Hey guys! Been a bit of a stretch for this last one and I'm sorry about that, but hopefully you enjoy it. I'm moving to town tomorrow, which is great news for me but I'm not sure where that's going to leave my writing time at. Either way, I won't be dropping the story or anything, I've been having too much fun with it for that, but the pace may stay slow from here on out. See you in the next chapter!
Matt Horner and a small force were attempting to provide cover fire for one of Mira's repairmen who was late to the party at the bridge and running from a group of mercs; it galled him deeply to see the man cut down from behind, left to lay in a heap on the floor merely a few feet away.
Bridge is under attack right now, what is your status? Horner called to the others tensely as he ducked away from return fire. The bridge was very full now, and the vast majority of people in it were unarmed; precious few people on the ship were trained to fight—it was almost exclusively up to the infested men, Lasarra and apparently Shlassa to fight off the invading force.
Worse yet, it seemed that fighting was going on in the air and through Mira's sprawling compound, from what his subordinates had seen through the viewport and with scanners. The Hyperion could easily add its firepower to help Mira, but without comms there was no discerning who was with who.
Lasarra says there's not that many left, hang in there Matt. Raynor replied easily; having teamed up with Warfield, the two were encountering very little that could give them a challenge. The real difficulty was attempting to keep Shlassa from killing friendlies—she was not discerning friend from foe, at all.
A loud clank, followed by a distinct rolling sound, brought Matt's attention sharply back to the present. "Get down!" He yelled as a flashbang rolled into view, exploding in a blinding flash that caught most off guard. Matt had managed to cover his face and close his eyes, but he was still left rapidly blinking away white spots in a desperate bid to see the oncoming attackers.
Lasarra watched the scene play out before her through the eyes of everyone around Matt Horner, both attackers and blinded defenders. As the infested man's gun was kicked out of his hand by one of four armed mercenaries, she made a decision.
I am sorry, Matt Horner.
Stumbling from a rifle butt to the face, Matt heard more than saw the other armed men and women he had with him being disarmed and, in a few cases, shot if they put up a struggle. When Lasarra's voice, cool with displeasure, spoke to him, he whispered frantically. "No!" The protoss had made up her mind however, and Matt could do nothing to stop her from pulling away the calming veil.
Hot alien rage washed over him, overwhelming and horrible; without the constant battle to maintain control, he'd lost what little defense he had against it. Triumphant, Shlassa's voice seethed through his mind, like a slimy caress on his brain.
Kill them all. Shlassa's command, combined with the intensity of emotion crashing into his mind, swept Horner away.
Jim stumbled, shocked at the sheer violence erupting from Matt, and would have caught a few bullets were it not for Warfield's fast reaction; the General catching Raynor by the shoulder and sharply pulling him back around their corner. A sense of shocked awe emanated from all the infested men, safe within Lasarra's veil.
Warfield muttered harshly in his ear after firing a few rounds of suppressing fire over Jim's shoulder. "What in God's name did Lasarra do to him?"
Raynor shook his head, providing cover fire with a borrowed gauss rifle for Warfield as he pressed around the corner- he was wearing armor and acting as Jim's shield. It felt like there was a pure blot of evil in the link they shared, an oily malevolence that threatened their sanctuary. Was this what they were like before Lasarra had come? It chilled him to think what would happen if Lasarra left, or worse, perished.
"It ain't what she did to him, General—it's us without her."
Swann, Tychus and Lasarra had collected a small group of workers, both Valerian's and Mira's, following them at a safe distance. The protoss proved invaluable in identifying allies and enemies before they came upon them; the two men also suspected whatever the alien said in the minds of those they were rescuing helped alleviate whatever fears one might have at being rescued by very inhuman looking people.
Findlay was watching Horner like a hawk during his violent entanglement and, calling an abrupt halt to their group, stiffened as he caught Matt from ripping one of their own to shreds. Tightly, he muttered. "Lasarra, he's done. Put the leash back on." Physically holding the raging infested man in place was easy, but he wouldn't admit it; behind the scenes he and Stetmann, holed up somewhere when he couldn't get to the bridge, were also keeping Shlassa from killing their own.
Matt came to with his hands fisted in the shirt of one of the navigators, who was staring in abject horror, and dropped him as if burned. The four mercs who had stormed in were in various states of dismemberment, all dead; he had been reduced to a passenger in his own body, watching events unfold and trying desperately to alter them to no avail. When he found himself holding the man's shirt and preparing to shove his extra appendages through his chest, his own body was seized in a vice-like hold—and he knew full well it had been Findlay to save the day.
