Despite countless sessions in the simulation room, Sasha never felt quite comfortable in the Drifting gear. The Pons headset felt like a cold hand clutching her scalp, and the armor seemed a size too tight despite being specifically designed for her body type. She shifted against the clamps holding her feet down and flexed her fingers, trying to grow accustomed to both armor and harness. Was one's first Drift always this nerve-wracking?
She glanced over at Aleksis, who was being strapped into the harness next to hers. His expression was purely businesslike as he lowered his head to accept the headset and helmet, but his hands were trembling slightly. Somehow that helped her relax a little. If even the normally stone-faced fellow Ranger was anxious about the upcoming Drift, then she wasn't alone.
It had come as no surprise to either her or Aleksis that the rigorous testing had proven them to be a fit match for the Drift, despite the trainers and officers being rather shocked at how compatible they had proven to be. The American and Asian Jaeger programs mostly relied on pilots with some sort of close family relation, such as siblings or close cousins. The assumption in these cases was that, since close bonds already existed between them, they were more likely to synchronize within the Drift and less likely to chase the RABIT or fall out of synch during the neural handshake.
The Russian program hadn't felt it necessary to abide strictly by those guidelines, but they had expected the pilots of Cherno Alpha to at least be a set of longtime friends. Aleksis and Sasha had met for the first time when they joined the program, so for them to show so many signs of excellent compatibility had been shocking for the trainers.
Sasha straightened slightly as a technician fit the spinal clamp into her armor, a slight smile on her face as she thought back on the past few weeks. Despite having just met Aleksis upon beginning her training, somehow she felt comfortable around him, as if they had known each other since childhood. They had shared small talk at meals, talking about their lives before joining the military and their shared hopes of being accepted as Rangers, and had exchanged playful banter during sparring matches and while waiting for their turns in the simulation room. Meeting him hadn't been like being introduced to a stranger, but rather like being reunited with an old friend she hadn't seen in years.
To be honest, she would have been more surprised if she hadn't been compatible with him. Despite having sparred with dozens of other potential candidates, none of them had fallen into the same rhythm during a match, moved in synch with her. And yet when she and Aleksis had crossed sparring rods, it was as if they had each followed the same innate choreography, partners in a dance rather than opponents in a ring.
"Ready?" the tech asked her, holding the gel-lined helmet up.
Ready as I'll ever be, she thought, but only nodded to the tech and ducked to accept the helmet. The gel drained out of the visor as it snapped in place, leaving her with a clear view out of Cherno Alpha's cockpit. A line of technicians, scientists, and officers stared back from the catwalk that came chest-high to the towering Jaeger, each with the same baleful look on their face. Did they expect them to fail? Were they just waiting for one of the two to latch onto a wayward memory and lock the two of them into it, that they might expel the two from the program?
She allowed herself a smirk. Not today. If they were expecting a failure, they were in for a pleasant surprise.
"All right, let's do this," Aleksis noted, and he lifted his chin and shut his eyes. Sasha mirrored his pose, tilting her face toward the cockpit ceiling and closing her eyes. Don't think, she told herself. Let it happen…
"INITIATING NEURAL HANDSHAKE," a computerized voice droned.
Something prickled at the back of her brain and up and down her spine, like a thousand ants had suddenly crawled into her suit and helmet. She fought the urge to squirm and tried to keep her mind clear, to empty herself and be read for the synching. The prickle became a strange pressure, unpleasant but not painful, as if something were trying to worm its way into her skull… faint lights began to flash beneath her eyelids… sounds echoed in her ears, oddly faint and hollow as if they had to reach her through a tunnel…
Then the memories began. First a mere trickle, like the first sprinkling of rain – the sound of her mother's laughter, the smell of her grandmother's bread fresh from the oven, a flash of green from the coat she always wore as a child…
Then the memories became more substantial, not just flickers of sensation, but full-fledged scenes – running through the snow with her brothers, pinning the school bully down and giving him a sound thrashing, sitting at her great-uncle's knee and hearing him recite the old folk tales…
No… that last memory wasn't hers. She remembered no great-uncle. It took her a moment to recognize the memory as Aleksis'… yet it felt as close and familiar as if it were her own.
The trickle of memory became a rush, as if someone had turned on a faucet. She relived scenes from Aleksis' life as if they were her own, intermixed with scenes from her own life – a flash of pain from breaking his leg as a child, the less physical but no less intense pain of her mother's death from a car accident, working alongside his father on his fishing boat through the pouring rain, watching her grandmother patch a hole in her favorite coat…
A horrific scream, and a sudden jolt rocked her as surely as if Cherno had been struck from without by a titanic fist. The flood of memory ground to a sudden halt, leaving her frozen within one scene in particular. It was like she was in two places at once – part of her retained enough sense to know she was still inside Cherno, still fastened into the neural interface gear; and yet she was also standing on the deck of a ship, struggling to keep her balance in the suddenly choppy seas, rain intermixed with snow pelting down all around.
