Tychus
Tychus woke to the alarm as if he had been expecting it, his body turning in synch with his hand, which slapped down on the haptic interface with just a bit too much force. The crunch jolted him further awake, and he sat up abruptly, prompting a mild protest from Jack.
"Dumbass," she muttered, turning back to sleep and waving him off. Tychus paid her little mind, breathing heavily and rising from the bed. He stomped over to the window and parted the curtains, looking down at a city both recognizable and familiar.
Moria sure looks a sight different from just a few months ago. Tychus snorted and leaned against the dirty window with one hand, pressing his crooked nose against the glass and peering down at the masses of filth below them.
No KMC city ever slept. That was the old saying. His mother had even said it, now and again, when his dad was out of earshot. Probably ended up here eventually, working the kitchen at one of these shitty hotels. Of course, the old saying no longer appeared totally true. The UED occupation had changed that.
The streets, lit in musty orange neon, possessed few stragglers where months before they would have bustled. The vendors had shut their food trucks up tight, locking them in triplicate. The few who did wander the streets did so inevitably in groups of three or more, most of them bearing either Blue Suns or UED combat suits. Those without either moved furtively with ID at the ready, and as Tychus looked at the streets below, someone even now was being accosted by swaggering UED pinks being overseen by a rather staid Earth Officer.
Tychus blew out through his nostrils, fogging the glass. He pushed himself off the window with another grunt, turning instead to the heap of clothes he had left on a chair to the window's left. He pulled them on without haste, jeans, vest, and jacket, privately bracing himself for the cold and the smell that waited for him once he was out of the hotel.
Tychus checked himself in a smudged mirror, wondering how much of the dirt on his face was just the glass. He rolled his neck and felt the cracks, his eyes never leaving the feral-looking fucker staring back at him from the mirror. A right sight. Can't wait to get off this hellhole.
That just left the package sitting innocuously next to the bed, a small but deceptively heavy suitcase sealed with an electronic lock. He wrapped his knuckles around the handle, taking a brief moment to feel the reassuring strength of his hands. Never woulda guessed I was in cryo not so long ago. He pulled it upwards and tried not to wince at the slight pain in his right shoulder. Gonna have to swap hands. Tychus strode to the door, turning back at the last second.
"If I don't come back, avenge me. Then get a tattoo of my name across your forehead."
"I'll do one of those things." Jack blew him a very lazy kiss without even opening her eyes or turning to him for that matter. "Have fun going to church."
Right. Tychus left the room behind to be immediately blasted by a wave of cold air. The lighting of the hotel corridor made everything look like it had been marinated in piss, not helped by the suspect sogginess of the floor. He squelched his way to the ramshackle elevator, praying that he would not be sharing it with anyone.
The elevator doors opened to reveal a blessedly vacant elevator. Tychus wiped the sleep from his eyes with his free hand and boarded the cramped thing, jamming his thumb into the ground floor button. It didn't even light up, but the doors still grinded shut a few seconds later. Tychus took the precious few moments to drop the suitcase and check his omnitool. He fiddled with the settings, praying that he didn't end up having to use any incineration blasts. Man, day after day I keep thinking about getting a second one on the other arm. Shows what Swann knows.
The thought only made him feel sad, though. Coulda been me on that collector base. Sure, it would have been unlikely and sure, it looked fucking horrifying fighting those things, but … he only had to sniff the foul air and breathe in the unknown stench to know that he had been downgraded into a much less glamorous kind of lifestyle than the rebellion shit the Raiders had been pulling. And Jimmy's a celebrity. Good on him, saving the galaxy and all that.
The doors ground open again, revealing the filthy ground floor. Tychus stepped through the lobby with a wrinkled nose, glancing at the receptionist's desk to make sure no one sat there. Upon seeing the vacant seat, he nodded to himself and pressed the entrance door open with his foot, sidling into the night.
The Morian skyline was not what it used to be. Many billboards remained atop the rooftops but stood out only as black outlines against the starless skies, unpowered but still standing. Only a handful of screens still blared from atop thick metal poles and the occasional tenement, and their advertisements had nothing to do with selling products.
