"Glad to have you with us."
Extending my hand, I receive a firm handshake in return. A wiry, I'd even say lean representative of the Nautolan race nodded reservedly, scanning the unfamiliar room with a stern gaze.
Dressed in modest but high-quality and sturdy armor with a leather jacket over it, the commander of the Freedom Warriors followed my gesture toward the conference table.
Behind him, guys in similar clothing squeezed through the passage. No flashy colors, decorations, or other fluff—only practicality and efficiency. Large blasters hung from the belts of all three, the kind one takes to hunt a rancor rather than to a negotiation.
Standing behind their seated commander, the guards straightened up, proudly squaring their shoulders while continuing to monitor the proceedings out of the corners of their eyes.
"Now that everyone is here, I think it's time to begin." Pressing a few buttons on the communicator, I open a view of the galactic map, then, without wasting time on trifles, get straight to the point. "We have all gathered here for a dangerous and extremely important matter... Orvax."
Bringing the map to the desired location, I open a view of an ordinary Earth-type planet. The usual color of clouds, forests, and seas—nothing unusual if you don't know what actually hides beneath the beauty of this bluish marble.
After admiring the view of the planet for a few seconds with the others, I zoomed in again, opening a pict of the orbit and its defenses.
"Before we proceed, I would like to introduce all the participants of our operation."
"Agreed, it's worth knowing who you're dealing with."
A broad-shouldered, red-skinned Twi'lek snorted in dissatisfaction, crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing everyone present from under his brow. He wore a loose vest over a bare chest, so his scars and tattoos were clearly visible to everyone—each one showing how many masters the former slave had.
"We'll start with you then," at my words, the red-skinned man turned away, smiling crookedly and muttering under his breath, "gentlemen... and lady. Allow me to introduce Naulo Shikra—the leader of the Shackle Breakers group. For many years now, they have been fighting slave traders of all stripes... And when they heard about the planned operation, they threatened to rush Orvax even with their bare hands."
Rolling his eyes, Naulo nevertheless smiled and, meeting the gaze of each participant in the meeting, nodded respectably, receiving equally curt greetings in return.
Pointing with an open palm to the next person sitting at the table.
"The head of the Gray Paladins—Shabaul," I said, pointing to the Vodran, a representative of a rather rare species that doesn't often leave its home worlds. They were distinguished by eyes without pupils, rough, scale-covered skin, underdeveloped facial muscles, and spikes framing the face. I was very surprised when Shabaul introduced himself as the leader of his order, because despite their reputation as fearsome fighters, the Vodran are a peace-loving people. "And his lovely deputy—Miss Jane."
An ordinary-looking red-haired girl waved a friendly open palm to everyone, eliciting smiles... But no one was deceived. Hardened fighters for freedom and democracy were gathered here, so everyone understood: a fool doesn't become the deputy of the Gray Paladins.
These guys turned out to be another analog of the Jedi, though it's better not to say that to their faces. A powerful collective with its own conditions and rules—strict, and at times aggressive. As I understood it, the Jedi Code isn't just noise to them, but they interpret it in their own way... And they don't carry lightsabers. Take Shabaul for example—from head to toe, this emotionless devil was draped in weapons of various sizes and calibers, ranging from knives to a very mundane sawed-off shotgun with explosive buckshot.
"Pleasure to meet you," even a robot's voice would have sounded more emotional. Shabaul wasn't very talkative in general... But he knew his business, and I didn't need more than that.
Next in line was the Nautolan who had just entered. Sharp as a sickle to the groin and hard as a hammer blow. They say this bastard is impossible to kill... And I didn't doubt it.
Reading a brief biography of this guy, it becomes clear why the Jedi and their long reach are still remembered in the Outer Colonies.
Perhaps first, I should explain who the Freedom Warriors are, and then talk about their leader.
The Freedom Warriors... Well, they are the Jedi's militants. Volunteers, trained and armed to the level of a decent corporation's special forces. They have their own fleet, a bunch of spies, respectable helpers, and other do-gooders ready to assist for a noble cause.
Even if the Jedi Order itself doesn't admit to doing business with them and often uses their help... You hear something there, see something here, ask around over there. And suddenly everything is right in front of you on a silver platter.
Now to the Nautolan himself. Blaze Varne—or "Harrier," "Dog," "Hunter," as pirates, slave traders, and other scum unlucky enough to interest this guy like to call him.
Covered in scars, with hard calluses on his hands, he differed greatly from his kin, if only because he was many times more battered and had seen all kinds of shit. Wrinkles gathered at the corners of his eyes and forehead, his lips often curled in a smirk, and the dozen surviving lekku on his head swung from side to side every time he moved his head.