Beside her, Aleksis struggled with tying something down on the deck… but this was an Aleksis she'd never seen before. He was a few years younger, beardless, wearing a ragged raincoat and thick work gloves. Another young man, shorter and even younger-looking, worked alongside him, the two shouting orders at each other over the driving rain and roar of the sea. Instinctively she knew this had to be Aleksis' younger brother Dmitri, though how she knew this she couldn't say… he had spoken only rarely about him, and never shown her a picture…
There was a shout from elsewhere on the ship, and a massive wave swamped the deck, though it seemed to pass over her harmlessly as mist. The two men weren't so lucky – the wave buried them under icy water, muffling their cries of shock. A stab of emotion pierced her – terror, dread, the pain of cold salt water hitting her lungs…
When the wave receded, leaving the deck a slick mess, only one man was left – Aleksis, clinging to the railing for dear life. Of Dmitri there was no sign… and while she should have felt relief that Aleksis was alive, all she could feel was his horror.
With a cry of despair Aleksis made to dive off the railing and into the violent waters, but hands grabbed his arms, holding him in place. He flailed, cursing and screaming, desperate to break free and save his brother… he had to save him, he couldn't just let him drown…
Sasha struggled to stem the flood of emotions coursing through her end of the Drift, and reached out to the struggling young man. She had to reach him, and fast. He was latched onto the memory of his brother's death, compromising the Drift. If she couldn't shake him out of it quickly, the neural interface would fail.
"Aleksis!" she shouted. "It's only a memory!"
He didn't seem to hear her, still thrashing in his companions' grips. He cursed and howled, begging them to let him go after his brother, despite the fact that his body was no longer even visible amid the waves. It all felt so real… she could barely sense the cockpit around her anymore, and it seemed as if this horrible moment was the present and Cherno the faint memory…
"Aleksis, come back!" she urged him. "It's a memory, nothing more… it's the past. You can break free of it…"
Aleksis continued to struggle, but his eyes locked onto hers. For a split second recognition flashed in his eyes, and a single thought seemed to pass between them – Help me.
"I'm here," she vowed, and reached forward. "We're in this together. I promise."
Her hand touched his arm… and with a jolt they were thrown out of the memory and into a realm of cool blue light. For an instant that seemed an eternity nothing seemed to exist but the two of them, their thoughts and dreams, their pasts and fears. She was completely open to him, and he to her, their minds and hearts laid bare to one another.
That should have been terrifying… and yet it wasn't.
Aleksis knew her mind and heart in that moment, and she resisted the urge to pull away. But there was no disappointment or disgust from him – rather, a rush of his pride filled the Drift, pride that he had such a strong partner to fight alongside. She, too, saw everything he was and had ever been, and she found it to be perfect. They would fight together, the perfect team, and any Kaiju who had the misfortune to chance upon the Russian shores would tremble in fear.
There was a brief touch of… something… just as they returned to the physical world, a sense of something sparking to life. But it was gone before either of them could make sense of it. Now they simply reeled in place as sight and sensation returned, landing both of them back in Cherno's cockpit. The monotone of the AI system rang through the room, completely oblivious to what had transpired between the two Rangers.
"SYNCHRONIZATION SUCCESSFUL. NEURAL HANDSHAKE ACHIEVED."
Applause broke out from the catwalk, and several technicians seemed to slump in relief. Sasha realized she had her hand outstretched toward Aleksis, and likewise Cherno's left arm was extended, responding to its Ranger's movements already. She lowered the limb, and Cherno's arm sank to its side.
Aleksis took a deep breath, then exhaled heavily. "That… was close…"
"You broke free of the RABIT, and that's what's important," Sasha assured him. "I… I'm sorry about your brother."
His face remained expressionless, but she caught the remembered pain and regret through the Drift. "It's something I must live with."
"WE will live with it," she vowed. "We're partners now." It was a daunting prospect, sharing so much with another person and helping to carry their burdens as well as her own. But somehow she felt it would be worth it.
Aleksis abruptly grinned at her. "Marry me."
She blinked, startled, then chuckled. "So soon?"
"We've already shared more than most couples ever will in their lifetimes," he reminded her. "We belong together, in every sense of the word. And Cherno needs a united team to guide him, does he not? Parents, you might say."
