"How unusual this is..."
Standing in front of the mirror, I examine myself from head to toe once again, trying to grasp what happened. If last time I was reborn in the body of a guy in his twenties, now I was still a teenager, even younger. Twelve, maybe thirteen years old. Though it wouldn't be accurate to say I was reborn or occupied the body; rather, this boy awakened memories of my life and they suppressed everything else, clogging all memory with scenes from a galactic war with rather gruesome footage.
"Holy Liberty, this is just some kind of miracle. I only hope there won't be a third time and I don't occupy the body of an infant," several months had already passed, but the only thing I could continue to do was smile stupidly and enjoy life. No more war, no more battles, and most importantly—no more vile paste for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and to top it off, a soft bed that has already become closer to me than any acquaintances from the previous world, "so, this is what true Democracy is like?"
Yes, I definitely went a little off the deep end on a wave of delight and happiness.
As I said, several months have passed and all this time, like a true Helldiver, I've been finding out everything I could about this new and mysterious world. And I managed to find out a lot...
For here, unlike on Super Earth—you only had to want it, and information poured into my hands. Random eavesdropping 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, people easily made contact, mostly being amused by my questions.
No one wrote reports on me, no special service followed me, and in general, no one gave a damn what some little kid was doing on a remote planet in the Outer Rim. Righteous Democracy, how beautiful it was. And in general, the new world I found myself in was beautiful.
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 magnificent here! I remembered little about the ancient movie that had long since faded from my memory, but I managed to extract some basic things, complementing the pictures from my first life. Yes, there are plenty of criminals, slavers, all sorts of bastards like Siths and their ilk, but! All this shit pales in comparison to what was on Super Earth. Although, I remembered that some conflict was developing there between two gangs of local wizards—that is, Force users—but that's not particularly important now...
All that will happen somewhere over there, in the Core Worlds, very far from here and in almost fifty years.
And the planet I ended up on—Minoris II—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," running a finger over the mirror, I cast a gaze full of delight out the window. A gorgeous view, full of greenery and crooked, slanted houses, each reflecting the personality of its owner. Some were made from ships, others from mining barracks, and others from local trees—huge green giants that reach into the heavens.
Crooked streets and lack of roads, old laundry on lines 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."
"Coming, Grandma. I'm on my way."
Throwing on a light wrap, something like a poncho, I rush down, instantly finding myself at the table. 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 behind the table, I didn't notice myself how I became glued to the bowl, causing Grandma of this body... and consequently me, 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, old lady Tilda walked around the table, stopping near me. Her rough hand ruffled my blond hair, after which Grandma kissed me on the crown of my head. "Maybe a human being will grow out of you yet."
Smiling at her words, I wait patiently for a permissive nod and literally annihilate the stew, licking the plate clean.
"Ha-ha-ha, oh, if they could see you... Oh, well." Wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, the old woman returned to her seat with a limping gait, turning on a tablet with HoloNet along the way, hoping to watch a couple of her favorite series. Unlike me, Grandma Tilda could eat for hours, staring at 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's nice for her, and... it's 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. Resting my hands on my hips, I inhale the aroma of my backwater fully, enjoying this brief moment. No matter how hard I try, habits ingrained over years aren't so easily discarded. So, although my life as a Helldiver is 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 planet, the kind there are millions of in the Republic. A human colony where they 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 some planet other than everyone else. We are, after all, in the middle of nowhere.
A backwater and the sticks, where ships of the local corporate giant, the Trade Federation, occasionally fly in to pick up our goods and disappear into the abyss of space.
Small traders or random passersby are a rarity here, and as for talking about important people—don't even start. 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 contraband, and other offal disgusting to my free heart.
And the Hutts themselves looked disgusting, and given the xenophobia toward everyone who doesn't look human instilled in me... you understand. The righteous flame of Democracy burned in my soul every time these criminals and bastards were mentioned.
Though I doubt the Hutts knew about us, otherwise they would have enslaved everyone long ago. No one knew about us at all; these parts were just too wild. Hyperlanes that connect the galaxy 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. Only ordinary cheap ore, which goes on sale in small quantities steadily, providing the entire settlement with life.
Yep, you understood correctly. There was only one town here; the spaceport, mines, and dwellings of all the people on Minoris were located here.
