some gang starts robbing that old falling-apart ore freighter that arrives to us from the Trade Federation?
The owners of this galactic giant will just give us a big, "free" middle finger! For I doubt such trips bring in much profit.
Whew, I almost lost it, but working for the sake of my own earnings and the dream I now lived by helped quell the anger and continue working peacefully while the laborers took their juice.
But, apparently, I somehow offended fate with my words. For as soon as I handed out the last glass, a flash flared in the sky above our heads, and then an explosion ripped through the spaceport, resurrecting "Malevelon Creek" flashbacks in me. To complete the picture, all that was missing was the piercing wail of an Automaton siren; the gunfire and the familiar sound of lasers were included, but the main thing was still missing.
Shaking my head, I try to gather my honestly earned belongings, but the frightened crowd knocked over my table, simultaneously shoving me to the side of the road.
Guttural sounds in a horrific and mangled speech were heard from around the corner, but I could no longer get up. Pressed down by people, due to a lack of oxygen, my child's body shut down, throwing me into the darkness of non-existence.
***
Well, what can I say. The righteous flame of democracy burns in my chest, for I was now aboard a vile little ship—The Cobblestone—taken into slavery by slavers. Some alien freaks of all sorts of colors and kinds descended on Minoris like a hurricane, leaving only fire and death in their wake.
These subhumans feasted on the bones for a couple of days and then just drove everyone who hadn't managed to run away onto the ship and flew off in an unknown direction.
I didn't know what happened to my grandmother, or my friends, or even my minor enemies. Most of the sentients in my cell were from a different part of the city, and I simply hadn't had time to get to know them better, and Sam wasn't interested in that anyway.
Pulling off the basic rope with which the dim-witted pirates tied their captives, I stood up, moving closer to the bars. Simple rusted steel that no one had cared for in a good dozen years. A bunch of chips, dents, and orange spots on the hinges, which interested me most of all.
Feeling them with my hands, making sure the rust easily stayed on my fingers, I turn back toward the cell, measuring what I could use to lift the gate off its hinges. An old movie from my first, most wonderful life had almost faded from memory, but I remembered perfectly how the main creator of wet panties of that time did something similar, rescuing a pirate with the nickname of some bird.
"I can't remember my own father's name, but I remembered such nonsense. The brain is a strange thing."
Inside, everything was bad. The cell was small, smelly, and obviously hadn't been cleaned in a very long time. Traces of blood, shit, and some other waste and secretions.
"Holy freedom... what a nightmare."
But worst of all, there were no benches here that could be used to prop up the gate, which meant I would have to improvise.
"A Helldiver must survive and carry out the mission, even if he is alone in the middle of an enemy capital planet, right, Sergeant Boyle?"
The rope was thrown through one of the holes in the bars, after which I tied the fallen ends closer to the hinges. Checking the strength of the knot, I practically sit on the floor and start pulling. Мой собственный вес и упор ногами в решётку мало что дал. Сил банально не хватало…
"Right, I'm not a hulking diver in combat armor anymore; I'm just a boy."
Then I should use help or physics, and I decided to start with the former.
Half an hour of questioning and talking, and it became clear that our cell was populated by children and girls for sale, and all the strong and powerful men were locked up better or killed altogether. My cellmates told me that they even put collars with explosives on our few defenders to make sure they wouldn't cause trouble.
"Collars! Like for dogs or something?!"
To say I was angry is to say nothing. And it took a lot of effort for me to pull myself together... But every cloud has a silver lining. In a fit of rage, I bashed the bars so hard, constantly yanking the rope, that I managed to bend the old rusted metal.
The small opening was barely traversable, but with my height, it wasn't difficult to crawl outside, where I came nose-to-nose with a Twi'lek carrying a plate of food. This strange race possessed a pair of lekku growing from their head—special appendages that replaced their hair and contained many nerve endings.
"Hey you, stop right there!"
Tossing the bowl aside, along with the cutlery and a fairly sturdy plate, he rushed at me, trying to grab my shoulders with his hands, but only flew past, slamming into the bars of the cell.
Wasting no time, I grab some crooked semblance of a fork combined with a spoon and, with a running start, jab it into the pirate's leg, causing him to erupt in curses.
While the idiot was carefully pulling out the spork, I grab the bowl of food and bring it down on his head with all my might, breaking a couple of teeth and sending him into a minor knockout.
I had to act quickly, so I thought of nothing better than to rely on luck and started punching the slaver in the balls.
Six blows caused a grimace of pain and disappointment in life to appear on his face, after which he slumped to his side, continuing to hold both hands over his crotch.
Breathing heavily, I cautiously snatched the blaster from him, after which I began to carefully study the weapon, checking the mode switch on the side panel. In principle, I didn't see anything complicated in this weapon; it indeed reminded me somewhat of Automaton rifles, only much lower quality and with a smaller ammunition capacity. But even so... Switching the mode to non-lethal, I aim directly at the alien-pirate and take a test shot, making sure that some of my old skills were still with me.
"Phew, even good can have fists."