Night had fallen on the Hong Kong Shatterdome, and the technicians and mechanics were finishing up the day's tasks and preparing to leave the bay for the night. Workers descended scaffolding or stepped into crane buckets to reach the safety of the bay floor, tools clanked back into toolboxes, and lights began to click off one by one. A stream of humanity made for the bay doors, a gentle murmur of conversation and gossip rising like the burble of water over rocks. It was a typical evening for what remained of the Jaeger Corps, and everyone was more than ready to settle down and call it a day.
Sasha wiped her hands off on a rag and tossed it aside. She gave Cherno one last glance, making sure he was battle-ready and in full repair before heading for the mess hall.
Cherno's presence pulsed once in her mind, as if to assure her "I'm fine, go on." But she couldn't help but linger a little. She knew Cherno had taken Nova Hyperion's destruction hard, and she didn't want him to be lonely.
Another pulse. He would be fine. And there was another Jaeger around – two now, actually. He wouldn't be alone, and Crimson was actually quite stimulating company.
Sasha rested her hand against Cherno's foot. "Tell me about him," she whispered.
The answer came as a series of images and impressions, pure thought rather than actual words. Crimson was far different from other Jaegers Cherno had known in the past. Eden had been cocky and a tease, ribbing Cherno on a regular basis and trying to make every fight a competition between the two of them. Warlock had only been in the base a few weeks, but he had been quiet and stoic in the short time he'd known him, only responding when spoken to and content to keep to himself. Nova, too, had been quiet, but also curious, constantly asking questions and urging Cherno to tell stories about his past Kaiju encounters.
The Mark IV Jaeger wasn't necessarily quiet like Warlock or Nova, but nor was he bold and teasing like Eden. When he communicated, it was usually to make an observation or pass on some factoid that he thought Cherno could benefit from. He was an intelligent, analytical sort – a sort of warrior scholar, if such a thing existed. And he absorbed information like a sponge, mostly from his Rangers but also from his own observations, and wasn't afraid to share it.
She nodded in response. It never ceased to amaze her that not only had their Jaegers gained minds of their own, but vastly different personalities. Which only made their damages and destructions all the more horrible.
"What about Gipsy?"
Here Cherno hesitated before answering. Gipsy had been uncommunicative, keeping to herself and not even attempting contact with Cherno or Crimson. Nights she had erupted into eerie keening, calling for her surviving Ranger, and it took both of them to get her to calm down. He had no idea what the blue Jaeger was like, and he doubted he'd get to know her better until her grief had ebbed somewhat.
Sasha turned toward the Mark III, which was still surrounded by scaffolding as mechanics made repairs to her wrecked chassis. It was no secret that the broken Jaeger had lost a Ranger in battle, and Sasha couldn't help but feel an ache of sympathy for her. Losing Cherno had been unthinkable for her… she couldn't begin to imagine how losing her Rangers must be hurting Gipsy right now.
She gave Cherno one last pat, assuring him that Gipsy would recover with time, and that all he and Crimson could do was be here for her if she needed them. Then she turned to go.
A sudden burst of amusement nudged at her mind, and she turned back to Cherno with a raised eyebrow. The Mark I sent back a feeling that could best be described as a tickle. Something warm and fuzzy had just crawled into his ankle joint, curling up amid the warm cables and settling in for a nap.
"Oh bother… that cat again," she muttered. "Do you want me to remove it before I go?"
A negative feeling in return. The cat wasn't irritating at all, just ticklish until it settled down. It felt oddly comforting purring next to his cables, and he was content with it staying put until the next Kaiju attack or it woke up and moved on, whichever came first.
Despite her worry for Gipsy, Sasha smiled. Like Vladivostok, the Hong Kong Shatterdome was frequently plagued by rats. Normally a creature as small as a rat would be inconsequential to a being designed to tackle much bigger creatures, but the little pests were problematic to human and Jaeger alike. They got into food supplies, chewed wires, and left their waste everywhere. The techs had spent almost a week replacing delicate wires in Crimson after a particularly nasty infestation, and Cherno had suffered gnawed wires on occasion as well.
Traps and poison were only so effective against the rodent menace – to everyone's dismay, the nasty creatures were smarter than they looked, and for every one they managed to destroy it seemed there were fifty more to replace them. But rather than giving up, Pentecost had hit on an ingenious solution.
