A/N:
Pacific Rim AU. I'm taking some liberties on this one, particularly on the Pacific Rim side (I apologize, Hydra Corinthian!). I wanted things to align more closely with AoS, as it's my primary fandom, so I'm being a bit cavalier with some of the PR canon. My apologies for playing fast and loose on that side.
Credit for this story goes to Anuna, who asked recently what Skyeward's Jaeger name would be, and I couldn't stop thinking about it. This is my first attempt at a cross-over piece, so I'd appreciate any comments or feedback! Eventual Skyeward.
Ranger Grant Ward was in a somber mood as he gazed down at the rolling waves approaching Los Angeles. He hadn't been back to the States since his Academy days. He couldn't shake the sense that returning now meant defeat.
It wasn't even a kaiju that had taken them down, in the end. Ranger John Garrett wasn't the first Mark-1 pilot to succumb to cancer and Grant realized he wouldn't be the last. Staring at the coffin of his adoptive father, though, as they lowered it into the ground overlooking Panama Bay, it made him wonder if he could ever stand in a Jaeger command pod again.
There was no warning or preamble to the curt message ordering him to the Shatterdome in Los Angeles. It was just a date, a time and a chopper waiting for him on the tarmac in Panama City. Grant left without looking back. As the helicopter slowly floated down into LA, he wondered if he'd made a mistake.
Marshall Coulson was waiting for him as they landed. Grant had barely stepped from the chopper, when Coulson stepped forward with a quirky smile.
"Ranger Ward, it's a pleasure," the older man greeted with a solid handshake. "Welcome to the L.A. Shatterdome."
"Gracias, sir," Grant replied. "Oh. It's been a long time since I've worked on an English-speaking base, sir. You'll have to forgive me if I'm a bit slow to converse."
The marshall nodded, again with the offbeat grin. "Not a problem, Ranger. You're not here for conversation."
"Uhh, about that, sir," started Grant as he followed Coulson towards the base. "Why am I here?"
Coulson paused, and gestured towards the Shatterdome's massive Jaeger bay doors. "I don't care if you don't speak English, Ward," he said expansively. "I just need you to speak Antares."
Ward stopped still in his tracks. "Antares, sir? Antares… Redoubt?"
"You've heard of him," Marshall Coulson grinned.
Ward simply stared. Of course he had. Everyone on the planet probably had. Antares was the first Jaeger ever built with a triple pilot system, the largest of the Mark-3's and legendary even amongst Jaeger pilots. "Antares Redoubt," Ranger Ward repeated. "The West Coast Bulwark. Pride of Los Angeles. The Pharos of Ventura… and I don't even know what a 'pharos' is. So yeah, I've heard the name a time or two before."
"Pharos means 'lighthouse'," the marshall chuckled. "And I'm glad you're familiar with him, because he needs your help."
Grant grimaced. He wasn't sure he liked this Shatterdome's marshall, with his quirky, expressive face and casual anthropomorphizing. He realized he preferred his commanders much more serious, straight-laced. The marshall in Panama would not have approved, and neither did Grant. "You're down a pilot," he guessed, trying to cut to the heart of the matter.
Coulson's face dimmed slightly. "I am. We lost one of Antares' pilots in the battle against level 4 kaiju Haaku last month. He's... he's alive, but he's out of action. My J-tech analysts have been hunched over neural profiles since, and they tapped you as the most likely candidate to be drift compatible with the other two pilots."
Grant's frown intensified. "Sir… I don't know. I can't imagine drifting with anyone else but my father, and he's gone now…. let alone two anyone elses…." he broke off into silence.
Marshall Coulson clasped a warm hand to Grant's shoulder. "I think I understand, Ranger. I've been hearing almost the same story from Antares' remaining pilots. The bottom line, however, is that I've got 14 million people in this city alone who trust The Pharos of Ventura to keep the kaiju out of Los Angeles. I need another pilot in that cockpit, and it's a goddamn needle in a haystack proposition to match up a triple team. I hope you'll at least give him a look."
