Author's Notes: I actually didn't plan the posting of this story to result in this chapter being ready on the eve of Remembrance Day/Veterans Day/Armistice Day, but once I realized it was, it seemed fitting to update tonight with a chapter dealing with the loss of men and women to war. The title of the chapter even comes from the Ode of Remembrance, in memory of the World War I dead one hundred years ago.

Chapter Thirty-Six: With Their Laughing Comrades

January 25, 2019…
Lima Shatterdome…

It had been some kind of ruptured fuel line or steam explosion that blasted shrapnel into the air as two of the Jaeger Program Pave Hawks had been helping evacuate survivors from a crushed shelter.

Romeo Blue's Lager Four and Gipsy Danger's Whiskey Gamma were bringing in their EMT crews. Lager Four had been lifting off after dropping the medics off, with Whiskey Gamma nearby. Then the explosion's blast had torn Lager Four apart.

The big chopper's rotor blades and chunks of its hull had flown in every direction. There was nothing the other crew could have done to evade the debris. Shrapnel had torn through Whiskey Gamma's rotors, into her windows, and the Pave Hawk had spun out of control and hit the ground with a fiery explosion.

There had been twelve people on board: Airman pilot Brandon Pines and his crew of three, and seven EMTs, including Nicola Harris, all under the command of Personnel Coordinator Antwan Ferrier.

None of them survived.

Hardship claimed almost a thousand lives. That didn't include the pilots of Diablo Intercept, for what small comfort the Jaeger Program could take from that. Benjamin Gonzalez and Felipe Jara would never pilot again; Felipe's spine was broken in two places, and Ben would end up with a metal plate in his skull. Recovery would be lifelong for both of them, but they would live. Even Diablo Intercept himself might be salvaged in the end.

But the PPDC lost over two hundred personnel. The nuclear emergency response teams managed to prevent a total core meltdown of Diablo's - but many of them gave their own lives to do it. The damage from Romeo's duel through Concepción and the surrounding towns was widespread, and amid aftershocks from the earthquake, multiple buildings came down with people and rescue workers still inside. Every single Jaeger crew at the Lima Shatterdome had lost some of their strike troopers.

A part of Yancy tried to focus on the big picture, to remind himself that he and Raleigh and Team Gipsy weren't the only ones grieving. But it was hard to think beyond the most immediate hurt, the most immediate empty spaces in front of them.

Brandon. Nikki. Antwan. Nine more, guys who'd played poker and sung (or critiqued) karaoke, girls who'd danced at the crew parties and joked along the tables in the mess hall. Some military and some civilian, all joined for different reasons but dragged themselves out of bed for drills in the morning and cheered after successful practice runs. Gone.

Yancy and Raleigh spent the days after Hardship on a constant rotation around the Lima Shatterdome, from the infirmary to Diablo's bay to their own, looking in on Bruce and Trevin, then on Diablo's support crew, then their own crew.

Bruce and Trevin were near-enough comatose for forty-eight hours after returning to the Dome, unconscious in the infirmary under Dr. Faison's watchful eyes. And what miserable news they had to wake up to: their own lost R&R crew. Yancy and Raleigh took turns with the Khouris and some of Team Romeo's support staff sitting with them. Carolina and Romeo's own PR liaison/moral support chief, Darrell Sullivan, was there with them when Marshall Pentecost told them some of their strike troopers had been killed.

Already drained to their limits from a sixteen-hour handshake and half-day of brutal fighting, the twins cried. Yancy didn't blame them, and had a feeling no one else did either.

What was starting to worry him was that Raleigh hadn't.

His brother was conscientious about the other crews and their own, spending time sitting with the Gages or giving their fellows a shoulder, but through it all, he was quiet. He hugged Chloe Warner when she came off the plane with the K-Watch crews and started to cry the minute she saw her brother. He and Tendo sat on either side of Cady Spencer when he cracked while helping clean out Antwan's locker and found that fisherman's cap. Putting the cap in a place of honor among several other mementos was Raleigh's idea.

But Yancy could almost feel the strain inside his brother, and knew Raleigh's numbness wasn't good. The first time he really seemed to react was when they met with Marshall Pentecost to talk about the return of their crewmates' bodies to the US - and in Antwan's case, Jamaica. "It's only been a week since the last movement in the Breach, sir. We should go with that plane. Antwan Ferrier was the only non-American in... Gipsy's casualties; all the rest were even from the same state."