His answer to the problem, to the surprise of everyone, had been to adopt a dozen cats and release them in the Shatterdome, and give strict orders that the animals be allowed to roam wherever they pleased.
Despite complaints, his unorthodox solution worked – the rat population plummeted. And the new furry members of the Jaeger Corps provided an unexpected benefit – a morale boost. When they weren't busy disposing of rats, it wasn't uncommon for a cat to go curl up in someone's berth or in a technician's lap. Even Tendo, who had initially expressed concern about bringing animals into the Shatterdome, could often be seen with a feline buddy in his lap as he worked through another long night.
And most surprisingly of all, Cherno himself had taken to the creatures. Though they were incredibly tiny to him, he delighted in watching them through his Rangers' eyes, and he never seemed to mind if they took naps on his feet or made their way up the scaffolding to go for a walk across his massive shoulders. One in particular, a gray tabby, seemed to claim Cherno's ankle joint as her own resting spot, and would chase away any other cats that got close to the Mark I's feet.
Satisfied that Cherno was okay for the moment, Sasha walked off. On a whim, though, she stopped by Gipsy's hangar. She might not be able to communicate with her, not in the same way she could with Cherno, but she still felt she owed it to her to do something to comfort her.
What she saw lifted her spirits almost immediately. Cherno's favorite cat might be keeping him company at the moment, but it seemed the rest of the Shatterdome's feline crew were gathered in Gipsy's hangar, either perched on her feet or finding niches in her plating to curl up in. One, a calico, looked up at Sasha with wide green eyes, then immediately dismissed her and went back to grooming itself.
A low rumbling issued from Gipsy's chassis, a deep purring sound that was far different from the keening and screeching that had been her only noises up to this point. The cats responded, their own purring a faint echo of the Jaeger's thrumming. She knew she had tiny guests, and she seemed to approve of their presence.
Sasha reached out to scratch a black-and-white cat under the chin before walking for the exit. Gipsy would recover. Already she was gaining comfort from an unexpected source, and perhaps her mood would improve as she was restored to full repair. Whether she would ever be reunited with her remaining Ranger had yet to be seen… but she had a feeling Gipsy's story was far from over.
Tendo stepped out of the apothecary shop, through the hidden doors in the shelves, and into the domain of Hong Kong's black-market Kaiju czar, wrinkling his nose at the smell. He never thought he would be coming back here again, but circumstances seemed to be forcing it. It seemed that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
All around him workers hauled bits of Kaiju flesh and bone back and forth, pushed carts carrying tanks in which lumps of tissue bobbed sickeningly, or worked various chunks of matter into a marketable commodity. On one side several employees fed slivers of bone the size of a man's arm into a grinder, and a woman bustled around them with a brush and a dustpan to sweep up the fine ivory powder that collected on the grinder and worktable – the stuff was too precious to waste a speck. On another side a man yanked on gloves that reached to his shoulders before plunging his arms into a tank of amber-tinted fluid, pulling out a squalling Kaiju skin parasite. Machinery and the chitter of the skin mites drowned out most attempts at conversation, and a gut-twisting smell of burned bone, formaldehyde, and old meat made the air feel thick and difficult to breathe.
Not much different from the last time he'd visited, it seemed. Leatherback and the two Otachis had given Hannibal's operation a new lease on life, and much like the Shatterdome it was guaranteed to stay busy for awhile with the renewal of the war.
The goon who'd escorted him this far dashed off to berate a man who'd dropped a bundle of Kaiju hide on the floor, leaving Tendo to look around and wait for Hannibal. Thankfully he didn't have long to wait – he wasn't sure he could stomach standing here for very long.
"You again!"
He glanced up to see a red-suited man striding toward him, his shoes clinking like a set of spurred boots from the Old West. Hannibal was a physically imposing man, tall and broadly built, with short-cut gray hair and a set of sunglasses mostly obscuring an old scar raking across his left eye. His face was locked in a scowl as he stormed toward Tendo, and automatically a few workers edged toward Tendo, hands drifting toward guns and knives as if expecting trouble.
Tendo drew himself up straight and forced his face into a bland expression. No time to panic. Hannibal was like a predator – if he sensed weakness he would leap on it without hesitation.
He expected Hannibal to pull his usual shtick of greeting a visitor with a butterfly knife to the throat or face… and so wasn't prepared for the towering Kaiju-parts czar to grab his arm and squeeze it companionably, if just a bit painfully.