"One species united under one banner!" Donny Vermillion, his outfit now exchanged entirely for white clothing. Once, the weasel had spent seven days a week talking up Arcturus Mengsk, the devil, and how the Terran Dominion was the best hope for mankind. Really, all he had to do was substitute "Dominion" and "Mengsk" for "UED" … and "UED."
The strangest thing was how eagerly the folks in the Terran Dominion lapped it up, as if all it took was Nova's testimony to completely change how the Earth invasion was interpreted. Guess they really did come as liberators. Still a pain in my ass, though.
Tychus activated his omnitool, his wrist briefly flaring into life. His body distorted before fading entirely, taking the suitcase with it. Jack always referred to it as a shitty cloak, and it was definitely no substitute for the bullshit the ghosts and protoss were able to pull … but it was good enough to get from point A to point B without getting arrested.
Tychus hurried, shoulder aching as he angled the suitcase in such a way that it helped pull him forward. He slipped into the first alley in his route, crouching behind one of the new pristine dumpsters that the UED had slapped down around the city. He deactivated the cloak and waited for the recharge, squinting at the red graffiti someone had already spray-painted on to the side. Earthers something something. Probably not positive. Ol' Tychus ain't stupid. The omnitool shone again and he began his next invisible jaunt.
Even the patrols were few and far between, despite the capital city being a festering hive of seditious intentions. Tychus took care to keep his distance, though. His footsteps sure as hell weren't muffled, and he wouldn't put it past the trigger-happy fucks to start shooting up the city in case they suspected an invisible target. Despite his precautions however, one patrol came uncomfortably close to the fourth alley he ducked into. As Tychus took cover behind a few rusty barrels, four soldiers in white stopped at the alley entrance, two of them opening their visor to let out billowing smoke.
"Heard we're getting krogan backup," said the one on the left, a lady with a Tyrador twang. Even in the dim, Tychus could see the dim patch of color on her shoulder that marked her as a pink, a colonial pledged to the UED. "Part of the Earther exfil plan."
"What the hell we gonna do with those? Bash some of these older walls down? Have them eat some of the rebels?" One of the men in the middle snorted and then spat a smoking cigar to the ground, crushing it underfoot with a dull crunch. "Wouldn't trust one of them alien fucks with my back, they're all psychotic. Where'd you hear this?"
"Earth officer at the command center." The lady yawned. "Says they can hold territory real good, if you can keep 'em happy and sober. I dunno. I'd trust 'em more than I'd trust an asari."
Tychus knew his omnitool had recharged the cloak, but no way in hell would he be able to sneak by this lot without them hearing. He instead counting off the seconds, knees feeling sore from kneeling against the hard ground, praying for the bastards to go somewhere else.
"The Earthers shut down Corner Co. yesterday, did you hear?" That made Tychus blink. Another big Morian company bitin' the dust. "That's what, five of the six major commercial shipping companies down? Surprised the Morians didn't start rioting over this one, too."
"They're learning their place at long damn last." Huh. That boy sounds like he came from Mar Sara. How the hell he end up in a Pink uniform? "Been readin' up on my history. Sounds like Moria became everything the UED tried to avoid on Earth. 'Parently there's no big enterprises on the homeworld no more. Shut it all down, got a big government instead."
"You say that like it's a good thing." Another woman, sullen, Korhal accent.
One of the marines hooted. "What? You gonna argue with the fuckers that came in here and stomped Mengsk flat in four months? They own the Koprulu Sector now, Di, excusin' the protoss."
"And the Umojans … for now." The Tyrador woman, blowing smoke into the chill night air. "Better hush up with that talk, Private. The future is UED now, ain't a good idea to bait the eagle. C'mon. Time to move out."
The soldiers shambled off, leaving behind a small carpet of stomped out cigars. Tychus finally breathed freely, shifting off his knees and wincing at the raw pain. Then he faded out again, hurrying from point to point, the church now looming in his view.
