Atlas' Burden

Raleigh, the Hansens, and the Kaidonovskys walked through the Shatterdome doors, greeted by the cheers of J-Techs and K-Scientists, and Mako and Iwa pushed through to stand at their sides. Raleigh stood in the center, flanked by Herc and Charlie, and they were flanked by the Kaidonovskys on one side and Indigo's pilots on the other.

Herc murmured from Raleigh's right, "My kid might not admit it, but she's grateful. We both are."

"You don't have to be, Herc. It's what any of us would have done," he whispered back.

"That doesn't mean it wasn't exceptional, mate."

The door opens and the Marshal stepped out and his call silenced the crowd, who created an open channel for the Marshal to walk, "Mr. Becket! In all my years of fighting… I've never seen anything like that. Well done. I'm proud of you."

Raleigh's mouth quirked up in a tiny, but nonetheless genuine smile at the praise, and Stacker continued louder, "Proud of us all, but as harsh as it sounds, there is no time to celebrate. We lost a great team, and their jaeger, and two others are dead in the port as we speak. No time to grieve. Reset that clock."

His voice became hoarse at the end of his speech and Raleigh spotted the blood trickling from his nostril and his heart sank, though he had known for a while that Stacker was sick. Out of the corner of his eye, Raleigh saw Mako signal to the Marshal and brush a finger against her nose. Stacker paused and dabbed at his nose with his handkerchief while the crowd began to shift uneasily.

That wouldn't do, making eye contact with the Marshal and raising a brow in question, Raleigh stepped up when he received a stern nod in return. As the Marshal exited quietly, the blonde Ranger caught their attention, saying, "We all know grief in these times, and I'm sure we can all understand how hard the coming days will be for Crimson Typhoon's crew, and for those that knew the brothers personally. Grace from Gipsy's crew, Anatoli from Cherno's crew, William from Striker's, Kaito from Indigo's, and Zhang Li from Crimson Typhoon's crew remain, but the rest of you, return to your stations please. Let's see how quickly we can get Striker and Cherno back in their hangers."

There were proud cries of 'yes, sir' and the crowd began to spill into the hallways, returning to their workstations as the Ranger commanded. The other Rangers were surprised that he knew the names of their crew members – or was learning them, at least – though Charlie at least had already known.

Those he had asked to stay stepped forward. Grace was an older woman with silver hair, green eyes, and calloused hands and grease etched beneath her nails – she wore dark purple that looked almost black overalls like the rest of Gipsy's crew, and a patch on the front pocket of her jaeger's symbol proudly. Anatoli was a thin man with long dark brown hair tied back in a knot and a bushy mustache wearing charcoal overalls and Cherno's symbol. William was a muscular blonde man with blonde curls around his head and olive-green overalls with Striker's symbol on them. Kaito was a small Japanese man with dark eyes, laughter lines around his eyes and mouth, and short salt-and-pepper hair in indigo overalls with their jaeger's patch stitched on the front pocket. Zhang Li was willowy and tall, with her dark eyes swollen from crying and red overalls with Typhoon's symbol on their front.

"I am very sorry for your loss," Raleigh said gently to Zhang Li in Mandarin.

She brightened slightly hearing her own language and responded with a wan smile, "We all knew it could happen one day. We just hoped that day would never come." She straightened, pulling her shoulders back and continued in English, "My crew will help however we can."

"That's why I asked the other crew leaders to remain. I know Indigo is still in good shape, so this applies to your crew as well, Kaito. I would like you to spread your crews among Gipsy's, Striker's and Cherno's own and aid them in fixing the jaegers as quickly as you can. Whoever is ready will be on that Breach run, but if a jaeger isn't fixed in time, we'll have to deploy without them. We cannot afford to wait," Raleigh warned them, and they straightened, determination lining their spines with steel.

"Don't worry Raleigh, we'll get it done," Grace promised.

Raleigh nodded firmly and said, "Thank you all for your hard work."

The Ranger turned and walked back towards the others and the crew leaders were already splitting their members into teams. They walked together back to the Ranger hallway and bunched together as a group, seemingly reluctant to separate just yet. They had barely begun to draw closer together and already they'd lost three men they were beginning to see as family.

Raleigh knew better than most how it felt to lose family, and how you shouldn't be alone with your thoughts. He rolled his shoulders with a low groan and said, "I have to meet the Marshal, but… Does anyone know an out of the way spot where we can meet up after we shower?"

The pilots relaxed now that they'd only be apart for a short time, and Mako smiled, "You did say that Indigo is 'in good shape' and the crew will be working to fix the others. We could meet in the Conn-Pod?"

"Everyone can bring blankets and we'll call it a sleepover. I've always wanted to have one of those," Iwa said, clapping her hands excitedly. That earned her a few fond smiles and even the older pilots seemed excited.

The Rangers each entered their own rooms, avoiding looking at the three that would remain untouched until their last wishes could be respected, with their red and gold stickers plastered to the doors. Raleigh turned in the other direction, a deep frown on his face.