"How you doin'?" Hannibal demanded, bearing gold teeth in a wide grin. "Haven't seen you around for ages! Pentecost should've sent you instead of that skinny-ass nerd, we missed you around here!"
"Good to know," Tendo replied, managing a smile despite wincing at the bone-crushing grip on his arm. He was tempted to add "wish I could reciprocate" but decided that wouldn't be the smartest decision at the moment.
"So what's the word around the Shatterdome?" asked Hannibal, gripping Tendo's shoulder and steering him toward a flight of stairs. "Looks like you guys were a little sloppy in cleaning up around the Breach, eh? Missed a Kaiju. Lucky you hadn't dismantled all your Jaegers yet, or that would've been messy."
"That's classified information," Tendo replied.
Hannibal snorted. "Ruin my fun, why don't you?"
He pressed his thumb to a fingerprint lock on a beautifully carved teak door, then pushed it open to reveal a sumptuously decorated office. Beautiful statues of jade and marble stood guard in each corner, some of Kaiju but others that appeared to be goddesses or mythical beasts. A painting of some ancient battle – doubtless Hannibal's namesake against the Roman forces – hung from the wall across from the glossy ebony desk. A thick Persian-style rug muffled the clinking of his shoes as he walked to his desk, picking up a glass decanter with a gold-leaf, stylized Kaiju wrapping around it.
"Want a Scotch?"
"No thank you."
"C'mon, live it up a little, Mr. Choi," Hannibal urged, pouring a couple inches of the stuff into two glasses. "I swear, working under Pentecost has dried you up inside. You used to be interesting."
Tendo relented and took the glass, though he only sipped from it. "I'm still interesting. Just not criminally interesting. Pentecost taught me to behave myself."
"You, behave?" Hannibal laughed and downed his glass. "The Jaeger Corps are practically rebels right now. And if that's not criminally interesting right there, I dunno what is." He gestured toward a chair with his glass. "Siddown, let's talk. You didn't come here just to rehash old times."
Tendo nodded. "The Shatterdome's funding from the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps is due to run out very soon. And given recent circumstances, it's obvious that we require further protection in case of another rogue Kaiju presenting itself."
Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "Ain't that what the Wall's for? Besides, the Breach is gone. Can't be too many more lost Kaiju wandering around, can there?"
The man was needling him, fishing for information. Tendo knew he wasn't going to get out of this without revealing to Hannibal the presence of the base and another Breach, but he had hoped to minimize the information he gave as much as he could. He would have to be careful with what he shared – too little and Hannibal wouldn't help, but too much and he could potentially use it as a weapon against them later.
"Mutavore's attack on Sydney and the appearance of a flying Kaiju proved that the Wall is ineffective," Tendo replied. "We still need the Jaegers. And if one Kaiju managed to escape our scrutiny, then it's entirely possible that there are others… and Otachi has proven they can breed. We have to be prepared for all possible scenarios, which means we need operational Jaegers. Not to mention the funding to keep them functional and piloted."
Hannibal tapped a finger against his glass as he listened. "So you come here asking for a loan. What am I, a loan shark?"
"A trade, not a loan. We're willing to offer you something in return for cash."
He snorted and downed another swig of liquor. "What can you offer me that I ain't already got? I already got exclusive rights to all the downed Kaiju in Asia. And we're still carving up the last three – four if you count the runt – your Jaegers pulverized. We're pretty well covered." He gave Tendo an expectant look, one that clearly said you know something I don't, so you better get talking before I lose interest.
Tendo took a deep breath, bracing himself. "The Breach may be closed… but the Kaiju aren't necessarily gone."
Hannibal lowered his glass. "Keep talking."
"We have… evidence… that the creators of the Kaiju prepared a contingency plan in the event that we did destroy the Breach. They established a secondary location here on our world, where they could send out Kaiju without having to pass them through the Breach first."
"A goddamn Kaiju factory on our own turf," Hannibal growled, though the grin on his lips spoiled the anger of his tone. "Some people just don't know when to quit, do they?"
"In return for a payment," Tendo finished, "the Hong Kong Shatterdome is prepared to offer you exclusive rights to any and all Kaiju that make landfall."
The greedy gleam in Hannibal's good eye was somehow visible even through his dark glasses. "Any, you say? Wherever they make landfall?"