Horner couldn't stand the silence that had settled over the bridge, nor look at the people who were no doubt staring. With shaking, blood-coated hands, he slowly pulled a gauss rifle from a pair of dead hands and took up his position at the door once again. "Keep trying to get comms working," he muttered.
Egon Stetmann, a proud scientist of great skill, was hiding in the equivalent of a broom closet; cut off from the bridge, it seemed the best course of action. From there he watched all the infested men and lent aid if he could, which was very little, given the situation. When Shlassa flew out of the lab like a violent hurricane, it was all he could do to direct her at enemies.
Stetmann flooded with relief when Findlay caught Matt from killing one of their own, he wasn't capable of holding the broodmother and the other man at the same time. It was of special interest to see how well Tychus' brute force method worked so well on the mental side of things—Shlassa did say the swarm was ruled by force of will and strength, perhaps it was more true than he thought.
Kid, get out of my head and do something useful. Findlay all but growled.
Ah-yes-well! Surprised, Stetmann stuttered. Shlassa doesn't sense any more invading mercenaries, perhaps we should help the Bucephalus once the Hyperion is secured?
We can take a shuttle over, but who's going to stay? Swann piped up. Their group was walking and he had to physically refrain from fiddling with his shredded bits of shirt to try and to cover himself again.
Warfield, moving at a quick pace towards Lasarra's group with Jim at his side, considered their options. Securing the Bucephalus and getting the hell outta here are top priorities.
Swann, Horner and Stetmann can stay. Jim grumbled, darting through a doorway and coming to a quick stop at the back of the rescued group of people. Grudgingly, he added, Shlassa can guard the lifts with Stetmann watching her.
"You're gonna leave that thing guarding the ship, Jim? You should get it back in the damn lab!" Swann spun to face Jim, glaring through the people in their way—said people clearing the way very fast.
Frowning, Jim held up a hand. "Not up for discussion, Swann." Redirecting his attention to the men and women clumped between their two groups of infested and Lasarra, he jerked a thumb over his shoulder sharply. "Ship is clear. I want any of you capable of continuing repairs to do so and the rest to get the ship ready to leave, pronto." When the group filtered away at a quick pace, he was pleased to see a few thank-yous being given to Tychus, Swann and Lasarra. It was sure to do them some good.
"Eh, whatever. You're the boss, cowboy." Swann muttered, letting the argument go and turning to leave. It was clear the short man had a long list of grievances however, and Jim promised to himself to get a real talk in with him at a more appropriate time, if such a thing existed.
"Right, lets get on a shuttle and go save the day." Findlay all but rolled his eyes and refrained from pinching the ass of one woman who thanked him when she walked away.
I will accompany you. Lasarra walked with them as their two groups quietly merged and started a brisk pace for the nearest ship bay.
"You aren't going to... Get out of range of the boys on this ship, are you?" Warfield questioned, concerned.
No, Horus Warfield. The Bucephalus is close enough, and I am continually bettering my ability to protect you and the other men. Lasarra reassured them all, and a collective sigh of relief was let loose.
On the way, Tychus saw a familiar form laying in a heap; the man who had confronted him in the Cantina was still in his greasy overalls and had been riddled with bullets. It should have been just another dead body, Findlay saw more than his fair share, but this one sent a wash of anger through him. Good thing there were more mercs to kill.
Hyperion Bridge
The atmosphere on the bridge was tense with discomfort, but when Horner announced the ship was clear it seemed to ease somewhat. Now as Warfield, Raynor, Tychus and Lasarra were getting into the Fanfare, a well-loved shuttle, Matt was helping move bodies out of the immediate area with a few of the stronger stomachs.
"Sir," Ashdale, a very competent and attentive member of the bridge crew who Horner liked, caught his attention after dragging aside one of the limp bodies of her coworkers. "I just want to say thank you, even if that was..." She paused, trying to think of a better way to put it but coming up short. "Scary. You saved everyone here."
"Thanks, Ash." His reply was carefully measured, sure to hide how little that made him feel better. It scared the hell out of him, never mind them. Matt almost ran a hand through his hair before remembering it was bloody, making a small disgusted noise instead as he strode back into the bridge.
"Captain! Mira Han has been trying to hail us, but the signal is still too jammed up. I think she's working on it." Jeremy Hughes exclaimed as soon as Horner came into eyesight.
