We're here.
Cherno's gentle nudge shook Aleksis out of his thoughts, and he focused his eyes to take in the familiar, welcome sight of the Jaeger's Conn Pod. Despite the enormity of what they were about to do, there was something comforting about being here, nestled in the heart of the Jaeger that was partnered to them in mind and soul. Whatever happened today, for good or for ill, they would face it together… and they would live or die together as fate saw fit.
Don't think like that, Papa, said Cherno. We're going to get out of here alive. I will make sure of that.
"I am in agreement with Cherno," Sasha added. "Now is not the time for morbid thoughts, love."
"Yes," he replied quietly. "But there is always the possibility…"
"Every time we go into battle, we face the chance of Death snatching us away," Sasha finished for him. "All Rangers know that. But it is a chance, not an inevitability. We can still hope for the best."
The deck of the Ao Kuang had not been designed with titanic mecha in mind, and so groaned under the weight of the six Jaegers as if threatening to buckle at any moment. The captain had assured them that his unlikely passengers wouldn't exceed the ship's capacity, but all the same none of the Jaegers moved more than they absolutely had do, and Rangers and crew alike fretted at every creak and protest from the Ao Kuang. Aleksis doubted that the voyage would be the most nerve-wracking aspect of this mission, but it certainly wasn't the most relaxing part of it either.
The captain says we're about two miles out from the seamount, Cherno told him. He'll wait for us at the islands if the natives allow it. If not, he'll try to keep the ship close by.
Aleksis nodded. Several of the more populous island nations and provinces – Hawaii, Guam, Tahiti, much of Micronesia – had evacuated in response to the kaiju attacks, leaving only the most stubborn and tenacious natives and squatters behind. Hawaii in particular had been rendered a chain of ghost towns, its tourist areas falling into rot and ruin, the lush forests slowly but surely retaking the islands as their own. Anthropologists and biologists hailed the abandonment of the islands as the best thing to have happened to the archipelago, as it allowed the Hawaiian islanders a chance to reclaim their rightful land and the wildlife a chance to recover from humankind's interference.
Probably the one and only positive result of the kaiju invasion, Aleksis thought darkly. And if the Precursors had their way and eliminated humanity… who knew if the islands would get the opportunity to enjoy their costly victory?
"We're ready," Sasha told him. "What about you?"
I'm ready too. We missed Operation Pitfall… but we'll make up for it today, won't we?
A surge of pride filled Aleksis' chest. "That's our boy."
Let's get this party started, blokes, said Striker, making a show of cracking his knuckles. We still got our lil' housewarmin' gift?
Right here, Coyote replied, jerking a thumb over one shoulder.
A shudder passed through Gipsy's frame, making her armor rattle. I don't like the thought of you carrying that, Coyote. I told you I'd take the payload.
Better me than you. Her Conn Pod swiveled around to gaze at every Jaeger. We all know I am the expendable one here.
No, Crimson protested, resting his two right hands on her arm. Don't say that about yourself. You are one of the greatest Mark Is in history! Um, no offense…
None taken, Brawler assured him.
You're sweet, Coyote told Crimson, and the red Jaeger ducked his Conn Pod as if blushing. But it is simply the truth. I am old. I am outdated. And unlike Cherno and Brawler, I have no Rangers left. I have no one to leave behind. It is right that I carry the payload.
Mako's voice chimed in over the radio. "You are not expendable, Coyote. You are a Jaeger… and you are my family. That makes you valuable beyond measure. You are brave to carry the bomb… but please, be careful as well. I… I don't want to lose you like I lost Pentecost."
Coyote rumbled softly. For you, Mako, I will be careful. But if worst comes to worst… do not kill yourselves trying to save me.
Aw, enough of the melodrama, Brawler huffed. And enough of the chatter, eh? Let's do this if we're gonna do it. The Precursors won't wait around forever for us to make up our minds and get down there.
