NOTE: Apologies for the delay in this chapter...

If anyone happened to miss the arrival of Raleigh Beckett, the last surviving Mark III Ranger, at the Hong Kong Shatterdome, then one being in particular made sure they knew about it. Even before the helicopter carrying Marshal Pentecost and the retired pilot had touched down the blue Jaeger began to hum, an almost subliminal thrumming that one felt more than heard, vibrating in the teeth and bones. And as Beckett stepped down from the vehicle and made his way into the base her keening intensified, until it seemed to fill the entire Shatterdome.

Sasha and Aleksis had been on their way to Cherno to help the technicians calibrate his new system upgrade, dressed in their drivesuits and their helmets under their arms, but they paused and turned to face the Mark III. Even though neither of them were linked to Gipsy in any way, they recognized the emotions behind that sound. It wasn't a cry of pain or grief, nor was it the frustrated buzz a Jaeger sometimes emitted in the heat of a battle or during a difficult drift. It was a sound of joy – tinged with relief and just a bit of sadness, but joy all the same.

Despite himself, Aleksis grinned. Gipsy Danger was finally happy… and finally had the one she regarded as family back.

Another sound joined the humming, a rich tenor croon that rose and fell in pitch until it found harmony with Gipsy's alto. Then a third "voice" mingled with theirs, a deep bass rumble that nonetheless fit its way in like a piece to the puzzle. Crimson and Cherno were celebrating the return of Gipsy's Ranger in their own way, and it filled the Jaeger bay with an eerie, ululating thrum that the humans could feel in their very bones.

Striker was silent… but then, he'd been remarkably unresponsive ever since Gipsy had lashed out at him at his arrival. Probably just sulking, Aleksis decided. The younger Jaegers did tend to be moodier than their older brethren.

"For the love of God, someone get 'em to shut up," one of the mechanics huffed. "Haven't the techs found out what's makin' 'em go goofy like that?"

"Hey, I'd rather listen to Jaeger engines go goofy than you flap your jaw," another mechanic laughed, cuffing his friend on the shoulder. "At least theirs doesn't make me want to punch 'em in the face."

The two mechanics walked off, bickering, and Aleksis watched them go with a quizzical frown. It never ceased to amaze him how so many of the Jaeger crews could be so ignorant of their abilities. And despite the evidence that Jaegers were emotional beings, uttering cries of mourning or purrs of content from their engines and power cores, they didn't think to investigate those sounds any further than looking for mechanical errors. It was as if they wanted to remain purposefully stupid about the very machines they depended on to protect them.

Gipsy's thrum intensified as the lift doors opened, admitting Pentecost, Mako Mori… and a worn-looking man whose face identified him as being in his thirties but whose eyes carried a lifetime of pain and exhaustion. There was no questioning that this man had once been a Ranger – he still walked with a suggestion of that confident stride, his shoulders squared back as if the weight of the drive suit still hung from them. But he looked beaten, broken somehow…

He and Sasha exchanged a look, then nodded almost imperceptibly. This was him, then. Gipsy's long-lost Ranger.

"I was expecting him to be older," Sasha admitted.

"They recruited them younger and younger as the war went on," Aleksis replied. "He looks drained, though. Empty. Gipsy's Ranger or not, he seems to have no fight left in him."

Sasha shrugged. "They said we were empty and past our prime. That does not make it true."

Aleksis nodded, but privately he doubted there was much left in the younger Ranger worth saving. Cherno had told them that Gipsy had finally opened up regarding her Rangers, speaking of them in loving, almost worshipful tones. She had been fiercely loyal to their memory, to the point where she had rejected any other pilots the PPDC had introduced to her via the drift. And while some part of her had accepted that Yancy, at least, wasn't coming back, she still held out hope that Raleigh would return to her someday.

Aleksis just hoped that she wouldn't be disappointed by what she saw. Raleigh didn't look much like the cocky, headstrong, but ultimately good-hearted Ranger he had pictured from Cherno's descriptions… but then, a man could change a lot in five years. Or, more likely, Gipsy had idolized her Rangers to the point where she had painted a larger-than-life image of them for Cherno, and there was no way the real thing could measure up to it.

