Notes: I'm not sure when it happened, but this fic has grown far, far, FAR larger than initially intended. When I first started it, the whole thing wasn't much longer than this chapter. It was actually never meant to be this monster. But my braincell is unpredictable and decided then and there that a few measly words weren't enough. I wanted to ge deeper into some stuff, like Bond's background, like his relationship with Q, like their view on the others. I think my downfall was downloading the soundtrack and listening to the main title repeatedly, until it was stuck in my head. Then I made myself at home on the Pacific Rim Wiki and things went to hell in a handbasket from there. For a quick fic it turned into an abomination and I'm not yet done, guys. I think I've just about passed the 50% marker now. I think you could call it obsessive writing disorder :P
x X XX xx X XX xxx x X XX xx X XX x X XX xx X XX xxx x X XX xx X XX x X XX xx X XX xxx x X XX xx X XX x X XX xx X XX xxx x X XX xx X XX x X XX xx X XX xxx x X XX xx X XX x X XX"Today, today… at the edge of our hope, at the end of our time, we've chosen not only to believe in ourselves but in each other. Today, there's not a man nor woman in here that shall stand alone. Not today. Today we face the monsters that are at our door and bring the fight to them! Today, we are cancelling the apocalypse!"
The alarm raised the whole of the Shatterdome into action.
Stacker Pentecost, Marshall of the Hong Kong Shatterdome and elite Jaeger pilot became Chuck's new co-pilot. His last speech had been riveting, had fired them up.
It had been a shock for the younger Hansen to hear the news. He would fight without his father for the very first time.
He would be on his own.
There would be another mind, a new Drift, and Herc had to remain behind, the current Marshall of the Hong Kong Shatterdome.
It had been a moment filled with too many emotions to describe.
"If you have a shot, take it."
Herc's expression had never been so emotional. Too much between them had never been said. Too much had only been inside the Drift.
Now things would end.
This would have been the moment for a hug, for any kind of physical contact, but both men just looked at each other. Eyes said more than words, they claimed. Maybe in this case it was true. Maybe in this case, the hug might have been better.
Q had just looked at Bond, and both had known. This was a suicide mission in so many ways and Herc was sending out his son, the only living family member he still had. He couldn't be there because of the broken arm, and Pentecost would take his place.
Herc would remain behind.
And probably watch his son die.
The pain had been almost palpable. And if Herc would have seen any chance to function as a co-pilot, he would have taken it.
Against good sense, against orders, so he didn't have to stay and watch and feel the loss that was to come.
x X XX xAround them the tech crew of Skyfall was busy attaching the cables to the feedback cradle, the full-spectrum neural transference plate on the back of their suits, like they had done so many times before.
The HUD in front of them lit up, showing them the Breach in real-time.
Their boots and wrists clamped into place, locked into the Conn-Pod's controls.
"Pilot-to-pilot connection engaged."
The interface complete, everyone but the two pilots left the Conn-Pod.
Bond pushed the dark thoughts away.
"Prepare for neural handshake."
It was as always; intense, personal, intimate. It was Q and him, Kian and James, and it was the unfiltered truth.
"Engage drop," Herc could be heard.
"Engaging drop," Tendo replied matter-of-factly. "Good luck, guys."
Oh, they would need it.
"Release for drop," Bond responded automatically as Q's fingers flew over the controls they barely ever needed the moment they were connected to Skyfall.
The launch bay doors groaned open almost simultaneously as the Conn-Pod locked into place and Skyfall Prime was go.
Not far from her, Gipsy Danger and Striker Eureka followed.
x X XX xx X XX xxx x X XX xx X XX x X XX xx X XX xxx x X XX xx X XX x X XX xx X XX xxx x X XX xx X XX x X XX xx X XX xxx x X XX xx X XX x X XX xx X XX xxx x X XX xx X XX x X XXTwo category 4 Kaijus had come out of the Breach, circling it in a holding pattern, waiting.
Waiting for what?
The answer came not much later as a third blip was detected coming out of the tunnel.
A category 5.
A Triple Event, just like predicted by Hermann Gottlieb.
Bloody hell!
Bond felt Q's amazement, the slight curl of terror, the much larger interest in such a massive creature from beyond the Breach. Slattern, Raiju and Scunner they had been labeled.
Bigger than any before them.
Heavier than anything they had ever faced. Three thousand tons and more.