Well, when he put it that way… "I didn't join the Defense Corps intending on starting a family… but it seems I found one anyhow."
Sasha shook her head, bringing herself back to the present. She found herself spacing off more often now, her mind returning to the past. Had her Kaiju-inflicted injuries affected her memory? Or was she just tired?
She turned her head to gaze out the window of the cab, watching the garish lights of Hong Kong pass by. Despite the Double Event that had passed through this city less than two months ago, the citizens continued life as if nothing had changed. The only signs of Otachi and Leatherback's passing were a few gaping holes that remained in some of the buildings, and an oil tanker that remained lodged between two buildings like a bizarre archway. That street had been blocked off until city officials could decide how to safely remove the wayward ship, but that wasn't stopping tourists from sneaking through the blockades and posing beneath it for pictures.
It was still so hard to believe the war was over, though, that damages like this would soon be a thing of the past. She should have felt relief or joy at that, but instead she felt stunned and empty. She and Aleksis had expected to be there to see the end of the war themselves, to give Cherno Alpha's aid to the final strike against the Breach. To wake up and find the war had ended without them seemed a rather bitter blow.
And knowing their beloved Jaeger had been virtually destroyed seemed only to add insult to injury. Were Otachi and Leatherback not already dead, she would have hunted them down and attacked them with her own bare hands for that.
A hand rested on hers, and she turned to find Aleksis giving her a comforting smile. The towering Ranger seemed a shadow of his former self – he had lost a considerable amount of weight, and his face was gaunt and scarred, his beard shaved off so the surgeons could treat his facial burns better. But there was still that familiar glint to his eyes, one she recognized all too well. He was determined to keep the two of them going, despite anything the doctors or PPDC tried to tell them.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
She sighed. "I'm not in pain, if that's what you're asking."
"Liar," he murmured, his tone affectionate rather than accusing. "You're hurting – maybe not physically, but mentally. You miss him already, don't you?"
She blinked, trying to keep the tears back. "I just… want to see him one last time. I wish there was some way we could keep him with us. Keep them from scrapping him or sending him to Oblivion Bay."
"Where would we put him?" Aleksis asked, a slight teasing note to his voice, but his eyes were as sad as hers. "He doesn't belong in a junkyard. He was the greatest of the Jaegers… and they're going to treat him as if he were garbage."
She rested her hand on his arm and squeezed gently. Of course they wouldn't understand – the technicians and officers in charge of the Jaeger program would never understand, not on the same level as the Rangers did. Only those who had fought inside the metallic titans knew how deep the bond was between pilot and Jaeger, how much they considered their mech to be an extension of themselves, a partner rather than a vehicle. Only a Ranger understood how it felt to see your Jaeger damaged in battle, or look on in worry as mechanics repaired or upgraded an important system.
And only a Ranger knew how it felt to have one's Jaeger torn away from them, whether by reassignment or destruction.
"At least we get a chance to see him again," she pointed out. "To say goodbye."
Aleksis frowned, as if this consolation wasn't enough for him.
"Aleksis… love… he'll always be with us. So long as we don't forget him, he's not wholly gone."
His frown faded, but he still seemed troubled. She scooted away from the cab's window and leaned against him, hoping to distract him some from his thoughts. He absently raised his arm to drape around her shoulders.
"Thank you," she said at last. "For saving me."
He frowned again. "I couldn't save you… I blacked out too quickly."
She shook her head. "I felt you calling for me in the Drift, back at the hospital. I was about to give up, to just stop living… but you pulled me back. I can never thank you enough for that."
Aleksis screwed up his brow in confusion. "That wasn't me."
"It had to have been you…"
"I felt you calling for me," he countered. "You were the one reaching for me, pulling me back. You saved me." A smile finally broke through his features. "It seems a common theme, you drawing me out of death or a painful memory."
It was her turn to frown now. Someone had definitely been calling for her, reaching out through the Drift to draw her back from the edge of death. If it hadn't been Aleksis… then who?
Deep within the Shatterdome base, two members of the PPDC's civilian personnel were making their way down the hall toward the main Jaeger hangar, one limping and leaning on a cane, the other slowing his pace to keep up with his partner… and both snapping at each other.
"I don't care if you think that grotesque little parasite is cute, Newton, you have GOT to keep it under control!"
"You don't mean that, Hermann! Not to this little guy… he didn't mean that, sweetie, he's just jealous…"
"Why would I be jealous that you're carrying around a public menace?"
"Because I'm the only scientist who's been able to keep one of these little guys alive away from a Kaiju host, and you're jealous of me."
"Oh, I am not! Why you think I'd be jealous that you're parading around the Shatterdome with a Kaiju skin mite…"
"He's got a name, Hermann."