Pentecost looked uncomfortable for the first time that Yancy could recall. "Coverage isn't the only concern here, Rangers. Especially in the case of Mr. Ferrier, the death of a non-Pacific national against a kaiju will garner some attention."

Raleigh looked from him to Yancy in confusion, but Yancy had no more idea than he did what Pentecost was talking about. "I don't understand."

Pentecost looked a little run down himself these days. "There is some public frustration with us after Concepción. Some of the questions that were raised in Guayaquil are coming up again." Seeing their baffled expressions, he elaborated, "Questions of whether meeting the kaiju with walking nuclear reactors is doing more harm than good."

Heat began to gather in Yancy's chest, and he saw Raleigh bristling too. "Really." Okay, fine, what exactly did they think would work better than Jaegers? "So they'd rather go back to just nuclear warheads?" Raleigh kept his voice impressively level.

And there was an edge in Pentecost's tone that made Yancy wonder if he was irritated with someone other than Raleigh this time. "That point has been made, and there haven't been many good replies. However, there are concerns with the PPDC about too much focus on the pilots visibly mourning."

"What?" Yancy stared at him. "Not even our own crew?!"

"I'm not saying that, Ranger Becket." But somebody is. That's what he's trying to tell us. "The people we've lost deserve the honors we've already given them, and more, and it reflects only good on both of you that you want to escort their plane home." Pentecost looked down. Yancy knew he'd been with the British RAF before K-Day; anybody could tell, the guy might as well have "Career Military" tattooed on his forehead. It went without having to say. But... by that same token, he obviously knew all too well how Team Gipsy felt at this moment. Air force officers worked in crews too. "Understand this: the time may come... the time will come when I or your other superiors can't give you leave to mourn those we've lost. There will be other events like Guayaquil, like Concepción, high-fatality engagements, and if the rate of attacks continues to accelerate, the Rangers will not be free to pay all the respects that our comrades deserve."

Yancy felt cold now. Diablo Intercept was down; Felipe and Ben were down, if alive. Tidal Dragon was decommissioned, and rumor had it that Jiro Shindo was terminally ill from radiation exposure. Silver Lion's pilots had died, and nobody knew whether Lion could be salvaged. Attacks were coming two months apart now instead of three or four. What if we start to run out of Jaegers... or pilots?

But Antwan... Nikki... Brandon... all the rest. They've died, they have to be buried. They died in the line of duty. How can we not be the ones to take them home? We were their Rangers.

Because he couldn't argue with the ultimate truth of what Pentecost was warning, he asked instead, "Is this that time, sir?"

Pentecost looked from him to Raleigh and back. Then he shook his head. "No. I'll give you and Gipsy's crew leave to join Antwan Ferrier's escort to Jamaica, then you can join the group returning to Los Angeles where the American officers will land."

"Thank you, sir."

January 28, 2019…
University of Colorado, Boulder…

Naomi Sokolov saw no reason to deny being a Jaeger Fly. At twenty-one, a Journalism major with several awards under her belt, she might not brag about the dates she'd gone on with Rangers so much anymore, but she still loved the Jaeger Program, and everyone around her knew it.

She was a little embarrassed by some of the things she'd gotten up to in Anchorage and freshman year, but not much. "I was a dumb teenager. It's not like I did anything terrible." She didn't brag anymore about having gone out with Yancy Becket, but she didn't deny it either. To those who sneered that she'd been a notch in his bedpost, she shrugged. "And he was a notch in mine. We're even."

As a student, she'd gained enough knowledge of the Jaeger Program and enough skill at writing that she started getting assignments on it regularly. It was a resume booster and a bragging point, and when she landed one of the only student interviews with Duc Jessop for his visit to campus, she considered that a crown jewel in her fledgling career.

In thirty minutes, her entire outlook changed.

Duc Jessop was a handsome man, but Naomi knew he'd been recently widowed, and had developed some tact - and some professionalism. She asked about his service before the Jaeger Program and K-Day, and his training for Tacit Ronin, skirting carefully around the subject of his late wife. But when she asked what led him to this university tour, his answer startled her. "Several things. I'm... looking to keep busy. And still under orders."

"Orders to do what?"

"Keep the outlook on the Jaeger Program positive."

Naomi frowned. "Off the record... would your personal outlook be less positive?"

