The transport ship touched down smoothly on the hangar deck of the Hyperion.
As the boarding ramp lowered, air thick with sweat, blood, and the sharp scent of power-armor coolant surged out, contrasting sharply with the clean, filtered air circulating within the hangar. Valerie followed Raynor and the Raiders down the ramp.
Her calm gaze swept across the warship's hangar bay. The space was expansive, easily large enough to accommodate dozens of various aircraft. A few Wraith fighters and Viking mechs stood parked in neat rows on the deck, surrounded by ground crews busy performing maintenance. The lighting was bright and even, and the piping along the bulkheads followed a highly orderly layout—this was a well-maintained, professionally run warship.
Tychus' blue CMC power armor clanked loudly against the metal deck. Flipping open his visor, he let out a sharp whistle, his coarse voice echoing through the hangar: "Whoa, Jimmy. This ship you 'borrowed' isn't half bad. It's a hell of a lot better than the tin cans I was stuck in back in prison."
Raynor didn't look back, offering only a flat reply: "Mengsk won't mind letting us borrow it for a while." A faint trace of irony laced his words. Turning to Valerie and Tychus, he gave a brief gesture. "Welcome to the Raiders' mobile headquarters, the Hyperion."
Leading the group through the hangar, Raynor began introductions. "This is Matt Horner, captain of the Hyperion and my right-hand man."
A steady, composed man wearing a crisp officer's uniform stepped forward, nodding politely to Valerie and Tychus. His eyes lingered on the "Security Advisors" behind Valerie for a brief moment, but he quickly returned to his professional calm.
"Matt, this is Valerie, representing 'Telesto United,'" Raynor said. "And this is Tychus Findlay."
"Welcome aboard," Matt's voice was mild but firm. "I've arranged temporary quarters for everyone. If you need any assistance, feel free to contact the bridge."
"And this is Rory Swann, our chief engineer," Raynor pointed toward a burly man climbing out of an SCV.
Swann wore grease-stained overalls and held a data pad. Hearing his name, he looked up and bared his teeth in a rugged grin. "Hey, Chief. Do I need to take a look at what you brought back this time?" His eyes were immediately drawn to the crate carried by the Raiders, which emitted a faint, eerie blue glow.
"Later, Swann," Raynor waved a hand. "Let's get everyone settled first."
"Over there is Egon Stetmann, our scientific advisor," Raynor pointed toward a tall, thin, somewhat neurotic-looking man buried in his work at a console in the distance. Stetmann didn't seem to notice the introduction, murmuring to himself at the data on his screen while his fingers flew across the keyboard.
"Dr. Stetmann gets a bit... focused on his research," Matt added apologetically.
With the brief introductions finished, Raynor addressed the group: "Alright, everyone disperse for now. Head to the medbay if you need patch-ups, and the rest of you can get to your assigned berths. We'll hold a briefing shortly."
The crowd began to scatter. The Raiders helped each other toward the living quarters while the ground crew started inspecting the transport ship's battle damage.
Valerie turned to her ten "Security Advisors" and issued her directives: "Team A, five of you stay in the hangar to guard the Thunderhawk, handle basic maintenance, and perform status checks. Team B, the other five will rotate out to rest and remain on standby. Execute according to standard shift schedules."
"Understood," the lead guard replied in a flat tone.
Five of the warriors immediately turned toward the Thunderhawk parked in the corner to begin system checks, while the remaining five followed a Raider guide toward the temporary quarters. Their synchronized, silent, and efficient movements once again drew sidelong glances from the nearby Raiders.
Tychus watched the "iron dolls" walk away, then leaned closer to Raynor, lowering his voice: "Jimmy, where the hell did those guys come from? I've never seen gear like that before, and the way they fight... they're too damn professional. 'Telesto United'? How come I've never heard of an outfit like that?"
"I don't know either. They claim to be from the Core Worlds," Raynor frowned slightly. "But at least they just saved a lot of our people out there. Keep an eye on them for now. Go get the cargo stored somewhere safe and wait for my word."
"Don't worry, I've got it," Tychus clapped his chest plate, producing a dull thud, then turned toward the crate holding the artifact fragment and ordered a few Raiders to haul it away.
Valerie watched Tychus leave, then nodded to Raynor and Matt: "I'll go familiarize myself with the ship's layout."
"Living quarters are on Deck C; the mess hall and recreation are on Deck D," Matt offered politely. "Do you need a guide?"
"No need, I can look around myself," Valerie answered, turning to leave the hangar by following the corridor signage.
She walked through the wide interior passageways, her calm gaze observing her surroundings. The internal design of the Hyperion was practical and utilitarian, with standard metallic gray bulkheads, ample lighting, and various conduits secured neatly on brackets. Occasional crew members passed her, throwing curious or assessing glances her way, but all maintained their manners.
She arrived at her assigned temporary berth first. The room was small but functional, containing a bunk, a small desk, a locker, and a basic wash unit. Placing her briefcase on the desk, she verified the status of her communications, confirming that the encrypted link to the Eternal Seeker remained stable.
Leaving her room, she began walking the decks. She passed the living quarters, observing some Raiders resting, some cleaning weapons, and others talking in low voices. She passed the engineering bay, hearing the hum of machinery and Swann directing the ground crews. She passed the research lab, catching sight of Stetmann gesturing wildly at a cluster of instruments through the observation window.
Finally, she arrived at the bar on Deck D. The bar was small, but the atmosphere was relatively relaxed. A few Raiders sat along the counter drinking and talking quietly, while a stone-faced, middle-aged bartender wiped down glasses.
Raynor sat alone in a booth in the corner, a glass of amber liquid sitting before him. He looked exhausted, his brow furrowed as if deep in thought.
Valerie walked up to the bar, ordered a glass of water, and carried it over to Raynor's table.
"Mind if I join you, Mr. Raynor?" she asked.
Raynor looked up, cast a glance at her, and nodded: "Have a seat."