Their arrival in Hong Kong was right in the middle of a thunder shower. The sky was dark, the water churning with the winds, and if not for the clock showing Q that it was just after two p.m., he would have thought it was in the middle of the night.
Skyfall Prime hung underneath the eight heavy lift helicopters that had flown her from Vancouver to Hong Kong. She was lowered into the hangar bay and locked down on a platform, a gigantic, motionless figure. Around her, the tech teams swarmed, getting ready to connect her to her new home.
James Bond and Q had been aboard a separate helicopter. It touched down and when they stepped out, dressed in heavy, waterproof coats, they were almost immediately drenched. Water ran down in steady rivulets and Q's hair was matted down under his cap.
They stood on the helicopter pad, looking out over the wide bay. Q could make out the shapes of the industrial plants close to the Shatterdome.
"Commander Bond, Mr. Whitmarsh."
He turned and found himself facing the tall, imposing figure of Stacker Pentecost, Marshall of the Hong Kong Shatterdome.
"Welcome to Hong Kong."
They shook hands and followed the other man inside. Everything was busy, the sound of welding, hammering, men and women shouting orders, the hum of engines as parts were carted around, it all was just like back home.
"We have cleared quarters for you," Pentecost said and he was joined by a young, Japanese woman. "This is Mako Mori. She knows the Shatterdome inside out. She'll get you to your quarters, answer any questions you have."
Mako inclined her head in a greeting.
"Thank you," Bond answered, sounding neutral, polite.
iCareful/i, Q thought.
Pentecost left them with Mako and she guided them through the bustle to their quarters.
The tour was brief, just the basics, since the Shatterdome was concentrating all its Jaegers and tech crews in one hangar bay. They were introduced to Tendo Choi, the Chief Jaeger Technician and LOCCENT officer. Q was busy taking it all in, eyes alight with something Bond had already seen before: he wanted to get his hands on the tech, wanted to look at their Jaeger, wanted to talk to their crew.
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Twelve hours after their arrival, after unpacking the few belongings they had taken along, after a short nap and a long, hot shower, James Bond walked through the busy hangar.
It was a sad, sad sight, he mused. The only one active. There had been a time when the whole Shatterdome had been filled with active Jaegers and their teams.
A long time ago.
Aside from his clothes, he had taken only one personal item with him: the bulldog figurine. It had become something very personal for him. Like him it had survived; a symbol of his own survival and continued existence.
Q would probably laugh his perfect little arse off.
He nodded at the imposing figure of Aleksis Kaidonovsky, who was overseeing work on his Jaeger. His wife Sasha was at his side.
He had seen them several times already, easily standing out from the crowd with their platinum hair, his size and the dark beard, their whole, confident appearance. They were the only active Mark-I pilot pair. Their Jaeger was impressive, heavily armed, in peak condition, and had impressive kills under her belt. She might be the slowest, but she had successfully defended the Russian coastline for six years.
The Wei triplets usually kept to themselves, aside from maybe interacting with the techs maintaining their Mark-IV. Crimson Typhoon was a legend, a marketing brand, a unique Jaeger. The Weis passed their days playing basketball. At least he had never seen them do anything else.
Crimson Typhoon looked like a polished, glorified Jaeger commercial next to the sturdy, dark green Cherno Alpha.
Striker Eureka was a sight to behold. A Mark-V, sleek and deadly, piloted by a father-son duo, it was the one they were here to protect. It was the only Mark-V ever to be built. It was fast, agile, unmatched by any of the others.
Eleven kills. It was impressive.
Work was done on the back section of the massive Jaeger. It was where the payload would be attached.
Q joined him as Bond let himself drift through the hangar, eyes roaming around, taking in every detail. The young quartermaster hadn't really unpacked or stayed in his quarters. He had immediately gone exploring, taking Mako up on her offer for a quick tour. He had spent a lot of time with the techs and engineers for Skyfall.
James had been highly amused when he had found him right there in the middle of every repair, upgrade and redesign. Q added to the programming code, altered sequences, upgraded the upgrades.
And he had been circling through the other teams, talking to them, exchanging information, lending a helping hand.
Within just six hours, Q was already a known factor around the Shatterdome hangar bay, as much a topic of chatter and gossip as Raleigh Becket had become when he had been pulled from his voluntary retirement.
The pilot teams knew who Q was.
That he was Vancouver's quartermaster.
That he was the Double-Oh's co-pilot.
That he was an untested rookie pilot without any fighting experience, like Mako Mori was too.
That he was a perfect match to a pilot who couldn't be more of an opposite to him.
That Bond had wanted him out of the regular candidates.
Yes, it had drawn raised eyebrows.
Yes, it had generated talk.
But they also knew about the strong neural handshake and every pilot team knew how important that was. Nothing else mattered. Gender, race, age, relationships, familial bonds. It was all second to the Drift.
James was proud of his co-pilot. He knew they could do this.
"I've talked to the research scientists," Q said, standing close to Bond, almost like they were locked together.
