Tychus

"Enjoy Omega, big guy?" The hairy dwarf that Jim called "Swann" tapped Tychus's wrist once, trying to make sure the omnitool was secure. "Can't stand the place myself. Reminds me too much of the KM's means of doin' business, what that does to the little guys."

"And you'd know all about bein' a little guy, I'd take it," grunted Tychus, turning his wrist and surveying it. The small device gleamed faintly in Bay 12's harsh light, two barely visible wires running down his arm. He grinned savagely down at Swann, who laughed.

"You wanna arm wrestle again?" he asked, rolling up the sleeve of his good arm with the claw on the other. "I'm ready to go, big guy. You promise not to scream this time?"

Tychus stared at the thick muscles standing against the man's jumpsuit. Damn dwarf is grotesquely muscular. It ain't right, I'm supposed to be the one who can't fit through doors.

"My masculinity's taken enough beatings this week," growled Tychus, clenching his fist and watching the tendons stand out against his skin. He considered elaborating on what had happened back on Omega, but frankly he had nothing to say to anyone who wasn't a therapist, a gorgeous woman, or all of the above. Christ, Jimmy, never thought I'd see the day you would use a friend of yours as live bait.

"Huh, you meet Aria?" Swann whistled. "That woman can castrate a man with her eyeballs. No, seriously, I've seen it happen. 'Nother reason to hate Omega. You get on her wrong side, they toss you out an airlock. Then the vorcha snag your corpse." Swann smiled widely. "You see any of those during your little trip?"

"What? The little guys clingin' on the edges, glarin' at passersby while chewin' on severed arms?" said Tychus idly, sending a thought to his arm. The omnitool lit up in bright orange, making him nod in satisfaction. "They ain't too bad. Definitely not the scariest thing on Omega." That title is currently bein' fought for by that krogan, Aria … and Jim. Woulda put Morinth in the runnin' if I hadn't seen her brain splattered against the carpet. "Now, what exactly can this thing do?"

"Name it," said Swann, activating his own and extending his now glowing pincer arm before Tychus. "What you got there is a genuine military grade omnitool, Eden Prime edition. Made by terrans and for terrans. You can reinforce CMC armor…" Swann shut off the tool and began counting off his fingers. "…you can produce incineration rounds, cryo rounds, overload enemy defenses. It can produce and deploy turrets." Swann stopped at five fingers, wiggling them and glancing at his mechanical pincer arm. "Looks like I'm outta digits, big guy. So lemme just…" He brought up his omnitool again, tapping a few keys into it with his good hand. A display of two more hands with curled fingers shot out from the device. "It hacks computers, it stores information, it logs into the extranet…" Holographic uncurled with each listing. "It lets you video conference, it can be used for welding, it allows for fast application of minor pharmaceuticals and painkillers – yes, big guy, that includes stims – it can construct drones, kickass bayonets, and combat shields. It can set itself on fire - ah, shit, I'm outta fingers again." Swann tapped a few more keys, producing another pair of hands.

"Ah, I think I'm sold on these things," said Tychus, lips twitching. "Can I have one on the other arm?" He extended said arm, hopeful.

"'No can do, big guy." Swann deactivated his display and clapped Tychus on the side. 'Bout as high as he can reach. "You need one hand to work the settings, the other to carry the tool. One's all you need, you're not a hanar. Oh, and you need a bit of know how to access some of them higher functions, like the tech armor. Most of the other shit's pretty simple, though. If you want, I can sit you down and try and run through some of the more advanced shit. Think you'd like that?"

"Ain't the worst idea in the world," said Tychus, staring at the vibrant device on his wrist. He clenched his fist again, watched the light die. "Might take you up on that."

"You'll need a good memory and some steady nerves to work some of the more advanced settings in battle, just fair warnin'," said Swann. "Oh, and the omnitool will also link up with your suit and appear over your arm, sized up so you don't press a bunch of functions at once with a finger. Speakin' of, got a surprise for ya."