Grant was pensive as they entered the Jaeger bay. The bay here was no different than Panama, it was a crowded platform bustling with activity. J-techs buzzed around with cables and canisters, munitions and machines. Tripping over a fuel line roughly dragged Grant out of his thoughts.
"How many Jaegers are on base he…. is that a cat?" Grant began to ask before spotting a small, darting figure.
Again, the marshall flashed his eccentric grin. "Eight, and probably. We use cats to control the rats."
"Rats," Grant repeated flatly.
Marshall Coulson shrugged. "We're not that far from the Oxnard Bonefields, Ranger. We're not on the precious, sunny shipping lanes of the Panama Canal. This is where mankind and monsters have been dying. And with death comes rats."
They turned a corner and there it was: Antares Redoubt. Grant's jaw fell open without him even realizing it, earning him a rather smug smirk from the marshall. He'd seen the Jaeger in photos and on the news, he'd studied the specs at the Academy. He knew, in theory, that Antares was one of the biggest. That knowledge, however, had not prepared him how precisely how big The West Coast Bulwark really was. Seeing it in person rendered him speechless.
Antares Redoubt had been described by many as looking much like a gigantic robot bear, and Grant couldn't find fault with that analogy. The Jaeger's torso was rotund and massive, housing the twin nuclear reactors required to power the behemoth mech. Its arms were bigger than he had ever imagined, featuring Antares' unique Plasma Constrictor Weapon and ending in what he could only describe as massive clawed paws. The legs were comparably short and unlikely to be capable of high speed, but Grant could only imagine the power the visible torque drives and gyro-stabilizers gave them. Antares had been given a rust-red paint job that emphasized the overall bear appearance. Clearly the J-techs here had a sense of humour.
Marshall Coulson cleared his throat, and Grant's attention snapped back to him. "Well, what do you think of him?" he asked with interest.
Grant pursed his lips. "It's…. big. Very big. I see why it needs three pilots."
"Indeed," nodded the marshall, glancing around the bay. "And speaking of pilots, the others should be around here somewhere…"
Grant reached out quickly, almost but not quite grabbing Coulson's arm. "Sir, wait!" I'm… I'm really not…" He sighed. "It's not going to work, sir. I'm sorry."
Coulson turned around slowly. "What's not going to work, Ranger? The data indicates strongly that you're compatible."
Grant's expression was impassive. "You don't understand, sir. It's me, myself. Hydra Slingshot was the last Jaeger I'll ever pilot. My ability to ride the drift died along with my father, sir."
The marshall's face went uncharacteristically hard. "Your ability, or your willingness?"
The ranger's lips twitched. "Aren't they the same when it comes down to it, sir?"
Coulson gestured to a rather grimy bench pushed up against a bay wall before heading towards it and taking a seat. Ranger Ward followed reluctantly.
"I knew John Garrett, you know." Coulson began. "Knew him well, long before he took you under his wing. He was always the guy you wanted on your side, because he was willing to do whatever it took to get the job done. Do you understand what I'm saying, Ward?"
Grant's stomach twisted uneasily, but he managed a blank look at the marshall. "Not really, sir."
Coulson's eyes narrowed, but he nodded and turned his gaze back to the enormous red Jaeger. "Kaiju never stood a chance in front of John. The pair of you had how many kills in Hydra Slingshot, what, four?"
"And a few assists, yeah."
"That's impressive. You've got a lot to be proud of. It would be a huge loss to the Pan Pacific Defense Corps if you chose not to get back in the saddle."
Grant was considering the best way to let the marshall down when the entire bay echoed with a piercing feminine scream, followed by a rapid stream of foul language he had never heard the likes of. It seemed to coincide with several of the J-techs suddenly realizing they had pressing matters in other areas, and Grant watched with curiosity as they slinked away quickly.
"Well," said Coulson with a weary sigh, "looks like you're going to get to meet his pilots anyway."
