April 7th 2035
The Wall of Life, Alaska
Battle Helicopter AF-4500 X-RAY
0400 AM
TO: MARSHAL STACKER PENTECOST OF HONG KONG SHATTERDOME
FROM: MARSHAL SHANE OF HAWAII SHATTERDOME
SUBJECT: TRANSFER
Marshal Pentecost, I am transferring into your command a Thomas 'Jackie-Boy' Iceland. He is an undisciplined wreck that cannot be found suitable in the environment of war. His endangerment of himself and his copilots outside of combat has become a liability, and it is only through his skill, described in the attached file, that has preserved him from being removed from the Jaeger program. I am transferring him to you in the hopes that maybe you can set him straight, with the understanding that you require every operational Jaeger available, no matter the condition for your PPDC initiative.
With Respect,
Marshal Jeffery Shane.
...
Off the record, sent at the same time but from his fellow Marshal's personal email account, was an equally personal postscript;
I don't know what to do with this kid Stacks. He's the most unbreakable pilot I have ever had the privilege of meeting. His Jaeger is en route to the Hong Kong Shatterdome. The damn over-engineered icebox barely works without him in it. I just don't know what to do with him Stacks. Maybe you can set this kid straight. You always did better with the trouble cases.
…
Pentecost simply powered down his mobile terminal as he and Raleigh Becket walked into the awaiting Helicopter. As if one headache under his 'dome wasn't enough.
…
April 7th 2035
Shatterdome, Hong Kong
Jaeger Bay 7
0930 AM
Jack had never felt so bowlegged before in his life. As soon as the Marshal had returned from his recruitment flight, he had proceeded to take Jack aside into his office and crush him utterly.
Preemptively.
How fair was that? He had made it clear he didn't look on past faults pranks, or even crimes. Matador Fury had been ready to get shipped in before it was torn apart defending the Baja Peninsula, convict pilots and all. He made it doubly clear that if there was such a prank that jeopardized their fight he would make sure that Jack died outside of his Jaeger.
So.
Nobody screwed with his operation. Message received.
He'd have to be a little tamer here with his attempts to liven up life.
To Jake that felt like a hefty kick to his gut. Despite the internal sarcastic monologue, he was not sanguine about the possibilities here. Being somewhere new was great, but starting like that is never going to set a great tone for his time here. And there was nowhere else to go anymore; this was the end of the line. All the other Shatterdomes were folding up as the wall went up.
He had no life outside of the program. He didn't know who he was. He had nothing, not even his name from before he woke up in the hospital. When he came to, in his case the first memory he had, was them running uncomfortable tests because of his massive Kaiju Blue exposure.
They'd never seen someone get as basted in that toxic goo as he did and live to tell about it. Sure occasionally some civvie would be splattered and end up with blue hair or heterochromatin or weird bleached patterns on their skin, but he was submersed in the stuff.
The Doctors- always the Doctors, plural, he never learned one of their names- would perform uncomfortable tests on him, taking blood and hair and tissue from his muscles, skin and marrow. They'd hook him up to the human side of a drift interface and stare at his telemetry for hours as he remotely operated an RC car around the hospital. What they found, he never knew.
But when they were done, and no one was coming to look for him, they put him in training for the Jaeger program. He was compatible all right. Maybe too good.
These days he was using a false name just a little better than John Doe, and lived and worked in a massive-ass bunker.
Which explained the reason for him hanging onto the rail as he made his way to Bay 7; he feared one step on his own would lead to one massive collapse on the floor. It was a long way down. And there'd be nobody around to catch him.
...
He let go of the rail and took a cautious step forward. He went to take another when he accidentally bumped into something.
When he looked up he found himself face to face with a beautiful woman. What the heck was she doing here?
He couldn't help his eyes as they moved of their own accord. She had a nice figure. Slight, and nicely rounded out. Tall for a woman, maybe 5'8". Wide in the hips. Dark skinned, multicolored hair in a short, feathered bob-cut. Maybe in her early 20's. Dressed like a mechanic.
That explains what she was doing here, then.
She saw where his eyes traveled and glared at him furiously. Jack had not been subtle then. Somehow it seemed like he never was.
She looked like she was going to punch him in the face, before she turned on her heel and stomped off. She somehow managed to carve a swath through the crowded hallway in a storm cloud of Russian invectives.
Jack couldn't help but follow her retreating form as she stormed out the main bay, and was able to catch the Cherno Alpha insignia on the back of her overalls. He let out a breath as a low whistle while she left. That was one hell of a woman.
Jack suddenly found enough strength in his limbs to stand on his own. Nothing like a gorgeous woman seeing you limp along like an invalid to make you stop immediately.
'And I thought Hawaii had good fishing.' He thought to himself wryly as she disappeared around the corner.
No sooner had she left a small four man crew walked around, listening to the youngest member of the group telling a story. This apparently was boring them to tears.
When they noticed Jack they looked him up and down, before one walked up and looked him dead in the eyes. "Are you the new Pilot?" Jack nodded somewhat dumbfounded at the stocky man with the pushy voice as the others began to walk up.
"Call me Skipper. I'll be your Crew Chief. Anything you need just let, me know." Jack nodded again, as the Skipper began to introduce his team.
"Kowalski, Intelligence." The taller man smiled a little and spoke up saying "Substantially above average, but I don't like to brag." One glare from Skipper told him clearly it wasn't a question. "Oh, right. Sorry."
"Rico, Explosives." Jack noticed the guy next to Kowalski polishing something that looked like an old fashioned cherry bomb. He smiled nervously, not sure if he'd prefer having this guy at a birthday party. He might hand him a cake with TNT for candles.
"And this is Private." Jack waited, nodding. "What does he do?" He asked once he felt the silence would stretch on for all eternity. "I'm more or less comedic relief." He replied cheerily. Jack nodded again biting his lower lip. He would later find out that his last name was, in fact Private, and that he held the same rank as the rest of the crew, save Skipper, of course.
"So!" Skipper yelled getting everyone's attention. "This is your crew." Jack nodded looking at them. Secretly his mind was reeling. Why did the Marshal place him in the 'Crazy Crew?'
Oh, right. 'He hates me.' Mystery solved.
Jack pushed the thought out of his mind and gestured them to follow so he could introduce them to the Jaeger they'd be maintaining. Their awed gazes at Blue Winter were beyond satisfying to Jack. That was his sleek machine.
Every Jaeger had quirks. Any machine running longer then a few months gets little differences from factory settings, but the Jaegers were fairly singular, with maybe three machines ever being built with the same design, and each of them likely by different countries and at different times. Add in all of the repairs to everything and upgrades that trickled and every Jaeger was unique. And that leaves aside the AI scribing nearly everything it knew about fighting from every pilot that drifted through it, and running off a unique combination of movements, and it was a miracle they got these things to run at all. Really, they did it by pure bloody-minded will.
Jasper Schoenfeld, the cynical bastard that created these metal monstrosities from a child's toy, said once that love was the thing that got a Jaeger moving. Maybe there as some truth to that. But love for what? Jack had no idea, not yet.
As Jack set to work on running up his new crew on the finer points of its off-spec. alterations.
He found himself next to Private, and somehow chatting away with the pudgy guy, as they unbolted a huge plate of armor from Blue Winter's chest plate so that it could be hefted out by the overhead crane.