"I am not dignifying that… thing with a name! And so help me, if you don't housetrain it or keep it from chewing my computer cables-"
"I'm working on it, all right? We're just working on finding a good material for the litterbox that doesn't dissolve on contact. And he's got chew toys, I'm getting that part handled."
"Honestly, only you would think a disgusting Kaiju skin parasite is adorable enough to keep as a pet. That thing is disgusting and dangerous!"
Newton made a face at the engineer and cuddled the skin mite close. "Don't listen to the meanie-weenie, Spike! You're adorable and don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
"Spike" gave a gurgling chirrup and waved its segmented legs wildly, as if trying to squirm out of his grip.
"If you have to keep that thing around, you could at least leave it in a cage," Hermann grumbled as they passed through the door leading to the main Jaeger hangar. "There is absolutely NO reason why you have to drag it to this very important meeting."
"How else am I gonna get him used to people?" Newt demanded. "He'll be fine."
Hermann rolled his eyes and made his way deeper into the hangar as fast as his bad leg would allow. The hangar was abuzz with activity, mechanics and technicians dashing back and forth on important errands, and two of the main bays positively swarmed with workers like overgrown beehives. In one hangar a crane was lowering Crimson Typhoon's freshly repaired cockpit onto its shoulders, a worker calling out directions to the crane operator and mechanics waiting for the massive "head" to be settled into place so they could go about reattaching it. In another, a skeletal framework stood supported by scaffolding, the heavy machinery being used to assemble it blocking much of it from view. The smell of oil and ozone and hot metal filled the hangar, and the rumble of engines and the crackle of welders overlaid the constant chatter of the workers.
Both scientists hurried past two other bays with their gazes fixed straight ahead, not daring to look inside. One bay was conspicuously empty, with only a wreath of flowers and a handmade sign reading "Thank You Gipsy Danger" marking the identity of its previous occupant. The other was occupied… but even those who thought of the Jaegers as just another machine couldn't look long at the ghastly sight of Cherno Alpha, slumped back against the wall of its bay like a drunken man, mangled and ruined and with one of its arms laying across its lap. The only worker attending the decommissioned Mark I was a grubby mechanic who hosed off one of its legs with a pressure washer, a token effort at making the Jaeger a little more presentable.
"Ugh, I wish they'd haul it out already," Newt said with a shudder. "It's creepy."
"The Sydney museum will come to collect it soon enough," Hermann reminded him. "And hopefully do a better job at making it suitable for public display. But we've got other priorities."
"I don't see why I'm needed for this," Newt pointed out, following Hermann to the hangar where the new Jaeger was being assembled. "What's a Kaiju biologist gonna do to help build a new Jaeger?"
"Oh, will you stop your moaning," Hermann grumbled as he moved to join the rest of the group. Raleigh Becket spotted the two scientists and moved a bit to the side to give them room, offering a friendly smile.
"Nice to see you two come out of hiding," he noted with a grin.
"Hello, Dr. Gottlieb," Mako Mori greeted, giving a polite bow and a smile.
Hermann nearly cracked a smile himself, and bowed slightly back. "Ms. Mori, Mr. Becket. And Mr. Hansen." He nodded at Herc, who grunted and shrugged. "Is this everyone?"
"Still waitin' on Choi," Herc replied. "An' keep that thing away from Max, Newt. If it bites 'im or gives 'im some kinda disease…"
"How come nobody trusts Spike?" Newt demanded. "He wouldn't hurt a fly!" He nuzzled the top of the skin mite's head, and it responded by twisting around and trying to snap at his chin.
"Because it's kind of hard to trust something that came off of a Kaiju," Raleigh reminded him. "Even if the Kaiju are gone, it's going to be a long time before anyone's okay with being reminded of what they did." He cast a meaningful glance at Mako.
"Oh… uh… sorry, Miss." Newt blushed and looked around, as if seeking a place to stow his pet.
"It's all right," she replied, and to everyone's surprise she reached over and stroked Spike's exoskeleton. "He is sort of cute… it's hard to believe he came from a Kaiju."
"See? Somebody here appreciates the little guy!" Newt beamed triumphantly at Hermann, who rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"For the love of…" groaned Herc.
"Show and tell's over, Dr. Geizler," Tendo cut in, walking up at that moment. "Thank you all for coming."
"Your memo sounded pretty terse," Raleigh told him. "Everything all right?"
Tendo looked about to answer that with a rant, but composed himself just in time and managed to look merely tired instead of supremely annoyed. "The short answer is not entirely. But the good news is that the UN is extending its funding to the Jaeger program."