It was the first time they were fighting such an imposing enemy.
It might be the last.
x X XX xx X XX xxx x X XX xx X XX x X XX xx X XX xxx x X XX xx X XX x X XX xx X XX xxx x X XX xx X XX x X XX xx X XX xxx x X XX xx X XX x X XX xx X XX xxx x X XX xx X XX x X XXThey took heavy damage, just like Gipsy Danger. The other Mark-III was holding its own, despite being almost crippled, one leg nearly beyond use, and Striker Eureka was trying to get the payload ready. Skyfall was close to a major shutdown, but Q wasn't a genius for nothing. Bond could only marvel how the younger man rerouted systems, gave them a bit more power, stabilized their shaken Jaeger, and pushed through the garbled mess of the neural interface.
That was when the information about their mission changed.
"Fuck!" Bond hissed as the frantic words from Newton Geiszler came through, sometimes interrupted or added to by his partner Hermann Gottlieb.
Q looked at him, eyes wide with shock and the realization that all the perfect planning had just been rendered useless.
They had to take a Kaiju with them inside the Breach. Only their DNA would insure that the payload wouldn't detonate uselessly. The Breach scanned the DNA of any creature entering the inter-dimensional rift and the explosion would do no harm to it or the world on the other side. It would tear into the Earth and leave more open wounds and terrible scars.
James watched a trickle of blood run down Q's face. He hadn't really been aware of any injuries, even though they were Drifting. From Q's expression he had caught that line of thought. And he answered it with the fact that Bond didn't look any better. He had been injured as well.
"We can do this," he murmured, fighting the haze.
They had to.
Get Striker Eureka to the Breach. Get them through. Protect them to their last breaths.
Things were turning into a blur of events.
It was all instinct.
Instinct and scraps of information coming through, sinking into their shared minds.
The payload was stuck.
Striker was unable to deploy it.
Gipsy killed one of the category-4s, but was already so severely damaged, she wasn't even perceived as a threat any more as the two remaining Kaijus went for Striker.
Skyfall was struggling, trying to launch the elbow rockets, but like Gipsy, it was ignored. The Kaijus knew who the real threat was.
Pentecost decided to detonate the payload to take out the two Kaijus free the way into the Breach.
It would be a sacrifice.
To save Earth.
Plan B.
Gipsy would latch onto a Kaiju and go into the Breach, overload their nuclear reactor.
Bond and Q fought to get Skyfall up again from where she was on the floor of the ocean, one arm ripped off, the mid-section mangled.
Pain bounced between them, courtesy of the neural bridge, and Bond tried to separate whether it was from him or also from Q. Skyfall's arm had been Q's arm, so the loss had to be Q's pain. Almost crippling pain.
Bond pushed through the waves, felt Q fight it, try to stay on top, try to function.
Something tore through the whole exo-skeleton as they got up, a sound like a creature in pain, but they got themselves upright. Accompanied by the creaks and groans of stressed metal.
"Escape pod deployed from Striker," Q said, or thought, or simply observed without thinking or saying it.
Bond couldn't be sure.
They were in a strong Drift, neither one an individual any more. This was what some pilots spoke of, what the Kaidonovskys had experienced before. This was a neural handshake that couldn't be broken, probably not even through death.
Q was everywhere. Bond was surrounding him, was surrounded by him, was him and was himself. He was everything. They were one.
They were in pain.
They were bleeding.
Skyfall was fading with them.
They had to move!
Bond saw the small escape pod, shooting away from Striker, and he was waiting for the second, but it didn't come.
"We have to get it," he whispered-thought.
Because the moment the payload went up, nothing in here would survive. There was enough detonation power in that nuclear bomb to evaporate a good-sized portion of the Pacific. And even if the pod made it through that, the radiation alone would be enough to kill the possible survivor.
Skyfall moved almost sluggishly to their commands, but they struggled to get her to the rising pod. The one good arm reached out, four fingers curling safely around the tiny capsule. They brought it close to the armored chest, then folded around it as much as possible.
The second pod never came.
Instead the detonation of the payload turned water into steam, created a hole in the Pacific, until the water rushed back in.
There was no up or down anymore as the water buoyed them around, as they were torn away from the Breach and flung into the vastness of the ocean.
Radiation sensors screamed, just before the system fizzed and died.
Protect the pod.
Get out of there alive.
It was all that mattered.