"That's the general idea. Which means you'd better have crews ready in any country with a Pacific coastline."
Hannibal looked as if he'd just uncovered a cache of hidden treasure. Tendo was fully aware of what he'd just done – in one fell swoop, he'd granted the dealer a complete monopoly on Kaiju parts, ensuring that he would be the only source for Kaiju material in the world. All others would be forced out of business as soon as they ran out of product, and he would be free to charge whatever price he liked for the stuff… and withhold it from a buyer as he deemed fit. His empire would now span the globe, and he'd be wealthy beyond his wildest dreams.
It was giving the man far more power than Tendo was comfortable with, but sometimes compromises had to be made. And if it meant the survival of the Jaeger program, and the ability to better help Cherno, Crimson, and Mustang… then so be it.
"How do you know this?" Hannibal asked at last, common sense overriding greed for a moment. "What proof do you have that there's a base? Got eyes on the ocean floor or something?"
"That's classified information," Tendo replied. "But I can assure you-"
"How do I know you're not just blowing smoke up my ass?" Hannibal demanded. "And don't give me that crap about the anti-Kaiju sensory network, 'cause I know good and well that whatever stolen nuke you dropped in the Breach wrecked it up good." He grinned at Tendo's pained look. "The Kaiju cult ain't the only ones with eyes in your base. Don't hide things from me, because it won't be good for our partnership. Or our deal, if I even choose to agree to it… and it's looking less likely by the minute, pal."
There was no way around it, then. If Tendo wanted to keep the Shatterdome from financial ruin, he would have to tell. Newt had explained to him that Hannibal already knew about his drift with the Kaiju brain, but the less Hannibal knew about… other factors, the better. But he had no choice.
"Dr. Newton Geizler."
Hannibal glowered. "Are you funnin' me?" His brow furrowed, and Tendo could almost see the gears turning in his head as he pieced together the answer for himself.
"His drift hangover with the Kaiju-" he began.
"You goddamn morons," he growled. "If you had a lick of sense in your head, you'd throw Geizler to the sharks for your own protection!"
"Dr. Geizler's information has proven critical-"
"You moron!" Hannibal repeated, thumping his hands on the desk and pushing himself to his feet. "For someone who works with Jaegers and Rangers as much as you do, you're pretty stupid about them!" He strode out from behind his desk and began to pace the room, gesturing angrily.
"The handshake is two-way!" he ranted. "Your idiot scientist's mindlinked to a goddamn Kaiju! Not just one, the whole hive mind! Why do you think that bitch Otachi was trying to hunt him down? They know he's an information leak! And the leak works both ways, Choi!"
Tendo had opened his mouth to argue, but his retort died away. He hadn't even thought to consider…
"Yeah, that's right. Your precious Kaiju scientist's a double agent. Maybe not willingly or even knowingly, but he's probably transmitting all sorts of valuable intel to the Kaiju designers even as we speak. And he was stupid enough to drift TWICE with the bastards – means they've got a clearer connection than ever, huh?"
Tendo slumped back in his chair. "Gods…"
"Yeah, didn't stop to think about that, did you?" Hannibal walked back to the desk, picked up the decanter, and refilled Tendo's glass. "If I were you, I'd get your little leak in security plugged as soon as possible. Otherwise the Precursors are gonna know all your weaknesses and the world'll really be screwed. Oh… and we've got a deal. Payment in exchange for exclusive Kaiju rights. You're gonna need all the help you can get."
Tendo just nodded. He stared at the glass of Scotch, then sighed and downed it in one long draw. Today was rapidly turning into one of those "I need a freaking drink" days.
Evening rolled around, and the Jaeger bay slowly emptied out as workers made for the mess hall, showers, or barracks, depending on whether they valued food, a shower, or sleep the most at the moment. A few techs were still working on setting up Crimson's upcoming drift and fixing bugs in Mustang's programming, and several medics continued to monitor the Wei Tang triplets through the night, but for the most part everyone was content to leave the bay to the Jaegers tonight. Even Sasha and Alexis had said good night to Cherno and left for their quarters, fully ready to sleep in a real bed for at least one night.
Cherno watched Bailey stoop down to pet one of the Shatterdome's cats before she packed up her tablet to leave. He had to admit that he liked her – unlike her siblings, who acted like snobs and badmouthed his Rangers, she was nice, and she treated both the older Jaegers and their Rangers with respect. Too bad she hadn't been a Ranger herself – he might like Mustang a little more had he been able to tolerate its pilots.