Newt let go of Spike with one arm to pump his fist in the air and give a whoop of triumph.
"Not unlimited funding, mind you," Tendo told him. "Enough to rebuild one of our Jaegers and finish construction on the experimental Mark VI. Both these Jaegers will be kept on standby in the event of another Breach opening, and will protect the coastlines until the Wall of Life has been completed around every populated coastline."
"What?" Raleigh repeated. "That's a dead-end project! The Wall doesn't work and they know it! It's just a distraction from the bigger problem!"
"We all know that," Tendo replied. "But unfortunately, until the UN changes its mind, we have to be satisfied with what funding they give us." A faint smile crossed his lips. "That doesn't necessarily mean we can't secure funding from other sources, however."
"Please don't tell me Hannibal's a source," groaned Newt.
Tendo ignored him for now. "With any luck, we will have completed the Mark VI Jaeger, Mustang Omega, within the next six months. This will be a state-of-the-art machine with all the latest advancements in Jaeger technology, including digital systems with an analog backup, improved targeting systems and motor-response programs, and a specialized paint that's proven to be highly acid-resistant in tests."
Raleigh whistled. "You're not pulling out any stops on this. Just don't let the bells and whistles get in the way of what it's meant to do, all right?"
"We're taking that into full consideration," Tendo replied, walking up to a computer terminal and calling up a holo. "This is what Mustang Omega will look like when completed."
"Whoa," Raleigh breathed.
"Beautiful," Mako added, eyes shining.
Newt cocked his head first one way, then the other, as if trying to make sense of what he was seeing. "Uh… where's the head?"
"Cockpit, not head," Hermann corrected. "Use the correct terminology, will you?"
"Whatever it is, it's missing it," Newt pointed out. "Where're the pilots gonna work?"
The biologist did have a point. The holo of Mustang Omega glowed softly before the gathered pilots and scientists, jet-black with red trim and a sleek body that called to mind the compact but powerful frame of a runner or swimmer. Twin finlike crests sprouted from the tops of its shoulders and ran down it's spinal strut, ending at the small of its back, and thick panels were set in its chest, doubtless meant to slide aside to reveal internal weaponry. But just as Newt had noted, the head was missing – and there was no sign of a neck joint to indicate it ever had one.
"The bloody hell is this?" demanded Herc.
"One of the new advancements that's been integrated into the Mark VI program," Tendo replied. "Mustang Omega will be operated by an external piloting system, which will enable it to fight without placing pilots in unnecessary danger."
"Wait… so it's basically remote control?" asked Raleigh in disbelief. "You're not even going to use a Ranger for it?"
"Rangers will still operate it," Tendo corrected, "but will do so from the safety of a mobile piloting chamber, far away from the actual fighting. This way a Jaeger cannot be incapacitated by the destruction of a cockpit… and it won't risk the lives of the Rangers."
"But that defeats the entire purpose of the Jaeger program!" Raleigh protested. "If you can just control it remotely like a toy car or something, why didn't anyone do that before? This just seems like a weird gimmick if you ask me."
"This isn't just a gimmick," Hermann pointed out. "This could save lives! How many Rangers have we lost when their Jaegers have gone down? And the Kaiju learned that the fastest way to take a Jaeger out was to go for the cockpit – this will solve that."
"I am not against saving lives," Mako pointed out, "but I don't like this system. The Jaegers were effective because the pilots were just as much a part of them as any other system. We are the hearts and souls of the Jaegers… you take that out, and they are just another machine."
"My point exactly," Herc grumbled, looking halfway pleased that someone agreed with him. "The previous system worked, dammit. If it ain't broke, don't muck with it."
Tendo sighed. "I know you all liked the old way of doing things… but we have to be accepting of new developments as well. If an avenue exists that will allow us to defend our coastlines from Kaiju attacks without endangering lives, then we need to at least investigate it."
"Sounds like what the UN is saying about the wall," Herc muttered.
"That's enough, Hansen," Tendo informed him. "We're putting out a call for anyone who was enrolled in the Ranger program before it was disbanded to return to the training center. With any luck, we'll find suitable pilots for both Crimson and Mustang by the time they're online and ready. Now if anyone has any feedback regarding any of this – besides the external piloting system – feel free to share it."
The Rangers exchanged looks of varying degrees of uncertainty and irritation, but said nothing. Newt looked like he wanted to say something, but a glare from Hermann silenced him. The only sound was the faint chirring of the skin mite as it chewed holes in Newt's sleeve.
"Then you're all dismissed for now," Tendo said at last. "And fair warning – the Kaidanovskys will be by this evening. Don't bring this up to them – I'll brief them properly after they've seen Cherno."