As if on cue, a small and furious tornado in a red flight suit swept into full view, gesturing angrily at the disappearing technicians. Grant blinked slowly, wondering why the bottom of his stomach seemed to have fallen out unexpectedly.
"I will track you down!" the whirlwind bellowed after them. "Whichever one of you ēxīn de kūnchóng reprogrammed him to scroll 'BALLZ DEEP' across my control console is in SO. MUCH. TROUBLE!"
Laughter erupted across several Jaeger bays as Grant was finally able to bring the figure in front of them into focus. Some part of his mind vaguely registered that he had stopped breathing. It didn't really seem to matter. He stared, and the tornado stared back at him.
"Hi," it said brightly.
Replying didn't really occur to him. He doubt he could find his voice anyway.
Marshall Coulson stepped in smoothly. "Well, it's not exactly the introduction I had planned on, but this is Skye. Skye, Ranger Grant Ward, from Panama City."
"Oh, fab! Hydra Slingshot, right? Nice work on Flat-Top off the coast of Manta last year. Pretty fancy use of the railgun."
He was completely hypnotized. The tornado seemed to have dissipated, leaving in its place a small, olive-skinned woman with rich curls of brown hair and enormous chocolate eyes. Eyes that were blinking at him curiously, brow raised, probably wondering if he was mute or stupid or both….
"Oh, have you stopped shouting already?" a new voice inquired as it drifted into his rather hazy consciousness. This one was silky and British, apparently attached to the honey-blonde walking towards them. "I had anticipated a good ten minutes of threats and profanity. Something interesting must have derailed you, Skye. Looks to be the case."
"And this is Jemma Simmons," Marshall Coulson smiled, gesturing at the newcomer. "Simmons, this is Grant Ward."
"Ahhh," Jemma's eyes brightened. "You're Hydra!"
He shifted his wide-eyed stare to Simmons, and found it was easier to talk. "Yes, that's right," he croaked. Well… slightly easier.
"It's a pleasure," she replied, holding her hand out. He stood and shook it heartily. "I'm still very uneasy about this whole proposition," Jemma continued. "I hope you understand. Coulson told us that you're keen to get started, but it's only been a month since Haaku and I don't think I'm ready. I mean, I'm not ready. I know that. I also know that the marshall is nervous that word will get out about Antares being out of service and panic will ensue, which of course it would, that's obvious, I mean Angelenos are absolutely the best and they practically worship this big ol' bear. If they knew… if they knew about Fitz…." her babbling commentary trailed off.
Grant's mind was swimming. His glanced back and forth between the women, clad in identical red flight suits. Only now did he notice the suits had the same logo on the left breast: a bright star in a constellation, over top a rust-coloured bear. Antares Redoubt.
"You're its pilots," he blurted out. An awkward moment of silence followed, broken only by a faint and peculiar sound. Multiple brows furrowed. It sounded almost like a tiny little meow.
"Skye," the marshall groaned, pinning the smaller woman with an exasperated look.
She chuckled softly and began to unzip her flight suit. Grant's lungs stopped working again. He wished they would stop doing that.
"Oh, for pity's sake," Jemma rolled her eyes at her co-pilot as she reached into the front of her suit.
"She was cold!" Skye exclaimed as she pulled out a tiny scruff of grey, stripy fur. The lump of fur meowed again and stretched, little fuzzy legs and a spiky tail appearing.
Coulson and Simmons looked resigned. Grant looked incredulous. He took several shaky steps backward before turning, panicked, to the marshall.
"I can't do it," he burst out with nervously. "They are beautiful and they are women and she's 'ballz deep' and crazy with a kitten down her shirt and… and…." his inability to breathe properly caught up with him as he babbled and he was suddenly dizzy. He chose to handle this by spinning around and walking as quickly as possible from the Jaeger bay.
Skye grinned broadly, and shoved the mewling kitten back into her flight suit. "Well," she chirped brightly. "I thought that went well!"