Crimson stirred, still slumped against the Mark I and hugging against him. Cherno patted his back as gently as he could to try to comfort him. This was a rough time for him, and he wanted to be there for however long it took for him to recover. He hoped the drift would help – either by giving him a moment to communicate with his Rangers, finally awakening them, or just giving him some closure. It made his core ache to see his friend in such pain, especially when he had usually been so level-headed and calm in the past.
Hu dreams, Crimson said suddenly. I can feel it.
Cherno tilted his body slightly, the closest thing to a headtilt he was capable of. What's he dreaming? Not a nightmare, I hope.
They're good dreams. Crimson thrummed softly, more at peace now than at any point since he'd gained self-mobility. Playing basketball with his brothers in a community center. A good memory.
Good… sometimes my Mama and Papa have nightmares, and it makes me shake. I see Kaiju, or Papa's brother drowning, or Mama crying, and it hurts. His gaze moved to the medical tent. What about the others? Do they dream?
Crimson shuddered, and immediately Cherno wished he hadn't asked. No… their minds feel blank. I call for them, but they don't answer. They're alive, I feel that much, but… He tucked his Conn Pod against Cherno's shoulder, keening softly.
He quickly changed the subject, hoping to calm Crimson down. Why do they sleep and dream anyhow? The humans? I know they're built differently, but we don't sleep, not like they do. Even when we shut down to run defrag cycles, it's not the same. We don't dream.
Crimson went thoughtfully quiet, pondering that. Perhaps it's simply a fundamental difference between our kinds. Though… we do relive our memories sometimes, in the drift. And perhaps we dream in our defrag cycles – all the data we've accumulated has to be processed properly, after all. We just might not remember.
That didn't exactly strike Cherno as fair – if he dreamed, he wanted to remember it, if only because he was curious as to what his own dreams might be like. Perhaps he could ask a technician to "wake" him in the middle of a defrag cycle sometime. It might be one of those things you could only remember if you came back online in the middle of it.
It's strange, he said at last. We know so little about ourselves, our own kind, despite everything.
Crimson was quiet for a few minutes before answering. Before now, our only goal and focus was to destroy the Kaiju. Now, though, the humans have time – and reason – to study us in depth. I just hope that whatever they find out, it helps my Rangers. A deep sigh. I want them back… and I won't lie, I'm jealous of you. Your Rangers came back when you called for them. Mine don't respond.
I'm sorry.
No… don't be. It's beyond your control. Crimson laid his head back down on Cherno's shoulder. I should be the sorry one. Look at the mess I made… and I almost killed humans in the process.
It's okay! You were scared… I did the same thing when I first woke up. It's terrifying, coming online blind and helpless. At least I had… He trailed off, not wanting to remind Crimson of what he had that the red Jaeger lacked.
You had your Rangers to help you. Crimson didn't sound bitter – resigned and sad, but not bitter. I am happy for you.
Cherno squeezed his shoulder. You'll get the Weis back, Crimson. I promise. And until they wake up, I'm not leaving you. He hummed softly. Jaegers stick together. Or at least they do now.
Crimson echoed his hum, the Jaegers' calls falling into harmony with one another. Then Crimson turned slightly to look at the third occupied hangar, and he twitched with sudden curiosity.
They've replaced Striker Eureka already, he noted. Who is the new one? And are they alive and aware yet?
That's Mustang Omega, Cherno replied. He only just had a drift a couple days ago. And… and I don't sense anyone in there. It's like he's dead. Moving and acting, but without a mind in there except his Rangers'.
Curious. Crimson cocked his Conn Pod. Almost like a zombie, then.
A what?
Your Rangers never watched zombie films?
No, they watched things like James Bond. And sometimes Disney movies because they knew I liked them. What's a zombie?
As far as I can discern, it's a dead human body that can still move on its own, albeit without a proper thinking mind. Crimson's mental tone was a strange mix of lingering sadness, curiosity, and amusement. Charles Hansen convinced the Weis to join him for a George Romero movie marathon not too long ago. Lots of zombies.
Who? Oh, you mean Chuck. I didn't like him very well.