The closeness was far from unwanted. James had felt the Ghost-Drift more and more, had felt himself react to his younger partner, had been as close as possible since they had come here. Ghost-Drifting happened between strong matches, their minds still synched. Bond had never felt it more completely than with Q.
Closeness between pilots that weren't married couples wasn't uncommon and no one looked twice. They needed to be one, to Drift in sync, and whatever means were necessary, would be taken.
So far, the attraction hadn't lessened and he knew Q wasn't averse to it.
He had seen it in the Drift.
"To Dr. Gottlieb," he added.
There was almost adoration there; almost. Gottlieb had written the programming code for the Mark-I Jaegers. He was a mathematical genius.
"His theories are… frightening and terrifyingly realistic in nature."
James turned away from his study of the Jaeger, eyes only on Q. He briefly wondered when the energy would run out, when his young, genius co-pilot would power down, but so far he was like on overdrive.
"The Kaiju attacks used to come every twenty four weeks, then twelve weeks, followed by four," he elaborated. "The last Kaiju attack was barely a week before Mutavore broke through the Kaiju Wall in Sydney. Dr. Gottlieb speculates that the next attacks would likely occur in hours before we are faced with a Double Event and then Triple Event. That would lead to our extinction."
"Do you believe him?"
"He is a genius in his field."
"That's not what I was asking, Q."
The younger man looked at the Jaeger in front of them again. "Yes. Yes, I believe him, even if Pentecost doesn't. He's still very much fixated on destroying the Breach. I hope they know what they are doing this time," the quartermaster continued. "I saw their simulations. It always looks good in simulations, but my own theories on the Breach tell me that simply dropping this thing inside won't solve our problem."
"Our last chance," Bond murmured.
Q nodded. "We'll make it happen, 007."
Bond smiled at him. "Yes, we will."
His partner was watching him, eyes alert. He wasn't close enough to touch, but close enough nevertheless. James had the feeling he had known Q all his life, had been there when he was a child, that they had gone through the same ups and downs, that he had been with him at MIT and that Q had been there for his Naval service.
It was eerie.
It was what happened when you Drifted.
It was even more eerie to think that Vesper hadn't had such an impact. For them it had taken weeks, months, a long time. With Q, things had been progressively faster, more intense, and it was on-going.
They had three Drifts under their belt and nothing had changed. The intensity was there.
Both walked past the Jaegers standing silently in the hangar bay, their technicians, their workers, the command crews. Bond was almost shadowing his co-pilot, never leaving too much space between them. They were both wearing civilian clothes underneath the crew jackets that had Skyfall's decals printed on the front and chest. Q had opted for a very colorful vest and a white shirt underneath, which had James smile a little to himself.
His quartermaster liked stylish, even if it was an odd combo sometimes. The black jeans didn't help dissuade looks.
It was when they walked from the hangar back into the honeycombed corridors of the Shatterdome that he caught a glimpse of a verbal altercation between two pilots. One was Raleigh Becket, the one who had become a legend all of his own just before he had disappeared for five years.
Retired, some had said.
Bond snorted.
He had heard about the loss of his brother, how Yancy Becket had been torn out of the Drift, Raleigh feeling the pain and the fear, the terror, then death. He had managed to pilot a severely damaged Gipsy Danger back to the shores – alone.
He was one of two pilots who had ever managed that.
Bond had been surprised that the man hadn't come out of it brain-damaged or worse.
Now he was back. And he was sparring verbally, as well as physically with Chuck Hansen, Herc Hansen's son and co-pilot of Striker Eureka. He had heard from others how they had riled each other up, the rivalry something that had come almost immediately when Becket had arrived. Bond and Q had been the last team to make it to Hong Kong; after the first memorable encounter between those two.
"He's holding back," James remarked.
Q tilted his head a little. "It seems so. He's a master martial artist. The PPDC trained him well."
"Pacing the fight. Not even breaking into a sweat." James looked impressed. "He could take the kid down with one blow. He doesn't. Keeps him at arm's length."
He saw Q's raised eyebrows, his thoughtful expression.
"They would be Drift compatible," his partner commented, watching the shouting match.
"Emotions alone aren't a guarantee for a strong Drift."
Q shot him a look, one hard to interpret, one that Bond translated for himself as 'Just keep on thinking that, bloody idiot'. He grinned.
Q headed for their respective quarters and James followed. "I have run enough match scenarios to know when two pilots can be good together."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Brothers, parent-child combinations, spouses, it's all based on emotions."
"Rivals?"
"They complement each other, 007. This between them, it's a matter of opposition drawn from perceived rivalry. Chuck was raised by a Ranger father, grew up in an environment that consisted of nothing but the Jaegers and the pilots. No social circle outside the PPDC. He is a narcissistic persona, antagonistic to those he perceives as a threat to his position, and a perfectionist. He tries to prove himself, tries to be the best, needs to be the best, and he has the kills to prove him right. It makes him overconfident. His father balances that trait. The cool control and the spontaneous energy of his youth combine to form a very strong command crew."
Bond raised an eyebrow.
"I studied the other pilots," Q said, almost a little defensively.
"Of course you did."
Q gave him a put-upon look."We have to know who we are working with for this to succeed."
