StarCraft
On Liberty’s Wings

Chapter Three

Hell Jimmy, I ain’t any more capable of doing something noble than of jumping off the roof and flying.

The Bar was a mess, but kind in that I-Love-This-Bar way.  Empty glasses and bottles were strung about, some on the floor and some on the tables.  There was a young kid, probably a local barely old enough to drink, passed out at one table.  At another table, two mechanically inclined “gentlemen” were “discussing” which of their “babies” would win in a fight.  The strength of their “babies” ranged from killing hundreds of Zerg by themselves, to weight lifting Battlecruisers.  
There.
A dark haired man with a recently emptied glass of what looked like Scotty Bolger's Old No. 8 Whiskey, just popped a coin into the Jukebox.  The man fumbled through the songs until he selected one, brushed a fly from his face, and returned to his seat at the bar, just as the all too familiar sound of Sweet Home alla-something filled the air.  
That was him.  No doubt about it now.
The man in the door, wearing a fully armed CMC Powered Combat Suit marched, almost strutted, towards the bar.  The bottles on the tables shook, and the two Mechanics stopped their “Discussion” to watch the man.  He was big, even for a normally increased height of a man in CMC armor.  
And the suit wasn’t new.  Oh no, it featured many scratches, dings, faded blue paint, chipped up pin-up artwork, and patched up bullet holes to be some ornery grunt.  No this man was a professional, and he was definitely some form of trouble.  
Worse he knew it.
The Armored man stopped within arm’s length from the dark haired man, “Ya know, for the most wanted man in the sector, you ain’t that hard to find.”
The Dark haired man set his drink down.  He knew he was at the disadvantage.  Any sudden moves would result in him being blasted.  Yet he wasn’t gonna go down without a fight.  His hand crept slowly for the revolver placed just out of reach to look harmless, yet close enough to be grabbed if needed.  
The man in the CMC suit took notice, but didn’t care.  He just let out a bellowing laugh, “I just had to see it for myself.”
Unknown to the armored man, the two Mechanics had also placed their hands on their side arms, ready to spring into action.  They may not be able to take the guy down, but maybe if they could distract him long enough…..
The Helmet of the CMC suit opened up and the familiar scent of a Cigar filled the dark haired man’s nose.
“Little Jimmy Raynor, the people’s hero.”