Tychus never had much time for God. Some time for Trome, sure, but hearing about the mercy of Jesus when he'd spent a lifetime crushing face and shooting various chemicals into his body had just seemed stupid, a little hypocritical. And Ol' Tychus is many things, but a hypocrite he ain't. Faithful … he ain't.
During the briefing for his trip, Harrot took the time to show Tychus a picture of the church they would be using as a meeting point. The picture showed how it used to be all lit up with neon and bright lights, with words such as "FAITH" and "LOVE" blaring from atop stained glass windows.
"Wearily: this church used to hold three thousand people for each service and featured a high tech sound stage for their band." Harrot had shaken his head. "Amused: the KMs took the same approach to their faith as they did everything else. If it they had not taken the time to dress up the church, who could say if anyone would even have noticed it?"
"UED doesn't like that shit though, do they?" Tychus had squinted at the photograph, wondering how much money a faith could really need. "Guessin' this place is abandoned?"
"Uncertain: all places of worship have been co-opted for social works by the government. What social work this one is contributing to – who can say?"
Now Tychus stared at the grim monolith before him, a ruined testament to KMC beliefs. Its windows now glinted dully in the city lights, entirely unadorned. No flashy signs remained mounted atop the parapets. Indeed, no lights at all shined from within or without the stone building, which Tychus could only take as a good sign. After crouching one last time in the closest alley, he shimmered out of sight and hustled to the main doors, checking each side of the street to make sure no patrols were coming by.
Tychus's knees burned as he climbed the stone steps up to the doors. He counted the seconds he had left, hoping that no one would be looking out any windows as he opened the door. Six seconds. Tychus puffed out a stream of hot air into the night and practically rammed the wooden double doors open, almost falling through to the other side. Made a bit of a bang there. He turned around and closed the doors shut behind him with as little noise as possible, his arms rematerializing before his face as he did so. Then he noticed the smell.
"Worse than the damn hotel." Tychus wrinkled his nose and then gagged, covering his mouth with his free wrist. Urgh. What is this? They turn places of worship into storage for septic tanks? Knowing the UED, that honestly would not have surprised him. Pinching his nose shut with his free hand and taking only shallow breaths, Tychus looked around him.
The walls and floor were smooth limestone, surprisingly pretty. A marble fountain now devoid of running water stood still austere and proud in the center of the entrance, a bronze plaque adorned to the front of it, although Tychus could not read the words in the dark. To his right, a small path led to a medium sized room with a chalkboard and a few bookshelves – probably an area for the kids. To his left, a heavy wooden door with a blank name plaque next to it, likely an abandoned office. All in all if it weren't for the smell, Tychus would have called this a nice-looking church, insofar as he could judge. And I ain't even got to the proper parts yet. Bet they got a statue of Jesus in solid gold … although the UED probably melted it down already, made a bunch of transistors out of it…
The smell only grew worse as Tychus approached the doors to the church proper, suitcase still in hand. Alright, time to finish this, go home, get drunk. UED worlds make me antsy. He pushed open the door slowly, eyes watering as a wave of rotten air greeted him upon opening the door.
Tychus had just enough time to see the pile of bodies before something hard struck him in the throat. Reeling and gasping for air, the suitcase fell with a clatter and Tychus clutched at his Adam's apple, face reddening. A second unseen blow nailed him in the stomach, doubling him over just in time for an elbow to strike his back and knock him to the floor. He lay there convulsing, throat closed, choking, feeling like he was suffocating. A hard boot turned him over, and his assailant appeared with a shimmer.
"Terran male. Tattoos on neck. Check for ID and possible gang affiliation." A ghost with a woman's voice, staring down at him through a mask with red eyes, the gas mask rasping harshly in the air. Tychus stared up at her, more terrified of his continuing inability to breathe than the impending capture. As his throat finally complied with his body's fervent demands to open and he sucked in a deep rattling breath, however, that terror struck full force.
