A/N: Thank you all once again for all the wonderful reviews! Please keep 'em coming!
Canon Notes: The novel states that the Beckets named their Jaeger, but I'm not going with that. In my fanon, she was named by the engineers who built her. According to Travis Beacham, Mako's birthday is January 2005, which meant she was eleven when Onibaba attacked. Pacific Rim: Tales From Year Zero tells us that Marshall Pentecost spent about six months as commanding officer of the Academy before departing with Mako for Lima.
Chapter Eleven: Graduation Day
Jaeger Academy, Class 2016-B, Term 3…
December 24, 2016…
Stacker Pentecost was not amused. It was just as well that he and Mako were departing for Lima, or an unpleasant confrontation might have ensued with the D'onofrios.
Lightcap had far overstepped her authority and questioned his in front of his superiors and colleagues - and knew damn well by now where the boundaries lay. She'd received considerable leeway in the Jaeger Program, out of recognition for her service and her civilian background... but now Stacker suspected that it had all been too much.
She had no business interfering with discipline of other Rangers or in the rules of conduct at Academy and Shatterdome. If all of the commanding officers didn't make that clear to her soon, they were going to have a serious problem.
Stacker was not heartless, nor was he blind to the need of everyone to loosen up, even during periods of high alert. But there were plenty of ways to loosen up without gamboling around Jaeger bays to blaring music or making multi-billion-dollar equipment move in any way not essential to its operation. Troops pulling stunts in their vehicles had cost lives in multiple militaries in the past, and it should not be tolerated with Jaegers.
He knew Lightcap had no intention of ever treating candidates or Rangers with the detachment that other superiors did. For the most part, he could tolerate that. Her gentleness during pons training had its uses, so he had allowed it. The Psych Analysts also backed it. Candidates and Rangers needed to trust the operators of the all-important neural bridge, and she had a calming effect on all of them at a time of extreme stress and confusion.
But the Rangers were not her children, and Stacker was beginning to fear that she was laboring under that delusion. That needed to change. No good would come of that kind of attachment in the Corps - her indulgence of the Jaeger Bay antics was only the first warning sign.
But that was in the hands of Anchorage's incoming Marshall, Vincent Gagnon. Stacker approved of the assignment; the man had plenty of command experience in Canada and had played a major role in establishing the zones of protection for the northern Shatterdomes. Stacker wasn't sure what sort of recreation he permitted in his ranks, but hoped he would keep them under control.
He gave a detailed closing report to Gagnon, including his assessment of the three remaining pairs of candidates. "All three have met the standards for Ranger Ready status. I have some reservations as to each team, but they are outweighed by those teams' abilities."
"What are your reservations?" Gagnon asked.
"I urge caution with Lanphier and LaRue. Their romantic involvement isn't a hindrance, but it's a new relationship brought on at least in part by the drift. Overall, they are the youngest and physically weakest team, and have had the most intense stress reactions to combat and casualties. The Hassans are the oldest team, by far the most mature and dedicated, but have difficulty with fast adaptation in combat simulation."
"And the Beckets?" Gagnon smiled. Having been among the visitors the night of the party, he knew just how displeased Stacker was about how that had gone.
Stacker refused to be drawn, and replied, "They have the high score in nearly every objective evaluation and most of the subjective ones. They're quick learners, in peak physical condition, and have developed top rate skill in every area of piloting. They have a powerful bond that has already withstood some emotional tests. I recommend them with few reservations, except to caution that they're immature, often disrespectful of authority and protocol, and undisciplined. They're a handful."
Now Gagnon was smirking. "In other words, they are very much like the Gages, the Tunaris, and many of the other most promising teams. Perhaps we should consider that a good sign."
"I leave that to your judgement, Marshall." And on your head be it. "The Gages and Tunaris could do with some additional discipline themselves."
The older man shook his head. "You weren't always so rigid in your thinking, Stacker Pentecost. Really, off the record, what changed?"
Do you really want to have this conversation? "We were attacked by alien monsters that have already claimed hundreds of thousands of lives and left multiple cities in ruins. Even with the Jaegers, we've had close calls." The world had only turned uglier and more dangerous since K-Day. Why was it that even marshalls, generals, and admirals seemed to be going soft? "This Program and its members need to stay focused. Do you really approve of flouting the protocols that we both serve?"
"Flouting implies the rules were being broken. As Dr. Lightcap observed, they weren't. If I catch anyone under my command violating the code of conduct or slacking on their duties, I'll have their heads. But there's no rule against laughing. Or dancing." Gagnon eyed him. "I hope you're not so inflexible with your daughter."
That was a low shot, and so out of line that for a moment, Stacker was speechless. Not many people knew about Mako - and everyone who did knew who she was and what the kaiju had taken from her. "She is in no way relevant to this conversation, sir, and I question your judgment in making her part of it."
"My apologies!" The man was practically laughing at him.