"Of course we do."
"As quartermaster of the Vancouver Shatterdome it was part of my job description. Know the pilots for the Jaegers. Just because I've been transferred and repositioned doesn't mean I'm not good at my job." There was slight indignation there.
"I never said you were."
Q looked at him, brows drawn down over narrowed eyes. "You are a nightmare, 007."
He grinned more. The sparks between them were almost palpable. It was almost physical, the attraction growing, the connection strengthening. Bond had seen this man in the Drift, had been Q, had shared his memories, and he knew… just knew…
Something had to give.
Soon.
And it would be one hell of an explosion.
"Becket has lost a lot," his co-pilot continued, ignoring the overpowering presence beside him, "has been damaged more deeply than any physical wound can ever be, and it leaves him wandering. His match with Mako Mori is a good one, but for me it would seem that a Drift with Chuck could prove to be even stronger, more compatible, and in the end more satisfying."
Bond smirked.
"Oh please," the quartermaster muttered.
They had arrived in front of the hatch leading to Q's quarters. Bond didn't even hesitate to follow him inside.
"So you think they would be good together."
"I know it."
"And you knew we would be good together," Bond challenged, a slow smile crossing his lips.
"It was a possibility."
"A good one."
Q was with his back against the wall, Bond leaning over him, hands left and right of the tousled head.
He didn't shrink back. He didn't so much as flinch. James was looking into the dark eyes, still hidden behind his ever-present glasses, and he wanted nothing more than this man.
Right now.
In the worst possible way.
It was tearing at him, like a vicious beast, overwhelmed his mind, made him think primal, very dirty thoughts.
"Still you fought it," he said roughly.
"I'm not a pilot."
"You weren't a pilot," he corrected him, plucking the glasses off the other man's nose. "Now you're my partner. You're mine."
Bond gave his quartermaster a teasing grin. The wintery eyes held a dark promise.
For the first time since that fateful meeting in the training chamber, Q looked oddly… vulnerable.
Young.
Endearing.
Perfect.
Bond fought down the need that rose inside him. Mine.
He leaned forward and caught the inviting lips in a first kiss.
Q didn't freeze.
He didn't think.
He reacted.
And the kiss was soon turning into a challenge all of its own, with neither side giving in. Bond was used to dominate, to the role of the controller, but not with this man. Not with his partner. Q wasn't meek, he wasn't shy, he wasn't a wallflower. He knew what he wanted and he gave as good as he got.
Both men were breathing hard, eyes alight with a fire that had been burning between them since they had matched. Bond's lips curled into a hungry, almost feral smile and he sank down in front of the slender form.
There was nothing tentative about the way James wrapped his mouth and tongue around Q's hard cock.
There was no hesitation.
No doubt.
There was only the need to feel.
It felt like they were Drifting together, like he could feel the resonance of Q's emotions, could hear him in his head.
It was perfect.
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Skyfall Prime was in peak condition. Like the other four. Bond had checked out Cherno Alpha a few times, interested in the old Mark-I. While the Kaidonovskys were pilots of few words, he and them understood each other. Aleksis was a proud man and his wife knew where she stood as a Jaeger pilot.
They were respected.
They were maybe even slightly feared for their tenaciousness, their bite, their strength.
And they were close.
Bond could see it, in the way they didn't touch, didn't exchange private little looks. It was a pairing made of steel, quiet, dependable, completely assured of each other's support and strength.
They had been a good choice.
Renowned for their legendary strike missions, Sasha and Aleksis also held the record as the only rangers with the longest and most stable neural handshake in the Corps, lasting up to eighteen hours.
"You either find the one you need to be at your best or you die," Aleksis said over a cup of surprisingly good, strong coffee. "You and your co-pilot, you are."
"Getting there," Bond shrugged.
"No, there," the Russian repeated. "Strong neural handshake. Strong connection. Strength."
The smile was almost fearsome.
Yes. Q felt like a glove that fitted him perfectly. Strong and unyielding, taking everything in a stride without backing down or caving. He hadn't rolled over under the domineering mind of James Bond. He had stood his ground and pushed back. Counter-balance.
Sasha's cool, distant expression changed into something a little warmer at her husband's words.
"You have Drifted, Bond," she said. "You know how good you are. Don't fight it. Let it happen. You know your partner. You have been in his brain. You know the truth and the depth of the trust. What else is there to do but act? Life is short. Live it."
Sage advice.
Good advice.
He raised his mug, toasting her words with a little smile.
Sasha's was that of a predator's in return. "Who knows? You might break the record."
He chuckled. "Who knows," he echoed.
"Are you Ghosting?"
He shrugged.
Her eyes bore into his and the grin widened. "Yes, who knows," she said once again. "You are on a good way. Grow strong. Don't fight it."
Bond met her sharp eyes. "I'm not."
"Good. Very good."
He let his lips curl into a faint smile as he saw her expression, aware that she knew exactly what he wasn't fighting, how strong the Ghosts were. Even hours later.
He didn't give a flying shit about it.
They might just die tomorrow after all.
tbc...