Aleksis nodded, and he flexed his arms slightly against the controls of Cherno's Conn Pod. Said controls weren't necessary anymore, given that their Jaeger could move on his own, but somehow it felt right to be here again, strapped in and connected to Cherno in the deepest way possible. It was as if a part of him had been cut away, and only just now been restored.
How's your leg, Papa?
"It has been worse," he replied. No use lying to Cherno – he could feel the twinges of pain in the limb and would know if Aleksis tried to bluff. "It should not hamper us in a fight."
Cherno paused, and Aleksis could feel that he wanted to fuss a little more over the old war wound. But he dismissed it. Ready?
"Ready," he and Sasha said at the same time.
We're ready here, Crimson added.
Ready to go! Gipsy chimed in.
Let's do this, Striker growled.
Ready as we'll ever be, Brawler noted.
Coyote said nothing, just gave a sharp nod.
"Try to stagger your departures," Tendo advised over the radio. "If all of you go overboard at the same time, it could swamp the ship."
"Lead the way, Coyote," Raleigh offered. "We'll follow you."
She nodded again, and the Ao Kuang rocked drunkenly as she leaped over the side. Her impact against the surface of the ocean sent salt water falling in a sudden rain over the deck, splashing the rest of the Jaegers and scattering the crew members. Gipsy waited until the ship had mostly settled before going after Coyote, followed by Striker.
The joints in Cherno's legs groaned as he tensed to spring, and for a moment the three of them gathered themselves, bracing for whatever was to come beneath the ocean. Then he leaped, weightless for a moment that seemed an eternity… and the chill waters of the Pacific closed over him.
"All six Jaegers have touched bottom," Bishop reported. "Six kilometers from the base and closing in."
Tendo nodded in response. "Minimize the map and bring up visual from the lead Jaeger."
The technician nodded and touched a control. "Visual feed from Coyote Tango is a go."
The LOCCENT's main screen flickered, and the map of the sea floor shrank to a corner of the screen, just large enough to still be able to make out the individual amber dots of the moving Jaegers. The rest of the screen was an eerie landscape of murky blue-black water and jutting rock, barely illuminated by the Jaeger's onboard lights. The view seemed to rise and fall in a slow, steady rhythm as Coyote strode forward, almost like the view from a boat.
"God, you could get motion sickness watching this," Hannibal muttered. "You guys too cheap to spring for a steady cam or somethin'?"
Bishop flashed Tendo a look that plainly said if you can't chase him off can you at least shut him up? Tendo just shrugged and spread his hands helplessly. Part of Hannibal's price for the nuclear warhead that was central to this plan was that he be present to watch it go off. Not that Tendo could really fault him for that – indeed, if the self-proclaimed kaiju-market king wanted to ensure that the weaponry he sold was being used for its intended purpose, that put him one step ahead of most world governments. But it was still annoying, knowing they had to keep a jackal in the Shatterdome during the most important battle since Operation Pitfall.
"So how long have you jokers been holding out on us anyhow?" Hannibal went on, pulling a cigar from his pocket and using his knife to slice off the tip. "Seems to me people should have known earlier your Jaegers were alive, huh?"
"The Rangers felt that telling their secret would have them branded as mentally unstable," Tendo replied as evenly as he could. "After that, we kept quiet because we weren't sure how the PPDC, the governments, or the general public would react. We're lucky most of the world accepted them with open arms… but it's entirely possible they would have panicked and called for their destruction. We couldn't risk that."
Hannibal snorted. "But lettin' them melt them down for the Wall or scavenge their corpses for parts was a-OK, right?" He lit the cigar with an ivory-and-gold lighter. "At least the corpses I loot for profit aren't gonna be missed."
Tendo drew in breath for a reply, then let it out slowly, letting his retort go unsaid. Hannibal was just trying to bait him into an argument. He couldn't let that happen.
"We've got communication from Gipsy Danger!" another tech announced, enlarging his screen to let the text scroll past.
WE SEE IT she announced. THE BASE IS JUST OVER THIS NEXT RISE. NO BREACH THAT I CAN SEE, THOUGH.
