Billy Booker, without flinching or fearing punishment, took a sip from his favorite flask, feeling warmth and energy—in the literal sense of the word—fill his body. A light tremor, goosebumps running from head to toe, brought a mixture of pleasure and focus, and now he was ready to listen closely to the briefing.
Scratching the tip of his nose with a finger, Billy looked with a smile at the youngsters from Jabiim and other planets who would go into real combat for the first time today. This could never be compared to pirate raids or strikes on slave markets in the depths of space and ships.
Now they were facing exactly what they had joined the Helldivers for, and only time would tell how well they had learned the science beaten into them.
"Except for these."
Watching a couple of Jabiimites pass by, Booker nodded to the eldest of them—a grim man with a week's worth of stubble. Tall and wiry, he was the embodiment of his people, made of stereotypes. Silent, tough, cold... Exactly like the soaked-through jungles and cliffs he grew up on.
Jabiim had made its residents hard people. Merciless to anyone engaged in piracy, raiding, slavery, and other joys of an unlawful life. Therefore, when the Commander announced their recall from all assignments, they joyfully answered the call.
Approaching Billy, the Jabiimite extended a hand, and the veteran shook it without issue, allowing him to stay nearby and sit down. His grip was strong, but what was this, even if wild, fighter compared to a real soldier who had gone through Orvax and other dangerous affairs.
"When will it finally start..."
The others nearby began to whisper. His comrades, brothers, and the youngsters who hadn't yet earned the right to be called that.
"They say Commander Altman has returned."
The quiet voice of Nelson, a member of Billy's team, sounded nearby. Interested in the conversation, the Jabiimite moved closer, and Billy didn't push him away. Let him listen; the information was public knowledge anyway.
"Right. Arrived a couple of days ago." — Chuckling, Booker caught his comrades' eyes and hurried to explain his laughter. — "Tried to quietly walk around the spaceport and the square nearby. What a riot."
"What was wrong with that?" — the Jabiimite asked, still politely, entering the conversation. As it turned out in practice—and a rather sad one at that—all residents of the rainy planet practically idolized Altman. Fanatically devoted to him for saving their home and helping build a secure future for their children, they were ready to tear the throats out of anyone who dared say a word against the head of the Helldivers with their bare hands.
"Yeah," — waving a hand lazily, Billy easily endured the Jabiimite's searching gaze, then turned to his friend Nelson, — "Deputy Somnia drove two platoons onto the square to avoid trouble. And there were so many drones in the air they almost blocked out the sky, ha-ha-ha..."
With a thin smile, the Jabiimite, satisfied with the answer, nodded to his thoughts, then turned his full attention toward the holo-screen being prepared by the staff workers. But Billy saw that he was still listening intently to their conversation... But he didn't mind.
"They say we have a big contract," — Nelson just couldn't settle down, — "the boss himself will lead us into battle, like back on..."
"On Orvax." — Nodding, Billy took another sip from the flask. — "Which means it'll be quite the mess. Last time half of our guys fell. And as for how many fleet personnel and civilians... It was hard to even count."
"It's about time. We've been gathering strength for five years; it's time to point it where it's needed!"
With slightly mad notes in his voice, Nelson began actively preaching into Booker's ear while the latter melancholically applied himself to the flask. Feeling the "Liber-tea" fill his gut, Billy was ready to tolerate his restless brother further, but then the senior officer in the hall jumped to his feet and yelled at the top of his lungs.
"ATTENTION! Commander in the hall!"
Drilled reflexes reacted instantly. Standing with the rest, Billy pressed his fist to his chest, arm raised vertically. His chin pointed up at an angle, and his shoulders squared themselves, revealing a magnificent posture.
"At ease, sit down..."
Altman's familiar voice triggered a storm of memories in his head. Childlike delight, the respect of a veteran soldier, and horrific flashbacks of the slaughter on Orvax raced through brains softened by "tea," forcing Billy to look down and stare at the Commander with both eyes.
The measured and slow stomp of steel sabatons echoed through the hall. The steps slowly approached from the main entrance, creating a grim and slightly frightening atmosphere.
Walking down the small aisle between hundreds of seats, Sam Altman looked only ahead at the holo-screen, which had already begun to show the outlines of the planet where they would soon deploy.
From the mere memory of dropping in a pod onto a planet, Billy felt a mixture of anticipation, excitement, and fear.