"Blaze Varne and his Freedom Warriors." The Nautolan scanned the other attendees with an appraising look, after which his eerie black eyes, devoid of pupils, turned back to me. "And last on the list, but not least, Mr. Rick Dicker, an investigator for the Judicial Forces."
"Greetings to all. Glad to see new faces." Rising from the table, Rick was the only one who reached out for a handshake, which clearly flustered the former slave. Separately, he greeted those he already knew. "Blaze, Sam."
Dicker himself had begun to look much better since our last meeting. His suit was nicer, the eternal scent of cigarettes had vanished, and his hair seemed fuller. It seems not only I am profiting from our cooperation; I'd just like to know exactly what Rick got.
"You all know me, but I'll remind you anyway... My name is Sam Altman, and I am the commander of the Helldivers."
"Of course we know who you are," the only girl in the room giggled into her palm, adding to the Twi'lek's grumbling, while Rick smiled warmly, "thanks to your efforts, there will soon be no work left for us in the nearby sectors..."
Even if it was hyperbole and crude flattery, it was still pleasant.
"Thank you... If anything, the Helldivers are always ready for a major Resupply of personnel."
At such bold recruitment, Shikra nearly choked on air, while Dicker and I chuckled at his reaction.
"Can we start already?" Faintly mimicking emotion, Shabaul interrupted this stream of childish humor and set the group to a working atmosphere.
"Right... My apologies. Let's begin."
Receiving a focused nod from the Vodran, I switch the screen to a more schematic image of the entire system to cover all defense systems, including long-range detection posts and a couple of patrol squads constantly cruising throughout the system and checking suspicious spots, such as the dark sides of moons and planets.
"We have gathered a large force, and I think it's no secret to anyone what we intend to do, so we should immediately proceed to tactics and general strategy..."
"Wait. Just like that, jumping straight into it? No explanations or clarifications, not even a little something? Persuasion? A couple of talks, a preliminary plan?"
"Why? Our combined forces are quite sufficient to strike the planet, destroying the plague of slavery in this and all neighboring sectors for many years to come."
"You just want to hit them head-on?" Disbelieving, Naulo began to look for support among those gathered, glancing around. But before anyone could speak, our Judicial Forces investigator spoke first.
"Why turn the meeting into a circus," Rick asked for permission with a look, pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, then unhurriedly lit up, inhaling the smoke with pleasure, "having already agreed to fly here, you knew what you were signing up for. If you want to turn back..."
"No," Naulo replied, much more harshly than he intended. The red-skinned man even rose slightly from his chair, but noticing the gazes turned toward him in time, he exhaled tiredly, flopping back down, "I'm no coward and I haven't chickened out, it's just that charging in there is pure madness!"
"Agreed," the rasp of the Nautolan's voice made us all flinch. I read that he once took a vibroknife strike to the throat that ripped everything open, which is why Blaze now speaks with an eerie hoarseness, as even all the achievements of modern medicine couldn't fully heal him, "suppose we break the orbital defenses... But on the planet, tens of thousands of soldiers, droids, Tsurr overseers, and much more await us..."
"Right," feeling the support, the Twi'lek spoke more confidently. His voice became calmer, and he gestured actively, "a huge army will easily perish in a useless assault on this planet. Automatic systems, giant Tsurr guards who can easily break a man in half with one hand, and armies of combat slaves whose families are held hostage... Even if we had two hundred thousand warriors, we wouldn't manage... It's stupid..."
Leaning back in his chair, Shikra cupped his chin with his fingers, burning a hole in the wall with his gaze. It was unclear exactly what the Twi'lek was thinking, but his thoughts were clearly very far away.
"If the entire plan is a direct assault, then the Gray Paladins refuse to participate."
The Vodran's gaze slid over all of us until it fixed on me. Placing his hands on the table and interlacing his fingers, he looked me straight in the eye for a few seconds, then nodded to his thoughts.
"But you do have a plan. Some kind of plan? I know how the Helldivers operate... But this time, something like that could end badly, again... And not just for you."
Throwing a stone in my garden, Shabaul reminded me of our recent defeat, when out of a squad of three hundred Helldivers, fifteen survived, and the targets we were protecting were killed.
Gritting my teeth, I notice out of the corner of my eye how the Vodran's assistant tensed up, but meeting her gaze, I shake my head negatively, calming the agitated girl slightly.
"We have a plan. Simple as a stick and likely just as successful."