Tendo's heart sank slightly at that. So much for killing two birds with one stone.
"Give us a clear visual, Coyote," he told her. "What do you see?"
In response the main screen stilled as Coyote came to a halt and settled her gaze on the Precursor base. Before they had only seen it as a crudely-drawn map or a brilliantly colored holographic projection, but the sight of it now, the calcified gray-green domes of the shell-buildings and the twisted coral frameworks that each caged the slumped form of a Kaiju, seemed almost anticlimactic. Some part of him, the inner eight-year-old boy that had never quite grown up, still expected lurid bright colors and flashing lights and… well, something more, anyhow.
Without thinking he locked his gaze on the narrow framework that, according to Hermann, housed the Precursor Jaeger. It was too far way to make out the details, but he could see no movement. Inactive, at least for the moment… that was one small comfort.
"Are they dead or somethin'?" demanded Chuck over the radio. "None of 'em are even twitchin'."
IT'S LIKE THE FIGHT AT THE HARBOR, Cherno added, his words appearing in both Russian and English on the readout. IT'S TOO QUIET… ANOTHER TRAP, MAYBE?
"Could be," Herc replied, "but we've come this far. We can't wuss out now. Let's get a lil' closer."
Coyote took a few more steps… and jerked to a halt as something flickered at the edge of her vision. Her text appeared on the screen, dual lines of English and Japanese.
KAIJU. CATEGORY 3 AT LEAST. COMING IN FAST.
"We see it," Tendo replied, just as the sleek, blue-veined form swept back into view. "Staghead, Category 4, special attacks unknown at this time. Does it appear to be approaching?"
NO. PATROLLING THE BORDERS. THEIR WATCHDOG, IT APPEARS.
"We're going to assume it's seen you already and has sounded an alarm of some kind," Tendo replied. "Approach with caution."
For almost two full minutes, the LOCCENT simmered with barely restrained tension, watching Coyote soldier forward. The base slid ever closer, until Tendo could make out the individual kaiju contained in their coral cages, eyes dim, bodies pulsing with coruscating blue luminescence. The mock Jaeger hung lifeless in its own organic scaffolding, and there was no sign of movement from the shell buildings. Even Staghead, the sole source of movement, just paced restlessly like a hound on a chain, prong-horned head weaving back and forth as if itching to strike.
IF THEY'RE JUST GONNA STAND THERE, LET'S GET ON WITH IT, Striker put in, and though the text was bland enough, Tendo could just imagine the Mark V was shifting restlessly from foot to foot.
"Proceed," he ordered, "but approach with caution. We don't know if or when-"
And it was at that moment that Armada emerged from behind the largest of the domes, its ululating bellow distorted and weirdly resonant beneath the water. Coyote's view of the base jittered from side to side as she staggered back, and even in the LOCCENT the techs recoiled from the force of its howl.
"Look at the size of that thing," Hannibal marveled, and if Tendo wasn't mistaken he could hear the greed dripping from the man's voice. No doubt he was calculating just how much profit he could squeeze out of every ton of flesh and bone and hide should they manage to drag Armada to shore.
Bishop swore long and imaginatively, then shook her head briskly and recomposed herself. "Armada, Cateogry 5, carries flying parasites that can attack from a distance. Proceed with caution."
NO SHIT, SHERLOCK came Striker's retort.
WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE, YOUNGLING Brawler shot back.
SHE STARTED IT.
"Now is NOT the time for this!" Sasha barked. "Striker, Gipsy, you have the best artillery among the Jaegers. Can you keep it back while Coyote proceeds?"
WE'LL DO OUR BEST, Gipsy replied. WHAT ABOUT STAGHEAD?
"We'll take it," Jin piped up. "It won't get away from us a second time."