The Ranger eyed her. "You do know what off the record means, love."

She turned off her dictaphone and said firmly, "I won't even write it down if you don't want me to. But the Jaeger Program is a special project, and it's important to know more than the official line."

Now he grinned, more broadly than the polite, neutral smile that he'd been giving the deans and the reporters. "Grown up a bit, then?" She turned bright red, and he laughed. He had a nice laugh. "I recognized your name. You'd a bit of a reputation at Kodiak - not to worry, I don't hold it against you."

Chagrined, she mumbled, "I was a dumb teenager, I admit it."

"And god knows, there's not much entertainment up there. I never did get used to the weather."

"Will you not be going back to teach at the Academy after... the tour?"

"No, I will. They need some experienced pilots to live to speak about it, firsthand." He looked at her phone, still off, and said quietly, "That's a rarity. Off the record, I have a feeling it'll always be."

Naomi ran her mind through the names of every Ranger. Only five had died so far, but out of less than forty? A chill began to grow deep inside her chest. "All I really have access to are the official reports of fatalities. Are there... other complications from piloting?"

"My wife died of cancer after two years of piloting a nuclear powered mech. She wasn't the first of us to be diagnosed, and she won't be the last."

"Tidal Dragon." Her pilots had been retired, and only one of them appeared in public. "Coyote Tango... but she's is still in service." Naomi could only recall having seen one of Coyote's original pilots in the past year either.

"Yes, refitted with more shielding, and stronger protocols for pre-medicating the pilots. In the early days, we were so desperate we didn't care. Hell, I'm not even saying that was wrong. But there was a price, and the higher-ups don't want to acknowledge that when the Jaeger Program is really showing success."

"Did you all know what you were signing up for?"

"An experiment, yes. An act of desperation. After San Francisco, Cabo, and Sydney, how much worse could it get? Now we have to pretend it's under control, and there isn't still a human cost."

"There are protests after Concepción," she murmured. "Questions about the toxic waste from the Jaegers' nuclear power. Isn't it still better than the alternatives?"

"Of course." The great Duc Jessop looked tired and worn, and Naomi recalled images of him with more energy, more life. Laughing, grinning, more like the Tunaris, the Gages, or the Beckets. Granted, he'd had a wife then and still been an active pilot - was grief the only reason? Why shouldn't it be?

"Would you like to talk about your wife? On or off the record?" she asked carefully, and prayed she wasn't cruel for asking.

To her intense relief, he didn't seem hurt by her asking. But he told her, "It can only be off the record. Rangers aren't supposed to be seen mourning. It's bad morale."

"What?! But..." But she was your wife! "Whose policy is that? The Jaeger Program? The commanders, the UN?" Whoever it was, who the hell did they think they were?! Where did they get off putting a restriction like that on this man and the others like him?!

"Some among each, I reckon, people with very particular notions about how Rangers should be seen. Even the memorials of our combat casualties have resistance. It draws attention to death, never mind that we know most of the ones who died in the line of duty."

Naomi was appalled. "But that's sacred," she protested weakly. "In almost every country, we have memorial traditions for our troops. The reports out of Concepción and Guayaquil - you lost hundreds of first responders. How could the Rangers not honor them?"

Just so." She thought maybe he was pleased by her outrage. She'd certainly abandoned all notions of jounalistic neutrality. "Not to mention that we don't deploy in a vacuum. Every Jaeger in the Lima Dome lost some of their crews in Concepción, people they trained and drilled and worked with. Kaori and I lost quite a few friends in the early days." The Ranger sighed. "And all that's off the record."

A part of her longed to write a furious, inflamed exposé, to call out anyone who said that heroes shouldn't be seen honoring their own. But what would she bring down on this man who'd already risked - and lost - so much?

"How can I help you, sir? What can I do for all of you?"

His smile was bittersweet, and his answer was truly terrible. "In a year, maybe two, I'll be gone. Maybe by then, the time will be right to start talking whether the brass likes it or not. For now... remember we were mortal. Remind the world if you can."

It was a few minutes before she could ask. "Have you... been diagnosed too?" He just nodded, still smiling. "I'm sorry."

Ranger Jessop shrugged. "I suppose it's too bad I probably won't see the end of this war. On the other hand..." he gave her another, fuller smile. "I'll be back with her soon, if you believe that sort of thing."

