"Meaning? Repeat that."
"That is the real Sand Grimm... Well, the original. He's a cousin," Jester Stormbird answered in a trembling voice, soiling his breeches and stinking up the whole area. He nodded toward the redhead's corpse, whose neck I had snapped in the alleyway. The kid was shaking with fear; honestly, I couldn't blame him. Especially considering the slaves I'd freed were tossing the bandits' bodies into an overflowing pit of filth nearby. The Zabrak brothers standing on either side of me added to the authority of the scene. "The other captains overthrew him on Fatty's orders..."
"And this one?"
"Another captain, the most influential after Grimm..."
"Then who's the one walking around in the armor instead of him?"
"A droid."
"Seriously? What kind of droid is it?"
"I don't know, Fatty brought him in. Said he found a much more prestigious boss who gave him this droid," nearly weeping, Jester struck his head against the sand, bowing his chest to the ground. It looked like he was ready to prostrate himself right there, but I didn't need that. I poked him with my rifle, forcing him to raise his head and look at me. "Yes?"
"Stand up. I don't like that." Even if Stormbird wasn't a human in my eyes, especially after everything he'd confessed to, the groveling was repulsive to my very core. "Do you know who this new boss of Fatty's is?"
"No, sorry, sir! No, I don't know."
"Alright, don't cry... Ugh, now I have to deal with this too. Why me?"
Thoughtfully raising my head to the sky, I addressed the supreme power—Liberty—hoping for an answer. But she remained silent, just as she always did when her rights weren't being oppressed.
"Fine... Where is Fatty now?"
"He went west, took the gangs of Dyuzhnik and Neudachnik right after he got rid of Grimm and cleared out..."
"So what, you guys were just left here alone? Pretending everything was the same?"
"Ye-es," stuttering, the bandit cringed, fearing punishment, "please don't kill me."
"Oh, don't worry about that." Rising from my seat, I brushed off my new grey cloak with light movements, trying not to look at the relieved fatty. "I've done my job; from here on, you'll answer to them."
Stepping aside, I revealed the crowd of former slaves who had finished their work—the very people who once answered to him.
The embittered people waited with anticipation for me to leave their field of vision, ready to swarm the defenseless bastard like a pack of Jackals.
"Was it worth it..."
"Yes. It's the beautiful feeling of freedom of choice, and they've made theirs. Alright, we'll proceed as agreed. You look after them, and it's time for me to move on." Waving off the Zabraks who had started to argue, I headed for the exit of the ruined settlement, where they had already begun gathering salvaged transport and riding animals. Passing by the diverse menagerie, I simply headed toward the desert on foot. Beside me, unnoticed at first, appeared the angry Shorty, who had been glaring at me the whole time, judging me for the killing of everyone in the settlement. "I know, I know... I shouldn't have staged a celebration of Democracy here... But was there another choice?"
"!%":;?!№"
"Easy for you to say. But I couldn't do it any other way," here my eyes fell upon that bloated clerk from the mining town. The heavy-set man sat on a rock at a distance from the others, oblivious to what was happening. Approaching him, I squeezed his shoulder in a friendly gesture, making him flinch and turn a frightened gaze toward me. "Hey, is everything okay? You don't have to fear them anymore. Grimm and his gang aren't here, and I'm going to finish what was started with those who fled west..."
"Huh? What does Grimm have to do with it?"
For the first time in our acquaintance, he spoke, and it intrigued me. Squatting down, I looked into the miner's eyes, which cleared for a moment, trying to reach his battered mind.
"It was Grimm who raided your settlement, wasn't it? Or one of his lackeys?"
I felt it was extremely important to hear his answer. Waiting patiently for him to gather his thoughts, I exchanged glances with Shorty, who shrugged in confusion, not knowing what to expect herself.
"No," the man finally answered, and then his pupils dilated, filled with genuine terror, "it wasn't him... Ships. Ships flew in, descended from the sky. We thought they were from the company, coming to pick us up... We went out into the street, the whole town... They were transmitting our signals, I remember exactly, because I was the one receiving them. I turned off the Anti-Air Defense and let the ships land..."
His lips began to tremble, and he broke into a sweat instantly. The fatty's breathing quickened, and despite frequent gasps, he began to suffocate.
"I let them through... I accepted the access codes and let them through," exchanging another look with Shorty, I grabbed the man by the shoulders, shaking him slightly so he would focus all his attention on me, "they killed all the defenders and led the others away... Took the guns... The equipment... Everything. He took everything."
"Who is 'he'?"
"..."
The man stared at me in terror. His eyes glazed over, and he began to mutter something, drooling. Apparently, the memories were too overwhelming for this sentient, unaccustomed to survival.
"Yeah, I was like that once too."
