After leaving the Xil system, as the Hyperion charted its course toward the next scheduled coordinates, Tychus re-established contact with the Moebius Foundation via an encrypted channel under Raynor's instructions.
Once the comm link was secured, the image of a Foundation representative materialized on the screen.
Tychus briefly reported the situation on planet Xil: confirming that the survey team was killed in action, noting signs of Protoss military activity on site, and detailing the reality that both the temple and the artifact fragment had vanished.
Listening to the debriefing, the Foundation representative displayed no emotional fluctuation on his face, giving only a slight nod.
"Regrettable, but within the scope of our risk assessment," his voice was flat. "Archaeological surveying is inherently a high-risk industry, especially for projects involving Xel'Naga ruins. Protoss intervention was one of the known risks."
Tychus was slightly taken aback by this lukewarm response, but pressed on: "What about those Protoss remnants we found on site? And that entire temple being hauled away—you got any intel to explain that? Like, is there another faction interested in the artifact that has the juice to beat the Protoss into scrap like that?"
The Foundation representative paused in silence for a few seconds, seemingly retrieving information.
"We have noted several anomalous activities in the Koprulu sector recently, though their exact nature remains unclear," he paused. "Internal factions exist within Protoss society as well, so conflict between different Protoss sects cannot be ruled out. As for the disappearance of the temple... Xel'Naga ruins occasionally undergo structural shifts due to geological activity or internal mechanisms, though that remains theoretical speculation."
This explanation was clearly guarded, but Tychus knew pressing further would yield no more answers.
"So, what about the artifact commission?" Tychus turned to the main topic.
"The contract stands," the Foundation representative answered immediately. "In fact, we have already localized the position of another fragment. The target world this time is Monlyth, located on the eastern fringe of the Koprulu sector. Coordinates and data packets are being transmitted now."
Tychus received the data stream.
Information on planet Monlyth unfolded across the display: a planet with a favorable ecology and an atmosphere similar to Earth, its surface covered in forests, grasslands, and sparse bodies of water.
The accompanying dossier explicitly highlighted: "This planet is under Protoss control, with a permanent Protoss presence and garrison forces."
"Protoss control?" Tychus frowned. "You want us to snatch something right out from under the Protoss' noses?"
"More accurately, conduct surveying and recovery within Protoss-controlled territory," the Foundation representative corrected. "Monlyth is one of the Protoss' border worlds. Defensive forces are relatively limited and mostly concentrated around several psionic focus points on the planet. The artifact fragment is located within an ancient ruins complex that is not a core Protoss stronghold."
He pulled up a regional map of Monlyth, marking coordinates well away from major Protoss installations. "According to our long-range scans, this ruins complex is well-preserved, with clear artifact energy signatures. While the Protoss are aware of the ruins, they do not appear to have developed or heavily guarded the site—at least, as of our last scan."
Tychus scrutinized the map and data. "And the payout?"
The Foundation representative named a figure fifty percent higher than the payout for the Xil mission. "Considering the higher risk tier on Monlyth, we have raised the compensation accordingly. Thirty percent upfront, with the remainder paid upon successful recovery. If you encounter hostiles and engage the Protoss during the operation, the Foundation will provide an additional combat stipend."
The terms were enticing enough. Tychus stated he needed to consult with Raynor and would reply shortly. Once the transmission ended, he took the file straight to the bridge.
Raynor read through the intel on planet Monlyth and the Foundation's new contract several times, his brow tightly furrowed.
Unlike their previous encounter on Xil, this time they knew for certain that the target location fell under official Protoss control—it was no accidental encounter, but potentially a deliberate intrusion into a known sacred site.
However, the contract figure was indeed tempting. More importantly, the lead explicitly pointed to a ruins complex where another artifact fragment likely rested.
The command center lights cast a glow over his worn face.
He turned to his old friend and heavy-hitter beside him, pushing the datapad across the console. "What do you think, Tychus?"
Tychus picked up the datapad, gave it a quick scan, and let out a snort.
"Higher risk, but the pay is damn good," he said bluntly, tossing the datapad back onto the table. "Those Foundation eggheads clearly don't give a damn about a survey team's life, but at least they're prompt with the cash. Cold credits talk louder than pretty words. Besides, think about it, Jim—if Monlyth really has a permanent Protoss garrison, then whatever crazy crap happened on Xil might really just have been their own internal squabble. The Protoss on Monlyth should still be 'normal' and sitting tight, so long as we don't go barging in with drums beating."
"Precisely because it's Protoss territory, if things go sideways, it won't just be a matter of a few pirate ships," Raynor rubbed his temples, his voice low.
He recalled the brothers and fighters lost in recent engagements; the repair bills and pension reports were almost crushing him. The Hyperion was formidable, but the Raiders' bankroll wasn't bottomless—every major loss required time and resources to recover.
"So what then? We play it timid and watch some other outfit—or worse, Dominion troops—beat us to the punch?" Tychus leaned in closer, dropping his tone, though his words carried even more weight. "Jim, look around us. We need this money. The ship needs maintenance, the Marines need armor upgrades, the pilots need replacement fighters, and the med-bay's supplies are running on fumes. The payout from this job is enough to gear our boys up with reliable kit and give the Hyperion's weapon arrays another tier of upgrades. With that, we stand a better chance of surviving—and doing what you actually want to do."
Raynor remained silent, his gaze sweeping over the red indicators on the command console marking losses and logistics needs.
Tychus's words struck the rawest nerve of reality.
Ideals required a foundation in reality, and freedom and resistance demanded overwhelming firepower to back them up.
He turned toward Matt Horner on the other side.
"Matt, from a navigational and tactical standpoint, how high is the risk going to Monlyth? Are there any relatively safe approaches?"
Matt immediately pulled up the star chart, tracing several potential flight paths across the projection with his finger.
"Sir, Monlyth sits on the fringe of Protoss-controlled space, so routine patrol density is lower than in core sectors. We can leverage several asteroid belts and neutral space zones for a stealthy approach, but once we enter planetary orbit, the chances of detection will spike dramatically. The greatest risk isn't the transit, but surface operations after landing—we don't know the exact scale and response time of the Protoss ground forces."
Raynor listened to Matt's calm analysis, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the console table. Risk and opportunity hung balanced on the scales: on one side lay the critical artifact lead and resources the Raiders desperately needed; on the other lay the safety of every crew member and Marine on board.
After a long pause, he took a deep breath and made his call.
"Reply to the Foundation—we'll take the contract," his voice regained its usual firmness. "But tell them coordinates alone won't cut it. We need the most detailed Protoss deployment intel they can provide, plus structural scan data of that ruins complex. If they can deliver that, we'll make a run for it. If they can't, then we renegotiate the terms."
"Now that's what I'm talking about!" Tychus grinned, slapping Raynor on the shoulder. "Doing business with smart folks means putting the tough talk up front."