She wasn't sure if she did believe that sort of thing. But if anyone deserves an afterlife, you do. "Thank you for trusting me."

"Thank you for listening. For seeing us."

Naomi was very distracted for the rest of the day. Her friends and classmates assumed she was starstruck, or just emoting over his tragic loss. Well, in a way, both were true.

The next day, there was a small news story from Jamaica that got briefly picked up by the national outlets. Her roommate called, "Hey, Naomi, it's your boyfriend!"

Only a few local reporters had covered the arrival of a plane bearing the body of a Jamaican national from the PPDC who'd died in Concepción. It was just a "local interest" piece until the few family and community with cameras had set eyes on the pallbearers bringing the flag-draped coffin off the plane onto the airstrip. The uniformed PPDC officers weren't a surprise to see, but then someone exclaimed, "It's the Beckets!"

It was. Gasps and cries of shock rang out; some of the bystanders started to cry. The six people carrying Personnel Coordinator Antwan Ferrier's coffin all wore the insignia of Gipsy Danger, and the two in front were the Rangers themselves. They were pure dignity, the picture of honor. Even the reporters and newscasters relaying the story seemed speechless.

Naomi was not ashamed of having slept with Yancy Becket. But she found herself a little ashamed now, because only now did she feel like she was really looking at him and his brother. "Thank you for seeing us," Duc Jessop had said.

I see you now. You've lost a friend. You'll miss him. They're more than just symbols. So are you.

She researched the casualties of Hardship. Gipsy Danger had lost an entire strike troop crew, commanded by the Jamaican man whose coffin the Beckets were carrying. Searching out candid pictures of the crews, she saw those people with the Beckets and the other Rangers, often. A big black man in a fisherman's cap, arm-wrestling with someone at a party, cheered on by the Beckets and the Gages. A group of airmen, the command chopper pilots, showing model Pave Hawks to schoolchildren, explaining how they worked. That pretty EMT that Raleigh had dated, freaking out over a snake. A big group of them playing beach volleyball in Lima, wearing T-shirts that said Whiskey Gamma, and the back of each shirt had a different quote from Indiana Jones. A group picture from that same beach party with the Beckets wearing Indiana Jones fedoras.

They weren't just coworkers or comrades in arms. They were friends. Now these people, all of them, not just the Rangers, they were grieving. And they were honoring men and women who were no less heroes than the ones inside the Jaeger conn-pods.

That was the angle she took for her story, careful not to drop a hint that Duc Jessop had given anything other than the company line. But there was plenty of precedent for praising soldiers who honored their fallen, and so she could do that without seeming radical. She cited the memorial history of the US, the UK, and every country with moving tributes to its war heroes. She invoked the power and glory of military funerals, and praised the Beckets for their actions in Jamaica and at El Segundo Base in LA where the American casualties were brought home in flag-draped caskets to their parent nation's soil.

"The Jaeger Program made more heroes than the teams who pilot the machines. Every man and woman who serves on their crews, supports the equipment, pilots their escorts, and works on rescue deserves to be honored for their sacrifice."

January 30, 2019…
Los Angeles Shatterdome…

The fences of the LA Shatterdome and El Segundo military base were woven with flowers. Yancy's ears rang with gunfire, but not from combat. Twenty-one-gun salutes for twelve of his friends, returned to their home countries for burial, and Yancy and Raleigh had attended the funerals of every one of them. Another seven from Team Romeo's R&R crew, some friends, some just casual acquaintances. All their own people. All mourned, all missed.

"The Gages are still in the hospital, so we're representing the American teams from Lima," he explained to the press.

Team Yankee, Team Matador, and Team Mammoth stuck close to them, marching out in formation with the Los Angeles-based crews for each memorial. That wasn't surprising. Neither was the fact that they helped run interference with the press - and the psychs. Yancy was deeply grateful for that, because even though the Beckets hadn't gotten near Hardship, he was starting to fear they'd end up grounded before long due to the aftermath.

Raleigh wasn't sleeping. In public, he was all decorum, more than Yancy had ever seen. Rals was composed through the memorial service, saluting on cue and dignified when Taps played. Carolina had quietly observed to Yancy that the psychs and the brass were taking it as an indication that the younger Becket was finally growing up.

Fuck them. As if losing so many friends is just a life lesson. And anyone who knew Raleigh could tell damn well that this was not a good sign.

