I sit on the edge of a cliff and look at Tatooine. The desert, like a boundless sea of sand, stretches to the very horizon.
Two suns blaze as if they are trying to burn everything around. Their bright light creeps into every corner, forcing shadows to retreat, fearing the power of the luminaries.
The heat is such that even thoughts melt, and the dry wind kicks up sand and spreads it over the ground. Occasionally, damn grains of sand fly into your face, trying to get into your eyes as soon as you take off your goggles.
Shifting my gaze toward the canyons, I see a pack of womp rats gnawing on a dead bantha. The rats, small and cunning for local realities, are only about a meter and a half long. They brazenly drag pieces of meat as if it's their personal feast.
The stench there must be terrible—the kind that would bring the dead back from the other side—but here in the desert, you quickly get used to it. Although it seems that since there's nothing there, there's nothing to stink.
Underfoot, the red-hot sand sometimes rustles like coals straight from a fire. If the shoes weren't made of special heat-resistant materials, the boots would melt in an instant, leaving a foul smoky mass.
In the distance, I notice several worms crawling underground. Every time they move, mounds appear on the surface, as if the earth itself is moving. A chilling sight—the mere thought of how huge they can be makes you shudder.
But no need to worry. For the most part, these creatures are fairly harmless to humans, preferring to feed on underground minerals. What use are small humans and similar humanoids to them.
And to get a worm to attack you, you have to make it really, really angry.
Far off, you can see local scavengers fighting among themselves for scraps of food. Flapping their wings, they clash time and again, hoping that today the lunch will be theirs.
Funny and sad at the same time, but such is life here. Everyone fights for their share, especially when there's nothing to eat. In such moments, I often think that the main rule is: might makes right.
And I only hope that it doesn't extend to the whole galaxy.
My head pulls away from the view and turns toward the west, where movement was spotted between the dunes.
A caravan of sand people slowly goes about its business. They move leisurely, as if the desert is their backyard. Confident in their strength, they carry spears and maces, preferring to engage enemies in close combat.
Though normal weapons aren't foreign to them either. Just look at those bulky single-shot rifles, capable of piercing a rancor's temple from a hundred meters.
I've seen more than once how they speak to each other in their language, and if something is wrong—they sometimes quarrel. And then they decide it's better not to bother their heads over trifles and move on.
Wild people. With equally wild customs and traditions. No matter how much I tried to fix my life and learn to solve problems peacefully, to these desert bastards I would bring a bit of knowledge about freedom and democracy... in the form of three-hundred-and-eighty-pound bombs.
I sit on the edge of a cliff, blown by the dry wind, and feel my head start to spin from the heat. But I'm used to it. I watch all this as if it's an ordinary day in life. The desert is like that. It seems everything is simple here, but something is hidden in every grain of sand, someone is hiding under them, and hundreds and thousands of creatures walk on them.
"Reflections again? I thought a Helldiver should do more. Not think."
"Yeah, thinking is bad for us... But I'm not a Helldiver anymore, am I?"
I don't even know what there was more of in my question. Belief in my own words or irony from how I said it.
"Are you asking? Or asserting?"
"Little pest."
Showing me two fingers in the signature peace gesture she picked up from me, Shorty went back to her business, continuing to churn out carbine ammo for me while simultaneously trying to mount a couple of personally created gadgets onto the rifle.
"Just don't ruin the base."
"Just a little filing. Here and here. So there's a place for the bolts..."
"Why the hell are we sitting here? Let's go kill a couple of bastards. If we only attack the camps at night, this damn contract will stretch for an eternity."
Kicking off his stinking boots, Kanto lay on his own cloak in the shade of the tent. Doused in water and covering his eyes with a towel, my brother complained endlessly, enjoying his well-deserved rest... though despite the complaints, he didn't even think of moving from his spot.
"Einz and Zwei, along with Kaoru's people, are watching them." Glancing at my watch, I estimate that about half an hour remains until the end of their watch, and then it will be our turn. "Don't worry, we'll be going there soon too..."
"A-a-a," drawing it out discontentedly, Kanto threw his hands to the sky, "why was I left with you guys, and worst of all, left with you!"
"Don't be dramatic." At my remark, my brother burst into a new torrent of grumbling and swearing, almost like a child pounding his hands on the sand. "I want Junko to be here!"
"Kindergarten."
"Commonplace. Young male of your species. Alluring female."
"Indeed," nodding importantly at Shorty's words, ignoring the indignant look of Kanto who had propped himself up on his elbows and clearly wanted to say a few choice words to us, "do you think he'll succeed...?"
"Excluded."
"An instant no!" Smiling admiringly, I barely held back my laughter, for my brother's reaction was magnificent. Eavesdropping, he clearly expected a different answer, and therefore was now lying on the sand, pathetically covering his ears. "You are too ruthless to him."
"Your brother. Not mine."
Just as I wanted to reply, shots were heard in the distance. Our speeder, with the rest of the team on board, swerved out of the canyon, scraping its plating against a nearby rock. The unfortunate transport was all dented and smoking, and from the back seats, one of the Zabraks—Einz—was actively trading fire with the bandits pursuing them.