Swann leaned over to a nearby console, grabbing the microphone with his good arm. "Hey! Kachinsky! Send that new project up! Shake a leg now, almost time for chow!" Swann looked back at Tychus, as smug look on his face. He leaned back against the console, arms folded. "Worked on this one myself."

Kachinsky, a beleaguered looking man in a yellow cap, dragged a hovering platform up from the shuttle bay below, huffing all the way. A flimsy rag covered whatever stood upon the platform, shrouding its eight foot tall badness from sight. I'll never guess what's underneath. 'Specially given the metal boots pokin' out from the bottom.

"Gentlemen, behold!" Swann pushed Kachinsky aside and ripped the shroud from the platform. "The battlesuit built to protect the newest, scrawniest addition to Raynor's Raiders!"

Hell. It's about time. Wait – what'd you call me you goddamn midget?

Tychus could not focus on his indignation for very long. The magnificence that lay before him deserved all the attention, not just from him, but from every living creature. It'll be good to get inside a CMC suit again. What model they on these days, I wonder?

The blue suit towered over him, the fresh paint all shiny and smooth. And ripe for me to paint some nekkid ladies on. The armor and plating appeared thicker than from what Tychus remembered. Ain't about to object to a bit of extra protection.

"Not bad," said Tychus. "Codpiece don't do me justice, though." He rapped the codpiece with a single hairy knuckle, frowning as it came away blue.

"Is that so?" Swann guffawed and slapped his knee. "You know big guy, you can't arm wrestle for shit, but you're alright. Why don't you come up to the mess hall with me and Kachinsky? We'll find some nice fruity drinks for your delicate self."

"I will match you drink for drink on the hardest shit this ship's got, short stuff," growled Tychus, trying to ignore the lingering sense of pressure behind his eyes from the shenanigans two nights ago. "Ol' Tychus has an iron belly and a liver that has seen things you will not believe."

They left the suit where it was, abandoning it where it stood. Not like anyone's gonna steal the damn thing.

"Jim told either of you two just why we're stopped on this rock?" Tychus asked.

"Not a thing," said Swann. "Not complainin', though. Hate workin' in KM space – always lookin' over my shoulder to make sure I'm not turnin' my back on some mercenary hotshot who fancies collectin' on a bounty … or whose employer just told him to stab us in the back."

"It's more likely than you'd think," said Kachinsky, nodding. "Jim's taken us in there a few times now to help out an old buddy of his. I swear, the people you end up rubbin' shoulders with – worse than the Dominion. Worse by a long shot."

"KM's ain't been feedin' any planets to the zerg," said Swann, voice mild. "But yeah, speakin' as a guy who lost his arm to their greed, I ain't a fan."

"I did check some news feeds from the Council," said Kachinsky as they rounded the corner, mess hall door now in view, "Dominion's all riled up for some reason – something's happening around, uh, that ice ball world. Can't remember. Oh, and the protoss finally decided to show up on the Citadel. Got about five feet and then there was a turian terrorist attack."

"Six years out from that business, and people are still throwin' shit fits." Swann snorted. "Sure, attack the gents who like annihilatin' entire flotillas at a time when they're mildly irritated. See how that goes for ya."

They entered the mess hall together. Previously, Tychus had been quite happy to sit on his lonesome, leering at any womenfolk he chanced upon to see, but this time he planted his steaming heap of gruel right next to Swann's. At an already occupied table no less.

"Swann, Kachinsky, Findlay," said Declan, nodding. His own meal did not steam and looked to Tychus like a few haunches of meat covered in a sticky crimson. When the batarian tucked in, it was to a chorus of slurping, sucking, and then cracking as his teeth broke through the bones. Yep. I am in the presence of aliens alright. Tychus looked away, trying to suppress a burp and quell the uneasy feeling in his stomach. Hell, you met folks back in the armed forces with worse manners and stranger eatin' habits than that. Grow up.

His own bowl consisted of a creamy soup, one that Tychus had difficulty keeping down. Cryogenics really doin' a number on me. I don't think that little drinkin' spree was a good idea, in retrospect. His stomach rumbled and groaned at the richness while his throat caught fire. He settled for frequently excusing himself for additional glasses of water and only eating his soup by proxy, soaking his bread in it.