He did tend to get full of himself. But Striker liked him, so who are we to judge his taste in pilots? Crimson gave a little shrug. As for Mustang… give him time. He is new, and it will take time for him to develop enough to have a discernable personality. Some Jaegers take months to develop beyond a vague sense of being, after all… and some never get past that point.
Cherno chirred in thought. I don't know… something tells me Mustang won't even get to a vague sense of being.
What do you mean?
I mean that his pilot see him as just a machine. He pointed to the external Conn Pod, which lay at Mustang's feet as technicians worked inside it. They don't respect him as a member of their team; they just treat him like he's a tool or a vehicle… or worse, a toy or a video game. He might as well just be a really fancy gun or action figure to them, for all they care about him. If they never accept him as his own entity, as a team member instead of a weapon…
They, too, will need time, Crimson advised. I don't know much about the Rossis – I haven't been paying much attention to them – but they are new Rangers just as Mustang is a new Jaeger. Give them some time to accept Mustang as a partner, and not just a machine. Once they realize that, perhaps we'll see him grow.
Cherno wasn't so sure… but then, that could just be his dislike for Lance and Lexie tainting his view of Mustang. Somehow he couldn't see them ever treating Mustang like a thinking, feeling being. The fact that they treated the sentient Jaegers as an inconvenience and nuisance didn't help that view much.
Both Jaegers fell silent, alternating their gazes between Mustang's hangar and the medical tent. Crimson had sat up and actually become more animate while talking about Mustang, but the longer he remained quiet the more morose he became, slumping against Cherno again and his thoughts going glum and dark. He needed some kind of distraction, Cherno realized, whether it was conversation or something else. If he could keep his mind off his pilots for awhile, perhaps his mood would improve.
Do you want to do something? he ventured. Something besides just sit, I mean?
Crimson perked up a little at that. What would we do? I don't wish to go too far. I want to be here in case my Rangers' condition changes.
Not like going outside… but something. Maybe you can show me how to play basketball?
Crimson's engine coughed in a chuckle. Basketball is a rather physical sport. We would wake up the entire Shatterdome, not to mention destroy more equipment.
Oh… what about another game? I don't know many games, though, Mama and Papa didn't play a lot of games.
Perhaps I can show you a strategy game that I learned from my own Rangers. Crimson sat up and looked around the Jaeger bay. We need something to double as pieces, however. Find some small pieces, about the size of… that. He pointed at a stack of crates. I'll see what I can do to get some kind of board laid out…
Raleigh didn't realize Aleksis was close by until the taller Ranger sat down beside him on the catwalk. Part of him wondered how he had managed to get up so high with two bad legs – though given how tough Team Cherno Alpha was, he guessed he shouldn't be surprised that Aleksis wasn't going to let a little thing like stairs get in his way. The rest of him felt just a bit of irritation at his presence, as he'd come up here to be alone and think.
Aleksis, thankfully, had a reputation as a man of few words, and it didn't seem like he was going to change that now. He simply nodded at Raleigh in greeting and turned his gaze toward the scene playing out on the floor of the Jaeger hangar.
They were hardly the only ones watching – the Jaegers' latest antics were drawing quite the crowd. Crimson Typhoon and Cherno Alpha sat cross-legged on the floor, gazing down at a grid Crimson had formed from laying lengths of cable out in perpendicular lines. The two Jaegers took turns placing odds and ends they had scavenged from around the bay – chunks of scrap metal, pieces of broken equipment, empty crates – onto the grid, in no particular pattern Raleigh could discern. Whatever they were doing, they seemed thoroughly engrossed in the activity, though every so often one of them would chirr with pleasure or keen in disappointment.
"It looks like some kind of game," Raleigh said at last. "One I don't know the rules to. I'd say it's checkers, but they're not moving the pieces, just setting them on the board."
"Go."
Raleigh gave him an odd look. Why was Aleksis ordering him to leave? He was here first, and it wasn't as if anyone had exclusive rights to the catwalks. Well, technically the maintenance crews did, but still…
"The game," Aleksis added. "It is called Go. Very old game. Simple but good strategy game."
"Oh." He smiled sheepishly. That had almost been embarrassing. Thankfully he'd managed to keep his mouth shut until Aleksis had finished speaking.
"Have they been at this all night?" he asked.
Aleksis nodded.
Raleigh chuckled a bit. "Ever thought you'd see this? Jaegers moving like this, thinking for themselves? Playing games, even?"