Raynor’s hand released the revolver slowly, sweat dripped from his brow.  It couldn’t be, could it?  
Steeling himself for disappointment, Jim put on his best poker face and glanced over his shoulder just to be sure.  
It almost broke when he saw the familiar face.
“Tychus Findlay.”
The big armored beast of a man laughed again and took the seat next to Jimmy’s, knocking over quite a few of the empty glasses and bottles from the bar with his big arm.
“Nice suit,” Jimmy mocked.  
“Pays to be prepared,” Tychus mocked back.
“Last I heard,” Raynor continued, turning to signal to his Mechanics that everything was okay, “You had a life sentence.  What, you get off early for good behavior?”  The Mechanics holstered their side arms, and picked up their “debate” exactly where it had left off, as if nothing had happened.
“That’s right little buddy,” Findlay drawled, “I’m a model citizen now.”  Tychus than mashed the remains of his large cigar into the fly that had been pestering Jimmy, and now him.
Raynor couldn’t help but laugh, “You?  Yeah sure.”
“Alright, I busted out of prison when they were shipping me off to New Folsom.  Oh I must have killed a dozen or so guards with just my bare hands and a…”
“Roll of Toilet Paper,” Raynor interrupted, “Yeah, I heard this one too, but you left out the part where you walked across the water and made off with the warden’s daughter.”
“Jimmy, you sure know how to take the fun out of a story” Tychus frowned.
“Of course I do,” Raynor grinned, “So to what do I owe the pleasure of your illustrious return?”
“Just a good ol’ fashioned business proposition,” Tychus smirked, “Bet you don’t even know what the Dominion is really doing out here.”
Raynor rolled his eyes and reached out for his bottle to refill his glass, frowning when he discovered it to be empty, “I reckon you’re about to tell me.”
“Digging up some old alien artifacts,” Tychus continued, retrieving a full bottle from the shelves behind the bar, and filling up a glass, “Seems Mengsk has a thing for ‘em.  However, I just happen to have a contact who will pay top dollar for ever artifact we…heh… ‘Liberate’ from the Dominion.”
“Top Dollar,” Jimmy thought allowed, trying to sound like he was barely pondering the idea.  Truthfully, he would have to accept Findlay’s word for it.  The Raiders’ funds consisted of whatever Jimmy was pulling from the Jukebox, which was half his money anyways.  And Findlay’s “Contacts” had never really steered them wrong before.  
Except the Skulls.
And O’Bannon.
And Cassidy.
And that first guy who Jimmy couldn’t remember his name who left them to get swarmed by local scavengers that Jim was sure were tipped off.
Other than that….
“Well I guess I can hardly pass that up can I Tychus?”
The Bigger man slid the glass he just filled over to Raynor, “Partners than.  Sixty-Forty?”
Raynor snatched up the glass and held it up, “Seventy-Thirty.  My way.”  He held his poker face and waited for Tychus to object getting the lesser cut.  However surprisingly the bigger man didn’t.  Instead Tychus chewed it over for a minute and then reluctantly nodded.  
“Seventy-Thirty, your way.”
Raynor couldn’t help but laugh, “Heh, just like old times.”  Held out his glass to Findlay.
Findlay picked up the bottle and clinked it against Jimmy’s Glass, “Like old Times.”
There was a pause for a moment as the two former outlaws, well ex-former outlaws since one was a Rebel Terrorist and the other was an escaped convict, downed their drinks.  
Tychus finally broke the silence, “Short on funds I reckon.  What’s the matter the War for Truth and Justice get too much for ya?”
“I ain’t licked yet Tychus,” Jimmy responded, sliding a picture of the remains of a Viking him, his Raiders, and the Locals had taken together.
“Looks recent.  This your doing?”
“Yup,” Jimmy grinned, “Folks around here are ready to fight back against the Dominion.”
“Huh,” Findlay looked back up at Raynor, “Sounds like you take this whole Rebellion thing pretty seriously.”
“Everybody needs a hobby,” Jimmy replied.
The bigger man shrugs his massive shoulders, “Well whatever fires your siege tank.”
“You gonna tell me where these so called Alien Artifacts are?” Raynor asked.
“Not until you say the magic word, Jimmy,” Tychus wolfishly smiled.
“Alright,” Raynor sighs, “I’ll pay for this round.”
“Jimmy, you’re a wonderful terran,” Findlay chuckled, “Got a map?”
Raynor reached behind the bar, but instead of coming up with a bottle, to Tychus’s disappointment, brought up his portable terminal.  He set the suitcase sized device upon the bar, and opens it up.  The Adjutant’s familiar face appears.
“Adjutant, give us an aerial view,” Raynor ordered.
“At once, Commander,” the hologram replied.
“Nice toy,” Findlay nodded, “Borrow it from the Dominion?”
“Naw,” Jimmy shook his head, “It’s Confed tech.  It was a gift from an old friend.”
“Don’t happen to have a spare do ya?”
“Nope.”
Tychus feigns being hurt, “Aw, too bad.”
“Just punch the coordinates you wanted to show me here,” the smaller man sighs, gesturing to the keys on the computer.
“Spoilsport,” Tychus rolled his eyes.  He quickly punched the keys, probably a bit harder than he should have, but the terminal was didn’t show any sign of wear or tear.  Soon the holographic image showed….
“What’s this?” Raynor scratched his beard, “This outpost don’t look all that special.”
“Keep your shirt on son,” Tychus shushed, “See that there?  It’s a crane.”
“Yeah, so?”
“The Dominion are ready to move the Artifact off world and they’re gonna use that crane to do it,” Findlay smiled.
“How do you know it’s in there?” Jimmy asked.
“You notice anything odd about troop placements Jimmy?” Tychus countered.
Raynor thought back to his Raiders’ last bit of combat.  Most of the troops had pulled out of the city for some reason.  Could the artifact be that reason?  
Tychus seemed to be able to read Jimmy’s thoughts, “Most of them are packing up and leaving Mar Sara.  However quite a few have been sent to back guard this location, but not the other dig sites.”
“That does make a lot of sense,” Raynor admitted.
“Ya’ll gotta have more faith in my Jimmy,” Tychus boasted, “I ain’t just rugged good looks you know.”
“Well how did you plan to get the artifact outta here?” Jim countered.
“I figured you and your crew have to have some sort of transport,” Findlay shrugged, “And I’m sure we could also liberate the equipment the Dominion are using to bring it up.”
“I may have a ship nearby,” the Rebel Commander nodded, “If we could get the Artifact back here using the Dominion’s own equipment, I could have it off world by tomorrow morning.”
“See that’s the easy part,” Tychus chuckled.
“How’d you plan to get said equipment?” Raynor asked, though he predicted the answer.
“That’s the fun part,” Findlay stood up from the bar, “We go in, shoot up the base.  They may have guards, but I doubt they’re expecting anyone to know about this plan.  They’re mostly set up to combat the locals who may rise up, not your fully armored personal army.”
“You better be right about that,” Jimmy shrugged, himself standing up as well, “Well let’s go give those Dominion boys a wakeup call.”
“Sir?” one of the two Mechanics asked, having approached the commander as he stood up.
“Earl, you think you and Law can get a landing zone set up nearby this outpost?” Raynor asked.
“Sure thing,” Earl nodded, “Yo, Law, let’s move.”
The other Mechanic downed his drink quickly, “Woohoo, overtime.”
Raynor went over to the kid still clonked out on the table, “Rise and shine Koiter.  We got more Dominion troops who need their butts handed to them.”
Koiter let out a groan, “Sir I think they might have already handed me mine.”
Tychus laughed loudly, making Koiter cover his ears, “Well kid, being a rebel ain’t always guts and glory.  Down time ain’t always pretty.”