"If you don't finish it, I'll eat it," said Swann, grinning. "Doesn't bode too well for you matchin' me drink for drink though, does it big guy?"

"Gimme another few months and I'll be rippin' off people's heads with my bare hands," muttered Tychus, brushing a finger against his throat and avoiding eye contact. "Right now – not sure I could manage a kitten. Maybe a hamster." He looked up just in time to see two new people sitting down adjacent. "Heh. Didn't expect to see you two around here."

"Jack has agreed to make the attempt at being more social," said Trome, casting a dark glance at his scowling companion who now wore a loose brown shirt that was much too big for her. Aw. Now I can only see the scalp tattoos.

"He wouldn't stop bothering me," said Jack by means of explanation before tucking in with disgusting enthusiasm. Right. Worse eating habits than Declan.

"I don't suppose you've recovered from your ill-advised romp on Omega?" asked Trome, dipping a heel of bread into his steaming bowl. "I cannot say I approve of what Mr. Raynor did, even if half of what I heard about that Morinth is true." He sighed. "I tried to talk to him about it, but he shrugged me off. Said he had not done anything wrong. Over and over again, I find that there is no one more self-righteous and judgmental than the reformed criminal."

"Heh, but I ain't neither of those things," said Tychus, grinning.

"Oh? When did you reform?" Trome's words drew harsh laughter from Declan and a snort from Jack, but he paid them no mind. "In all seriousness – how do you feel? You suffered quite the ordeal."

"Tryin' not to focus on it," grunted Tychus while Kachinsky and Swann pretended not to listen. Jack didn't even bother with that pretense, instead staring at Tychus with narrowed eyes. "Didn't do wonders for my stomach – the drinkin', I mean. Guess the, ah, event towards the end wasn't great neither."

"Mind filling me in?" asked Jack before stuffing half of a slice of bread into her mouth, scattering crumbs across the table. She set it aside, chewing. "I mean, if you're going to drag me up here, God Botherer, I'd appreciate at least being able to participate in the conversation."

"Mr. Raynor set a trap for an Ardat-Yakshi, using our good Mr. Findlay here as bait," said Trome, making Swann and Kachinsky exchange worried glances. "The Ardat-Yakshi was killed rather gruesomely by the Justicar Raynor was working with – another old friend of his. Mr. Findlay was not aware of this."

"Any particular reason you know this, Trome?" asked Declan, arms folded against the table, eyes narrowed.

"People in leadership positions sometimes find the need to vent guilt, anxiety, and frustration at someone they know will listen," said Trome.

"Thought I heard you talking to somebody a day back." Jack nudged his ribs. "Raynor say anything else?"

"Raynor did not tell me," said Trome shortly, before nodding to someone behind Tychus. "Captain."

"Trome." Matt Horner sat two seats down from Tychus, next to Kachinksy. "Telling everyone about Jim's latest misadventure?"

"I find that feedback from multiple trusted sources has better results than a solitary attempt at making someone change their ways," said Trome, steepling his fingers. "A lone man – perhaps it is simple persecution. A vast outcry of friends making their opinions heard? Harder to dismiss – it's an intervention." He shrugged. "Or a mutiny."

"That's not a word I want to hear, ever," said Matt, jabbing a fork in Trome's direction. "We wouldn't be here without Jim. Jack, Tychus, he got you off Purgatory. Declan, no way would you have got out of the Exclusion Zone without him-"

"You're nervous and you only get properly nervous when either Jim's about to do something really stupid, or Mira Han's around," said Declan bluntly. "I haven't seen any women with vibrant pink hair walking around, so I guess Jim's about to do something really stupid."

"He's walking us back into KM space," said Matt, glancing at each person at the table. "Some of us might have a problem with that."

"Some of us?" Jack rose, fists clenched. Everyone else at the table followed suit, staring at Jack as she glared at the Captain. "When was I getting told? Anyone bother to ask what those bastards did to me?"