By this time Coyote had steadied, giving the LOCCENT a good look at Armada and the base. The massive kaiju's back bore huge bare patches where its parasites had taken off and failed to return, and that gave Tendo a scrap of hope. The fewer individual monsters the Jaegers had to worry about, the better. But his hope faltered as an ominous crackling filled the air, and the nearest caged kaiju – Knifehead 2.0 – wrenched free of its coral restraints, eyes flicking open and shark-like maw splitting to reveal a blue-tinged throat and rows of wickedly sharp teeth.
"They're all loose!" Raleigh called out. "That coral stuff's disintegrating – they're all waking up!"
"Defensive positions!" Tendo shouted. "Striker, Gipsy, concentrate all your firepower on Armada. Cherno, Crimson, Brawler, keep the rest of the kaiju away from Coyote. Coyote, find a safe place to drop the payload."
Easier said than done – no sooner were the words out of his throat than the image onscreen jolted with a brutal impact. Mutavore's hideous face filled the screen, hatchet-shaped jaws open in a feral snarl, multiple sets of eyes rolling from their sockets set in the creature's lower jaw. All kaiju looked like they had been assembled by some deranged god with more imagination than sense, but even by these monsters' standards Mutavore was bizarre and horrible to look upon.
Apparently Coyote thought the same. GET OUT OF MY WAY! she growled, and Mutavore rocked to the side as she punched him in the jaw. The beast gave a reverberating howl and struck back, claws raking down Coyote's front, peeling away paint and metal in long ribbons that glinted in the artificial lights like sparks.
"I'm gonna be sick if you don't turn this off," snapped Hannibal.
"Switch visual feed to Striker!" Tendo ordered. Hannibal's comfort was not his first priority, but at the moment Coyote's optical sensors were next to useless.
The image flicked to another perspective about a hundred meters back. Coyote was exchanging blows with Mutavore, both Jaeger and kaiju snarling in rage, while Crimson had Staghead by the horns and was trying to grapple it to the ground like a steer wrestler. Cherno's fists crackled with energy as he stared down Scunner and Razorback in a tense standoff, while Brawler had both arms wrapped around Knifehead and was doing his best to crush it to death. Gipsy stood on Striker's right, plasma cannon armed and raised, and even as they watched she unleashed a torrent of energy at the looming Armada, catching the beast in the throat.
Another warbling howl, and Armada arched its back in a feline gesture, sending the parasites clinging there airborne… or water-borne, as the case might be. They hovered around their host like a cloud of flies, milling confusedly, until a second bellow sent them scattering in all directions.
"Bloody hell," Chuck murmured.
I GOT THIS, Striker replied.
"You ain't got this!" Herc snapped. "Don't even try it!"
IF I DON'T TRY IT, WE GET RIPPED TO SHREDS BY THOSE THINGS.
"Your missiles are meant for big targets," Herc retorted. "Firin' it on those things'll be like tryin' to shoot down a pigeon with a bazooka."
THEN WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST, OLD MAN?
"Don't call me that, for starters!"
A metallic howl interrupted the argument, and Striker's Conn Pod jerked to the side in time to see Crimson flailing, limbs jerking in violent spasms. His entire chassis was illuminated with an intense blue light, light that streamed from a point just over Staghead's skull. Lightning arced between the prongs of its antlers, coalescing in a flickering sphere just over its head before pouring out into the red Jaeger.
CRIMSON! That was Cherno, staring in horror… and his moment of hesitation cost him dearly, as Scunner charged and knocked him over.
"Lost Crimson Typhoon!" Bishop barked, just as the light flickered out, leaving the Jaeger to list backwards with terrible slowness. "All systems down! Staghead seems to have some kind of EMP attack, though more focused than Leatherback's."
"He's still with us!" Hu shouted, voice thick with relief. "He's alive, just unconscious. We're with him, we'll keep him stable."
"You've got a hull breach!" Bishop protested. "Get out of there now! Your escape pods should still be functional!"
"We're not leaving him!" Cheung shot back.
