Chapter One
The Veteran
Among those it is not wise to mess with are thirty-five year old, female ex-jaeger pilots. They don't take kindly to being flirted with by drunks, nor do they care much for the scent of scotch upon a man's beard. Like all who trained under the Pan Pacific Defense Corps, they are tough fighters, who know where to apply the proper amount of force in order to bestow the gift of unconsciousness upon an adversary.
In early June, 2032 A.D., the above lesson was learned by a man in a Yorkshire pub. The woman who taught him the lesson was Bailey Gascoyne.
Her lecture for the day complete, she lowered her fist. In that moment, all was silence. She had the complete attention of every patron in the pub.
"My apologies," she said. "I believe I was out of line. You may throw me out now."
There was no reply.
"I threw a punch," Bailey repeated. "I deserve to be thrown into the street, no?"
"The man disgraced the establishment, insulting a veteran," said the man behind the counter. "We were going to throw him out, but you struck first."
"In that case," Bailey replied, gesturing at the man's inert form, "proceed." So saying, she turned her back on her fallen adversary and returned to her drink. She didn't even look behind her as the senseless drunk was dragged to the door. The experience she had just had was small fry compared to a kaiju on the rampage.
The barman had been right; Bailey Gascoyne was indeed a veteran.
When the Trespasser had struck San Francisco, she had been in her mid-teens. She remembered watching the footage on television in her Brompton home, awestruck, yet not truly comprehending what she was seeing. She had at first thought it was merely a preview of a made-for-TV monster movie with phenomenal special effects. Instead, it had proven to be all too real. And it had happened again and again- and again. So she had taken notice. She had followed the development of the jaeger program, and had entered it as soon as she was eligible. Her duties had taken her to Australia, where she had been assigned as the secondary pilot of that country's own jaeger, Vulcan Spector. She recalled the mech well, and as she lifted her glass once more, the memories came flooding back. Memories of training with Liam, the man she called her best friend. Memories of crushing kaiju and returning to the Sydney Shatterdome victorious. Memories of the dangerous battle that had left her critically injured and unable to return to service before the jaeger program was cancelled. Memories of hearing about Vulcan's destruction and Liam's narrow escape- of her substitute giving her life to allow his escape, as she would have done in his place. Memories of the war's end, which she had learned about after being transferred back to England.
Now, it's back to my early retirement. No more kaiju to kill, set for life after that bit of speculation and after receiving the monetary reward for my exceptional services.
Very bored.
She raised the glass and drained the remainder of the liquid. This done, she bid farewell to the host and exited the pub.
Her flat wasn't too far from the pub. It wasn't rundown by any means, but it was nevertheless fairly plain, its lack of extravagance belying her comfortable financial situation.
Bailey knew how to project an image. It was what she had done during her days as a jaeger pilot. With those days over, she kept only the portion of the image she cared about- her demeanor.
Ah, home she thought as she entered the living room and collapsed on the couch. Simple enough. Home in Brompton was even simpler, though. I'd have bought that place back, if it'd been for sale.
What to do now?
She fingered the television remote for several moments, eventually allowing herself to press the on switch. Idly, she began flipping channels, only to stop a few moments later at the sight of a lithe, tentacle-sporting monster clambering through a neighborhood consisting of houses that appeared to be built on stilts. The heading ran thusly:
Kaiju flattens Barrow, Alaska. Beast finally brought to bay, killed in tundra south of the town.
"Déjà vu," she muttered. Then, the full weight of what she was seeing sank in.
"More of them. Oh God help us."
She stared more intently at the screen. A reporter was no being shown, together with a very familiar face.
Marshal Hercules Hansen.
"The world is on the case, finding this new breach," the marshal was saying. "Meantime, I'm already in contact with veteran members of the PPDC. The jaeger program will be reactivated, and we will teach these brutes that it doesn't pay to come seeking revenge."
"But won't it take time to produce enough jaegers with enough capabilities to counter the threat?" the reporter asked. "The world wants to know, Marshal, what it should do until the mechs are ready- and whether they'll be able to meet the challenge when they are."
"I can't give you all the answers yet. But what I can tell you is that we've got a little something new up our sleeve. We'll be ready to face whatever comes and win- this time, for the last time."
Bailey turned the TV off.
More kaiju. Those alien scum didn't learn a thing from last time, did they?
…Did they? Why come at Earth a second time? What do they have now that they didn't before?
What do we have that we didn't before?
She tossed the remote aside.
Liam'll probably join up again in a heartbeat. Good old Liam, always the friend of humanity. As for me-
An images flashed through her mind of the wreckage of San Francisco. And then one of Manila. And then many more images, all of other cities. Tokyo, Hong Kong…
Abruptly, she stood up and headed for her bedroom. Opening a drawer in her desk, she retrieved a piece of paper with a number on it.
"Right where I left you."