"You want to incite the slaves to revolt," the head of the Freedom Warriors tossed a handful of some paste into his mouth, then with light massaging movements stroked his throat. The muscles in his face relaxed slightly, and Blaze's voice no longer sounded like a demonic machine from the underworld, "many have tried... Why will it work... Hm, I see. Former slaves and Force users. What will we be doing then?"
The Nautolan understood how we would act surprisingly quickly. And so as not to explain everything in pieces, I raise my hand in a stopping gesture, which is enough for the perceptive Freedom Warriors commander, and he falls silent.
And then I explained our simple plan, which consisted of only a few stages.
Naulo Shikra and Shabaul, along with their best people and technicians, would have to penetrate the slave collar control centers to seize control over them. Having former prisoners in their ranks—many of whom, by the way, were themselves rescued from the bonds of Orvax—they could easily pass unnoticed and pretend to be locals.
And the Gray Paladins, Force users with considerable potential, would be the insurance and the main strike force in case of problems. Among them are many technicians, gunsmiths, and engineers who independently upgrade their guns—so together with the former slaves, they will definitely be able to seize control of the collars.
The Freedom Warriors, meanwhile, will land in special prison-cities, though they look more like huge pits near water reservoirs. That's where the families of combat slaves and those captives who haven't broken yet are kept. Blaze and his guys will have to capture these places and ensure their safety until we wipe out the main slave trader forces.
To the fair question of what the Helldivers would be busy with, I replied with a grim smirk on my face.
"We will give you precious time so that everything can be done without a hitch."
"Um... Sam, are you sure? There are a huge number of people on the planet who will want to put a blaster bolt between your eyes." Scanning those gathered, Naulo received consenting nods and therefore continued. "And we are small squads. There are only a hundred and twenty sentients in my team..."
Rising from the table, I walked to the window, entering the access code with a light flick of my hand and opening the protective partition, revealing a view of a huge parade ground flooded with sunlight.
"Even breaking through the orbital defense, the planetary defense guns, and the fighter squadrons, we will need a real army to take the planet..." Walking up to me and standing nearby, the Twi'lek, ignoring the others, looked at his feet, muttering dissatisfiedly. "... Thousands of warriors."
"Tens of thousands."
"But... from where?"
Only then did Naulo notice that everyone else had crowded nearby and were looking out the window with their mouths agape. Turning his gaze there, Naulo Shikra—freedom fighter, former slave, savior, and many other things... was ready to flop onto his backside from delight and horror.
In the rays of the sun setting over the horizon, thousands of soldiers in black-and-yellow armor marched toward the ships, ascending the ramps into the bellies of huge war machines.
Synchronized movements, heads held high, and blaster rifles in hands. Obeying the orders of their commanders, they split into smaller groups and stood opposite their ships, forming huge queues stretching for hundreds of meters.
I had to close my eyes. One of the famous Corellians blasted the area with the flame of its giant engines and, turning, soared into the sky, leaving only a bright smoke trail.
Corvettes, small cruisers, frigates—shuttled between orbit and the planet, loading the Helldivers and Judicial Forces fleet with supplies and soldiers.
Looking back at the others, the Twi'lek saw a variety of reactions, from increasing hope for the success of the operation to a fanatical glint in the eyes of the Nautolan, who allowed his emotions to break free.
A grim, blood-hungry smile crept onto his face. Gripping the windowsill until the metal creaked and his limbs ached, Blaze Varne was clearly experiencing delight and anticipation.
His eyes tried to take in everything at once, and he clearly intended to stay here longer to capture the entire picture.
Several Gozanti-class cruisers, their engines roaring, began a slow acceleration toward the darkening sky, while dozens of fighters and strike craft scurried around them, decorating the fading day with plumes of flame.
Hundreds of sealed containers were lifted by small frigates into orbit. Tightly built, almost square walkers were being attached to the sides of assault aircraft carriers, while some of them, with tons of cargo, climbed inside the ships and did not come out again.
Speeders, wheeled vehicles, trucks, and hovering platforms to accommodate all of the above. A full set of equipment and weapons disappeared every minute into the maws of the hangars of the warships.
In the center of all this action flew the huge flag of the Helldivers, which, like a father wise with gray hair, looked down at the children bustling around him.
The bright blue color contrasted sharply with the crimson sky and the black armor of the soldiers scurrying about. Even the technical staff, every single one of them, was dressed in the squad's color scheme.
Under the roar of engines, the unified stomp of armored boots, the eerie shouts of officers, and the last rays of the setting sun, the Helldivers prepared to go to war.
***
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