"Frankly, darlin', I'm pretty sure everyone's scared shitless of you," said a firm voice from behind them. There he stood, hair greying, eyes sunken, but a warm smile playing on his lips. "Can't fault 'em for not wanting to piss you off and getting punched through the hull."

The entire mess hall had risen at this point, each crewman looking at Jack and then back at Jim, trying to figure out what would happen next. Tychus, for his part, backed away.

"Trome, you didn't tell her?" Jim didn't look at the chaplain, keeping his eyes on Jack.

"I thought our trip had been cancelled," said Trome, face turning gray. "We were supposed to jump two days ago. That was what I had been told."

"Just a failure to communicate then." Jim wiped his mouth. "Jack – we got good reasons to go, and you'll be safe on board this ship."

"You got any evidence of that?" Jack jabbed a finger in Jim's direction. "You let me walk. I'm not going back unless it's of my own damn accord."

"You wanna take a stroll on Omega?" Jim asked, voice hard. He stepped aside, gesturing. "Go for it. I ain't here to babysit you. Or, you can hear me out, I can put you in touch with some friends of mine who can explain to you, at length, what happens to unknown and friendless ghosts that show up in KM or Council space, and put you in touch with an organization dedicated to keeping folks like you safe. We can do that once you're done with dinner."

"Yeah?" Jack did not sound quite as certain as before. Tychus bit his lip. Jim, all that stands between you and a snapped neck is your damned charisma, and shit, you don't look so healthy right now. Jack's snarl faded, replaced by a pensive expression, eyes downcast. She looked up. "The … the minute I'm done with this soup, you hear me?"

"I hear you." Jim's eyes flicked to Trome, some unknown message passing between the two. Hell, I'd be pissed at him. "I'll be waitin'. Tychus, come here, please."

"Feel free to finish this, if you want," grunted Tychus, sliding his half-finished bowl over to Jack. "You seem hungry."

The two of them sat down at a forlorn two person table in the corner, far from the (admittedly tense) laughter at the main tables. Jim wiped his forehead off with his wrist as they sat down, expelling a long and steady stream of air.

"I gotta sell somethin' kinda difficult to the crew," said Jim. "Jack ain't gonna be the hardest. We did a few drops for the KMs a while back, lost some good folks. This time – this time we're goin' all the way. Dominion's gonna fall – KMs are gonna make the push … along with someone else. Not sure who they are."

"So it's gonna be the Guild Wars all over again, this time with us on the other side?" Tychus whistled. "Damn, partner, you thawed me out just for this?"

"Listen, about Omega…" Jim looked away. "…not how I want to treat you. Just needed to get that job done, and you were the only person we could think of who fit the bill to get Morinth's attention. I didn't free you just to put you into those kinds of scrapes."

"Seein' as you had me filled with enough liquor to knock a rhino on its ass, all is forgiven, partner," said Tychus, donning a lopsided grin. "Just … don't put me in that situation again, alright?"

"Seems unlikely." Jim drummed his fingers against the table. "Freein' you … it wasn't just about repayin' a debt. I needed someone to talk to, to offer a kind of … unfettered view on things. I think we're about to get ourselves in a hell of a mess, Tychus."

"We live to get ourselves in messes, partner," said Tychus, raising an imaginary glass. "And I'm here whenever you need me … provided you do the same."

"What – you got your own moments of doubt now?" Jim chuckled. "Not the Tychus I remember." He looked behind Tychus, checking over his shoulder. "Ah, shit. Time to go talk to those friends I mentioned – you're coming, by the way."

"Heh, all right." Tychus rose from his chair and followed the other two out of the room, leaving the clank and murmur of the mess hall behind.

"Thanks for the meal," muttered Jack to Tychus, making him grin.

"How much you know about Cerberus, darlin'?" asked Jim, looking back at Jack and quickly forcing the grin from Tychus's face. "Heard of 'em?"

"They're familiar, I think." Jack did not sound certain. "Might've been mentioned once or twice back at … the dark place … but mostly, all I heard about were the Archers. And the Hocks."