"That's a relief. Our shuttle out there yet?" Matt took up his position at the star map and brought up a visual of the immediate area, noting the fierce dog fights between Wraiths still going strong. It would be dangerous even flying a shuttle the short way to the Bucephalus, and Horner had every intention of providing cover.
"Just launched, Captain. They are in the Fanfare."
"I want you to keep an eye on the Fanfare, all guns ready. If any of those fighters out there attack our ship, you blow them to hell." Horner's tone was fierce.
Bucephalus
"Captain Vaughn! A shuttle just launched from the Hyperion and is heading towards us, sir!" A crew member called in an excited tone.
"Could be reinforcements for the mercenaries, we have no idea if the Hyperion withstood the attack." Vaughn thought out loud, frowning over the star map and watching the little ship approach.
"Run scanners over that shuttle, Captain." Valerian snapped, whirling and coming to stand at the star map with Vaughn. It had been a hell of an adventure getting to the bridge, but it was secure for now. The mercenaries had something more than just men attacking his ship, and they were using their comm advantage to full effect—the battle was not going in Valerian's favor, as far as they could tell.
"Yes sir." There was a pause as the man attempted to figure out what he was seeing. "Scanners can't seem to figure out what's in there, other than one protoss signature, sir." He sounded baffled, but Valerian smiled.
"Excellent, make sure that ship gets through to ours Captain. Those reinforcements are for us." The prince was looking forward to getting camera footage of the infested men, and the protoss, in action.
"The Hyperion's weapons are online and aiming at the shuttle, sir." More bafflement.
"Do the same." Vaughn barked, understanding the situation quickly. "They are providing cover fire for the Fanfare." With his word, the Bucephalus' weapons came alive and trained on the Fanfare, waiting to strike anyone who struck first.
The Fanfare, being the easy target it was, came under fire shortly after Vaughn caught on. A cheer lit up the bridge as the Wraith, having only gotten one shot in, was blown to bits in a neat and tidy crossfire between the two massive ships.
"We don't have any docking bays secured, sir." Vaughn worried, looking through the areas they determined had been compromised on the Bucephalus; there were an awful lot. "There's no telling what they are going to fly into."
"We'll just have to trust that they are prepared." Valerian frowned a degree, watching the small ship disappear into a docking bay. He hoped that Lasarra would contact him soon.
Bucephalus docking bay
The Fanfare docked without issue and, bristling with weaponry, the group of infested men piled out in a hurry to take the measure of their location; Lasarra walked down the ramp after them, already knowing.
The enemy has control of the majority of the ship. She noted, feeling outwards and following as they made to leave the bay. There are groups of resistance, and the largest force of Valerian Mengsk's men are keeping the bridge floor secured.
"So they're all a bunch of pansies, is what you're saying." Tychus' tone was condescending at best.
No, I said that the enemy has control of the majority of th-
"That's alright Lasarra, we know." Warfield cut in, it was funny how the supposedly superior race could read minds and be so lost with sarcasm.
"Awful quiet." Raynor noted, running point for the group and keeping the pace brisk—he expected Lasarra to let them know if anyone was around; and she did.
There is something else on this ship. The demure protoss, having kept her composure perfectly for so long, sounded strange with her concerned tone. I do not understand it's nature, but it is clearly under the mercenaries' sway.
"Wonderful, I love surprises. You let me know if that thing gets near." Jim grumbled.
You will know, James Raynor.
On the Bucephalus bridge, Vaughn was preparing to give fresh orders to a runner who would bring them to the front the old fashioned way. "Prince Valerian, I'd like to send a force to meet with our support." He didn't expect any opposition, but the infested were a special bunch.
"No, Captain. We're going to let them do what they do best, and I want as much footage of them doing that as possible." Valerian was calm and confident now, there was no chance of losing; this wasn't Char.
Without pause, Vaughn dismissed the runner and got back to work. "As you wish, Prince Valerian." It was a pleasant surprise to hear the adjutant announcing an incoming transmission a few moments later.
It wasn't long before the infested men were falling on the invading force from behind, cutting them down efficiently and making a beeline for the next group. Raynor had shifted from point to support, letting the armored Warfield and Findlay bring up the front. From his position, he was able to watch the two men work well together—which wasn't altogether surprising, given how long they had been around one another now.