Pentecost was giving Raleigh a brief tour of the Jaeger bay, introducing him to the other teams and pointing out which of the titanic mecha had survived to make the final stand. Raleigh listened attentively, nodding at all the appropriate times and stepping forward to shake hands with Hercules. At least he was friendly, Aleksis noted, if a bit subdued…

Then the man's gaze fell on Gipsy… and it was as if, at that moment, everything else in the Shatterdome – personnel, other Jaegers, even the very walls of the building – had ceased to exist. The Mark III commanded all his attention, and his eyes brightened as he approached her. Gone was the look of weary acceptance he had worn upon his arrival – his expression now was of incredulous joy, of relief and delight at being reunited with one he had long thought gone.

Cherno and Crimson quieted down, their thrumming softening to a vague background hum. But Gipsy's thrumming intensified until it filled the hangar, her joy at seeing Raleigh almost palpable in the air. If it had been at all possible, Aleksis was sure the blue Jaeger would have pulled free of her scaffolding and closed the remaining distance between her and her Ranger, scooping him up in her hands and holding him close. As it was she practically vibrated with barely contained emotion, her keening interspersed with coughs of her engine that sounded almost like sobbing.

Aleksis felt his doubts regarding Raleigh begin to melt away. Worn-out or not, damaged or not, it was obvious he still enjoyed a strong bond with his Jaeger, and that the passing of years hadn't dimmed it in the slightest. If anything, he looked as overjoyed at the reunion as Gipsy sounded. Jaeger and Ranger had been reunited, and Aleksis knew there could be no separating them now.

Of course, that didn't exactly make their team complete, and that was enough to kill the smile that had started to tug at his lips. They would need a third member of the team before they could be truly complete, and only time would tell if they could find a suitable substitute for Yancy… or if Gipsy would even accept such a substitute.

It was a strange trio that gathered before the steps of the Kaiju Temple in the heart of the Bone Slums, staring at the massive skull and trying to work up the nerve to go inside. Newt looked torn between fanboy-ish glee at the almost perfectly preserved specimen that loomed over them and apprehension at what lay inside, while Hermann wore an expression of loathing – whether at the skull itself or the fact that it was considered a place of worship, who could say? Spike, meanwhile, squirmed and writhed in Newt's arms, squalling and chittering as if he sensed the remains of a possible host nearby and wanted to be reunited with a fellow being of his homeworld, alive or dead.

"Category II Kaiju," Newt murmured with a quiet, almost reverent awe. "Estimated to be seventy meters tall at the shoulder and almost eighteen thousand tons. Took a nuke to take it down, since there weren't Jaegers ready to take it on yet…"

"You are not making me any more willing to go inside," Hermann snapped.

"Dude, we're gonna be living with the cult for awhile, you might as well get used to people actually liking these buggers." Newt bent down and picked up his suitcase, still cradling Spike in one arm. "C'mon, let's get out of the rain."

"Of course YOU would like this," Hermann muttered, adjusting the strap of his bag and limping after him. "Surrounded by your fellow Kaiju groupies and all. What about the rest of us who maintain some shred of sanity?"

"Hey, just because I find Kaiju fascinating doesn't mean I want to worship the things," Newt retorted. "Dude… I think these stairs are Kaiju bone. They really believe in recycling here."

Hermann rolled his eyes but trailed after him. "Groupie."

"Buzzkill," Newt retorted.

The ivory dome of Reckoner's skull loomed over them, the short, blunt muzzle serving as a sort of entryway. Whatever teeth the monster had possessed had long been removed, either by the builders of the temple or Hannibal's harvesters. Ironically, while many of the other bones littering the Slums bore gouges from the harvesters or scratched-in graffiti cursing the monster and its ilk, the temple itself was untouched. Perhaps the cult had a good security system… or perhaps people were too intimidated or unnerved by the cultists to interfere with one of their temples.