Releasing the poor soul, who continued to sit there staring into the void, I stepped back a couple of paces, standing next to Shorty.
The little Jawa let out a sad, quiet sound that I understood perfectly despite all the translation difficulties.
"Not everyone is meant to survive in a world like this..."
With an ironic smirk, I picked up the backpack I'd taken off my back, slung it over my shoulder, and set off, trying not to look back at the man who had suddenly lost his mind.
***
In the evening, having covered a sufficient distance, Shorty and I managed to set up camp between a couple of rocks that shielded us from the bone-chilling winds.
Two cliffs, shaped like giant teeth, provided reliable shelter, allowing us to relax a little.
Shorty was rummaging through the supplies, constantly grumbling about something and sorting through the junk gathered in the raider settlement, while I stared at the dancing tongues of the campfire, in which I sometimes saw the enemies of Democracy.
Inopportunely, I remembered the operation on the planet Nami 7.
Infested with Terminids that had bred into a literal living sea and riddled every damn corner of that planet with their stinking tunnels.
Back then, I had just come to terms with the fact that blowing up my own carrier wouldn't work and that I'd have to fight under the obscure flag of a shady state for the rest of my life.
The first drop after accepting reality. The first battle. And the first sensation of exhilaration I felt when I simply cast aside all the standards left over from my past life.
I remember how the napalm rockets struck from the sky, igniting everything for hundreds of kilometers around, literally turning the planet's surface to ash.
The ground beneath our feet turned black, and the filters got clogged. We had to constantly wipe the glass to clear the soot, but we kept fighting nonetheless.
"I think we were still talking back then... I'm not sure."
We were defending the flag of Super Earth, which was being raised on the enemy planet on live broadcast. An operator Drone flew around, filming us from different angles, while we fired incessantly in all directions, holding back waves of advancing bugs that were beyond counting.
My eyes were drawn to movement on my sleeve. Raising my left hand to my eyes, I lowered my goggles, peering at a tiny bug that was calmly crawling toward my fingers.
"The local bugs are much more harmless," lowering my hand to the ground, I let the bug crawl off to go about its important business, watching its path through the sand. It left a tiny trail that was swept away by a single gust of wind. "Funny..."
This isn't Super Earth after all, so I did the right thing when I decided to change.
"Changed well... Minced a couple dozen people into kebabs," an ironic chuckle escaped my mouth, "it was simpler there..."
"!№;%!№!%"
Anxiously sitting down beside me, Shorty patted my shoulder, tossing various scraps and junk that could no longer be used into the fire.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."
";%!:%?!№%"
"You do realize I don't understand your language and I'm just answering however is convenient for me?"
Throwing up her hands, Shorty whipped a small screwdriver from her tunic and began to quickly draw in the sand. Two crooked figures, clearly depicting her and me, with an equals sign between them.
"You're saying we're alike?"
Nodding vigorously, the Jawa jumped up, waving her arms expressively and squeaking something.
"Mmm-a-ah..." Scratching the back of my head, I looked at Shorty with doubt. "In some ways, you're right, of course... But overall."
And I wasn't lying just to avoid offending the little one. Like me in this life, Jawas avoided battles and wars, but those things constantly found them anyway. The little scavengers of Tatooine were a choice target for everyone living in these harsh lands, be they Sand People, raiders, bandits, predators, or even "peaceful" settlers. Though that word is impossible to imagine in the context of describing Tatooine.
Only, unlike me, Jawas avoid battle because of their physical weakness. Small, light, and frail bodies don't make for rugged warriors.
"But they make one out of me," I explained all this to Shorty using my fingers, and she seemed to even understand, "though... Damn, what a rugged warrior, killed a bunch of lowlifes while holding an 'autocannon.' Super-Democracy in action..."
Laughing at my own words, I inhaled the night air. The aroma of the fire wasn't the best, as it was lit with some kind of compressed briquettes whose composition I didn't even want to investigate—they smelled far too strong.
But the smell of the desert itself was pleasant. I'd grown used to it over six years.
"I wonder how the old man and the little shit are doing?"
Pulling Mizuna's gift from its case, I ran my fingers over the rifle, checking for chips and scratches, but thankfully the old man had built a reliable tool that wouldn't break easily.
I'd seen local crafts that were held together only by tape and a prayer.
I suddenly felt like going back to the moisture farm. Maybe live there for a while or even stay forever...
"Heh, no. That's definitely not for me." Leaning closer to the fire, feeling its unbearable heat, I imagined how nice it would be if I could start a family on the station. There were options, and a part of me clearly wanted it very badly... "A part, but not all."
The recent incident in "The Four" showed that I still enjoy fighting for liberty just as much. The recoil from the shots, the war against the evil that opposes liberty and Democracy...