"Yeah, I know those guys." Jim did not sound terribly thrilled about knowing them. "If you don't mind – what exactly happened?"

"Drills, implants, syringes," said Jack mechanically. "Some type of gas, rubber gloves, a bunch of people talking about "reversing the scale" over and over. Don't know. All I have is fragmented memories and a body count."

"Well, we'll see if my other good friend named Jack has any answers," said Jim, stopping before a thick set of double doors, punching in a code that seemed to Tychus like a dozen digits or more. "Cerberus – they work for the KMs, but they're ex-Confederate. Only side they could be said to be on is, well, not the Dominion's."

"And the KMs, seeing as they work for them," said Jack, voice hard. "Don't sugarcoat it. I am inches away from leaving this shit heap."

"Believe me, no one wants that," said Tychus. Tore apart one of them bird folks … turian. Seen too many aliens bein' torn apart lately.

The doors opened with a heavy hiss. Beyond them, some kind of conference room, the same terran woman from Omega waiting.

"Who's the girl?" she asked, accent rather unpleasantly making Tychus recall some of his superior officers from way back when.

"It's Jack," said Jack, stepping forward. "Who's this supposed to be?"

"Miranda Lawson," said the woman, folding her arms. "A go between for some important people." Shit lady, watch yourself. Ain't too hard to read between the lines on that one, and you do not want to piss Jack off.

"Important people die just the same as any other," said Jack sweetly. "Pirate lords, politicians-"

"Can we all just go about five minutes without tryin' to piss each other off?" Jim asked, stepping between the two of them. "Jack wants some answers on what the KMs did to her brain – she's a teek but apparently skipped out on bein' a teep. Not sure how that works. Okay? I'm just givin' her five minutes with Harper to ask some questions."

"Fine." Lawson looked Tychus up and down. "You're no prettier sober."

"Can't say the same here," said Tychus, looking Lawson up and down, leering. "What you say, when this is done, I take you out for a nice steak dinner?"

"I'd rather go out with the elcor," said Lawson, making Tychus laugh despite himself. Gotta admire a woman who puts this much effort into bein' this outrageously unpleasant. Just keep on keepin' everyone at arm's length, girlie. I can't wait to find out what you're hidin'.

"He's waiting on the other end, Mr. Raynor," continued Lawson, ignoring Tychus's continued stare. "How do you want to approach this?"

"I'll go in first and introduce Jack," said Jim. "I believe he said he wanted privacy for Tychus. Then … guess we better break the news to the crew." Lawson stood to the side and tapped a few keys. A cage of glowing orange shone from a metal circle in the center of the room while the lights dimmed. Jim stepped through the cage, a small smile on his face. "Hey. Yeah, I brought Tychus. Lawson's doin' alright. Got someone I want you to meet. Says the KMs been messin' with her brain." He looked back. "Jack?"

She stepped into the light, blinking. Tychus watched her face carefully. Her eyes darted, scanning this "Harper" on the other end of the line, apparently without recognition.

"No," said Jack. "Yes, I've heard of Cerberus. You're the one who shut it down?"

"Any idea what they might be talkin' about?" asked Tychus, leaning towards Lawson.

"Some idea," sniffed Lawson. "My father … ran in some pretty unsavory circles. Psionics were always of interest to him, and he did not flinch at collaborating with the KMs."

"Old Family, right?" Tychus grinned at Lawson's sudden uncomfortableness. "I remember the Lawsons. Quiet bunch, ignorin' the odd clonin' scandal."

"I would thank you to never bring that up again," hissed Miranda through gritted teeth. She glanced to the two of them in the cage. "Especially to Jim. Please."

"It's ancient history," muttered Tychus, looking away.

Jack and Jim only took five minutes, and when she exited the cage, Jack looked quite appeased. For the time bein'.

"You've got some powerful friends and they're making some crazy promises," said Jack, looking up at Raynor. "Still … thanks. It helps."

"Glad to hear it," said Jim, giving Tychus the nod. "Now – Jack – uh, the gentleman on the other end I mean – asked for you specifically, Tychus. We'll give you some privacy. Just walk into the light." He glanced at Lawson, and the three filed out, the doors hissing shut behind them.