Stacker was bent over the sink, hands buried under the gurgling faucet. He splashed cool water over his face, soothing his light fever and the throbbing in his temples that wouldn't go away. He wheezed out gentle coughs and hated the weakness he could feel growing in his own body.

He heard the door open softly behind him and looked up, seeing Raleigh reflected back at him in the mirror. He could see the hidden anguish in the Ranger's eyes and felt a sudden surge of fondness for his chosen successor. He had already figured out what Stacker knew, and if he knew, Herc and the Kaidonovsky's weren't far behind him.

"Herc can't pilot," Raleigh said, "Not with that arm. If it were any other injury, in a time like this… but that arm won't hold up under the strain of a jaeger like burns or stitches would and he wouldn't be able to match Charlie's movements, which would pull them both from the Drift."

"No," Stacker agreed, prompting him to continue.

"Charlie can't pilot by herself, but we need Striker. There's only one other surviving Ranger not tied to another jaeger, and that's you," he said, running a shaky hand through his sweaty blonde hair.

Stacker grabbed a washcloth and dried his face. He turned, catching knowing blue eyes with his own. There was Raleigh, standing before him, still in his drive suit – probably the only thing keeping him from collapsing on that leg. Oh yes, Raleigh Becket was well aware of what had to happen. Stacker Pentecost would do his duty; there was no other option.

"You know, them Mark-1's, we scraped those bad boys together in fourteen months. The last thing we were thinking about was radiation shielding," he sighed wistfully as he thought of his partner and their jaeger, tossing the cloth behind him, "I ran nearly a dozen missions. I stayed under the medical radar for a while, but… the last time I jockeyed was Tokyo. Tamsin collapsed. I finished the fight solo, but for three hours, it burned. They warned me that if I ever stepped foot in a jaeger again the toll would be too much."

He grabbed another shirt off a stack on a nearby shelf and removed his tie. He undid the buttons and whipped off the blood-stained shirt, leaving him in a pristine white tank top. He saw Raleigh's eyes trail the circuit burns down his right arm – a mirror image to his own. He pulled on the new shirt and replaced the tie with economical motions.

"You and I are the only two that ever ran solo combat. That's why I decided to give you such responsibilities on the west coast. And when you handled that so successfully, I made you my successor," Stacker said.

Raleigh's eyes snapped back to his, but there was no shock on his face. The Ranger was smart enough to know what he was to the PPDC. He had realized how much responsibility was resting on his shoulders, and just how far up he was on the totem pole. He said bluntly, "You'll die if you get back in."

"I will," he nodded simply. Trust Raleigh to go straight for the head. Their fighting styles said more about their character than most Rangers knew.

"I want you to know…" Raleigh shuffled and took a deep breath, "Yancy and I, we may have never shown it, but… Our dad wasn't the best role model, even when he was around – liked drinking too much. But you… well, I just thought you should know that Yancy and I, we thought you were a pretty damn good role model, sir."

Stacker leaned back against the sink, ignoring the stinging in his eyes and the lump in his throat as he looked at the man he saw like a son, who he'd watched grow into a remarkable man and leader, and said, "I admire you, Raleigh. I placed the weight of the world on your shoulders, and you bore it without complaint. You remind me of Atlas with the way you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders – your strength, your will, your fortitude – you have endured more than any man ever should, and you continue to excel, to improve and push yourself to even greater heights. You'll go far in life, and I couldn't be prouder."

"Thank you, sir," the Ranger said, shoulder's straight and a wide grin on his face. A Becket Boy grin – he hadn't seen one of those in a long time. Not since before the death of his copilot had anyone seen that smile on Raleigh's face.

"Now, go find the others before they come looking for you. I'm sure they've got some kind of celebration in mind," he said, dismissing the man and watching until he'd limped from the room and the door closed behind him.

Yes, after he was gone, the world would be in good hands.


Raleigh picked up the delivery lying beside his door and entered his own cubicle, closing the door and stripping the drive suit off piece by piece. He groaned and winced as he limped towards the shower in his boxers with bandages wrapped around his torso, taking the delivery with him – he had no doubt that Annis had sent something for him along with a snappy note. He locked the bathroom door behind him, stripping off the bandages and the last of his clothes gingerly. He hated to wash off all of Annis' hard work so soon, but he hated the feel of sweat drying on his body even more.

He stepped into the shower and turned the water up until it was steaming and reddened his skin, despite the fact that it made his burns feel as though they'd been set on fire. He couldn't afford to be stiff and sore, and he could handle a little pain. The rest of his muscles loosened and relaxed, and he washed the sweat and grime from his body, lathering and rinsing his hair quickly. Once he'd washed himself completely, avoiding his wounds, he turned the faucet the other way until he was shivering, and paid attention to his burns, carefully cleaning the residue from his skin and gentle over his bruises. The throbbing in his side and back receded and he turned off the shower, stepping out and drying off with a towel. He dabbed over the burns with just enough pressure to remove the water droplets collecting on the skin without aggravating the already tender areas.