An entryway had been hollowed out of the end of Reckoner's muzzle and fitted with a set of carved teak doors. Newt set his suitcase down and reached up to knock, then spotted a button set into the doorframe. Figuring it was some sort of doorbell or intercom system, he pressed it… and leaped back with a yelp when a harsh voice thundered out from a hidden loudspeaker.

"We don't give charity here!" That gruff dismissal was followed up by the same phrase in Cantonese.

"Jesus!" Newt exclaimed, shaking his hand as if the button had stung him.

"Wrong denomination," the voice replied curtly. "There's a Catholic church just outside the slums if that's what you're after."

"No, no, no, we're not here for a handout," Hermann cut in, pushing Newt aside to address the speaker. "We're here to speak to whoever's in charge!"

"If this is about the court case, talk to our attorney."

"We want to speak to whoever's in charge!" Hermann repeated. "Your high priest, your archbishop, your shaman, whatever you have! We were told we could find sanctuary here!"

"We're not a hotel or a soup kitchen."

"Tell your priestess lady it's me, Newton Geizler!" Newt shouted. "See if that rings any bells for her!"

Silence. Newt shifted uneasily, his grip on Spike tightening until the skin mite began gurgling in protest. He was about ready to lose his nerve and bolt when the voice resumed, sounding far friendlier than before.

"High Priestess Mikhail welcomes you, Dr. Newton Geizler. And you, Dr. Hermann Gottlieb. Pass through these doors and walk in peace in the shadow of the Great Destroyers."

"Uh… thanks, I guess," Newt replied.

The doors creaked open, and the two scientists stepped out of the neon-lit gloom of a rainy Hong Kong evening and into a soft amber glow.

Newt stopped in his tracks, blinking in surprise, rainwater dripping from his clothes and onto the burnt-orange marble floor. He had expected the Kaiju temple to look like something out of a horror movie inside – gothic-style architecture, Lovecraftian-style gargoyles leering from the ceiling, maybe some tentacle-themed décor or a Kaiju-blue color scheme. But the main room – the chapel or sanctuary or whatever they liked to call it – was a simple domed chamber with smooth walls of a light caramel color and plain rows of wooden benches lined up before a raised platform and mahogany-wood lecturn at the head of the room. Red-robed acolytes glided around the perimeter of the room, lighting candles in teardrop-shaped wall sconces, and two nuns in sweeping, stylized hats whispered softly to one another as they set out stacks of clean cups and linens at a table near the front of the chamber. Behind the lectern loomed two bronze statues of Kaiju – Trespasser and Karloff, Newt recognized – each with forelimbs raised but with oddly benevolent, noble expressions on their reptilian faces.

He snorted, just a bit disappointed. Except for the Kaiju statues, it looked like any other church. Some part of him had hoped for something a little more exotic…

"Dr. Geizler! You came!"

Newt turned at that shout… and gave an "oof!" of surprise as thin but strong arms swept him up in a hug. The priestess squeezed him tightly, then let him go so suddenly he staggered.

"Friend of yours?" asked Hermann, a slight smirk in his voice. "One of your Kaiju fangirl friends?"

"Shut up," Newt retorted. "It's just the chick that's been bugging me to join their church."

"And I see you have finally taken me up on the offer," she said with a broad grin, clasping her hands before her. She still wore the split headdress and crystal pendant Newt had always seen her wearing, though her silver-green robes were gone at the moment. Instead she wore a turquoise-colored tunic belted in silver, with black leggings and black leather boots.

"High Priestess Fatima Mikhail," she said by way of introduction, extending a long-nailed hand toward Hermann. "It is a pleasure to meet a friend of Dr. Geizler's."

Hermann eyed her hand suspiciously, and after an awkward moment she lowered it. Newt spoke up, hoping to ease the tension a bit.

"Uh… so you said we were welcome here anytime, right?" he ventured. "I mean, that's been your spiel every time we've talked…"

"And the offer still stands, if you are willing to take it," she replied.

"Well, yeah," said Newt. "We, uh, kinda lost our jobs. Cutbacks and all, the PPDC's low on funding, has to let some people go… you know the drill. And we don't have anywhere else to go, really… so I'd hoped we could find a place here?"