Shit shit shit shit-
Rough hands pulled Tychus up; the ghost had brought marine associates, their pink shoulder patch looking like a splash of blood. As they lifted Tychus and dragged him along, more soldiers strode out from behind pillars, some in Blue Suns power armor. Only one soldier bore an actual UED suit, a bored looking woman with blonde shoulder-length hair whose helmet remained retracted. None of them paid any attention to the moldering heap of bodies that had replaced the pews and altar, the source of a stench so vile and so ripe that Tychus coughed violently, the bile rising in his throat.
The UED officer activated her omnitool and shone a blue light in Tychus's eyes, scanning for something. The omnitool flashed red.
"Not on our databanks. No registry with any citizenship." She sounded mildly impressed. "No fingerprint or optical records within the UED, KMC, Dominion, or any Umojan records we have access to."
"Shadowguard?" asked one of the Blue Suns, catching Tychus by surprise. He recognized the voice of a batarian when he heard it.
"Shadowguard wouldn't have walked into this," replied the ghost, stepping in front of Tychus. She grabbed him by the chin and turned his head with surprising force, looking for something. "ITSA maybe. Bone structure, size, and tattoos indicate probable Dominion outer rim origin, maybe one of the mining worlds." She looked beyond Tychus. "Any luck with that suitcase?"
"Electronic lock, reinforced exterior," called back one of the marines. "Might have to get a techie on this one."
"His name is Tychus Findlay," said the ghost suddenly, and Tychus knew he was fucking toast. "He does not know the contents of the suitcase, only that this is the meeting point … and he ran with Raynor's Raiders before being kicked out."
"Well now," said the UED officer, folding her arms and looking Tychus up and down. "That is interesting. I think we might have struck gold here." She turned around and reached for her ear with an armored fist. "Bentley, Joy; get down here, I need you on captive transfer." She turned around again to smile at Tychus in a way that made his stomach churn. "Rejoice, colonial – I was planning on dumping you on that pile and shooting you in the head as just one more lowlife for the furnaces, but it's your lucky day. Depending on how you play your cards, Mr. Findlay, you might just get to live." The smile quickly turned into a frown as she looked away again. "Bentley, Joy, respond."
"I'm guessin' this ain't gonna work, but you sure we can't make a deal?" Tychus tried to smile at the woman, who paid little attention to him. "I got friends. I got money. I got friends with money."
"Go check on those two, looks like their comms aren't working." Two Blue Suns disappeared out the front door, stomping all the way. The UED officer then redirected her attention to Tychus. "And, of course, you are quite correct. No soldier of the UED can be bought, correct?" The others uttered muffled and not entirely convincing affirmations. Only the ghost remained silent, watching Tychus. The other soldiers gathered around the two of them, creating a ring of steel.
"I fought with you fucks on Korhal and watched an emperor die," growled Tychus, his eyes watering and his stomach filling with worms at the rankness of the bodies. "Don't suppose that'll count for anything?"
"Plenty of people fought against us that day. Some of those people are now staunch allies." The officer shrugged. "The reverse is also true. Where the hell have those two gone, now? Bentley? Joy? Dax?"
"Probable situation," said the ghost, pulling the rifle from her back. "I told them to check the upstairs thoroughly."
"Who would be stupid enough to try something here? Fan out and cover each other!" The officer's helmet pulled over her face, the steel connecting and latching together, obscuring her face from view. With a wave of her hand, they shoved Tychus to the side. He fell with a squelch, landing atop an ocean of outstretched filthy hands, stiff and fragrant. Tychus's vision swam as he tried to struggle upright, feeling palms and fingers, rubbery faces and sliding bits of flesh as he frantically attempted to push himself upright. He held still when he saw the officer had drawn a pistol and levelled it as his chest.
"Sit," she ordered. "Still, now. No moving until I figure out what's going on."
"Gunshot!" yelled the ghost, but Tychus had not heard a sound. The officer turned around, pistol remaining fixed on Tychus's sternum.
"I didn't hear-"
A bloom of red erupted from the officer's wrist, her hand and pistol flying from her in a bloody arc. She had just enough time to look down before two more holes punched through her chest and neck, sending her down with a gurgle. Tychus remained very still, hearing similar sounds throughout the room, followed by a few muffled crunches and a moan.