Warfield had a cool, calculated method for approaching the enemy and it could be said that Tychus had the direct opposite. The General worked around Findlay's shock tactics well, perhaps in part because they knew what one another was going to do before doing it, and it showed. Findlay had abandoned all pretense of stealthiness, no longer using his suit and falling back to the comfortable reliability of his gauss rifle—all three men had.
Several times Jim swore he could hear a distant mechanical clanking, and at one point what he thought might have been a roar. Tychus had just finished tackling down a man and crushing his skull with the butt of his rifle when Jim finally spoke up about it. "Either of you been hearing that?" Lasarra was already directing them to their next targets.
"Heard somethin', that's for sure." Horus confirmed, and Tychus gave a noncommittal grunt.
"Think the mercs got a hold of some of the weaponry on the ship?" Jim wondered out loud, his suspicions of what the sounds could belong to bringing back a memory of choosing what upgrade paths to follow, with Stetmann eagerly looking over his shoulder. No regular mercs would have that kind of machinery.
"Wont save them." Findlay muttered, he was focused more intensely than Raynor had seen in an age, and he wondered what was wrong with his old friend... Well, aside from the obvious. Just like Swann, however, he put the questions on the back burner for a better time and couldn't see anything wrong with Tychus Findlay dispensing some righteous fury in a good direction.
"You got that right." Jim agreed amicably.
Lasarra wondered at the thought process of Prince Valerian Mengsk. Mira Han had established a connection with him, but he had specifically forbade attempting to get in touch with the infested men and had only used it to pull his own forces back and give both the mercenaries and Jim's men full run of the ship.
It was difficult at the best of times to decide what to reveal and what not to, but she was here to help the infested men on their path to redemption—and to fulfill whatever role the universe has decided for them. Entangling herself in the web of an arrogant princeling was not going to happen if she had a say in the matter; besides, the radiant alien suspected what this was about, and so kept her silence.
They wandered into a section of the ship where all but the red emergency lights were gone, casting dead bodies in an even grimmer light. Warfield glanced over them critically, hoping to not see any familiar faces, and noted the nature of their deaths. "Predators, Raynor, they have predators." These people were shredded and torn, clearly not from bullets.
The predator is attacking a group of defenders! Lasarra warned, feeling the fear pounding through several people hiding behind a sealed door. The door wouldn't last long with that metal monster bashing it in—and as they ran, they heard it's mechanical snarling and smashing themselves.
Well one predator wouldn't be too much trouble for them, Jim reasoned as he pounded down hall after hall with them; he reckoned that Ursadon Matriarch was tougher. As one, all three poured through the last door separating them from their prey, guns raised and firing in tandem. Snarling, the predator immediately rounded from the half-broken door and charged, even as it was peppered heavily with gauss spikes.
The metal creature, shaped after a large panther from old earth, shrieked and bellowed as sparks crackled out of the holes their concentrated fire carved into it; still, it managed to take a swipe at Warfield as it collapsed in a heap of sparking debris, the stench of melting plastic wafting up through the crater in its skull.
Warfield let out a pained groan and grasped the heavy neosteel paw, tearing it off his arm roughly. Purplish ooze pulsed sluggishly through the thick cuts the predator's titanium claws tore through his meager protective armor; it would have been much worse without. "Hell! That smarts."
"You alright General?" Raynor queried as he came to stand beside the stinking heap of metal, giving it a nudge with his boot.
"Yeah, it'll clear up. Lets get moving." Lassara would let the people inside the room know what was going on and they would move on. Better they didn't see who exactly their rescuers were, just in case.
Hyperion bridge
"Incoming transmission." The adjutant announced, Mira Han immediately appearing over the star map—she looked especially haggard and angry.
"Matthew! Tell me that is the blood of these traitors on you!" She barked as an explosion sounded off somewhere behind her. "We have secured the base and are hunting them down as we speak."
"Yes Mira, I'm fine and they are dead. The Hyperion is secure and we're helping out the Bucephalus right now." Horner reassured her and he felt a wash of relief that she was alright; there was no way Mira would come to the ship and fight for the infested men if she was a traitor. "Glad you're alright." he tentatively added.
Gracing him with a broad, impish grin, the mercenary nodded at him. "Sadly Matthew I think it is time for you and Mr. V to take your leave. I hope that your repairs have been completed." Her countenance became grim then, Horner knew it was coming anyway.
"Understood. We have a package for you, I believe he will be of great interest." Matt smirked, pitiless. Mira would take Crane through every layer of hell for his betrayal.