Tychus sighed, cracked his knuckles, and strolled into the cage, blinking. Before him, glowing a translucent blue, stood an older gentleman, gray of hair, wearing a suit that Tychus bet even smelled expensive. A cigarette trailed smoke in his hand, making Tychus crave something to smoke of his own.

"Tychus Findlay," said the man, inclining his head. "Soldier. Thief. Murderer. And prisoner. There was a time I might have been the one to hand you your sentence. My own titles: agent provocateur. Magistrate. Revolutionary. Then…" He waved a hand. "Well, I suppose you might call me an agent of terran progress nowadays. My name is Jack Harper. I am the one who arranged your transfer to the Purgatory, as well as the one who provided Raynor with the funds."

"Awful neighborly of you," grunted Tychus, receiving vibes from the man that were anything but. "But I don't see why you'd want to call up a peon such as myself. I don't know half the shit that's goin' on in the galaxy, and frankly I ain't in much of a position to do anything about it." Or care.

"You do not believe yourself to be a great man, Mr. Findlay?" asked Harper, prompting Tychus to shake his head. "We share that assessment. I read your history – well, histories. I had access to the Confederate version as well as the Purgatory's. Your biography reads as a man who continually took the easy way out and encouraged his friends to do likewise – right up until the point where it really mattered. You have my gratitude for taking the fall for Mr. Raynor."

"Don't recall doin' it for you," growled Tychus. "I know you want somethin' from me, Magistrate. What is it?"

"I want an understanding between us," said Jack, stubbing out the cigarette on an unseen ashtray, smoke curling from it. "Mr. Raynor – he has sacrificed much to maintain his self-image, one of a persecuted hero, a good man willing to do what others cannot or will not. The hard path. Mercy where others would succumb to vindictiveness. Honesty where others would lie. Selflessness when others would capitalize. To some extent – a very large one, actually – this image he has crafted has won him allies and respect. It also made him return to me to give me aid when another turned her back." Jack's voice remained mild, but Tychus detected a distinctly sour note towards the end. Huh. Someone pissed you off?

"Unfortunately, these tendencies are on the cusp of becoming problematic," continued Harper, looking Tychus in the eye. "I admire Mr. Raynor. I would go so far as to say I adore him. But this continued self-sacrifice and dogged pursuit of justice above all else … well. You witnessed on Omega just where it left you."

"I don't think Jimmy has ever made a habit of usin' folks as bait," said Tychus, folding his arms.

"But he has made a habit of pursuing fruitless causes, of jeopardizing the lives of people who would have been better off retreating," countered Harper. "You've seen it with Jack. He persuades people – he's a good man, he knows what he is doing, listen to him. He glows with a sort of … charm. The same charm that made him such an effective Confederate marshal, such an asset to Mengsk's rebellion."

"He's charismatic," said Tychus, shrugging. "He's a good man. Why are you sayin' these are bad things?"

"Because, above all else, he is an unreasonable man," said Harper. "He is unbending. He possesses a rigid sense of right and wrong and refuses to compromise. Looking at his history, there is only one man still alive that has been known to talk Jim Raynor into or out of doing something." Harper stared into Tychus's eyes, unblinking.

"Yours truly." Tychus sighed. "You want me to keep him out of the worst scrapes. Stop him leapin' into burnin' orphanages, shit like that."

"A grim, if apt metaphor," replied Jack. "I am asking you to try and help Jim make his life easier. The galaxy is changing. A war that will put to shame Mengsk's rebellion brews on the horizon, and the people with whom I – with whom we are allied are not entirely savory. I need you to keep Jim calm and pursuing actions that are not just in his best interests, but in the interests of Raiders as a whole. The galaxy can ill afford to lose Jim Raynor or the people who follow him."

"But you're askin' me to make sure he don't act like himself," said Tychus. "What's the difference between a galaxy with no good men and a galaxy with good men doin' the wrong thing?"