Tychus sat as still as he was able, trying very hard not to breathe. He heard no further sounds. Very slowly he rose, slipping a little on … something … but gradually he came to a half crouch and walked on something that was not decaying flesh or bruised bone.
Then he turned around just in time for a gloved hand to cover his mouth.
"Easy there, brother." An enormous man with a mane of hair and yellow eyes, muffling Tychus's shout. His armor ran with power lines just like the ghosts, and he clutched a long, faintly smoking rifle in his other hand. "We never had the pleasure, though I saw you on Korhal. Gabriel Tosh. One of Cerberus's Phantoms." He grinned, exposing large flat teeth. "I going to remove my hand now. Not a peep, okay?"
Tychus nodded and the Phantom stepped back, his compatriots emerging all around him, six in all. The armored bodies lay all around them, blood pooling under shattered visors. One carried the ghost over his shoulder.
"Takin' prisoners?" Tychus grunted weakly, pointing to the ghost. Tosh chuckled.
"Giving her a new lease on life. Feed her a little terrazine, encourage her to think a bit about her life choices…" Tosh grinned even wider. "Funny how the UED bans resoc but keeps mindwiping their ghosts over and over. They know where the power lies, where they're weakest." He looked behind him. "Is the suitcase secure?"
"Goddamn right it is. Beautiful." Another man, stepping from the shadows of the lobby, coughing into his hand. A sleeve of tattoos ran up his right arm, with another prominent Blue Suns tattoo announcing his allegiance on his neck. He looked Tychus up and down before barking with laughter. "Ha! This is the man Raynor paid us for? He looks like he huffs vespene in his free time!"
"I'm gonna need to know what's goin' on," said Tychus weakly, taking a step back as his vision swam. "I was told the suitcase'd get picked up here."
"Cerberus was the buyer, brother. Thank you for your promptness." Tosh bowed his head. "And Mr. Zaeed Massani here is our associate."
"You killin' your own men now?" Tychus glanced at the windows, wondering if he could take a flying leap out of one and get the hell out of this craziness.
"Those were Vido's boys," said Zaeed dismissively, waving it off. "Blue Suns has gone to shit since the collectors hauled me off. Making deals with these fascists?" Zaeed snorted. "Vido can't see past the power they gave him. There's no place on Moria for people like him, anymore. The UED simply hasn't run out of things for him to brutalize yet. Same with me."
"You need not fear, brother." Tosh took a step forward and clamped down on Tychus's shoulder firmly. "We are friends here. I suspected Harrot would send you, given how you have fallen through the cracks. Is Jack still your companion?"
"She told you guys no already." Tychus looked the man in his off-color eyes. "I'm just the deliveryman. Don't want no part of this."
"I seem to recall you making a promise though, brother." Tosh did not blink. "To Mr. Harper. You promised to keep Mr. Raynor fighting, to not succumb to his softer side. No sooner do you leave him, he does just that. You weren't sure of the evil he wanted to confront were you, brother?"
"He proved me wrong, then he proved me right." Tychus looked away. "Reapers were real, but they weren't shit."
"Turn around, brother. Look evil in the face." Tosh released Tychus and gestured. Tychus turned.
Hundreds of faces stared back. Some had their lips pulled back, exposing still-white teeth. Some were bald. Others had hair. Most were clothed, although he could see most of the bullet holes, the majority planted in the back of the neck. Brown smears ran up to the pile, and in the silence, Tychus could hear buzzing over the pounding of his heart. Flies. Flies mean maggots. He covered his mouth with his wrist, gagging.
"It's hard to fight shadow foes," said Tosh from behind him, "to become outraged at the atrocities we never see, that are so far away. If no Council ships had burned at Mengsk's behest over Tarsonis, would the Council have seen the atrocity the same way? Of course not. It could have been written off as unfortunate happenstance, the victims all too impersonal. The Reapers were even worse in this regard, striking at random. Only the ITSA could fully appreciate what they were doing, and they chose to lash out at the batarians misguidedly."