"Oh? I will collect him personally, ten minutes. Have him ready Matthew." Mira was all hardened mercenary then, and her entire demeanor promised punishment right before she closed the comm and disappeared.
"Get a hold of the Bucephalus and tell them it's time to get going." Matt was already focusing on the infested men, even as he barked orders at his bridge workers.
Bucephalus
Jim, we've reestablished contact with Mira and Valerian. I know you aren't done clearing the ship out yet but we're prepping to launch right now, we can transfer you back later. Horner intruded on the comfortable silence that had fallen over the group.
Good news, I like that. Jim allowed himself a smile for something going right for a change.
If Prince Charming has control of the ship again, why are all the lights still out? Tychus questioned warily.
Might be doing that for our sake, I'm sure he knows we can see in the dark. Warfield came to Valerian's defense quickly, leaving both Tychus and Jim rolling their eyes.
They were creeping through a cargo hold, boxes piled high and neat all around, when a hair-raising sensation fell over all of them. Lasarra, her glowing eyes widening in visual alarm, looked around quickly—not being able to feel what was there was frightening.
Warfield held up a hand, signaling a halt; looking over his shoulder at Jim and Tychus, he gave a quick gesture for spreading out and received nods of agreement. Lasarra stuck with Jim as they fanned out into the cavernous hold.
With a leap, Tychus launched himself atop his row of boxes and landed quietly; the crates were magnetically sealed in place, they wouldn't be getting jostled easily. From his new vantage, he activated the cloak and held his rifle at the ready; the extra height and line of sight did not protect him from the assault from above, though.
From large overhead chutes, already having locked on to his heat signature, two predators came crashing down on Tychus in a snarling clatter. More kitties from on high! His gun was immediately discarded and the cloak fell off as he sent one of the big cats flying further into the room, left to try and wrangle the one off his back.
Findlay's outraged bellow was just a precursor to the larger force, from all around heavy clattering was heard as more and more predators came crashing down from their hiding places. Must be how they got around in the ship so easy. Jim thought to himself. Lasarra let out a startled mental shout that hurt his brain, but not enough to keep him from spinning around when he heard the willowy protoss crash into crates behind him.
The predator that Tychus threw crashed cleanly into Lasarra with it's side, and she landed in a heap with it; dazedly, she stared down at the mechanical beast as it turned it's head and identified the threat it was sitting on. It's massive jaws parted, titanium teeth stinking of blood, and were about to deliver her to the khala when clawed, alien hands grasped it's snout and jaw—halting the deadly lunge.
Jim dug his clawed fingertips into the neosteel of the machine and keenly felt all his muscles bunching and straining as he let out a guttural roar of his own. The cybercat was jerking and clawing at the protoss, but her armor was protecting her from most of the damage as Raynor wrestled it on top of her. Finally, with a metallic scream and sparks of freed electricity, the jaw gave way and was ripped clean off—the bright orange of the predator's eyes blinking out as it slumped.
Frantic, Jim all but threw the heavy machine off and took stock of Lasarra—thoughts of her own light blinking out and the all-encompassing darkness of the swarm crashing in on them fueling terror inside of him.
I am well, James Raynor, thanks to your quick work. Lasarra raised herself to a stand, dazed and bleeding from small slices between her armor but otherwise in tact.
"Thank God!" He exclaimed, and were it not for the situation he'd have taken more time to consider how foolish it was bringing Lasarra into harm's way. Gunfire popping from Warfield's gauss rifle and Tychus' very noisy physical struggle drew his attention further, however. A loud growl from behind let Jim know that his friends were still on their own, and Jim picked his own rifle back up.
The big cybercat was taking bites at his shoulders and the back of his neck, and Tychus was getting pissed; his spectre outfit wasn't doing him any favors against the titanium teeth and claws of the machine, and he could feel his own blood running thick down his back. Tired of trying to swipe it off, he stood up straight and stretched one arm over his shoulder and the other around his low back, catching a front leg and a back leg in a steely grip.
Titanium teeth clamped down over the meat of his neck, piercing into his shoulder blade and scraping grooves into his collar bone as he let out a pained howl and pulled the mechanical cat in two different directions with all the force he could muster. The predator was torn asunder, Tychus hurling it's pieces in different directions before hunching over and prying it's stupid head off his neck. Whoever is driving these things is going to die. He promised.
Got three of these damn things over here, if either of you ladies get some free time! Warfield's tone was light, but the situation was getting desperate. Backed into a corner, the cats were taking turns getting strikes in and he was running low on ammo—and armor, they were prying pieces of it off with each attack.