"I am asking you to prevent Jim from committing inadvertent suicide, Tychus," said Jack, clenching his hands. "I am asking you to help improve his tolerance for making sacrifices in pursuit of a greater good. Only you have the history and the personal clout to do that. Do I make myself clear?"

"What do I get out of it?" asked Tychus stubbornly. "You phrased this like it was a deal."

"You get to continue living in a universe in which Jim Raynor did not pointlessly sacrifice himself, robbing all of us lesser men of a greater one." Tychus could not think of a response to that. "Yes. I think you understand. Take care of him, and best of luck." Harper turned away, reaching for some unseen control.

"One thing," said Tychus, making Harper turn back to him. "Jack. What's her deal? What did you tell her?"

"The KMs lack a Ghost Program," said Jack. "This has led to some unfortunate attempts at … shortcuts, in the past. When Cerberus joined the KM's cause, they had just completed their preliminary tests on a captured Confederate ghost. They were interested in the uses of neural implants to increase psionic power, particularly telekinesis. The Archers, the family in charge of the project, had little interest in telepathy. They had already pushed people to 5 on the scale. Now they wanted to get it up to 7. Or failing that, create a workaround. A shortcut."

"Reverse the scale," muttered Tychus.

"Yes, reverse the scale." Jack licked his lips. "They wanted telekinesis before telepathy, and sought out a teep to do so. I was never able to fully access the Archer's notes on what they did, only that it involved targeting specific sites in the brain and … enhancing them by any means necessary. They did this frequently at the expense of other areas, as well as the subject's own wellbeing. I offered to introduce her to people who have suffered similar experiences, to join them in their crusade against the abuse of psionic individuals by terran governments. The Phantom Initiative. Gabriel Tosh will be glad to meet her."

"Well, thanks for telling me." Shit, no wonder the poor girl's so angry. Tychus looked Harper in the eye. "Now – just so we have an understanding – you best not deliberately start puttin' Jimmy in situations where he needs ol' Tychus to give him a push towards actin' like a rascal, you hear me? Otherwise, my lovable façade might just crack a little. You got me?"

Jack Harper just smiled and tapped an unseen key, winking out of sight. Yeah. He got me. He left the darkened room behind, emerging from the double doors to find Lawson waiting for him.

"Hello there, sweet thing," he rumbled, smiling. "You waitin' for Ol' Tychus?"

"You need to be debriefed with the rest of the ground team," said Lawson shortly. "Follow me."

"Sick of followin' folks everywhere," muttered Tychus. "Need to get me on a battlefield, let me cut my own path."

"Soon enough," said Lawson. "You're not much use anywhere else, to be blunt."

Hell … that stings, probably because I know it's true. Tychus trailed behind Lawson, eventually recognizing the path. Back at the armory.

Declan, Trome, Raynor, Xeltan, a bald man with a fierce looking metal arm, and Jenny, waited leaning against the walls and chatting idly. Well, except the elcor. They stared at Lawson as she entered the room.

"Matt's gonna break the news over the intercom," said Jim. "I've already told the team we'll be workin' for Cerberus, which means dealin' with KMs. Now – what's the mission, darlin'?"

"We've acquired some new allies to hit the Dominion with," said Lawson. She activated her omnitool and a symbol leapt from it: an eagle sitting atop a planet crossed with two stylized lightning bolts. "UED. United Earth Directorate. That's right – our homeworld has decided to step into the picture."

"WHAT?" The room exploded in conversation, and Tychus could not help but step back at that. Earth? Earth showed up?

"Cautiously: is this not a good thing?" asked Xeltan. "Tentatively optimistic: this means the terran homeworld is not lost, and your peoples may be united under this UED. Curiously: what is this "UED" like?"

"Thought it was the UPL, last I checked," said Trome. "United Powers League. The bastards who sent us into space to die."

"They're the United Earth Directorate now," said Lawson. "Harper's been in contact with one of the admirals in the so-called "Expeditionary Armada." He says they are polite, ambitious, and loathe Mengsk possibly as much as we do. They've brought their considerable military might to bear on his Dominion."