"What do you want from me?" choked Tychus, turning his head away from the carnage, his breathing turning ragged. "Just a low time crook, now. You got your weapons or … whatever it is."
"Something that'll even the odds against those Earth fucks," said Zaeed cheerfully, lifting the suitcase with one hand.
"They turned this place into storage for the many corpses they have created," continued Tosh, unabated. "The morgues fill up, you see, and the KMs are slow to run out of rebels. Every time a summary execution is carried out, the body cannot be left in the street. Where better to leave them, than at defunct places of worship? They mean nothing anymore, after all, and no one would dare visit them."
"I get it. The UED are sick." Tychus staggered back, away from Tosh, away from the bodies. "What, exactly, am I supposed to do about it?" He bared his teeth. "I ain't a Raider. I ain't a hero. Got kicked out that club, did a poor job at it. I'm made to steal things and beat people up. Shit like this…" Tychus spread his hands hopelessly. "…best I can hope is to stay the fuck out of the way. They can't keep this up forever."
"Just long enough to stamp out the loudest resistance." Tosh chuckled, shaking his head, still not blinking. "They will bring order over time, this is true. A united human species even, something to terrify the Council and protoss alike. All it takes is to first make a foundation of corpses. History's price, one might say. Inevitable, some would argue. All great civilizations began with the shedding of blood." Tosh stilled clenching his free fist. "Mengsk did the same on Tarsonis. It was no more justified then. We will not stand for it now. That is why we are here. That is why we fight, still, even as others commit to this "peace" we hear is becoming so popular these days."
"What am I supposed to do?" repeated Tychus, shaking his head, eyes wide. "I got armor, I got a gun. But I ain't an army. I ain't a ghost." His eyes darted to the bodies again.
"Common men slew the emperor. You saw it happen." Tosh lifted his rifle and cradled it in his arms. "Common men might yet slay the eagle. I would ask you to honor your pledge, Tychus Findlay, with or without Jack and Xeltan. I would ask you to go to Eden Prime and awaken that sleeping giant."
"Little Jimmy Raynor," muttered Tychus. "The people's hero."
"Harper would have him look evil in the face and realize the cost of his peace." He gestured to an associate, who produced a small cylinder of metal in gloved hands. "He would have you honor your pledge. Promise us … sign a contract in blood." The other Phantom stepped forward, proffering the cylinder. I know a detonator when I see one. He accepted it with shaking hands.
"Massani can slip out of here by pulling rank. We have our own methods." Tosh smiled. "You, of course, have a ten second cloak. It will not last under careful scrutiny. They come to investigate the whereabouts of their broken squad."
"Let me guess. This is a distraction." Tychus turned the cylinder in his hands. He looked up. "You foundin' your own empire on blood? You care about collateral?"
"We do not line innocents up in the streets and shoot them, brother. We do not vivisect aliens." He shrugged. "They would not kill you, not if you explained what happened here. Your association would likely make you a prime candidate as a squad leader for pinks. "We have a former Raider working for us!" they would say, parading you in your white armor. "This man knows! Serve the Directorate! Serve humanity!" All it would cost you is something they claim does not exist, something this building used to glorify…"
"Get on with it," snapped Zaeed. "Either press the button or don't. You want to work for the Earthers, or you want to fight this? We planted bombs under the goddamn main command center, alright? Valid military target. Make up your bloody mind. If that pile of corpses won't convince you-"
Tychus flipped open the detonator. They watched intently.
"Jimmy would never forgive me if this hurt innocents," he warned. "None of you, neither."
"You have commendable morality for a self-confessed criminal, brother." Tosh inclined his head. "I can see your mind's eye, however. I know your choice already. And the people in that command center, they made theirs."
Tychus pressed the button. The windows flared orange and the boom tore through the night's sky. Then came the sirens. And the screaming.
"Welcome back to the fold, brother," breathed Tosh, figure framed in orange. "Now bring that conviction to Mr. Raynor. Rouse his anger. Bring him back to Cerberus."
Next Chapter: ...Mordin