"Oh, shit! Kanto, get your pants on!"
Snatching the rifle from Shorty, I open fire on the fly, trying to cut the enemies off from our speeder. A series of small explosions rolled through the gorge, scaring off small scavengers and packs of womp rats, but I was only able to hit one.
A single-seat speeder bike was consumed by the explosion, along with its pilot. The flash scared off the rest, forcing them to maneuver more actively and shift to the edges away from our comrades. Without ceasing fire, they were squeezing them in a pincer, constantly trying to close in and fire for sure.
"Shorty, cover me."
Tossing the rifle onto the sand, I grab the blaster thrown my way. The little Jawa gave me a final thumbs-up before starting to mount homemade bipods onto her carbine so she could actually shoot, rather than flying back a couple of meters like she did the first time.
Sliding down the dune, jumping from one rocky ledge to another, I kept my eyes fixed on the pursuit of our speeder; with every passing second, the enemies were gaining on it.
"Give me your hand, or you'll be dragging yourself along for an eternity!"
A familiar cable flew past, and Kanta, having descended from the peak, reached out his palm, which I grabbed without hesitation. Using the momentum, he began swinging us down in an arc.
The speed was frantic, but I paid it no mind. Compared to a pod drop into the atmosphere, it was nothing at all.
The landing was rough, and while Mizuna's son was busy with his toys, I was already running at full tilt toward our speeder. Hit by another shot, it spun in place, throwing everyone out of the cabin except the driver. Zwei, silently enduring all hardships, tried to the last to save the vehicle and set it down gently, but failed.
With a crash and a fountain of sand, the speeder slammed into the nearest hill, half-burying itself. Hitting the steering wheel, Zwei slumped into the passenger seat. From my distance, I could see cracks decorating the windshield, but thank God, no drops of blood.
"Zabraks have thick skulls, plus those horns. He'll live. He has to!"
Sparing no effort, I raced forward at full speed, feeling the merciless Tatooine squeeze the life out of me. Somewhere behind, Kanta was hopping along hurriedly, swearing and trying to fire from the hip, but only wasting ammo.
The rest of our comrades had already begun gathering around the speeder. Taking up a circular defense, they used one side of the hull for cover, firing back at the encroaching bandits, whose numbers grew by the minute.
Opening fire on the run, I discharged the entire supply of the tibanna gas battery, driving off the particularly persistent bike riders circling around like sharks sensing prey.
The first bike dipped its nose into the ground before vanishing in a flash of explosion, while the second simply sped off without its rider, crashing into some distant dune.
Sliding on my knee, I hit the side of the speeder with my back, sitting down next to Einz and the young girl overseer, who was frantically reloading her rifle.
On the ground beside them lay the remaining two. While the second Zabrak looked alright overall and was even squinting painfully, showing signs of life, the big guy assigned by Kaoru was in trouble.
"Caught the blast... They packed a grenade with a bunch of screws and nails..."
Einz briefly brought me up to speed.
Nodding understandingly, I crawled on all fours toward the wounded, leaning over the armor-clad muscleman.
Several small shrapnel wounds on his arms and chest. One fragment had grazed his neck, another was on the crown of his head, and the last, most dangerous one, was sticking out of his stomach. They had clearly tried to get it out, and thank God they didn't commit such a folly.
"We need to take him to the city. Master Kaoru has a bacta tank." The words spoken by the second female guard had the effect of a bombshell. Bacta is an incredibly effective and valuable substance that can knit together and heal horrific wounds. Its mere presence on this side of the planet was unexpected. But to have a specialized medical tank as well! Just how rich was this old man? "My... He won't last long."
Deciding not to dwell on the slip of the tongue, I simply nodded.
We could easily handle minor wounds and burns—thankfully, the Shorty's backpack was full of useful gear, and every desert dweller learns to stitch themselves up. But the wound in the gut caused well-founded fears, and thus required haste.
Waving to the Shorty, I pulled a second blaster from the girl's holster and took it in my free hand. Ignoring her indignant cry, I vaulted over the speeder in a single leap and began climbing the hill behind which our enemies were hiding.
Seeing me recklessly charge straight at them, they opened up a hurricane of fire, threatening to simply blow up the speeder behind my back.
Simultaneously, other raiders became active on my flanks, but a couple of thundering shots from my carbine quieted those on the left. Kanta, having caught up, took care of those on the right.
With a ghastly, snickering laugh, he pelted them with underbarrel grenades, generously gifting anyone who dared to peek out.
I began shifting diagonally, drawing the fire away from the speeder. Raising my hands to chest level, I started firing back, erupting in a fountain of blue and green flashes. The laser bolts landed accurately. Every shot flew into the bandits' positions, forcing them to duck, and some could no longer stand up after that.
The stream of laser fire didn't last long. Rapidly pulling the trigger, I wasn't worried about ammunition or the weapon's integrity. The barrels glowed red-hot; steam rose from the blaster pistols.