When everything around them cleared, alarms were ringing everywhere in the Conn-Pod. They were taking water. The systems were shot to hell. Their location was a matter of guess work.
But they were close to the coast line.
x X XX xxNot far from them, right over the Breach, Gipsy was holding on to the corpse of Slattern, jumping-falling-pushing themselves into the Breach, the nuclear power core already overloading for self-destruction.
One escape pod deployed.
x X XX xxThey heard voices over the comm. lines, but everything was garbled.
x X XX xxExhaustion weighed them down. Bond could feel his co-pilot faltering, but the strength of the Drift was still there. It was unbroken, perfectly in sync. Q was a fighter and it had never more clear than now.
There was still this burning pain in his right arm, the arm that had been torn half off Skyfall Prime, and Bond suspected a feedback loop, maybe worse.
There was no complaint.
Q knew he could take it.
He wouldn't drown.
He wouldn't shatter.
He wouldn't even break.
It was there in the Drift, thoughts between them, clear as daylight for Bond to see. That incredible strength, that determination.
They could make it.
Disorientation set in, making them dizzy, the world lurching, but they struggled, they fought.
"We can do this," Q whispered, biting back the nausea.
They had to make it.
x X XX xxA second escape pod rose from the depths. It bore Gipsy Danger's markings.
x X XX xxThey managed to get Skyfall as close as they could to the coast line with their depleted resources, then just let her sink to her knees with a teeth-rattling, bone-shaking thump.
No more finesse.
No real control.
It was all they could do not to have her keel over. Both pilots were in a world of pain already and the shocks racing through the battered frame were nothing.
Water sloshed off the massive exoskeleton, raining down on the churning waves.
They had no idea where they were.
The navigation was shot to hell.
Everything was shot to hell.
But they were alive.
The pod was still in the remaining hand, but it showed damage. Bond hoped and prayed that the pilot had survived. They angled the arm to get it very close to the Conn-Pod, the movement too jerky for Bond's liking, but they didn't lose the escape capsule.
"There," Q managed through gritted teeth. "Looks stable enough."
Disconnecting from the Pons was like a slap to the face. The sense of being a gigantic metal being was ripped out of his brain, facing him with the reality of his human existence; small, insignificant. Emergency lights bathed the Conn-Pod in an eerie, orange glow. The last warning sirens had been silenced.
That, more than anything, spoke of their bad shape.
Bond saw Q stumble, a groan escaping his lips, but the younger man caught himself. He was cradling his right arm, holding it close to his body, and his face was pale as a ghost.
He hurt.
God, he hurt.
There wasn't a place that wasn't bruised.
The Drift was still there, the Ghost-Drift, that incredibly strong connection that wouldn't let them part even when the neural bridge had been terminated. He felt the exhaustion like his own, he felt the pain, the desperation, mixed with hope. It were soft eddies, driven by stronger currents sometimes, and all he wanted was to gather his co-pilot into his arms, hold him, reassure him.
That it was over.
That they had won.
But they didn't know it. They were on their own, mute, deaf, cut off from the Shatterdome.
An island in the dark, churning sea.
Somewhere in the distance, deep under water, the Breach might be already closed. Or it might be open and the next category-5 was on its way.
They might live a few more hours, watch the world burn. They might be on the brink of a new dawn, of the end of the war, of victory.
They didn't know.
Closing his eyes, the Double-Oh felt a surge of nausea and he fought it down. He was dizzy, weak... and he wanted nothing more than to sit down, give in to his body's demands right now.
But he couldn't.
"The pod," Q whispered, breaking into his thoughts.
His helmet was already off, the normally so tousled hair matted down with sweat.
James touched him then, had to touch him, stopped him for a second, looking into the pale face, the large eyes.
A callused hand gently cupped the slender neck, the rough thumb stroking over it. Blood was drying on that almost white skin and Q looked like he was pretty shook up.
Ghosts drifted between them. Heavy emotions, fragments of thoughts.
Bond didn't touch the injured arm, knew from the neural feedback that Q didn't want him to, that it was currently bearable, that he would wait until they were in the infirmary.
Q smiled at him then, reassuring, warm, loving.
They had been ready to die, but his survival instinct had never been greater, stronger, more pronounced. Even if this was victory, if the war was over, James Bond had no doubt about his future together with this man.
It was James who opened the hatch.
tbc...