The Odd Couple

[Jim Raynor]

"Sheriff!"
 
Swann peeked into his office. Roland was at his worn desk, a bottle of whiskey a glass island in a sea of papers. His head tilted at the desk, he looked through his eyebrows at the visitor. "Yes, Rory?"
 
"Don't suppose you seen Jimbo lately, have you?"
 
The sheriff's eyes lingered on the engineer a moment longer and then returned to his papers. "As a matter of fact, I did. He's gone out to Coruscant for a spell."
 
"Coruscant?" Swann had never heard of the place. Why was Jim heading there? Why didn't he tell anyone? "What's he wanna do there?"
 
"Playing the hero, it sounds like. Seems like your friend likes being a good samaritan."
 
"Heh, you got no idea," Rory chuckled, then grew serious. "So, he just up and left?"
 
"Yep."
 
"Any inklin' when he'll be back?"
 
"Nope."
 
"Shit." Swann took a glance at his protoss friend. "Was hopin' some of Jim's patented wisdom'd stop this guy from headin' into the desert by himself. Don't suppose you wanna talk him out of it?"
 
"He's free to do whatever he wants, as long as it doesn't hurt my people," Deschain said. "Now leave me be. I've got work to do."
 
"Dammit."
 
<Rory Swann?> Karax said. <Where's James Raynor?>
 
"He ... uh, stepped out for a bit," Swann said, scratching at his beard. "Not sure when he'll be back."
 
<Oh.> Karax turned away. <Then I must be off.>
 
Swann screwed up his face. "Oh come on, Karax! You'll die out in the desert! There's no one around to feel your brain pulse or whatever it is! You can't go!" Dammit Jim, why'd you have to be missing right now?
 
Karax strode towards their shared workshop with long, ponderous steps. <I heard your local law enforcement officer. He will not detain me against my will. I am free to leave whenever I want.>
 
The sun beat down on Swann as he scrambled to match the lanky protoss' gait. "You're not listenin' to me! There's no fancy warp engines or shield matrices out there to stop the heat from cookin' you alive! You'll get lost and the sands'll bury you!"
 
<Nonsense. I can feel the pulse of the beacon. It will always direct me in the right direction.>
 
Rory clamped his metal pincer for a hand onto Karax's forearm. The psionic alien stopped and jerked his head at the stocky terran. His glowing blue eyes narrowed.
 
"Please, Karax," Swann said, his tone defeated.
 
Karax removed Swann's iron claw. <I thank you for your concern, Rory Swann. It is ... touching that another specie could be so invested in my wellbeing. It is not what the stories of the terrans I've heard are about. But I will not leave a potential trap left wide open for a kinsmen of mine to fall into. Do you understand? It is my choice.>
 
Swann took a deep lungful of hot desert air slowly, his chest inflating like a balloon, and then jetted it out of his lips audibly. "Yeah, I get it. If I knew somethin' like that was out there that might get Jimbo caught up in it, I'd be screechin' 'cross the sands too, danger or no danger." He chuckled to himself. "Maybe we're more alike than I thought. Well, 'cept the mouth thing."
 
Karax gazed at him a moment, then inclined his head.
 
Swann sighed, taking a look around the dusty streets. "Well, can't let ya go out by yourself. If ya goin' to these lengths to help your people, then you'll need someone with you. Who knows what's waitin' for you out there? As Jimbo would say, it'd be down right indecent of me to let ya go on your own."
 
<You'll ... accompany me on my journey?> Karax asked. <You've been adamant that I am heading towards certain doom. It makes no sense that you would join me.>
 
Swann shrugged. "I learned the importance of stickin' together no matter what, even if the other person sounds crazy or drunk or somethin'. Ol' Jimbo and me have been to friggin' Char for cryin' out loud. Don't get much scarier than landin' on a lava world full'a zerg." He chuckled. "Matter'a fact, the desert don't seem that bad when I think about it."
 
Karax furrowed his brow. <You are a perplexing creature, Rory Swann.>
 
"I'm pretty simple once ya get to know me."
 
<If you wish to aid me in my quest, I will not turn you away.> Karax beckoned him with his hand. <Come. We must prepare.>
 
An old motorcycle rusted in the corner of the workshop until Swann arrived in town. Finding it under a dust smothered sheet, he had rolled it out and tinkered with it in his downtime. Not much was wrong with it, and the previous day he managed to start the engine. It even had a side car welded shoddily to the side, so it would seat both of them. Swann gathered food and water from the town shops, grabbed a bottle of bourbon from the bar, and stuffed it all in a bag. He tied a tattered tent to the back of the motorcycle with their supplies, attached a spare can of fuel, and pushed the bike out.
 