"Helldivers... Remember. You are no longer on Zeltros." — At these words, many soldiers who had spent hard-earned money for a trip to that planet of eternal orgy laughed, but feeling the general mood, they quickly fell silent. Though more likely, the Commander's fierce glares burning through them helped. — "You are on Haruun Kal, ladies and gentlemen."
Reaching the projector, Altman appeared in all his glory, demonstrating his heavy armor, battered in many battles. A huge number of chips, charred spots, scratches, and God knows what else decorated all parts of the suit.
On his right elbow, Sam held his helmet, in which the brand-new glass contrasted wildly with the dented metal, clearly chewed by a rancor.
"Don't forget it for a second." — Running a free hand over his cropped head, the man walked along the front rows, looking into the eyes of his people. — "And if Hell exists, you'll be able to rest there after serving on Haruun Kal."
Nodding to one of the technicians, Altman approached the enlarged image of the planet. Then he poked a finger at the planet, shown extremely realistically on the screen. Various shades of green and brown shimmered on the small sphere, clearly showing that the planet had extremely dense vegetation.
"Right there, on that distant stone ball..." — Enlarging the image again so that large mountains, seas, and rivers became discernible, the Commander did not take his finger off the planet. — "Every creature... Whether it crawls, flies, or sits in the mud—wants to kill you and eat your eyes for dessert."
The image enlarged, showing a dense forest mass. Wild trees intertwined, forming a literal labyrinth strewn with foliage of all sizes.
"Besides animals and insects, other problems await us on the planet." — A simple diagram appeared on the left so that even the dimmest soldiers could understand the meaning. Turning all attention there, Altman ran his hand over it. — "Most of the planet is in lowlands filled with toxic gas. A full breath will kill you in less than a minute; holding your breath, you'll last a little over three."
The image changed again, and now a mountain plateau was before their eyes, though not much different from the other landscapes, except for the addition of rocks and cliffs.
"In the highlands, the air is normal, and we'll be able to walk without helmets there, but there is another problem." — A dozen pictures appeared on the screen. Mushrooms, flowers, and some strange vines with buds along their entire length. — "Local plants emit a specific gas, slime, and other shit... As soon as it hits the steel of our armor without a special repellent coating, your protection will fall apart into rusty pieces within a couple of hours."
Walking before the rows again, Altman folded his hands behind his back, having first set his helmet on a nearby table.
"And finally. On the planet, besides the Republic colonists—representing the official authority—there is a local population of humanoids: the Korunnai." — Smirking unkindly, which caused malicious chuckles to run through the ranks of the Helldivers, Altman gave a command, and the screen showed a couple of black-skinned people in cloaks made of hides and leaves covering their bodies to the neck. Nearby was an image of helmets made from the skulls of local animals. — "They love poisoned arrows with a neurotoxin that will stop your heart in minutes. Besides that, they use poison bombs, an organic version of detonators, and local fauna to attack the colonists."
The pictures followed one another, showing the results of the savages' attacks on the Republicans. Blackened bodies with swollen veins and areas around the hits from darts, spears, or arrows bloated.
Melted speeders, steam sandcrawlers, houses, people... The abundance of photos was striking. And in every new photograph, the victims of the aboriginal attacks looked as if they had been doused with acid.
"A horrific death. Better a bullet to the back of the head."
But that wasn't the end.
The screen flickered, showing a short video recording. A small squad of local soldiers who called themselves "Balawai," which in the local language meant—plains dwellers.
"Great plains among mountain ranges..."
Billy didn't have time to finish the thought. Shaking began on the screen; the poor-quality recording flickered and was full of interference, but the watching Helldivers managed to catch the main point.
From the bushes closest to the operator, a huge creature jumped out, looking like the famous krayt dragons of Tatooine. Bright scarlet scales easily took the blaster fire while the monster, the size of a passenger speeder, rammed people, sometimes biting them in half without any effort.
The creature, called an akk dog... Though where the hell this thing resembled a dog, Booker still didn't understand. For only a sick mountaineer—a "Korunnai"—could name his pet that.
On the video, meanwhile, the akk dog was disemboweling a squad of well-armed soldiers who barely had the strength to fight off the encroaching monster. Bursting right into the middle of the formation, it easily tossed experienced soldiers aside, killing everyone in its path, and even a shot from a powerful blaster cannon only briefly knocked the yelping beast back, after which it disappeared into the bushes again, leaving a trail of blood and Balawai guts behind.