"And maybe even more." Gripping the rifle, I pressed the stock into my shoulder, aiming somewhere into the darkness of the desert. The front sight slid smoothly over the dunes until I found my target. "Eat this..."
A small pack of womp rats was slowly creeping toward the light source, hoping to feast on the naive travelers who dared to light a fire in these mad lands.
The roar of the shot knocked Shorty onto her back. Flailing in the sand, she cursed me for all she was worth until she finally managed to sit up.
Burning me with a resentful glare, the little Jawa scooped up a handful of sand and threw it in my direction.
"№%:№?;"
"Sorry, sorry. I just saw a rat, that's all," rising from my spot, I slung the rifle over my shoulder. I should walk a bit outside the firelight to let my eyes adjust to the dark, then check the surroundings again. "I'll walk around a bit; you should get some sleep."
Ignoring the usual scolding, I vanished into the darkness of the desert, keeping the campsite in the corner of my eye.
Stepping on the soft, cooled sand, I reflected on my new life and how it had once again knocked me on my ass.
"I'll become the kindest person and solve all issues with words, not fists."
I was clearly too naive if I actually believed that.
Thinking that Super Earth was a true horror and dystopia, I'd somehow forgotten that the world is full of other dangers that ordinary people have to face.
And the quiet, safe life of Sam, the previous owner of this body, only confirmed those thoughts. But the world—or the Force, as the locals call it—decided to show me that things aren't so simple here, and because of me, several hundred people died, burned in a spaceship explosion when I decided to play hero.
Honestly, if only that had taught me anything.
That incident didn't even stick in my memory. As soon as I started a new, peaceful life under Mizuna's patronage, I plunged back into my own dreams.
I could blame my attitude toward death, or the fact that having died so many times in the previous world, I just don't give a damn... Though, I think I just went crazy from the sudden liberty and lack of restraint.
Super Earth was no longer standing behind me, clutching the biggest stick and threatening that if I deviated from the norms, I'd get hit over the head.
Here, I was all alone. Essentially on my own, and I could freely decide what I wanted to do.
"I chose, what can I say." I never smoked in my previous lives, but for some reason, I wanted to now. "And the thing with the ship really didn't turn out well..."
Remembering how I started running from the enraged fatty, a flashback exploded in my mind.
The planet Pandion 24, a world like many others. Just as empty and useless to anyone but Super Earth.
Spitting on the sand, I continued my way, recalling how I first encountered the large bugs. Not those small, harmless creatures—the size of a dog or a horse. No, I'm talking about the huge armored freaks, the size of a local fighter.
A carcass weighing several tons. Accelerating from a standstill and taking turns with ease.
If you didn't kill it on the first try, only a total idiot would stay in one place to change weapon settings, reload, or pull out a spare; there, time is measured in seconds, and any delay means one thing—your death.
"Ha-ha-ha, I know that better than anyone," my hand instinctively went to my chest, to the spot where the bug's bone horn first struck, shattering most of the bones in my body, "ugh, I remember having nightmares for almost a month after that... But now it's nothing, almost funny."
Helldivers never retreat, but we can perform tactical maneuvers in the opposite direction of the advance.
How many times have I watched my comrades run for their lives while a literal horde of snapping jaws, claws, and machinery gathered behind them...
And I did the same until I found a sturdy enough rock to hide behind while calling an airstrike on myself... Or a nuclear strike... Or an orbital bombardment...
There were plenty of choices.
"Ye-eah, but there's no loyal carrier here, and the Soul of Justice won't cover your ass in a tough spot," patting my hip, I felt the old blaster on my belt, "and the weapons here are total garbage."
After walking for a few more minutes, I returned to the fire, where Shorty was already fast asleep. Tucking her legs under her, she had opened her backpack and covered herself with part of it like a blanket.
"Clever, I'll have to try that... But some other time."
Sprawling on the ground, I tucked my hand under my head, once again contemplating my life, both the new and the old.
"Too much trouble... Why didn't I reincarnate on somewhere like Naboo? I'd be living in a garden-world right now, eating grouse and peeking at queens... Or whoever's in charge there?" A memory flashed in my mind. "Oh wait, there are Siths there, or one Sith... I don't remember well. I'd probably just find trouble and 'adventures' there too. Maybe Alderaan then? It won't be blown up for a while, and I'll be dead by then... Probably, ow!"
A small pebble hit me in the head. Squeaking indignantly, Shorty turned over onto her other side, away from me.
"Alright, alright... Such a sensitive soul."
Without realizing it, I was clutching Mizuna's gift tightly with my other hand, literally pressing it to my chest, and because of that, my sleep was light and pleasant.
***
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