She cocked her head to one side in consideration, but was otherwise silent.

"I mean, you did say if the PPDC ever decided they didn't need us, we had a place here," Newt insisted. "Or I did, but that Hermann was welcome too... so um, please?"

She nodded slowly, though something about the glint in her eyes seemed to say that she knew they were hiding something. "But of course… we cannot deny those who have held congress with the Messengers." She beckoned for them to follow her. "Come… we will find you quarters. You will have to sleep in the monks' rooms, but I trust you will find them adequate."

"That will do nicely," Hermann told her, somehow managing a smile. "We thought we would be sleeping in the streets tonight, so whatever rooms you have will be a blessing."

She smiled warmly. "Anything to help those who had the courage to commune with the Messengers… and the good fortune to live to tell the tale. We do hope that, in return for our charity, you will be willing to share what you have learned from the Messengers of the Deep Ones with us. It would be beneficial to all our followers."

Newt gulped. Well, he should have expected there to be a catch buried in this somewhere. Nobody just did anything for free in this day and age, and apparently that also applied to a bunch of lunatic cultists whose idea of worshiping their gods entailed sabotaging Jaegers and declaring city-destroying monsters as the equivalent of archangels. Still, he had been hoping they'd ask for something a little more benign, such as cleaning temple floors or doing the cultists' laundry.

"We will be willing to share anything that we feel we are able to," Hermann replied, choosing his words with care. "However, there are things the Deep Ones reveal to us that are too sacred to share at this time. Mankind has not been fully prepared to hear them, and they must remain hidden until the time is right."

Newt gave Hermann a weird look, but the mathematician just smirked at him in response. The biologist made a face before turning back to the priestess. Half of him hoped that Mikhail wouldn't buy Hermann's excuse, but to his surprise – and annoyance – she seemed to accept it.

"But of course. Though we would ask that you not withhold it longer than absolutely necessary." She motioned with one slim hand. "Follow me. The acolytes will take your bags, and see that your pet has adequate accommodations."

"Oi!" Newt held Spike aloft, out of reach of the red-robed young man who had come to collect him. "Spike goes where I go!"

Mikhail chuckled. "He is a sacred creature, Dr. Geizler. You cannot expect him to live in the quarters of common humans, even if they happen to be prophets. No… he needs a proper abode, something worthy of his status. Besides, he looks in need of an ammonia bath – his carapace is shriveling."

"Huh… never thought of him as sacred," Newt noted, and lowered his arms to let the acolyte take the skin mite. "Just be careful with him, okay? Oh, and he likes his bedding to be aluminum foil. And he likes chicken livers and hearts, so I hope you have some of those… and make sure they're warmed up before you feed them to him, he doesn't like them cold…"

Mikhail chuckled. "Don't worry, Dr. Geizler. He is in good hands with us." She patted his arm. "Come… let us get you settled in."

It was Newt's turn to smirk as he and Hermann followed the priestess into a narrow but well-lit hallway that wound deeper into the temple. "See? Someone here appreciates Spike. Here you thought he was just a pest."

"Oh, stuff it," Hermann huffed. "Sacred creature or not, that doesn't mean I have to like the disgusting thing."

"Hey, watch it, that's a sacred creature you're dissing!" Newt laughed. Then he lowered his voice, lagging a few steps behind Mikhail so she wouldn't overhear. "This went a lot easier than I thought. Who'da thought they'd see us as prophets?"

Hermann shook his head. "It's almost too easy. I don't like it."

"You don't like anything," Newt pointed out. "Geez, can't we just get lucky for once? Just be glad things went easy for once."

"Nothing in this war comes easy – if it's easy, then it's a trap or a mistake. Keep on guard, Newton. I don't like this place, and I have a feeling things are going to get a lot harder from here on out."