"And as Dr. Lightcap also seems to have forgotten, Rangers are not children."
"No, they're not. They're human. They're soldiers, and they're on the front lines. Some of them are going to die, and our job isn't only to prepare them for that. Many militaries neglect the mental health of their soldiers. I hope some of us have learned better. If dancing on their birthday when they're off duty lets them remember everything that makes this world worth fighting for, I endorse and approve it." Gagnon stood. "Have a safe journey, Marshall."
Well, that conversation had gone swimmingly. Exasperated, Stacker turned in his final paperwork and went back to quarters to collect Mako and their belongings for the transfer to Lima.
She was solemn, as always. Gagnon had been a bastard for bringing her up. If Stacker were a less disciplined man, he'd have shot back with the point that Mako Mori neither danced nor smiled because of what she'd witnessed in Tokyo - even with the aid of a Jaeger.
He'd rarely taken her outside their quarters; it was very cold out, and large groups of people made her nervous. Earlier in the autumn, they'd gone out to see the Northern Lights, which she'd watched for hours, but she didn't like being outside during the day.
He'd hired a civilian child therapist who would actually travel with them to Lima, and dutifully obeyed the woman's instructions on how to help her heal. Mako loved to read, and once she had a good command of English (which at this rate, she would within a year), he would enroll her in a regular school. But for now, she was content with remote tutoring and staying inside.
They got a few double-takes on their way to the airstrip. Most of the Academy staff didn't have the faintest idea that he had a child in his care. He wasn't holding her hand, but somehow, everyone they passed seemed to sense that the little girl was his, and not Dr. Schneider's.
The only time she stirred from his side was when an over-enthusiastic airman came jogging after them. "Sir? Marshall!"
Startled, Mako jumped behind Stacker, and the young man caught himself even before Stacker had to call him to order. "It's all right," he murmured to her in Japanese, and turned to their pursuer. "Yes?"
"I'm sorry, sir. The flight's delayed; there's a problem with the de-icing."
"In Anchorage?" murmured Schneider in amusement.
"The plane is from Lima," the airman pointed out. He had a tablet with flight data on it, so Stacker assumed there were alternatives available.
Mako stood quietly next to Dr. Schneider, having gotten over her fright, but then her stomach rumbled so loudly that Stacker heard it several paces away. She had a habit of not telling them she was hungry; usually they were better at anticipating when she needed to eat.
The airman grinned, then quickly straightened his face, but Stacker turned to Dr. Schneider and said in Japanese, "Why don't you take Mako to the mess hall. There shouldn't be anyone there at this time of day. I'll join you shortly."
There wasn't anyone in the mess hall at this time of day. Most of the non-Ranger population still had mandatory training depending on what field of J-Tech and K-Science they worked in. The newbies were all either in the sims or logging time in Brawler. The Gages were doing test exercises on Romeo post-refit.
Vic and Gunnar were bored. Coyote was still in the shop, and it was way too damn cold to do anything outdoors by choice. So, they wound up unrolling the DDR dance pad in the mess hall for their preferred form of exercise. The staff were used to them playing music during off-hours by now, and didn't hesitate to give obnoxious commentary on their footwork and/or choice of music.
"Why the Marshalls thought that thing should be allowed on-base is beyond me," one of the cooks grumped playfully.
"This is a legit gauge of drift compatibility!" Gunnar retorted.
"I guess it can gauge that neither one of you've got any rhythm!"
They bared their teeth at her and picked the perkiest, cutesiest J-pop song available for their next number, getting groans of protest from the other few staff on duty. "Blame Yolanda!"
Yolanda was fleeing with her hands over her ears when the doors opened, and a blonde woman shepherded a little Asian girl into the mess hall. Vic and Gunnar exchanged surprised looks, but turned the music down and turned their attention to the dance pad. A few of the base personnel had kids, although they didn't recognize either visitor. With Pentecost turning over Anchorage to Gagnon, there were probably new people arriving.
The blonde woman translated Yolanda's questions to the little girl into Japanese, but she didn't reply except to nod or shake her head. Out of the corner of their eyes, they could see her staying at her chaperone's hip, but then she tilted her head curiously and stepped away, attention drawn to the music and the dancers. If she was Japanese, she might well recognize the band. The brothers exchanged grins and kept dancing.
This wouldn't be the first confused stare they got; a pair of Latino guys rocking out to J-pop wasn't something you saw every day. (And contrary to Yolanda's teasing, the Tunaris were good dancers, and knew it.)
When the song ended, they sketched a bow to their young audience, and the girl smiled shyly. The staff even applauded, but she didn't join in. Hint taken; a lot of kids related to PPDC personnel had some trauma background. They directed their "announcements" to the whole room. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, we're your entertainment today, and we do take requests! We sing, we dance, we do tricks!"