Low walls, a couple of generators, and a basic sewer system that ran to the nearest lake, at the bottom of which underground springs bubbled.
In general, the residents of Minoris had enough of everything in life and no one particularly complained about their life; there was no point in it anyway. Want to fly away? Please, just save up money for the traders from the Federation and they'll easily take you out of here.
And the fact that a normal person would save such a sum for two or three lifetimes didn't bother these beings. Yes, the owners of the Trade Federation mostly consisted of rather disgusting-looking aliens, greedy, cowardly, and cunning, dreaming of getting rich off anyone who is foolish enough to come bowing to them.
Ah, the world of Star Wars. There are a lot of aliens here in general, and I wouldn't say it makes me happy. Intellectually, I understand there's nothing scary about it, but habits ingrained in the subconscious say otherwise, especially when I find out that cyborgs or insectoid races live here quite legally.
My shoulders shuddered at the memories. Just the mention that creatures similar to Terminids live here quite legally was frightening and alarming to me.
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 peacefully depart to the local equivalent of paradise.
And now I intended to live an honest and decent life, without violence and other joys of a Helldiver. I even chose a new profession for myself.
"Step right up, don't be shy, for this isn't just juice—it's the juice of equality and brotherhood of all people!"
Donning an apron and gloves, I begin squeezing juice from local fruit pods that grow at every step right in the middle of the street.
Tired workers crawling out of the mines walked right along that street and happily threw 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 commie crap, so after reciting the oath of loyalty to Democracy, I returned to the righteous path of a capitalist.
I hoped to use the money to buy a ticket off the planet, because despite all the delight with Minoris, I had no doubt that in a couple of years, I would start looking wistfully at the starry sky, dreaming of being on a ship again.
And leaving here will be difficult. There will surely be a bunch of problems and obstacles, but I think I can handle it. For all the current problems that, for example, Sam had before I arrived, 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 the mine. He considered himself useless and overthought a lot, as children like to do. And his soft and kind-hearted character perfectly overlaid my dream—not to take up arms, sometimes forcing me to take a hit but not enter into conflict.
Whether this was a minus or would become my plus—I didn't know, and therefore I tried to distract myself from reflections on this in any way possible.
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, I was given 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 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—this!
Having sold off toys and exchanged unnecessary things, I was able to afford to indulge in everything that interested me, from assembling droids to riding a neighbor's small speeder, which I looked after in exchange. I even helped Grandma in the garden, rejoicing 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 a subconscious grinding of my teeth.
Ugh, there was so much shit here. Pirates, slavers, cartels, syndicates, just bastards and scoundrels who are happy to torture people. I even found out that many races practice cannibalism, and some seriously believe that other sentients are servants and inferior beings to them.
There are races that feed on others' brains, and others aren't averse to snacking on anyone at all, engaging in sexual intercourse beforehand. Some are aggressive by nature and often attack their neighbors, while others, on the contrary, are such pacifists that they aren't ready to defend their sacred right to freedom!
And all this under the aegis of rhetoric about freedom and equality pushed by the Republic in which we lived. And it was all seasoned with a corrupt Senate and megacorporations that had almost seized power in the galaxy. Had I not known that all this was done on purpose, I probably would never have believed in my life that all this was real!
I was torn by contradictions. On one hand, I no longer wanted to participate in conflicts, and the oath I'd given myself had helped me steer clear of minor scuffles. But on the other...
The mere word "slavery" could send me into a blind rage. The dogmas of freedom and equality hammered into my head like a knell, 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 simple residents of Minoris—all of them thought it was normal. As if to say:
"It's not that scary, and there's nothing really wrong with it. All sentient beings are different... Besides, it's not our problem."
What kind of nonsense was that?
And what if pirates or some other freaks suddenly fly in to see us, what then? We just surrender to their mercy? What if some gang starts looting that old, falling-apart ore freighter that arrives from the Trade Federation?
The masters of that galactic giant would just give us the big, free middle finger! Because I doubt such trips bring in much profit.
Phew, I almost lost it, but working for the sake of my own earnings and the dream I now lived by helped soothe the anger and allow me to continue working calmly while the laborers finished their juice.
