Chapter 1.
Not in Boston anymore
The city of Tarsonis was many things. It was the city so nice they named it twice. It was the capital and first city of the Confederacy of Man and home of the Old Families, the proud armigerous children of the commanders for the prime super carrier. It was the center of government for almost the entirety of the Koprulu Sector. With it's majestic inner city of New Gettysburg, the grand main highway rolling down to the Confederate Council Building and Nagglfar Hall, the Presidential Offices; Tarsonis was truly a marvel of human civilization, engineering and achievement. Everyone who's anyone knows what Tarsonis is. Well, all except for one.
Tommy James Dupont (no relation to DuPont family) awoke the sound of shifting earth and the sensation of loam falling on his chest. He felt no small amount of confusion, what had happened to his cryo-tube and how long had he been frozen for? He knew for certain that he was only going to be frozen until the medical technology to heal the wounds sustained in the car crash was made available to the hospital he was interred in. But then Tommy's eyes started to sting. He had seen enough movies and stayed awake in biology class long enough to know that the only reason a person's eyes hurt, is if you haven't used them ever, or for a long time.
Slowly the pain in his eyes dulled and he pulled himself upwards and out of the tube, every joint in his body crackling and popping as each muscle was pulled and every bone was stressed. As the blinding light of the sun sluggishly receded, Tommy had a look at himself. He was well preserved from the cold storage, and his cloths had been equally well retained, but they were beginning to rapidly age from exposure to air. He felt a crippling pain in his stomach strike him, making Tommy fall to his knees and he explosively vomited bile, staining the churned brown soil an unhealthy looking yellow. His body having purged itself, Tommy stood up on unsteady legs and looked around. Immediately he could see that he was not in the hospital, or anywhere in Boston for that matter.
"I don't think we are in Kansas anymore Toto." Tommy whispered to himself as he took in his surroundings. He was standing in the center of a previously immaculately manicured garden, the upheaval of earth showing Tommy his place of egress from the cold storage tube, which was buried rather close to the surface. Directly in front of him was a large mansion, with a building style reminiscent of Arts Décoratifs with an emphasis on classicism such as to give the place the feeling of a Roman villa or palace. Hedges and shrubs often taller than a man ran the borders of the spacious estate and he could hear from the sound of traffic and the din of crowds that the demesne was in a city and a very large one at that. The entire place had an atmosphere which radiated 'old money', something Tommy knew very much about, having grown up around the wealthy families of Boston.
Tommy Dupont edged further from the burial site and towards the mansion, beginning to feel the chill of the remaining icy film over his body thawing. But upon his movement, an alarm began blaring suddenly and without warning. After recovering from the initial shock of the sudden noise, Tommy looked up and saw the reason for the alarm; in the far left corner, concealed by a large marble column, was a security camera built by no company that he knew of. Small enough to not easily be seen, but large enough and with a wide enough field of view that it could easily survey the entire yard, and there was another one similar to it on the right. Tommy however was more focused on the danger to himself. He was clearly on private property, and it was just as clear that whoever owned the lot was very concerned with the comings and goings of people who came to call. And Tommy was obviously not invited.
Then from his right, a tall man wearing a policeman's uniform ran out from the side of the mansion. "Hold it right there boy!" he shouted in a drawling dialect of english reminiscent of the tabor of the southern United States. The officer stopped, pulling some form of handgun and aimed it at Tommy. Dupont immediately threw up his hands and made sure to keep them visible so as not to give the officer any cause for suspicion. The man edged closer to Tommy, close enough to allow him to read the officer's badge, "Michaels, Rodger B." it read. The more he was awake, the colder he became. So cold was he that despite the fact that the temperature was near 85 degrees, he was shivering. Slowly, he drew his hands down, and pulled them around his waist.
"Keep those hands up son!" the officer said, now that he was close enough to Dupont. Tommy obliged him, but bent down to protect himself. In his fear addled state, Tommy Dupont was not a sixteen year old young man, but a frightened child, alone, cold and scared. As the officer got a good look at him, his eyes softened. This was a young boy, probably from The Gutter, he didn't know how things worked, it could be excused once. Slowly he lowered his pistol, and drew closer to Tommy. "Listen son. You're gonna need to come down to the station with me. You might not be intending to, but you're still trespassing on private property, Old Family property on top of that, and that's a special kind a trouble you're getting yourself into that you really don't want to be in." Seeing Tommy's fearful look, Michaels added, "You'll be treated decently there." in an assuaging tone of voice.
"Sir; I-I'm cold, and wet. And now I don't even know w-where the h-hell I am. What ever you w-want me to d-do, I-I'll do it, just don't hurt me please." The officer nodded and walked Tommy out of the estate and to a police cruiser. Michaels eased Tommy into the back seat and drove onto the on-ramp and the freeway. Finally Tommy had a chance to see where exactly he was and he was utterly mystified at what he saw. A metropolis even bigger than New York City with a central motorway stretching down a north-south axis, with overpasses and off-ramps dispersed every five kilometers along with skyscrapers and towers as tall as the Empire State Building along either side of the way. Flying over many buildings was a flag strikingly similar to the battle flag of the the confederate Army of Tennessee.
