Gipsy Danger and Skyfall Prime were the only analog Jaegers still functional. The EMP had taken out everything digital, including the very advanced Striker Eureka.
"They are learning," Q remarked as he dressed up in his Drivesuit. "They are weaponized to annihilate the enemy effectively."
"But they didn't figure we had some old tech left," Bond grunted.
Before they connected to the Conn-Pod, James kissed his co-pilot, long and hard and deep, relaying all he felt. He wanted Q to feel it, wanted him to see it in his mind in the Drift, wanted the younger man to know that this was not just for now. It was for good.
From the smile he received he knew his message had gone over.
x X XX xx
Bond had never felt such coldness, such brutal detachment from death and destruction, such cold-bloodedness, and it wasn't just him. He was Drifting with Q and everything between them was open.
They were one.
They felt as one.
They fought as one.
They had Gipsy's back, protected the silent and dark and defenseless Striker.
They got their kill.
x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx
The mood in the Shatterdome was muted, almost depressed, despite their success in killing two cat-4s. Lives had been lost, valuable Jaegers had been destroyed.
Striker Eureka was under full repair, as were the Mark-IIIs. It was what occupied the techs, what kept them from just running scared into the night.
No one knew if they could get the wrecked Jaegers out of the Pacific. No one knew if they would ever find the bodies.
A memorial service had been announced.
x X XX xx
Bond was sitting with Herc Hansen, the injured half of the Hansen pilot team. His arm had been broken in the Kaiju confrontation and he would be unable to participate in the mission. He had a cut on his forehead that had been treated, and there were probably a lot of bruises everywhere.
Herc looked tired. His cheeks had a hollow to them that spoke of pain and exhaustion, the stubble more pronounced than ever. He was a slender, sinewy kind of man and right now he appeared like a breeze could topple him over.
Bond knew how the Australian felt. He had been through such horrifying moments in his life, when everything seemed to crumble around him, when the weight of the world was on his shoulders alone, and there was no one to share your grief with.
Except people you hardly knew. People you really couldn't think of sharing something like this with.
Chuck was nowhere to be seen. Last anyone had seen of him was when he had stormed out of the Conn-Pod, furious.
He hadn't even been to the infirmary to see how badly off his father was. James knew that some of that pain in Herc's eyes wasn't physical. He had a seamless match in his son when it came to fighting the Kaiju, controlling a Jaeger and being the damn best team they had. But on a personal level they were still no closer than before.
Q walked over to the two men, looking like one of research's scientists, not a Jaeger co-pilot. All tousled hair, large glasses, wearing civilian clothes, not his Jaeger uniform. Hansen grinned, eyes shinign with a little more life.
"You make one hell of a damn good pilot, kid."
"Thank you, sir."
"Told you before. It's Herc."
"Herc," Q acknowledged.
"James told me that you never had a real live fight before today. Impressive performance. You're a natural. I know Tendo was awed by the strength of the neural handshake."
Q just shrugged. Bond smiled at him, the wintery eyes softer than ever, the lines in his face no longer so deep.
"It's always a good Drift," he agreed.
"We can be glad that you have Striker's back."
"You won't be able to pilot the Jaeger in your condition," the quartermaster said calmly.
"No. Someone else will be his co-pilot."
"Finding one this short-notice will be difficult."
Herc grimaced. "Not really. There are options… someone who doesn't bring anything into the Drift, who will be compatible."
Bond raised his eyebrows. That from the co-pilot? It was… tell-tale.
Herc looked almost wistful. "Inside the Drift, Chuck and I, we are a strong combat team. Outside…" He sighed regretfully. "I'm to blame for how he turned out. I raised him in this environment and he became this cocky, self-assured, arrogant little son-of-a-bitch. He resents me. He blames me for his mother's death. He thinks of me as a rival, not a partner."
Q blinked, slightly floored by the open words.
"I love him. He is my son," Herc went on. "But I blame myself for how he turned out. Just like he lays the blame on me." He shrugged. "It makes us one hell of a team, but it also makes him one hell of a co-pilot for anyone else."
"There is a match," Q said openly.
Bond shot him a warning look.
"Though not for this mission," he added.
Herc laughed wryly. "Raleigh, right?"
"Yes."
Bond was a little surprised and Herc laughed more.
"I'm old, not blind. Hell, I can tell that their fighting is a lot more. If not for the end of the world about to come down on us, I'd say give it a shot. They would be great together and Raleigh would knock some sense and modesty back into that boy. But you're right. For this mission, there is no other choice. Raleigh and Mako are fitting well together. Gipsy needs their kind of co-piloting. And Chuck… I know someone he can work with."
Again, no further explanation.
Herc adjusted the sling with a little wince, then rose. "You better get some rest, boys. It'll be a hell of a ride when we kick their asses back into the hole they crawled out of."
And then he was gone.
Q rested his lower arms on the table, apparently lost in thought, and James simply watched him, eyes straying around the mess hall sometimes.
"Let's get a breath of fresh air," he finally said softly.