Aleksis's mouth crooked in a half-smile. "Eventually. Perhaps not in my lifetime, though. But we both knew they could think." He gave Raleigh a knowing look. "You knew."
Raleigh watched as Crimson removed one of Cherno's pieces from the board, provoking a whine from the bronze Jaeger. "I… guess I knew at some level. Gipsy always did seem to have a mind of her own. It was like she worked WITH us, not for us… like she was a partner instead of a machine." He stopped there, not sure if he trusted himself to keep talking.
Aleksis nodded. "You knew, then. She was her own being."
He hesitated, then blurted out the question that had been nagging at him ever since Cherno had come to life. "What was she like?"
"Gipsy?"
"Yeah… what was she like? Her personality? Was she friendly, snarky, quiet, talkative, moody, all of the above? Did she get along with other Jaegers? I have to know… I felt snippets, but I feel like I never really KNEW her, not before…" He clenched his jaw, fighting to keep his emotions at bay.
"I do not know," Aleksis replied. "She was not my Jaeger."
"I know that, but… could you ask Cherno? He was around her for a few years while Pentecost and Mako rebuilt her, he should know something!"
"You know what your Jaeger was like," Aleksis said softly, and to Raleigh's surprise the Russian Ranger rested a companionable hand on his shoulder. "In your heart. She was a part of you, one that does not easily die. You know her personality. Just calm down and think about it."
He took a deep breath. "It's all so muddled, though. In the drift, you only get images and feelings."
"Images and feelings tie together to make a whole. Put the pieces together, and you will know."
Raleigh's gaze moved to Gipsy's hangar, still with its memorial wreath and sign. Despite himself he could feel hot tears sliding down his cheeks as he remembered her. He didn't care if she'd been an older model, beat-up and outdated in comparison to Jaegers like Striker and Crimson. She had been beautiful, sleek and powerful, one of a kind. She had always gone into battle with a cool efficiency and a desire to protect anything in the monster's path, full of equal parts courage and kindness. And when the three of them – Raleigh, Yancy, and Gipsy – had merged minds in the neural handshake, there had always been a sense of unspeakable joy from her, delight at having them so close…
"She was like a sister," he whispered, throat tight with emotion. "We always thought of her like a little sister. It ripped me apart to lose Yancy… but losing her was just as bad. Both times. And… and the second time was even worse. Because I let her die in the Breach. I sacrificed her and ran away like a coward."
"Beckett…"
"And now that I know she was so close to being alive, that she could have been like Cherno and Crimson if she'd just stuck around a little longer… it's ripping me apart. She must have been frightened and lonely in her final moments, and I just left her behind…"
Aleksis tightened his grip on his shoulder, and the pain brought him back to reality. The older Ranger had a fierce glint in his eyes, but his expression was sympathetic.
"Don't," he growled. "Don't do this to yourself. Gipsy knew what needed to be done. You know it. You feel it. The Jaegers are devoted to protecting humanity, and their Rangers most of all. She loved you like a brother, much as you loved her like a sister. And had she been fully sentient and mobile like Cherno, she probably would have cast herself into the Breach to save you. Do not blame yourself for her death, Beckett. Mourn her, honor her sacrifice, but do NOT wallow in misery. You know she would not want that."
Raleigh wiped as his face, desperately wishing he had a tissue. Aleksis made it sound so easy. And he was right, damn him – in the back of his mind he knew Gipsy had agreed to the plan, and had put his and Mako's safety above her own self-preservation. That didn't keep him from feeling this gut-wrenching guilt over her death. Especially now that he knew it had indeed been a death, and not just the destruction of a machine…
A voice sounded over the intercom system, making both Rangers – and the Jaegers – glance upward. "Dr. Newton Geizler and Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, please report to Tendo Choi's office. Dr. Newton Geizler and Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, please report to Tendo Choi's office."
Raleigh frowned. What was that about? But he was saved from further speculation by another announcement.
"Crimson Typhoon drift sequence to begin in thirty minutes. Assigned medical and LOCCENT personnel, please report to your stations. Crimson Typhoon, please report to the LOCCENT immediately."
Crimson thrummed deeply, and he pushed himself to his feet and made his way to the LOCCENT, picking his footsteps carefully to avoid stepping on anything. Cherno followed close behind, purring happily. Raleigh, for his part, stood and made his way down from the catwalk. However this neural handshake turned out, it was bound to be an event no one wanted to miss.