Noticing his amazed expression, Officer Michaels smiled slightly and said: "First time seein' New Gettysburg? Livin' in The Gutter doesn't afford the best view I know." He didn't expect Tommy to turn to him with an expression of unabashed and unknowing curiosity. "New Gettysburg? I'm sorry but I've never heard about a city with that name." At Michaels' shocked expression, he hastily queried, "Should I have?" Officer Michaels wondered at the boy sitting behind him and considered who the boy might be.
"Son you must live under a rock if you've never heard of New Gettysburg. It's the main district of Tarsonis, have you at heard of that?" When Tommy shook his head, Michaels' feeling of confusion was only intensified. "Do you at least know what the Koprulu Sector is?" Tommy shook his head again, feeling increasingly like an idiot. Rodger Michaels shook his head and returned his eyes to the road. "Well boy, you've either got amnesia, or your the least educated child in the entire damn Confederacy. You probably don't know what that is either." An increasingly familiar shake of the head proved him correct in that assumption. "Do you have any idea of what year or day it is?!" he asked.
"The last time I was awake, it was January 10th, 2017. I was supposed to remain in cold storage until they had the equipment to heal me from the car crash, and that was supposed to arrive in August." The officer's eyes widened, and he turned around with an expression of utter incredulity written on his face.
"Listen Mr…" He began, but faltered, not knowing Tommy's name.
"Dupont. Tommy Dupont." he supplied to the confused officer. "Well Tommy, I don't know how to tell you this, but today is July 7th, 2489. I should've known somethin' was off the second I saw that old cryo tube." Tommy's face paled and his eyes widened.
"You've got to be kidding me right?" He gave a nervous chuckle. "There's no way that I could have been frozen for over 400 years. Right? I mean, how could I have survived? I mean sure, I'm starving like crazy and my eyes were stinging, but that could just be the standard side effects of a few months in the tube!" He was talking so fast by this point that Michaels had a hard time catching what he said.
"Tommy, Tommy!" Michaels finally shouted, breaking the young man out of his frightened rant. "I know you've had a lot on your plate, but things'll probably be cleared up once we get to the station. There'll be a few legal troubles to be cleaned up and red tape to be handled, but you'll be alright." Normally, Michaels was not very kind to young vagrants, but this one looked surprisingly like his oldest son and his heart was warmed. So he gave the boy a few minutes to calm down and watch the city as the car sped down the main thoroughfare towards the Police Precinct Headquarters.
The headquarters turned out to be a large, brutalist style building with a large Confederate jack flying from the top flagpole. The entire thing seemed to exude authority and it did not help Tommy's mood as the cruiser drew closer to the ominous structure, which seemed all the more dangerous thanks to Tommy's fearful mind. The registration was a blur to Tommy, as he was booked, fingerprinted and had his mugshot taken. All this took little more than half an hour. Then, Tommy was taken down to an interrogation room, measuring eighty feet square. In front of him sat a man in a suit, with a trench coat draped over the back of his chair. He appeared to be in his mid forties, but his hair was whitening at the roots. He was square jawed and his eyes were hard and grey. His overall cast of countenance was befitting of a hardened crime fighter. An honest crime fighter moreover.
"Afternoon young man, I'm Detective Richmond." he said, his voice gravelly and tough. "Well you'll be happy to know that you're officially in the Tarsonis Police Department's Rouges Gallery. We've put together a profile and I want to see if it's accurate by checking it down in front of you." He pulled out a sheet of paper and read it aloud.
"Name: Thomas "Tommy" James Dupont.
Height: 185 cm.
Weight: 153 pounds.
Eye color: Green.
Ethnicity: Caucasian.
Hair color: Sandy brown.
Biological age: 16.
Chronological age: 489."
The Detective looked up at Tommy and asked: "Is that accurate enough?" Tommy nodded and the man continued. "Now from what I understand, you are charged with trespassing and vandalizing the property of the Calabas family, but you've got some rather extenuatin' circumstances in your present predicament. Now also from what I understand, you've got no knowledge of Confederate law, so I'm gonna inform you that trespassing is punishable by one year in jail, or by a thousand credit fine. And let met tell you that Confederate prisons are not at all pleasant places to be."
"Well sir, jails weren't a picnic even back when I was from. But I can see your point." Quickly, now that he was warmer, Tommy's analytic mind began to work at assessing the situation. "I don't particularly want to serve any prison time, but I don't have any money with me, and if my family's still around, I highly doubt any money they have would be accessible to me. Especially since we are on a planet thats… How far away from Earth are we?" He asked.