<That is our transportation?> Karax said.
 
"Not much choice here," Swann said, hauling himself onto the seat, hands on the handlebars. "Most'a the vehicles here are out of commission. Plus I just fixed this one up yesterday so I know it's safe."
 
<And I'm to ride in ... >
 
Swann tapped the rusted metal bowl clinging inexpertly to the cycle's frame. "Yep. The sidecar. Don't worry. Once your skin's been bakin' for hours, you'll barely notice your spine bendin' outta shape."
 
Karax considered his riding spot. <Maybe I can pilot the vehicle.>
 
"Sorry pal, but you don't know how to work it. It's much easier if I drive. If we come across some protoss ship, I'll gladly hand you the keys."
 
The psionic alien stared at the aged motorcycle, then lowered himself into the sidecar. He shuffled around, unable to squat inside comfortably until he hung his knees over the edge.
 
"There! Comfy?"
 
<I do not believe this passenger seat was built for comfort, Rory Swann.>
 
The terran engineer chuckled, zipping up his jacket. "No, 'spose not. But we all gotta make sacrifices." He hawked and spat onto the ground. "So, which way is this beacon of yours?"
 
Karax twisted his head, examining the town as if searching for something on the walls. <The pulse is weak, but ...> He lifted a thin, grey finger. <That direction.>
 
"All right!" Swann pulled his goggles from his forehead and snapped them over his eyes. He turned the key and the engine rumbled with a jolt, grey fumes spewing from the exhaust. Rory twisted the throttle a few times, the revs rising and falling like a wave. Its age became clear in the halting clicks and grunts, but it would run. "Let's find your beacon!"
 
Releasing his grip from the brakes, Swann leaned into the wind as the motorbike lurched forward and accelerated out of town.
 
He took it slow to start with, making sure that the old girl wouldn't fall to pieces as he pushed it hard up a sand dune. It grumbled and growled, its revs thick and inconsistent, but they managed to climb it and soared down the other side. Even if it was hot wind, it caressed Swann's face in a way he could never experience from piloting starships or SCVs. He drank in the golden ocean before him, and grinned as it rushed passed him. He let out a "whoop!" as they skirted another dune at full pace and crested a small rise in the sand that lifted the wheels from the ground for a split moment.
 
<Are you enjoying yourself, Rory Swann?> Karax asked, limbs flailing out the edge of the sidecar.
 
"Haha, you better believe it!" Swann shouted over the angry engine. "Nothin' like the wind in ya face! It's freein', after bein' cooped up in that town for the past few days, in a weird place I never been to before and never asked to come to!"
 
<I do not understand. You find pleasure in the simple act of piloting this vehicle?>
 
"'Course! Don't protoss like zippin' 'round the place on their high-tech wizardry?"
 
<We do not employ magic, Rory Swann,> Karax said. <It does not exist. But no, we do not get a thrill from such rudimentary activities.>
 
Swann shrugged, hands firm on the handlebars. "Your loss, buddy!"
 
Yet as they spurted sand and smoke in their wake, Rory's mind alighted on something he mentioned moments ago. He'd arrived in the desert town because of Jimbo. It wasn't his fault, but he hated that he did it. Things were finally coming together in the Koprulu sector; the wars were ending, old rivals were becoming allies. Peace was within reach, and then he was thrown down onto the rotting equivalent of Mar Sara with no way home and no knowledge of why it had all happened. He missed the thrum of the Hyperion's engines, the twinkling stars that imparted their light to a dim and inky galaxy, even the food wasn't that hard to stomach.
 
But now ... what? Jimbo was gallivanting around, saving lives, being the big hero he was always born to be. Where did that leave Rory? As his second fiddle? Raynor was his friend for life, but their relationship had changed here. Under Raynor's Raiders, he was his commander, and technically still was. But back then, they were fighting a war, rebelling against the tyrannical Terran Dominion of Arcturus Mengsk's doing. Here though, what were they? Jimbo had taken up residence as a deputy, but Swann's skills were going to waste fixing up technology from hundreds of years ago.
 
<Rory Swann?> Karax said. <Is something the matter?>
 
"No, why d'you ask?"
 
<You've gone quiet. You were quite exuberant a moment ago but it seems to have faded.>
 
Focus on the now, Rory. Life's all about sortin' stuff out. Work it out when you go back and Jimbo's there.
 
"Nah, I'm fine. Just thinkin' about somethin'." Swann slammed the throttle. "But let's go back to havin' some fun!"