He pulled out the medicine supplies when he was dry, reapplying the antibiotic cream, wrapping his ribs, and pulling out a knee brace with an attached sticky note that said 'wear this when ye aren't in yer jaeger and bring candy next time, Becket Boy' in an almost unintelligible scrawl.

He snorted, "Will do, Annis."

He pulled on his underwear and the knee brace before grabbing some loose sweatpants and a thick sweatshirt that said 'Jaeger Academy Class of 2016' on the front and had the initials YB written in faded sharpie on the tag. He tugged them on carefully over the bandages, grabbed a thick blanket and a pillow from his bed and left to find Indigo.


Helicopters shone spotlights on the torn black and blue corpse. Everywhere Newt looked, there were workers suited up to avoid kaiju blue burns pulling apart the corpse, calling out in Mandarin whenever they needed a new tool or had a new specimen. One man pulled squealing parasites away from the corpse and handed them to another, who threw them in containers with locks on the lids full of ammonia. They picked around rubble, corpses, and pieces of buildings without care, avoiding fires and sharp debris with ease.

"I still can't believe what you did to me. I mean, I could have been eaten," Newt complained again, staring at the professional operation being performed around him.

"Well, that was definitely the plan," Hannibal Chau admitted casually, smacking his shoulder, "Lucky for you, that didn't become necessary."

Newt held his now sore shoulder and rambled, "Okay, thank you so much. You're so kind, and I really appreciate all of this, but now do you mind telling me now exactly what is taking your workers so long to get that brain?"

"Well, they uh, pumped the cavity full of CO2 just like in any other laparoscopic surgery," Hannibal said, staring at the corpse. There was a large slice in its side covered with burning blue blood that had cables disappearing inside of it.

"Okay, yes, obviously the CO2's gonna delay the acidic reaction, yes," Newt said, a question in his voice.

"And it allows us to harvest, but our boys need oxygen pumped into their suits. They move slow," he pulled out a walkie talkie and said, "What's going on in there, boys?"

"We've reached the upper pelvic area," a voice said, panting and grunting. Squelching noises sounded over the device and the voice continued, "Moving to the 25th vertebra. Shit. Even through the suit, boss, it smells like dead catfish in here," there were more grunts and heavy breaths before the voice crackled again, "Boss, the secondary brain… it's damaged. It's ruined. Destroyed."

Newt snarled and groaned, "How could they screw that up?"

The walkie talkie sounded again, and Newt froze as he said, "Wait. Wait."

Newt wrenched the device away from Hannibal and said, "What was that? Did he say 'wait'? Why wait?"

Hannibal Chau yanked the walkie talkie back and held it to his ear again, daring him to try that again. The voice said again, "Do you hear that? It's like a heartbeat."

Newt snatched the ancient device again and pushed it close to his ear, walking away so Hannibal couldn't take it, "Oh my God. Oh my God this can't be. Hold on! Shh, shh, shh! Listen, listen!"

"Hey," Hannibal growled and grabbed it, listening harder.

Newt let it go without complaint as the answer came to him and he said, voice thick with shock and awe, "It's pregnant."

Hannibal's head snapped up in alarm and over the walkie talkie, a scream sounded, crackling through the device, and he began to run away. Newt was frozen again as the baby tumbled out with a roar and a spray of acidic blood. People ran from its rolling slime-covered body and snapping mouth as it heaved itself forwards using its front legs.

Newt began running – Ranger Becket was right, he didn't want to see one up close and alive one day – as it charged after him, tongue trailing from its mouth and meaty umbilical cord dragging behind it. Newt slid in the debris and scuttled away as fast as he could, turning and pushing backwards on his hands and feet to stare at the glowing blue maw open wide and drawing closer.

He screamed as it drew itself up to strike, only to choke as the umbilical cord wrapped around its neck and fall in a limp heap less than a dozen feet from the cowering scientist. Its body shivered and shook and stilled, one last sigh escaping its mouth. Newt stood up slowly and crept forward, almost touching its snout before he startled and backed away.

"I knew it," Hannibal blustered arrogantly, still panting, shoes pinging with every step, "Gone. Lungs weren't fully formed - umbilical cord tied around its neck. No way it could survive outside the womb for more than a minute. One look, that's all I needed. I knew it wouldn't make it."

He pulled out that golden switchblade and threw it, burying it into one of its nostril's walls up to the hilt. Newt yelped at the sudden movement and backed up further. Hannibal swaggered closer to pull his pretentious golden knife out of its hide and Newt sighed when it didn't move.

"Ugly little bastard," the man muttered, wiping the blade clean on the arm of his suit, "Anyway I was –"

Behind him the baby snapped forward, its mouth closing around Hannibal Chau, chomping on him with its mouth plates before whipping its head from side to side to break his spine and swallowing him hole. It seemed to choke, giving a guttural growl, spraying flecks of glowing saliva, an inner jaw like that of a moray eel, and a thick tongue before it collapsed again.

Newt crouched and covered his head, but walked forward and picked up one golden shoe, which pinged as he lifted it. He tossed it away casually, studying the corpse and panting heavily, trying to get his heart back under control.