Gipsy let out a terrible keen as the last coral framework collapsed with a low rumble. Striker's Conn Pod snapped around to take in the sight of a tall, vaguely humanoid shape emerging from the cloud of debris, its gait unhurried and deliberate. Digitigrade legs ended in splayed feet that resembled cloven hooves, and two pairs of spindly arms hung at its sides. Sweeping plates of smooth armor gleamed with a peculiar iridescence like mother-of-pearl, lending it an eerie, vicious beauty. In a strange mirroring of Mustang Omega, it lacked any kind of head or Conn Pod… but a transparent cockpit jutted from its chest, and inside one could just barely make out the insectoid forms of Precursors embedded in a translucent blue gel, limbs wrapped in tentacle-like growths.
"The Precursor Jaeger," Tendo breathed.
Hannibal's eyes flashed, and for the first time in Tendo's memory, the man looked shocked… and even a little afraid. "You're in a world of trouble, Choi."
Had those in the LOCCENT not been so mesmerized by the battle unfolding on the screen – and by the appearance of the otherworldly Jaeger – they might have noticed that Mustang Omega's Conn Pod had been reactivated. For the sake of the Shatterdome's resident scientists, perhaps it was for the best that their little misadventure was going ignored.
"You could not have picked a worse time for this had you tried," Hermann grumbled as he wrestled his legs into the harness.
"Correction: I couldn't have picked a better time for this had I tried," Newt corrected, adjusting the Pons headset on his scalp. "Because not only-" He paused to snap the last of the harness straps in place. "Not only is everyone in charge distracted by the fight, but we get to send one last Jaeger out as backup. Mustang Omega'll be the cavalry charging in to save the day!"
Hermann rolled his eyes. "You have NOT thought this all the way through, Newton! For one thing, IF this even works, there's no way Mustang can make it to the seamount in time!"
"This time I've thought it all the way through!" Newt retorted. "I bribed some of the guys who fly the Jumphawks. They're waiting outside, and once Mustang gets out of the Shatterdome, they'll pick him up and fly him out. Simple, right?"
Hermann rolled his eyes a second time. "And for another thing – how can you be sure this will even work? How many sets of Rangers has Mustang gone through again? For all we know, drifting with a kaiju just means it will automatically reject us."
"If you're so sure this is gonna fail, why are you even here?" Newt pointed out. "Come on, some part of you believes this'll work, right?"
Hermann clamped his jaw, which Newt took to mean he was right and Hermann just didn't want to admit it. He just grinned and finished buckling himself in, then removed the activation switch from his belt.
Before the attack that had killed its Rangers, Mustang's Conn Pod had been a sleek, streamlined work of art, packed with state-of-the-art technology and gleaming with newness. Now it was a hodgepodge of crisscrossed wires and jury-rigged connections, and a heap of mismatched equipment that made up Newt's homebrew neural bridge filled up the back. The broken glass of the Conn Pod still hadn't been repaired, so the two of them had rigged a "redneck" repair by stretching a length of clear plastic over the broken areas. It was crude and slapdash, but it would hold the projections needed to activate the readouts well enough.
"Ready?" Newt asked.
"No," Hermann replied, "but if we wait until I'm ready, we'll be waiting for a very long time. Let's get this over with."
Newt nodded. "Ready back there?"
Spike chirred in response. The louse had his own little nook amid the jumble of equipment, while Max and Bruno sat on the floor just beneath him, identical panting grins on their squashed-looking faces.
"Let's own this bad boy, then." Newt held up the switch. "If this works, Hermann, we'll be heroes."
"And if this doesn't work, we could very well be vegetables."
"Your optimism is reassuring, dude." And he pressed the button.
Rush of memory… tossing back a shot of vodka during a recording session with the Black Velvet Rabbits… gentle hands resting a cool cloth on his forehead as he burned with a terrible fever… the electric-blue tendrils of Otachi's tongue lashing out at him, stinking with spit and acid… chalk squeaking as an equation came together on the chalkboard, almost faster than he could write it… alarms blaring, voices shouting, but it was difficult to tell if those sounds came from the past or the present…
New memories… but dark and silent ones, coming from a mind that had been blind and deaf to the world since birth… confusion and fear and wonder blended together as awareness came for the first time… a tentative affection towards those that had given them life… then pain like a knife at the rejection, the denial, the immediate loss of those that should have been close... the hollow ache of loneliness…
Newt's heart ached in response, and he opened his mouth to respond… but to his utter shock, it was Hermann who spoke first.