Pain… splitting pain that seemed to pierce her head and body with cold steel… an unimaginable pressure threatening to crush her…

No light, no sound… the awful sensation of something skittering across her armor, prodding and grasping within her joints… something thick and coated in slime weaving its way through her body to hold her together…

It wasn't supposed to end like this… the end should have been quick and merciful… not this drawn-out suffering… not being put on display… not tortured and manhandled like some sort of lab animal…

A name bubbled to the surface of her mind… the sole thing that gave her hope… the lifeline she clung to for the sake of her own sanity… the name of the one most precious to her…

Pain flared brightly through her chassis as something forced its way into her head… invading her Conn Pod… tiny alien digits pawing at the inner workings, trying to force her to give up her secrets… trying to find what made her kind so special, how they could use her for a second chance at their war…

No… no, she wouldn't let this happen… she would die for good before she let them use her against humankind… against her brother… his name pulsed through her, a mental cry that suffused her chassis with a flood of dazzling energy… a cry that seemed to echo across worlds…

RALEIGH!

Raleigh sat bolt upright, gasping for breath. The pain and pressure had eased, but adrenaline still surged through his body as his groggy mind groped for answers. It took him almost a full minute to realize it had just been a dream, that he was in his quarters in the Shatterdome and not in some dark, silent prison.

He flopped back into bed amid a tangle of sheets. A light sheen of sweat covered his skin, and he wiped his brow in disgust. Bad enough that he was being plagued by nightmares almost every night now – he didn't need night sweats on top of it.

He closed his eyes, trying to get back to sleep. But sleep returned in fits and starts, each time plunging him back into darkness and terror… and an ice-cold pressure that seemed to squeeze the air from his lungs…

Finally he gave up, and he kicked himself free of his bedsheets and rolled out of his cot. It was almost his usual time to get up anyhow. Never mind that he was still exhausted and felt like he'd just been smacked across the room by Leatherback – he might as well shower and try to get something constructive done so long as he couldn't sleep.

One shower and several cups of coffee later he was on his way to the Jaeger bay, not making eye contact with anyone. The residents of the Shatterdome were perfectly happy to ignore him – not out of intentional malice or disdain, but simply because they recognized the expression of someone moody and out of sorts from lack of sleep, and judged it best not to bother him. And unlike his previous exile, which had left him lonely and desperate for company, he was perfectly willing to be left alone right now.

Unlike Raleigh, the rest of the Shatterdome seemed to be in high spirits, and for good reason. It had been almost two weeks since the Weis had awakened, and all three of the Shatterdome's Jaegers and their Rangers had seen great strides in their developments – even if only two of the three Jaegers appreciated said developments at all.

Mustang Omega was still being hailed as the hero of the second Hong Kong battle, and many of the mechanics and tech teams lavished attention on the experimental Jaeger. They continued to fine-tune the mecha, working out bugs in its programming, overhauling its engines and motor-control systems and even buffing out scratches in its plating. Had Mustang possessed any degree of sentience it would have been preening at the attention… but the maintenance crews might as well have been trying to pamper a wall for all the reaction it gave. Its pilots, at least, appreciated the attention by proxy, and never hesitated to brag about their triumphant debut battle at every opportunity.

The other two Jaegers commanded their fair share of attention as well. Crimson Typhoon refused to let his Rangers return to the medical center, but he finally relented and allowed medics to make regular visits to them in his hangar. The triplets were recovering with remarkable speed, upgrading from being bedridden to darting around the Jaeger bay in wheelchairs within a matter of days. They laughed and teased with the red Jaeger, and Crimson positively glowed with pleasure at being reunited with his pilots.

The Kaidonovskys, too, continued to improve, albeit more slowly. Aleksis could finally make his way about without a walker, though he moved more slowly than before and would probably limp for the rest of his life, and Sasha had regained most of her strength. Cherno Alpha fussed over the two of them endlessly, and fretted and fidgeted whenever they left his side to eat or take care of personal matters. And the Mark I continued to pay visits to Crimson, ensuring his friend was okay and occasionally indulging him in whatever game they could cobble together from scrounged bits.

It was a good time to be a Ranger… unless one happened to be a Ranger adrift, as Raleigh was. A Ranger without a Jaeger.