"I'm fine," Rals kept insisting. He let Yancy hug him before and after memorials, and initiated hugs of his own, but Yancy could sense the difference. So could their other close friends, like Tendo, Christian, and Cady.

To Yancy's intense surprise, Lea came to talk to him. At least, he was surprised until he considered that if anyone was an expert on grief, it was Lea Franklin of San Jose, California. "People handle things differently. It doesn't mean he's doing it wrong."

Yancy sighed. He still felt awkward around her, always wondering if she was still nursing feelings for him, and worrying that anytime he went to her for a favor, it would be patently unfair. But this was for his brother's sake. "I gotta admit, I kind of wanted to ask you."

She lowered her eyes, but smiled. "I know, I noticed. And... you can, it's okay. For a long time, yeah, I couldn't talk about it, but it's better now. And helping people with this kind of thing... that can help me too."

He hadn't thought of that. "You think that's what Rals is doing? Is that good, him helping the others?"

"Doesn't it help you? That's what you've been doing," Lea pointed out.

Now he grimaced. If only he could claim such selfless motives. "I guess, but... it's more like trying to distract myself."

Lea nodded, eyes distant, but she looked more thoughtful than distressed. Even so, he felt guilty for putting this on her, making her talk about it for his sake rather than her own. "You know the stages of grief?"

"I know denial's one. That's what I'm worried about."

"Books and psychs make it sound like a twelve-step program, as if you've got to do it in order or you get it wrong." She met his eyes, and he saw conviction in hers. She was still a small woman, still shy, but she was starting to look and sound older. "They're wrong. It's different for everybody. There were eight of us on that trip to Tokyo, on K-Day, plus two chaperones. All of us lost somebody. Six of us lost everybody."

He swallowed hard and dared to ask: "What happened to the others?"

Her voice was steady as she answered. He couldn't fathom how. "One of the teachers killed herself. So did one of the kids. Some just... disappeared. Two went into social services. They're both grief counselors now, helping people too. Four of us joined up, including me." She smiled wearily. "All of us had setbacks. Episodes. I still do. One day you think you're on top of it, you've got it under control, and the next... you're drowning. Sometimes you're numb. Sometimes you hate everyone."

"Should I do anything? Can I do anything?" Do I even have the right to try?

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "If you weren't Rangers, I'd say take it day by day. But..." Lea wrinkled her nose.

Yeah, that was a point, a big one. They couldn't handle anger and conflict like normal people. Time and kaiju wouldn't allow it. It followed that they weren't free to grieve normally either.

Yet... he couldn't go to the psychs. Not behind Raleigh's back. That would be a betrayal, and he doubted the headshrinkers would do any good either. They treat us and our emotions like variables in a fucking equation, or robots. Like they're the pilots and we're the Jaegers, and they control us from inside our own heads. He hated it and knew Raleigh did too.

"I have to do something, though," he murmured. "I can't... we're Rangers, on active duty. We can't be normal. Not even now. And I didn't realize that when I got us into this."

Now Lea frowned at him. "Way to make Raleigh sound like a mindless minion."

"Dammit!" Devi and Susanti would kick his ass for that, with cause. "I didn't mean that."

"I hope you won't deny Raleigh his share of the credit."

Who'd said that? He couldn't place it, so it must have been after a drop. Drift shock left his memories foggy.

"I don't know what to do," he confessed quietly. He told himself it wasn't a betrayal to talk about Raleigh to Lea this way. She was nothing if not discreet, and she wasn't a superior or a shrink, just a friend. A friend who'd been there - been there far more than any of them. "I don't think he's okay, and... I'm not okay either. We have to be ready."

But she had no real answer for him. "I don't know what's the right thing to do," she said. "Other than talking to him yourself."

So he did. He and Rals went running on the edges of the base grounds, to avoid paparazzi and PPDC cameras. For several miles, they both kept their eyes on the bulk of the Dome to avoid seeing the flower-decked fence. Finally, Yancy stopped and made himself look.

Only nine days since so much had changed. Another Jaeger down, pilots clinging to life, probably crippled permanently. Dozens of their friends and colleagues dead, hundreds of civilians too, people they'd tried so hard to protect.

"Yance?"

Unable to look at Raleigh, he plucked a random card from the fence. It was decorated with poppies, addressed with a child's scrawling handwriting.