Q quirked a little smile. Then he followed his partner out of the mess and into the cavernous Shatterdome.
x X XX xx
The memorial was held that night. It was brief, but intense, and everyone was there. The hangar bay was full of people and James kept at the back, in the shadows. He hated these kinds of things.
Q was at his side, a strong, unwavering presence, fingers brushing over Bond's.
Pentecost's speech was beautiful and there were tears, especially in the eyes of those who had known the killed pilots more closely.
Herc stood next to the Marshall, tall and proud, his face a bit more haggard than usual, and Chuck was beside him. The younger Hansen looked uncomfortable and ready to bolt, too, but there was a rigidity to his shoulders that spoke of military training. He would see this through to the end. He wasn't a quitter.
Mako and Raleigh were in the crowd like Bond and Q. Mako expressed her sorrow through her eyes only. She was in complete control, almost stoic, but she kept close to Raleigh, who was pale and angry and appeared slightly sick.
Afterwards Q walked over to them and Bond followed. Mako gave them a tiny nod. Raleigh scrubbed a hand over his face.
"This was so useless!"
They were standing off to one side, close to the yawning, empty bay of Cherno Alpha.
"No argument from me," Bond said.
"We cannot change it now," Mako added quietly, looking pointedly at Raleigh.
His brows drew down, as if he wanted to argue, then he deflated a little. Q shared a small smile with James. Yes, she was good for him.
"Run?" Bond offered neutrally.
Raleigh exhaled sharply, then nodded. "Yeah."
The Shatterdome had a decent track that had one been used by almost all pilots who wanted to work on their endurance. Now it wasn't frequented all that much anymore.
Q remained behind with Mako, who said something and he responded with a kind smile, the two of them heading off to god knew where. Bond just followed the other pilot to the track.
It would be good to burn off the anger, the feeling of helplessness and fury.
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For the next days, Q lost himself in work, in discussing Jaeger programming, weapon systems, armament and power cores with the crews of the three remaining Jaeger. Those of Crimson Typhoon and Cherno Alpha kept lending a hand, needed to do something, needed to work through the loss of lives.
They were readily included.
Every hand was needed.
Bond found himself watching Raleigh and Mako train.
Or watched Raleigh and Chuck fight every chance they had, whenever they met, even if it was a simple glare from Hansen that seemed to bounce off Raleigh. Even if it was just an insult that had no effect. Chuck was still digging, still needling, still trying to get a rise out of the older man.
It was eerie how right Q was, how close the two men were without acknowledging the fact. How Chuck kept biting back, kept pushing the peace offerings aside. He fought it all, tooth and nail. He didn't want to give in, to surrender to the offer or a friendship that he wanted, despite his protests.
And Raleigh just stood his ground, steady and laid back, aware that he was the better fighter, but he never acted on it.
More mature than the other pilot, despite only a five year age difference. And so much more broken.
x X XX xx
Raleigh sought him out, shared a beer, and they talked sometimes.
Few words.
But they understood each other.
In a way they weren't all that different, despite everything else.
Raleigh was easy to like, easier to be around with, and Bond found himself relaxing just a little. The tension bled out, despite the looming threat on the horizon, despite talks of the Apocalypse coming.
Fight and die honorably as a Jaeger pilot. Or sit around and die.
"Pentecost's pitch," Raleigh had remarked once, sipping a soda. "Die in a Jaeger, go out fighting, or just die somewhere building the Wall."
An easy choice. Bond's had been almost the same.
"Marshall's are all the same," he had rumbled. "Manipulative bastards."
"Enigmatic, manipulative bastards. Who know how to inspire loyalty." Raleigh's grin had been infectious.
"Isn't that the bloody truth."
"All these years, I've been living in the past, never really thought about the future until now. I never did have good timing."
Bond's laugh was rough around the edges. "The bloody truth," he said, voice low and a little ragged.
Because he had just begun to think of the future, too.
x X XX xx
Mako joined them sometimes. James liked her calm, reserved manner, the fire hidden underneath, the strength she showed. She was a good counter-balance to Raleigh. Sharp, quick on the uptake, a keen observer. Nothing much slipped by her, especially when it came to her co-pilot.
And she wasn't involved with him; aside from the Drifts.
Their closeness was one of strength and respect.
"She heals him," Q had once remarked.
It was probably true. They all had pain in them, loss and desperation, but Raleigh had gone through something no one else could fathom. A Drift partner would be thrown into the understanding because he, and this case she, Mako, had to share that moment with him.
Mako was who Raleigh needed to function, to be at his best in a Jaeger. The private man, the man who wanted another kind of intimacy, had set his sights on Chuck Hansen.
Biggest asshole in the whole Shatterdome. And the most immature one.
"Match made in heaven," Bond only remarked dryly after another glaring contest.
Well, Chuck had glared and tried to provoke the perceived usurper to his imaginary throne. Raleigh had simply regarded him evenly, without a challenge, a warning in his eyes that had somehow spooked the younger man.
He had backed down without even wanting to.
Raleigh was a tough son-of-a-bitch, he knew he had power, but he wielded it in a way Bond found fascinating.
"Match made in hell," Q corrected with a shrug.
Wasn't that the truth?
tbc...