"You're not alone, little one." His voice was gentle, as if speaking to a small child or a frightened animal, and warmer than Newt had ever heard it before. "We're here. You're no longer alone…"
Burst of confusion, then a chill flood of distrust. The word came out slowly, almost painfully. W… h… o?
"Hermann Gottlieb." Silence… then the pointed clearing of a throat.
"Oh! Uh… Newt. Newton Geizler, but call me Newt."
N… Newt… Her… Hermann… Mustang's fledgling consciousness chewed over the words awhile, like a child tasting a new food and trying to decide how well he liked it. But… who?
Newt had to puzzle over that one a moment. What were they to Mustang anyhow? They hadn't exactly brought him to life, so they weren't his parents… and he was so young mentally that it seemed strange calling him brother…
"Uncles," he decided. "We're your uncles."
Again Mustang mulled over the word, pondering it… then accepting it. Are… you… going to… yell? Like… like the others?
"What? Aw no, Mustang, we're not gonna yell at you. We're just here to help you, all right? We're gonna help you move around and grow stronger, until one day you can move all by yourself! How does that sound?"
Mustang's presence flitted at the edges of their minds like a skittish cat, warily considering them.
"We want to be your Rangers," Hermann told him. "Your family… your uncles, as Newt said. If you will have us, that is."
Warmth bloomed in Newt's chest, and though the Conn Pod was silent around them, they could vaguely hear Mustang's chassis thrumming to life behind them. New emotions cascaded through the drift – joy, relief, a growing affection for these strange but kind men who had come into his Conn Pod, who had offered him companionship and respect where others had only offered rejection and derision. My Rangers… my uncles…
"Dr. Geizler! Dr. Gottlieb! Respond now!"
Newt shook his head, and he found himself back in his own body… though the connection with Mustang still resonated through his mind. "We're here!"
"Good!" Tendo replied, voice angrier than Newt had ever heard him. "Now explain just what the hell you're doing in there!"
Before Newt could open his mouth to defend himself, Mustang thrummed again. Joy was now replaced with firm determination, the desire to protect his newfound family. Newt hurriedly assured him that Tendo meant them no harm and there was no need to storm the LOCCENT, and the black Jaeger eased back.
"You did it," Tendo murmured. "Mustang's…"
"Mustang Omega reports for duty," Hermann replied. "He is alive, albeit not to the same level of sentience as the others yet. We shall work with him diligently once today is over… but for now, we have a battle to join."
"Neither of you is a Ranger!" Bishop squawked. "You're not trained for battle! And there's still tests to run… we don't know if he'll respond correctly…"
"We'll work out the bugs as we go!" Newt replied, and he raised his right arm. Hermann mirrored the move, and judging from the gasps and exclamations from the LOCCENT Mustang had moved in tandem with the two of them. The readouts flared with activity, measuring fuel reserves, system operability, fluctuations in the drift… and most prominently a Mustang's-eye view of the Shatterdome, clear and strong. They had a clear path to the doors, it looked like… if they could just get Mustang's legs moving…
One sleek black-and-red foot rose in the air, coming down with impossible grace for a being his size. Mustang stepped carefully over the Conn Pod at his feet and made for the doors, workers scattering out of his path, his engines humming with new life. It wasn't until he had stepped outside, the Jumphawks swooping down to carry him, that Tendo spoke again.
"You two are insane."
"Then we fit right in with the rest of the Shatterdome," Hermann retorted.
"Point. We'll discuss this later. For now… make sure Mustang gets safely to the seamount. And good luck to you two… you're going to need it for your first battle."