"All of this," — the screen was filled with individual images of every danger on the planet, — "is Haruun Kal. A horrific world, full of danger and death. And that is exactly where we are going, to defend the democratic values of the colonists who have been fighting this scourge for centuries."
Reclaiming his helmet, Altman pulled it onto his head, then thrust a fist to his chest, provoking a literal human wave. Hundreds of Helldivers jumped up in a single impulse, responding with a synchronized gesture.
"For Holy Liberty. Democracy. And the Republic!"
"HUA!"
***
Kahim crept through the forest deadfall. Holding a spear made from the femur of an akk dog that had belonged to his father in his left hand, the young hunter stepped smoothly over the ground, deftly bypassing lurking vermin, insects, and small predators that were not deterred by the size of a potential victim.
Smeared from head to toe in pheromones and the juice of tahi leaves, he could easily move right under the noses of almost all living creatures on the planet. And that was not to mention the inner powers that answered his call, helping him on his way and in times of great danger.
Hardened by a harsh life, walking on the edge of a knife since childhood like all members of the "Ghosh," under the layers of cloth and foliage, he was covered from head to toe in scars he was sincerely proud of.
Soon he would turn sixteen, which meant his father would take him to the festival of the gathering of tribes. A large meeting of all the surrounding Ghoshes, where young and strong boys and girls are brought so they can create a new family and give young warriors to their clan.
Immersed in dreams, already imagining himself in a lustful dance with another huntress whose resilient strong body he would lead to tired bliss, Kahim almost missed the rustle of leaves a couple of meters away.
Shifting his spear, the hunter immediately prepared for battle, cursing himself for foolish boyish dreams. For he was already a warrior, and a warrior was not meant to be distracted, even if the dreams were very tempting, especially in the middle of the forest.
Staring tensely into the shadow under a dense cluster of vegetation where only the most persistent sunbeams broke through, Kahim was already preparing to strike with his spear and not wait for his enemy to attack first.
But then, from under a huge leaf, a familiar mischievous face with red scales peeked out.
Exhaling tiredly, Kahim waved a hand at the playful akk dog, which circled him with laughing eyes. Rubbing its mighty forehead against the hunter's side, the giant lizard playfully wagged its tail, clearly enjoying the prank it had pulled.
"I'll turn white as a plainsman because of you... Have you completely lost your mind scaring me like that?"
"And he was right to do so." — A quiet, cold voice sounded behind him, scaring Kahim to a shiver. Jumping in place, the young warrior tried to strike out with his spear at the unknown person, but was intercepted halfway, then floored with a single kick behind the knee. — "Weak..."
Squatting down, a large black man with practically ebony skin moved the scarf from his face, revealing a sad smile.
"Kahim," — the reproach in his uncle's voice made the dreamer of beauty blush, — "your father asked me to look after you on the hunt, since he can no longer do it himself. Do you really want me to avert my eyes from his angry gaze when I bring him the corpse of his firstborn?"
"No, uncle... I... I'm sorry." — Lying was not honorable, especially among those who were sensitive to the Force from birth. — "I got lost in dreams and let weakness take over."
"Good. I'm glad you understand that yourself." — Irony and a light mockery laced the adult hunter's voice. He had been young himself, so he understood that while blood boiled in the boy, there would be little brains. It was no wonder his crippled brother had asked for help, even though he had been known as a proud man all his life. — "The Balawai will not be so lenient with you. The bastards from the plains will shoot you immediately like a sick grass-trekker, just for sport..."
Then another hunter ran through the bushes, and judging by his uncle's calm state, he had clearly noticed him and allowed him to approach without striking preemptively.
Cursing for the umpteenth time, Kahim turned red with shame, feeling that even while listening to the message, his uncle was watching him intently, eyebrows arched questioningly.
"I see," — nodding at the silent whisper, the uncle gave Kahim a hand, then yanked him to his feet, — "let's go. You'll fix your blunders in a new hunt. I don't want to tell your father how you can sleep through a meteor strike without even noticing it..."
Averting his eyes, Kahim swallowed thick saliva, feeling bitterness rise in his mouth. With difficulty overcoming the surging emotions—for which he received an approving nod from his uncle—the youth finally decided to ask a question.
"And what are we hunting?"