"About 60,000 light years, give or take." came the response, Tommy's response was to introduce his hand to his forehead. With a tone filled with cold acceptance, Tommy said: "Perfect. I have no home, no family, no certifiable education to get any sort of job and no way to pay for the crime for which wasn't even conscious when someone decided to commit it for me!" He looked at the detective frustratedly, "What can I do? What can I do to get out of this mess? I either have to pay the fine or serve the sentence, and I obviously can't pay the fine. So what are my options?" He asked the detective, who by this point seemed slightly amused by the boy's unintentional straight man routine.
"Son, I'm frankly going to have to say that at this point, it'd be best if you served the-" Detective Richmond was interrupted by a uniformed policeman walking in. The officer in question bent down and whispered something in the detective's ear low enough that Tommy was not able to hear anything. But whatever it was, it was certainly of an important nature as the Detective's eyes first narrowed, then widened, and he whispered something back in an argumentative tone of voice. His face finally took on a grim expression and he looked at Tommy.
"Tommy, it looks like you won't be needing to consider anything for the moment. I've been made aware that there are some people that have a great bearing on how this issue goes for you." Tommy asked what kind of people that meant were in town and the Detective answered back: "The kind of people who aren't often in as generous a mood as this, so be extremely grateful that they're here at all." A few minutes later, the door to the cell opened with a buzz and in walked three people, two men and a woman. The first was tall, broad shouldered with a set of muttonchops and an odd looking suit. The second was a wiry pale man in a three piece suit and carrying a briefcase. The woman was dark haired and of an apparently hispanic cast of countenance.
"Tommy, this is Arturro and Lita Calabas. The man to the right, that's their attorney, Mr. Langford." Richmond clearly disliked the situation he was in and also the fact that the Old Families were meddling in police business. Again. "From what Officer Craven told me, they have an offer for you." Mr. Calabas nodded and began speaking.
"That is indeed correct. From what I hear, you are in a rather odd predicament young man. You have, despite circumstances beyond your control, caused a fair bit of damage to our property and have been caught trespassing." Tommy was about to speak his mind about this treatment, but Richmond grabbed his arm and gave him a look that said, 'Shut up and let him speak.' so Tommy stayed quiet for the moment, but he had questions and would not wait for much longer. And he would have his answers, sooner than even he expected.
"Despite the damage you have caused, my wife and I have talked, and we have come up with a proposition for you. Almost a job opportunity if you were being nonchalant about it." Mr. Calabas said, in the same drawling voice so typical to everyone on the planet, and if it was to be believed, the whole sector.
Tommy asked: "What kind of opportunity?"
Mr. Calabas smiled slightly and said: "We are offering you a way of paying off the fine, and a way to give yourself a stable income to provide for yourself for the foreseeable future. We shall provide you with a small apartment and a monthly salary until you can find some other occupation." Tommy was, at this point, feeling like he was making a deal with the devil. And perhaps he was, but afterward he would be glad that he agreed.
"Essentially an indentured servant then?" Mr. Calabas smiled patronizingly and said: "Nothing so simple as that. Think of it as having a summer job almost. We'll pay you for the work you do, and indeed we're being more generous than normal."
But Tommy was less than enthused. "You said that you had an opportunity for me to pay off this debt, so what's the job?" The Calabas patriarch smiled again and said: "A man who gets to the point, brusque but calm. You could use some refinin' but very well. We have need of you to watch our oldest son, Morgan." Out of all the kinds of jobs he could have been offered, this was not one Tommy had been expecting.
"You must be kidding. You want me to babysit your kid?! Why me, I get that you can use me for free essentially, but why me of all people?" Detective Richmond leaned in towards him and whispered: "Being a child of the Old Families has a lot of dangers to it son. The Families have pissed off more than a few people over the years, and besides they're the biggest targets for extortion there is. And one way to get at them is through their children. Hold'em ransom, but they often have accomplices on the inside. Disgruntled guards, housekeepers, anyone who's offered sufficient cash."
"Exactly," said Mr. Calabas. "Now you see the problem we are faced with. We need someone to watch our children, but there's no one that can be trusted. But now you've come along. And you need us to get you out of this trouble you're in. You need us in a way that no one else does. You can be trusted in a way no one else can be. You can be depended upon to keep our children safe. So young man," He motioned to Tommy, "it's decision time. You can work for us and escape this pickle with your future assured, or you can serve time in jail. So what do ya say?" He offered his hand to Tommy.
For Tommy though, while the choice was obvious, he still felt that he was letting himself in for a great deal of trouble. Far more than he would have ever thought possible. He took the proffered hand and shook it. "So where do I sign?" he asked in a defeated tone of voice. The lawyer, Mr. Langford opened the briefcase and pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen, then he put it down in front of Tommy.
"Right here."
Disclaimer: StarCraft and all characters of StarCraft are property of Blizzard Entertainment. My original character however does belong to me.
Author's Note: Hello! This is my first story, so I am understandably new to this group. I take criticism of any kind, constructive or otherwise, and if you have any helpful pointers, I will take them into consideration.