Dear Rangers and your crew,

Thank you for fighting the kaiju. I am sorry for your loss. My family is praying for you. Get well soon.

Raleigh's hand was on his shoulder. "Why torture yourself?"

"I'm not okay," he murmured. And neither are you. He kept that part back. It wouldn't help to put his brother on the defensive. "I don't know what to do." Raleigh's hand rose to his head, fingers in his sweat damp hair, as he observed bitterly what he and Lea had before. "We can't even mourn like normal people."

"What's normal anyway?" Raleigh shifted into his path to keep him from turning away. This was one of those moments when Yancy was keenly aware that his little brother was taller than he was, and not a kid anymore. "Don't think I haven't noticed you side-eyeing me, Yancy-man."

"Sorry," Yancy muttered sheepishly. Yeah, he hadn't exactly been subtle. "I just... what if it hits all at once?"

Now Raleigh dropped his eyes. "It's not like she was the love of my life," he murmured.

"I know. We all do. But that doesn't mean... and she's not the only one... missing." Gone. Gone and not coming back, ever. "It's like we're... stuck."

"I'm not doing it on purpose. Just... sort of numb." Raleigh looked at the fence, but didn't seem to flinch the way Yancy did. "Maybe that's better."

"Do you like it?" He didn't mean it to sound so accusing, but his brother stiffened.

"No!" Raleigh protested. "I don't! But what else is there to do, rip it open and lose it?!" He walked away a few paces, looked at the fence, and then at the ground. "There's... it's the psychs too. I get freaking nauseated when I think about that."

Yancy sighed, staring at the card in his hand. He'd have to take it back to the Dome now; it didn't seem right to just leave it or throw it away. "Yeah, I'm not too keen on that either. They'd treat it like just another thing to analyze." He smiled bitterly. "So I'm trying to analyze it myself, get ahead of 'em."

Raleigh made a noise like a half-laugh. "At least you know they were people, not - " his voice broke. It startled him as much as it did Yancy, and he quickly turned away.

"Rals." Yancy caught his arm. Raleigh didn't turn back, but didn't jerk away either. "Maybe just... let it out." His own voice was getting very rough.

"I don't want to," Raleigh whispered.

Yancy tugged, and this time Raleigh turned around to embrace him. "That makes two of us," Yancy admitted.

February 11, 2019…
Lima Shatterdome…

It was Carolina who finally yanked them all out of the rut, with Tendo Choi as her unlikely (but not unwilling) ally. Three weeks after Romeo Blue defeated Hardship, the teams got their new assignments for the post-engagement shuffle. Matador Fury was reassigned to Lima while Romeo was in repair, along with Solar Prophet and Gipsy Danger. Amazon Delta went back to Panama with Hydra Corinthian, Rio Sentry, and Puma Real.

In Lima, the crew of Gipsy Danger was met by their newly-appointed replacement crew for Whiskey Gamma. It was awkward, to say the least. To Raleigh's relief, the new strike troopers were professional. Most came from the same military stock as Brandon Pines and Yankee Star's crew. They didn't take Team Gipsy's standoffishness personally, though Raleigh felt bad for not being more welcoming of them at first. He just... wasn't quite ready. He knew Yancy and the others felt the same.

Three days in, they were all at breakfast when the base drill alarm sounded: "Gipsy Danger, report to Bay 01 for full deployment test. All hands on deck."

For a moment, everyone just sat there. Then Tendo's voice came over the com from LOCCENT. "That's a muster drill, Team Gipsy. Previous time, forty-nine minutes. Let's break the record for absent friends, guys."

Raleigh's throat closed, and he heard it so clearly in his mind that surely the others did too. A Caribbean accent, singing out: Muster drill, muster drill!

And Yancy stood up, banging the table. "You heard him, Gipsy crew, on deck. Let's go."

They abandoned breakfast and started running. Even though they hadn't drifted since Hardship, Raleigh caught Yancy's elbow to keep him from getting too far ahead on the way to the bay. When they passed the main door and saw the fisherman's cap above Gipsy's status screen... Raleigh knew he was going to break. But Yancy looked at him and stopped him in the empty hall outside the drive suit room. He pulled Raleigh to him, pressing their foreheads together.

"We'll make it," he hissed through clenched teeth. "For them. We won't let 'em down."

Raleigh could only nod, but squeezed Yancy's arm, feeling him trembling.