Diving behind a couple of stones that only covered me if I lay flat, I tossed the ruined weapons aside. The barrels could be replaced later, but for now, they were useless.
I had only a dozen meters left to run. Reaching into my vest for flashbangs, I heard the rhythmic explosions of large-caliber bullets overhead. The Shorty was firing slowly, stretching the drum magazine to the maximum.
Making a mental note to thank the little spitfire, I sprang to my feet, beginning to skirt the dune, planning to flank the bandits.
Gunfire was heard from everywhere—laser bolts, bullets, grenades. A real war in miniature... And in that moment, I felt like a fish in water.
Running around the raiders' cover, I burst into their positions with both feet, immediately entering close combat where the advantage in numbers wouldn't play much of a role.
The first got off with a broken nose and a kick. Flying off the dune, spraying crimson liquid, he didn't stop screaming until the moment he landed below—face-first in the sand.
The second tried to fire point-blank. I grabbed his arm in a lock, applied pressure to the joint, and twisted further until it cracked, forcing the blaster muzzle to point behind the wise guy's back.
A series of shots. One of them hit a detonator.
Explosion!
The top of the dune shook from the powerful impact. The ground beneath my feet wavered, and on a wave of sand and debris, our tiny solid patch began to slide down, but no one said that stopped the fight.
The next one wasn't human. A bipedal, green-faced pig swung a vibro-axe at me, squealing and grunting bellicosely. Never ceasing to be amazed, I shot him through the knee, forcing him to drop before me.
A kick to the shoulder sent the axe flying, and the next shot to the head ended the green boar's life.
Two more rushed me from the side, while in front, some genius turned a glowing-hot shotgun toward me. A strange weapon, with the handle welded to the left side. Intercepting the arm of the one attacking from the left, I struck him behind the leg, flooring him in front of me. Dropping to one knee, I shot the second attacker, piercing his stomach near the liver—forcing the poor soul to double over from sharp, unbearable pain.
The first shot of a double-tap rang out behind me. A couple of pellets pierced my arm, but the bandit I had pulled in front of me took most of the hit. Part of his head was blown off—instant death.
A forward roll. I ended up next to the one who lost his liver. I spun along his body, simultaneously rising to my feet and snatching a spare blaster cartridge from my rig.
Using the body as cover, I threw the cartridge at the shooter with the shotgun, causing him to let out a pained groan. Grabbing his head, he waved the muzzle from side to side, trying to target me without wasting his last shot.
A blaster bolt ended his life, after which another was delivered to the back of the head of my living shield.
Breathing in and out rapidly, I looked around, and at that exact moment, the descent of the stone island stopped near our speeder, where our entire team was staring at me with wide eyes.
"I think we can borrow their transport." Smiling awkwardly, I habitually reached for the back of my head, but at the last moment noticed my entire hand was smeared with blood and soot. "Yeah... Well, maybe we should get going?"
***
Finishing a glass of juice... Guess which vegetable?
Anyway, I was sitting in the bar, waiting for when we could return and finish what we started. It wasn't that I was exactly dying to go back to the desert after the cool and pleasant cantina, but I built my reputation on the fact that, despite the screw-ups, I finish the job.
Beside me, the Shorty was rustling as usual, actively tinkering with something, while opposite us, Kanta sprawled out, picking his nose so zealously and aggressively he threatened to tear a nostril.
"Can you stop that?"
"Nope... My body, I do what I want."
"Dad would..."
"Papa's dead. And you're not him to be lecturing me." Eyes flashing aggressively, Kanta broke into a nasty smirk, but it vanished from his face the moment he glanced behind my back. "Healthy, then? Good, because I was afraid we'd be stuck here for a second day..."
"Thank you for helping... I..." Turning around, I saw that pair of overseers Kaoru had assigned to us. Both looked much better and had clearly managed to clean their uniforms and tidy themselves up. "I have to tell you something... You helped us, so."
"Sister?" the muscleman boomed, interrupting the girl. "Is it worth it? We were told it's better..."
"It is. How else can we trust each other?"
"Eh, we're definitely going to have problems." We were sitting in a far corner where the sun never reached. It was dim here, and most importantly, prying eyes didn't bother us, so the big guy nodded resolutely, rubbing the site of his wound. "Should have said it at the start..."
"You're probably right." Reaching for the straps, the girl deftly unfastened her helmet and placed it in the crook of her elbow. A slightly upturned nose, full lips a bit cracked from the dryness and heat, and brown eyes no longer as naive as in childhood. Her hair was gathered under a red bandana, but a few bluish-tinted locks escaped at the sides of her face. She had a much harder expression now, and the girl had clearly been through a lot since our last meeting. "Hello. Sam, Kanta."
While my younger brother blinked, trying to gather his thoughts, I stood up from the chair, smiling warmly at the girl and shaking the hand of her older brother, with whom I had often gone hunting in my youth.
"Seth, Natsuki. Good to see you."
***
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