As he entered the bay he could see Cherno and Crimson engaged in another game, a large-scale version of checkers played out on a "board" made from crisscrossing lines of cable. This time it seemed that the game wasn't merely to keep the Jaegers distracted – Mako had both of them, as well as their Rangers, hooked up to scanners and EKG machines, gathering information and studying the fluctuations in the drift and the Rangers' brain activity. Even with the Shatterdome's resident scientists absent, Mako was determined to continue the study of the Jaegers, and increase their understanding of what made them sentient and why.

Raleigh pulled up a crate and sat down near Mako to watch and to be ready to help as needed. He wasn't scientifically-minded at all, so his assistance mostly amounted to fetching supplies or moving things around for the techs and medics. Still, it was some way he could contribute, and not feel like a fifth wheel – a feeling he was growing all too familiar with.

He tried to focus on watching the game… but something gnawed restlessly at the back of his mind, making him shift and squirm in place. His gut twisted as if it were disagreeing with the morning's coffee already, and his skin prickled with gooseflesh. It wasn't fear, not exactly… more of a quietly mounting dread, as if something huge were about to happen and only he could sense it…

"Beckett!"

He jumped in place. "Whaa?"

"I said hand us that spool of wire there, will ya?" Herc ordered. "The wires we got ain't long enough to reach Crimson's Conn Pod."

"Right, right." He got up and snagged the spool off a nearby supply cart, handing it over. Duty completed, he went to sit down again, only to notice Mako giving him a penetrating stare.

"What?" he demanded, more shortly than he'd intended.

She looked around as if to make sure no one else could hear, then leaned in slightly. "You feel it too?"

"Feel what?"

"You know what I mean. A…" She searched for the word. "A premonition. The feeling that something is coming."

He nodded. "Yeah… I had a nightmare last night and it's still bugging me. I guess you're picking it up through the drift hangover."

She shook her head. "It's not that. I've felt your feelings in the drift hangover before… this isn't it. It's too strong." She hesitated, then pressed on. "I have had dreams too. Of darkness, and pain…"

He blinked up at her, frowning. "But it's someone else's pain, isn't it?"

She nodded. "I think it is Gipsy's."

He flinched at that. "Think we're reliving her final moments? Before she…" He couldn't finish.

"I don't know." She looked back at Cherno and Crimson, still engrossed in their game. "I wish I could have known her better, as you did."

Emotion welled up in his throat at that, and he forced it back down. No use letting the rest of the Shatterdome see him blubber like a child, even if it was over Gipsy. "She liked you. I felt it. She would have done anything to protect you."

Mako blinked back tears of her own, and opened her mouth to reply…

RALEIGH!

Pain streaked through his entire body, blacking out his vision. He barely heard Mako's sudden cry or the startled chatter of the technicians – a pulsing agony blocked out everything else. Pain, fear, desperation… a longing so fierce it made his gut ache…

A claxon alarm sounded through the haze of pain… the Kaiju alert.

"Not again!" Herc snapped. "Get Mustang online! Where the hell are the Rossis?"

"They're suiting up," Tendo replied. "But I want to send Crimson and Cherno with Mustang as backup. Aleksis, Sasha, do you think Cherno's ready for another encounter?"

Aleksis snorted. "More than ready. He says he is going out whether you like it or not."

Hands gripped Raleigh's shoulders, pulling him back onto his feet. He staggered, stumbling against his benefactor – Sasha, he realized – before regaining his balance. His vision kept flickering out, a suffocating blackness overtaking him in strange bursts. Beside him Mako clutched Herc's arm, trying to stay upright despite looking as if she were about to pass out.

Cherno squealed in alarm, and Raleigh sensed more than saw the Mark I looming over them, a hand outstretched.

"He is worried about you," Sasha told him.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" Raleigh lied. "Don't worry about me, big guy… you've got a Kaiju to fight…"

Tendo's voice rang down from the LOCCENT, somehow calm and collected despite the situation. "Stand down! No Jaegers are going out!"

"What?" Cheung glared up at the LOCCENT in horror. "There's a Kaiju out there! It needs to be stopped!"

"It's not a Kaiju."