It was hard to look anyone in the eye as they suited up, and instead of the usual banter and chatter, lots of breaths were hitching. So Raleigh could draw some consolation that he wasn't the only one feeling close to the edge. Nobody commented on the state of the pilots, and to his genuine surprise, the psychs didn't come swooping down to haul them all in for counseling. Once he was gloved and armored and getting ready to pull on his helmet, wiping his face was getting difficult. Christian grabbed some tissues and did it for him, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Yancy's techs doing the same.

"Least I'm not the only one," Raleigh muttered wryly.

Christian made a noise like a snort - or something else - and Raleigh looked up and saw how wet the crew's faces were. That did it; he was sobbing, but laughing too. So was Yancy. So was their team. It was mortifying... but comforting at the same time. It didn't make sense, and it didn't really have to.

"You guys okay?" asked someone from the doorway.

Yancy drew a shaky breath and reached for his helmet. "Yeah, yeah. We've got it. We're okay."

"We're okay," Raleigh agreed, pulling himself together. Their crews dried their tears once more, and they put their helmets on.

Stacker had his doubts when Carolina Olivares proposed an unscheduled full drill only days after Whiskey Gamma was reassigned. Her additional insistence that the Psych Analysts not interfere was unorthodox, and many of the Dome staff were expecting a full-scale meltdown.

But Dr. Faison backed the plan, and aided Olivares in enlisting Tendo Choi. "This is a hurdle they need to get over early while we're safest. Going through the deployment without their friends. Let them have their moment to mourn if they need it, and don't punish them for it."

"They'll all lose it," one of the psychs predicted. "The Rangers will be out of alignment from start to finish, assuming the crew can even get them into the conn-pod on time."

There were days where Stacker wondered just who hired the Psych Analysts and what their qualifications were. There were a lot of those days. This was one of them. The prediction was, he supposed he had to admit, partially right. As the drive suit techs finished prepping the Rangers before drop, Team Gipsy was still well within the time requirements, but one of the doctors (sour at not being allowed to observe) asked, "So, who's crying in there?"

Faison shrugged, physically keeping herself between the security feed and unsympathetic eyes. "It'd be easier to tell you who's not."

"But they're on schedule," Olivares pointed out.

Choi and Spencer had their backs to Stacker and the other staff, but he could see their faces in the reflection of the LOCCENT screens - and the wet trails visible there. Olivares was wiping her eyes, untroubled by what anyone thought. "They needed this. They're meeting all the times, and they'll get it done."

She was right. They did.

Raleigh and Yancy braced themselves hard for the handshake, knowing the rabbits that would be waiting for them in the drift. And they both knew that just shouting something stupid about comics or pink elephants probably wouldn't be enough if they went out of alignment.

"Prepare for neural handshake, Rangers." Jesus, even Pentecost sounded like he was trying to be nice to them. Was that a good sign, or just an indication that they were completely screwed?

"You guys ready?" Tendo asked.

"Yeah," said Yancy, looking sideways at Raleigh. Raleigh nodded. "Yeah, we're ready. Let's do it."

Tendo counted down, and Raleigh fought to keep breathing. He hadn't been so nervous about a handshake in years. Focus, focus, focus...

They plunged into the drift space.

"Let's break the record for absent friends."

"Muster drill, muster drill!"

"Whiskey Gamma's down."

"It's not like she was the love of my life." But after Nicola Harris's memorial, Raleigh made himself find Brady Harris. Nikki's cousin wasn't surprised to see him coming, nor was the man with him. Raleigh managed not to cringe; it had to be her dad.

No blame, though... Raleigh made himself look the man in the eye, shake his hand. After all, Nikki had been his friend...

"Rals?" Yancy's voice, in his mind and in his ears, brought him back to the present.

He cleared his throat and muttered, "Yeah, I'm good. Left hemisphere, calibrating."

Not exactly good, but he was aligned. "Good job, Gipsy." They heard applause over the speakers as they brought their hands together and finished calibrating. There would be four chopper crews out on the pad as they rolled out, waiting to launch in formation around them.

I thought Brandon Pines was full of it at the Academy. He just wanted to pilot a Jaeger so much. He'd lost so many people on K-Day...

He got the mental equivalent of an embrace from Yancy. Not as good as the real thing after a rough drift, but it was still comforting. It's okay, Rals. We all learned better.