But apparently, I had somehow provoked fate with my words. For as soon as I handed out the last cup, a flash sparked in the sky above our heads, and then an explosion ripped through the spaceport, resurrecting "Malevelon" flashbacks within me. For the full picture, all that was missing was the piercing wail of an Automatons siren; the gunfire and the familiar sound of lasers were already included, but the main thing was still missing.
Shaking my head, I tried to gather my honestly earned belongings, but the panicked crowd swept away my table, simultaneously shoving me into the gutter.
Guttural sounds in a horrific, mangled language echoed from somewhere around the corner, but I could no longer stand up. Pressed down by people and lacking oxygen, my child's body shut down, plunging me into the darkness of oblivion.
***
Well, what can I say. The righteous flame of democracy burns in my chest, for I was now aboard a vile little ship—the Bullyga, taken into slavery by slavers. Some alien freaks of all different colors and species had descended upon Minoris like a hurricane, leaving only fire and death in their wake.
These sub-humans feasted on the bones for a couple of days, then simply herded everyone who hadn't managed to run away onto the ship and flew off in an unknown direction.
I didn't know what had become of my grandmother, or my buddies, or even my minor enemies. Most of the sentient beings in my cell were from another part of the city, and I simply hadn't had time to get to know them better, and Sam wasn't interested in that on principle anyway.
Pulling a simple rope—the kind the dim-witted pirates used to bind their captives—off my hands, I stood up and approached the bars. Simple, rusted steel that no one had cared for in a good decade. A mess of chips, dents, and orange spots on the hinges, which were what interested me most.
Feeling them with my hands, confirming that the rust came off easily on my fingers, I turned back toward the cell, measuring what I could use to lift the grate off its hinges. An old movie from my first, most wonderful life had almost faded from memory, but I remembered perfectly how the era's primary creator of wet panties had done something similar, rescuing a pirate with the nickname of some bird.
"I can't remember my own father's name, but I remember nonsense like that. The brain is a strange thing."
Inside, however, everything was bad. The cell was small, stinking, and clearly hadn't been cleaned in a very long time. Traces of blood, shit, and other waste and secretions.
"Holy Liberty... what a horror."
But worst of all, there were no benches here that could be used to prop up the grate, which meant I'd have to improvise.
"A Helldiver is obligated to survive and fulfill the mission, even if he is alone in the middle of an enemy capital planet, right, Sarge Boyle?"
The rope was slung through one of the holes in the bars, after which I tied the dangling ends closer to the hinges. Checking the strength of the knot, I practically sat on the floor and began to pull. My own weight and bracing my feet against the bars did little. I simply lacked the strength...
"Right, I'm not a hulking Helldiver in combat armor anymore; I'm just a boy."
Then I should employ help or physics, and I decided to start with the former.
Half an hour of questioning and talking made it clear that our cell was populated by children and girls for sale, while all the sturdy, strong men were locked up tighter or killed outright. My cellmates told me that our few defenders were actually fitted with explosive collars so they wouldn't cause trouble.
"Collars! Like they're dogs or something?!"
To say I was angry would be an understatement. And it took a great deal of effort to pull myself together... But every cloud has a silver lining. In a fit of rage, I thrashed the grate so hard, constantly jerking the rope, that I managed to bend the old, rusted metal.
The small opening was barely passable, but with my height, I had no trouble squeezing 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 heads—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 lunged at me, trying to grab my shoulders, but only flew past, slamming into the bars of the cell.
Wasting no time, I grabbed a crooked semblance of a fork-spoon hybrid and, with a running start, jammed it into the pirate's leg, causing him to erupt in curses.
While the idiot carefully pulled out the spork, I grabbed the bowl of food and brought 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 fast, so I thought of nothing better than to rely on luck and started pummeling the slaver in the balls.
Six blows brought a grimace of pain and life-disappointment to his face, after which he flopped onto his side, continuing to hold both hands over his crotch.
Breathing heavily, I warily stripped the blaster off him, then began to carefully study the weapon, checking the mode switch on the side panel. In principle, I didn't see anything complicated about this weapon; it really did resemble Automatons rifles in some ways, only much lower quality and with a smaller ammunition capacity. But even so... Switching the mode to non-lethal, I aimed straight at the alien pirate and took a test shot, confirming that some of my old skills were still with me.
"Phew. Even kindness can have fists."
***
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