"Then what the bloody hell is it?" Herc demanded. "Has to be damned big to set off the sensors, bigger than a submarine at least…"

Tendo paused a moment, filling the Shatterdome with a tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. "Raleigh, Mako, you may want to sit down for this. It's… it's Gipsy."

Raleigh's legs folded beneath him, and he would have collapsed had Sasha not gripped him to keep him upright. It couldn't be… it had to be a joke. Gipsy was gone… her core had overloaded and detonated to seal the Breach. There was no way…

Another cry rang through his mind – Raleigh!

Despite everything telling him it was impossible, that this had to be some kind of sick cosmic prank, his heart called back – Gipsy!

Raleigh! A burst of feeling that could only be a sob. Raleigh… Mako… you're okay…

Oh god, Gipsy… He couldn't hold it back anymore – tears poured down his cheeks as he gave vent to everything he had held in for so long, the grief and guilt that had plagued him every time Gipsy crossed his mind. I'm so sorry… I abandoned you, I ran away and left you to die… I'm so, so sorry…

Warmth flooded him, Gipsy's mental touch trying to soothe him and push away the pain. I missed you both so much…

Shouts brought him back to reality, and his vision focused in time to see Cherno bolting through the open bay doors. Crimson was two steps behind, both Jaegers' thunderous gaits shaking the floor with every step.

Raleigh squirmed free of Sasha's grip and ran after them. Someone grabbed at his jacket, trying to stop him, but he lashed out, feeling his fist connect with something that yelped in pain before taking off again. He'd apologize later – right now, someone else needed him.

Crimson and Cherno were already outside and stepping into the harbor, wading out to intercept the form emerging from the water. The intruder's head and shoulders were all that were visible, the rest still submerged… but it was enough for Raleigh to recognize her by. And that was all that it took for him to bolt for the shore, the sight of her giving him an impossible burst of energy.

Cherno bent down, gathering the Mark III up in his arms. Raleigh's gut clenched in disgust and horror – Gipsy was, quite literally, a wreck. The blast must have blown her apart, and her torso still gaped open to expose mangled internal components… but a weird bluish-green material held her pieces together, a slimy tissue keeping the surviving bits of her limbs and chassis fixed together in a crude facsimile of her. Rust and barnacles caked the edges of her wounds, and half her Conn Pod had been torn off, replaced with a thick wad of cartilaginous tissue that glistened sickeningly in the morning sunlight.

Raleigh doubled over, retching. What had they done to her? The thought of the Precursors pawing at her with their slimy little hands, defiling her chassis with their biotech slime, made him alternately want to throw up and venture back into the Breach to crush every last one of them.

Cherno paused about fifty feet from Raleigh, the surf still surging around his feet. Then, with infinite care, he knelt in front of the Ranger, lowering Gipsy toward him.

"Gipsy… oh my god, what did they do to you?" Tears continued to stream down his face as he watched her. Up close she looked even worse…

A faint, sputtering purr came from what was left of her engines. Somehow, impossibly, despite the blast of her reactor and the strange alien tissue holding her together, she still functioned. She was alive, if only through sheer force of will.

Raleigh… it's dark… I can't see you…

"I'm right here," he assured her. "Mako's on her way too. Gipsy… aw god…"

Joy coursed through him – Gipsy's joy. I missed you.

He couldn't reply – he was crying too hard to form words. One of Gipsy's arms, missing all but two fingers and with a thick tendril of tissue keeping it connected at the elbow joint, twitched slightly. Then, with great effort, she raised it toward him.

Don't cry, she begged. Please don't cry. I'd do it all over again if I had to. I'd rather die than have you and Mako hurt.

Raleigh reached out toward her, despite her hand being too high up for him to reach. Laughter mingled with his sobs. She was back… somehow, despite all the odds, she'd returned to him. And with her return it felt like a wound deep inside him had closed.

Herc's voice intruded on their reunion: "Get her into the Shatterdome. Tendo wants her given a complete scan to make sure she ain't contaminated or infected with something nasty. Then we got a LOT of work ahead of us…"