As Tychus leaped from one group of boxes to another, he saw Jim killing the last predator that came after him, and finally Warfield holed up in his corner. Raynor saw his old friend on the move, briefly noting the torn apart back of his suit, and made to intercept at the General.
Warfield, finally out of ammo, hunched over and was brandishing his own talons. Whatever sophisticated technology controlled the predators seemed to have decided that this was the final moment, and all three struck at once. Simultaneously, Jim and Tychus both leaped and grasped a handful of mechanical tail, pulling two of the three back.
In sync with Raynor and Findlay, the General struck at the one unrestrained predator. Tackling it down with his superior weight advantage, he tore through the neosteel underbelly of the beast and disemboweled it's mechanical guts while Jim and Tychus beat, maimed and smashed their own targets into nonfunctional heaps.
Heavy breathing, along with a few stray zaps of electricity, filled the deafening silence that came over them as the fighting ended. Resting his hands on his knees and huffing, Jim let out a weak laugh. Tychus' basso chuckle followed shortly after and Warfield couldn't help but join in the giddy mirth.
Confused and a little worried, Lasarra observed from a respectable distance away while checking her own wounds and the status of the ship. Surprised, she all but blurted at them, "The Bucephalus and Hyperion are in space. We must have taken off during the fighting."
"Good." Jim straightened up and gave both Warfield and Tychus a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Never liked Dead Man's Rock anyway. Lets finish up here, boys."
Bucephalus bridge
Valerian was ecstatic, although he kept his excitement firmly to himself. Watching the infested men fight through his ship in a danse macabre was going to yield so much more information to his research teams, he allowed himself a sip of fine port in celebration. If they could find a way to recreate the hivemind link in small groups of trained fighting men, it would herald a new age in combat.
Even research and development could use such a thing! He exclaimed to himself while watching his competent crew do their work. How great would it be to just be on the exact same page as one another? Valerian smiled into his drink.
And their strength! Ripping machines, designed to kill small groups with efficiency, to pieces with their bare hands. Incredible. There was no doubt in the mind of the heir apparent that bringing them to Korhal to help kill the hybrid and firmly secure his throne was the correct course of action.
He almost wanted to go so far as to thank the mercenaries for their duplicity and attempt to kill him, just for this opportunity, but the fact remained they did kill quite a few of his good men—both armed and unarmed. Sobering quickly, he looked into the golden liquid slowly swirling in his glass, thoroughly chastised. Many good men and women had given their lives for him already, and he had allowed himself to take that for granted.
I am not my father. Valerian reminded himself firmly. Yes, people would fight and die for him in droves, and they would do it gladly. But they will do it because they believe in me, not because they have been forced or fear me.
With a small sigh, he registered that the infested had finished killing all the opposition on the ship. "Put me on the intercom, Captain Vaughn."
"Yes sir."
A brief crackle let him know that he was live, and Prince Valerian Mengsk's voice calmly flooded through the ship. "Attention. The intruders have been dealt with, you may also have noticed that the Bucephalus is no longer grounded—we are now in space and on our way to Korhal as originally intended. Please return to your posts and use our restored comms to get anyone who needs medical attention to the appropriate facility. The bodies of our fallen will be taken care of, as well."
He paused, letting his message sink in for a few moments before continuing. "And Jim Raynor, please come to the bridge."
Tychus was sore about his suit being mauled, more than his body; the power strips no longer had their red lines zipping along them, and he knew the battery pack had either been severed completely or heavily damaged. He wondered if Valerian's boys could fix it.
Your back was ripped open by mechanical panthers and you're upset about the suit? Warfield prodded, amused. Tychus was not keeping his thoughts closed off from Jim and the General, it would be too obvious, and so it was easy to pick up.
It's a good suit. He grumbled, smirking slightly before his face went serious again. If Valerian had control of the ship before we ended up fighting those cats, why didn't he send us help? Tychus didn't trust that kid as far as he could throw him. No, he reconsidered, he could throw Valerian pretty far.
You know he's got us by the short and curlies right now, Tychus. Jim reasoned. They were making their way to the bridge and perhaps it was best to cut the edge off Tychus' suspicions, or at least get him to give it a break, before the meeting. But the kid ain't done anything untoward, either. We're gonna talk about this when we get back to the Hyperion, alright?
Alright partner, but this trust him until he screws us thing don't sit right with me and you know it. Findlay asserted, but let it drop.