"The most cruel and dangerous game," — smirking cruelly, the uncle shifted his large spear more comfortably. His eyes slid along the bone blade as if already imagining his enemy's blood—or victim's—dripping down it, — "we are going after the Balawai."
The run through the forest was unusually fast. Barely keeping up with his uncle's long strides, Kahim was out of breath, feeling unpleasant trails of sweat run down his back, washing away the special ointments and tahi mixtures.
This did not add to his confidence, but fortunately, the plains dwellers did not possess the sense of smell that many local inhabitants did, so the boy calmed himself more and more successfully, and when they reached the goal, confidence burned in his eyes again.
"I've already hunted. Already fought the beasts of the forest. What are some Balawai to me."
Unquestioningly following his uncle's orders, Kahim noted with surprise that their duo had grown into a large squad on the move, which was now moving silently through the forest. In general, the young hunter got the impression that only he, among this whole crowd of Korunnai and akk dogs, was making any sound at all.
Making his way through the foliage, Kahim stepped in the same tracks until they finally came to the edge of a small clearing where the Korunnai saw a terrible sight.
Two dozen grass-trekkers—a fairly large herd—lay dead or dangled from special hooks, suspended by their tails while blood dripped from their mouths onto the ground.
A dozen large men of various skin tones wandered among this slaughter, cursing for all they were worth and kicking worker drones covered in some shiny oil.
A pair of speeders stood nearby, and behind them loomed a huge sandcrawler, peacefully bubbling with its steam boiler. The powerful machine commanded respect and awe... and fear.
Griping his spear tighter, so much so that his knuckles turned white, Kahim tried to listen to the conversation heard on the clearing eaten away by the grass-trekkers. Among the debris of trees, traces of their active work were visible. Apparently, the Korunnai's favorite beasts hadn't managed to finish eating the grove before they were all ruthlessly exterminated.
"I'm telling you—this is a total clusterfuck..."
"Come on, Kyle, as if it's the first time. We'll just find another grove and..."
"Stan, damn it, do you even realize how long that'll take? A week, two, a month? Sitting on starvation rations all that time?" — the first man shouted indignantly, poking a finger at his companion. — "I can't eat trees like those lizards, and I have a family to feed, and the credit payment is due soon! What do you suggest I do, huh?"
"I... Damn. I have no idea. Just trying to be an optimist," — the second Balawai pulled a work helmet off his head, — "as if you're the only one who has to pay for equipment..."
"Shit." — Covering his face with his hands, the first Balawai sat down on the carcass of a killed grass-trekker, which sparked real rage in Kahim. The boy was ready to rush forward and tear the cursed bastard apart with his bare hands for daring such a thing, and only his uncle's firm grip on his shoulder helped him manage the impulse. — "Fine, fuck it. Just fuck it. Let's just get out of here quickly before the Kornai show up. Those bastards will kill us all if they find even one dead lizard, and there's a whole herd here..."
Getting up from the ground, the loud one waved to the others, starting to call over the guards and drones, ordering them to pack up to leave. At the same time, the second one remained standing over the body of the grass-trekker, reflecting on something.
Kahim could barely contain himself. He didn't know how the other hunters felt, but he was overflowing with rage. Not only did the Balawai call them Kornai, which was extremely insulting, but also...
"Quiet, boy. We start soon."
His uncle's whisper helped the young warrior come to his senses. Nodding gratefully, Kahim checked all his weapons, then looked around. The others had already managed to disperse, and only their grim silhouettes flickered among the leaves, slowly closing the trap over the Balawai.
Nodding with satisfaction, the boy got into position, preparing to shed the blood of a plainsman for the first time, and he chose this "Stan," who was still standing over the grass-trekker's corpse, as his target.
"Damned Kornai, tsk." — Spitting on the dead body, the Balawai pulled a hat onto his head. — "When it comes to eating our crops, it's all fine, but when it comes to killing their little animals..."
"Stan" didn't have time to finish. Kahim's spear pierced through his chest—killing him instantly and sending him to meet his ancestors. Jumping out of the thicket on command, the young hunter, along with the others, began to mercilessly kill the weak guards and workers who grabbed weapons... as if it did any good.
Just a few minutes later, Kahim stepped with contempt on the dead face of his first victim, then yanked the spear from the chest. Remaining silent for a couple of seconds, the boy did not thank the killed man for his sacrifice, as he usually did with the bodies of animals, but just silently watched the spreading blood.
"That turned out to be much easier..."
***
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