"I'd hoped it would be maybe the Council or Umojans who'd be the one to bring the hammer down on that son of a bitch," said Jim, pushing himself from the wall. "Jack didn't tell me this. Did he ally with these guys?"

"It is an informal alliance at present." Lawson stared Jim down unblinking. "He nevertheless believes that they are the people who will finally bring the emperor down. Even if it is by any means necessary."

"I read my histories, Miranda," spat Jim. "Last I checked, Earth was a polluted wasteland dominated by fascist overlords spoutin' racist doctrine about genetic purity. In short, exactly the kind of people I would not want to hand power to. Regardless of the shit show the Koprulu Sector might be runnin' these days, at least we're not initiating genetic purges. Even Mengsk doesn't go that far. Hell, even the Archers don't go that far!"

"Which is why Harper is already taking pains to weaken them and keep them in check," replied Miranda coolly. "Besides – Duran is with them. If the admirals decide to try something, he'll start shoving people out airlocks. He's good at that."

"Who gives a shit about Earth?" asked Jenny. "Do we know it's as bad there as it used to be? We don't. Do we know Mengsk is an evil fucker who deserves to die? We do. Are there people standin' up for it? There are? Then why are we arguin'?"

"The Hegemony is standing up to Mengsk," said Declan. "But I can tell you this: they are NOT the sort of people you want to be on the level with."

"He's offering us a lot of money, isn't he Jim?" Trome's quiet voice still managed to carry quite far.

"Yeah, he is." Jim looked away. "It'd keep this ship flyin' for a good long time. Keep us fed … more than fed. And Mengsk … well. This could be it."

"Sounds like the revolution you been askin' for, partner," said Tychus slowly, Harper's words echoing in his brain, "just not the one you wanted. Sounds like it's gonna happen with or without us. May as well try to get some good out of it."

"Humbly: perhaps we should not commit to any operations after the first until we can meet with these people." They all looked at Xeltan, who took a step forward. "With fiery brashness: and should they choose to cross us, and by extension Harper, they will not have long to learn from their mistake. We can also bring the ITSA and Council to bear. Eagerly: what is the ground mission?"

"Extraction of a KM military asset." Lawson tapped her omnitool again, and this time it spat out the image of one of the turtle bastards that had beat Tychus up on Omega. Krogan. "Not sure what the UED wants with a krogan battlemaster, but this guy fits their bill. Urdnot Wrex. Approximately a thousand years old, hired by the KMs six months ago to combat the Dominion. His Dominion kill count quickly reached the triple digits."

"Right, this seems like it's on the up and up." Raynor laughed harshly. "The known genocidal racists want to get their hands on a krogan, specifically a battlemaster. What do they want? To clone him? To finish off what the salarians started?"

"I don't get that impression," said Lawson, frowning. "I think it might actually be the other way around. They're looking for ways to make easy friends and prop up their numbers; curing the Genophage-"

"Fiercely: an even worse idea than rendering them extinct." Tychus was totally at sea at this point, but he recognized the shock in the room at Xeltan's statement. "Angrily: your people did not bear witness to the destruction wrought by the krogan. Forcefully: if the UED seeks to resurrect them, then I cannot endorse an alliance. The krogan would tear the galaxy apart once more."

"We don't know anything yet." Trome had folded his arms, glaring at the image of the battlemaster. "Where is the battlemaster stationed?"

"Proctor III," said Lawson. "Right on the Dominion lines. And, unfortunately, the Dominion has begun to advance. Norad II will be flying right under Dominion guns."

"Which means Mengsk is gonna fly off the handle and start huntin' for us again," muttered Jim. He looked to Tychus, then back at the krogan. "Heh. Shit. Galaxy's movin' around us. Earth's showed up. Question is: we gonna participate? Or just keep spinnin' our wheels, doin' odd jobs for Zaeed Massani and whoever else will hire us?" Jim shook his head. "Don't seem like much of a choice to me. Darlin', draw up that planet. Let's see just how deep in the shit that krogan is."

Next Chapter: Wrex