Brandon had been the one to warn them, when he'd come back to be their support pilot after Guayaquil. You lost people in combat. You had to keep moving. That was what they were doing. "It's a way of honoring them."

We'll try, buddy.

But that meant turning their mental eyes away from images of a girl in a red dress, dancing and laughing, never realizing how soon she was going to die. A big man in a fisherman's cap, dancing, joking, looking out for everybody. Team Dad by popular appointment, the oldest of the crew after Carolina.

"Well, I'm old enough to be both of your dads!"

I wish you had been -

The handshake was wavering, sliding off-course and out of the present. "Gipsy One, you're starting to drift off. Yancy? You're going out of alignment!" Cady warned.

Yancy grunted and shook his head. "Sorry... I got it."

Why are they gone? Why do they have to be gone? Was that Raleigh's thought or Yancy's? Or both? Did it matter?

They held onto the handshake and reality as the crawler rolled them towards the bay doors. I don't know why they're gone. Just that we're still here, so we have to keep going.

If they looked, they could see each other in the drift space, like an after-image from bright light. It could trigger rabbits to focus on their mental selves, but there were so many floating around today that it didn't really matter. And in the drift space, Raleigh could cry and nobody but Yancy would know. And Yancy wouldn't tell.

Just keep moving. They leaned on each other in the drift space, and in the real world, the bay doors opened, and Gipsy Danger stepped back out into the sunlight.

To be continued...

Coming Soon: The Jaeger Program and our heroes move on from the losses to Hardship in a world of where propaganda and politics can have as much power as any kaiju attack. And with summer 2019 comes a new attacker, Clawhook, and a battle that pushes Raleigh and Yancy's bond past the limit in Chapter Thirty-Seven: Endurance.

PLEASE don't forget to review!

Original Character Guide

Benjamin (Ben) Gonzalez and Felipe Jara: Diablo Intercept's Rangers, mid-30s, Chilean, worked together on a submarine in the Chilean Navy before K-Day. They suffered severe and probably permanent injuries in the fight with Hardship.

Jiro and Hayase Shindo: the pilots of Tidal Dragon, Japan's Mark-2 Jaeger, late 20s, foster siblings. Tragically, they only fought one battle before Tidal Dragon was discovered to have a severe design flaw resulting in massive radiation exposure to her crew, forcing them to retire and the Jaeger to be decommissioned.

Carolina Olivares: Gipsy Danger's Public Relations Representative, Mexican-American, mid-60s, crew den mother.

Christian Warner: Gipsy Danger drivesuit technician, age 28, African-American from Atlanta, GA, attended academy with Beckets and his sister, Chloe, who is now in K-Watch.

Chloe Warner: K-Watch worker in Honolulu, transferred after she and her brother Christian failed to become Rangers at Academy. Age 26.

Cady Spencer: Gipsy Danger LOCCENT Technician (along with Tendo Choi), Filipino-American, age 28 from Portland, Oregon.

Lea Franklin: J-Tech Engineer, age 19, lived in San Jose, California. Sole survivor of K-Day out of her family because she was traveling abroad with a school group. Extremely gifted, but has intense social anxiety due to PTSD. Failed the second cut, but stayed with PPDC and joined J-Tech.

Brady Harris: Public Relations Representative for Yankee Star, America's Mark-2 Jaeger. African-American, late 30s, he lost his cousin's daughter, Nicola Harris, when Gipsy Danger's chopper Whiskey Gamma was destroyed.

Strike Troop Whiskey Gamma - destroyed in the aftermath of Hardship with all hands, claiming 12 lives

Brandon Pines: PAVE Hawk pilot, early 30s from Monterey, CA, transferred from the US Air Force, went through Jaeger Academy Class 2016-B with the Beckets and Tendo. One of a minority of pilots from California to survive direct combat with Trespasser.

Nicola (Nikki) Harris: Rescue/recovery EMT, age 21 from San Diego, CA, black/Latina. Occasionally had a casual hook-up with Raleigh, graduated Jaeger Academy Class 2017-A on her second try as a support officer.

Antwan Ferrier: Gipsy Danger Personnel Coordinator. Age 39, Jamaican national, oldest member of Class 2016-B in the Jaeger Academy with the Beckets and Tendo. Took part in the rescue effort when Kaiceph attacked Cabo San Lucas in 2014, where he was working as a civilian cruise ship steward.