Of course, Yolanda wanted them to do Gangnam Style. Rather than point out that Psy was Korean, not Japanese, they obeyed, hamming it up as much as possible, and soon ended up with a cook and a janitor as their chorus line. The show was rewarded with a little girl's helpless giggling, and her escort's approving smile.
When they finished, Vic raised an eyebrow at the woman, getting a small nod, and asked their spectator in Japanese, "What's your name?"
She blinked, as did her chaperone. She gave no response, but a more flirtatious duck of the head. The woman asked the Tunaris, "You speak Japanese?"
"We lived in Okinawa for nine years," Vic explained. "Our Dad was in the Marines. Our Japanese is better than our Spanish."
"Mm." She raised her eyebrows at the little girl, who just ducked again and shook her head, but she was still smiling. "Well, maybe she'll tell you her name if you dance for her again."
"Tough customer, huh? Wanna see what we got?"
It was quite the scene that Marshall Pentecost walked in on: two grown-ass Bolivian-American men dancing their hearts out to PonPonPon, getting whoops of encouragement from the mess hall staff, all for the entertainment of one tiny kid, who was giggling and clapping along.
At first, Vic and Gunnar assumed that the thunderstruck look on the Marshall's face was just disbelief at the indignity of his Rangers… until they both noticed he wasn't looking at them.
He was looking at the girl.
As the song ended, the girl's sitter turned to greet the Marshall, and the little one called cheerfully, "Sensei!" and scampered back to him, chattering in Japanese.
Usually, Vic and Gunnar used Japanese as their go-to "be rude and talk in front of people" language. Since that obviously wouldn't work in this crowd, Vic switched to Spanish, and muttered in his brother's ear, "Oh my god, I knew she looked familiar. It's the girl with the red shoe."
Tokyo's Daughter. The little girl standing in the rubble of Onibaba's duel with Coyote – piloted by Stacker Pentecost – staring up at the Jaeger with her red shoe in her hand. And now, here she was, calling Pentecost Sensei. The brothers quickly schooled the shock from their own faces and made cautious, polite small talk with Yolanda and the staff, who had also sensed the sudden rise in tension.
Pentecost was reserved as always, even with a child, but there was an unmistakable gentleness about him – and something intense in his eyes as he looked from her to them. In the background, Yolanda was shooing the rest of the staff into the kitchen. She might give Rangers hell, but she knew when to make a discreet exit.
Once they no longer had an audience, the blonde woman straightened and approached them. "I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself. I'm Dr. Tanja Schneider." From the almost-imperceptible gesture she made, they gathered that the little girl was her patient. After what that kid had seen, it wasn't surprising.
They shook hands, trying not to stare too obviously past her. "Vic and Gunnar Tunari."
Pentecost stood, the girl's hand in his, and led her towards them. Schneider smiled and said in Japanese, "Shall we tell them your name now?"
With a still-shy but eager grin, the girl nodded, and Pentecost said, "Vic and Gunnar, this is Mako Mori. Mako, Vic and Gunnar are Jaeger pilots."
Most of the time, Rangers were all too happy to be introduced that way. But at this moment, they were both a little sorry to be anyone other than "Vic and Gunnar who dance like fools to J-pop for your amusement."
Mako's eyes went wide, and her smile vanished. Vic and Gunnar held their breath, hoping the horrors she'd lived through wouldn't come surging back, but while she was awestruck, she didn't seem scared.
Instead, she let go of Pentecost's hand and bowed to them.
They weren't exactly ghost drifting, but both knew the same thought was in both their heads: Oh, shit, do not let me burst into tears.
Schneider put in helpfully, "They were keeping us company while we waited."
"So I saw. Our flight is delayed by the weather, so we'll go back to quarters," Pentecost told his charge. He looked at Vic and Gunnar and said in a low voice, "Thank you."
"Our pleasure, sir," said Gunnar, giving Mako a smile. Her shy smile in return was the entire holiday season as Pentecost and Schneider led her back out of the mess hall.
Vic sat down on the floor. "We should've offered to make Coyote dance for her."
"Nah," Gunnar mused, sitting down next to him. "That little girl's seen Coyote at her best. Nothing we do could possibly impress her." He smiled at his brother. "And rightly so."
"Amen."
Mako fell asleep in short order, worn out. Stacker and Dr. Schneider slipped back into his living area. She considered him, then pointed out, "Setbacks can be unexpected, but so can breakthroughs. Today was a good day."
"It was." But have I been doing well by her? Should I have been trying to make her laugh before today? "Your duties here are confined to Mako's recovery," he said slowly. "But naturally that includes addressing any… shortcomings of mine that could hinder it."
Schneider put down her bag and sat down. "I'm well aware of that, and I assure you, that if I noticed any shortcomings, I wouldn't hesitate to say so."
"Oh?" Did he dare consider that reassuring? Or in the alternative, did he dare let himself believe that all his own losses pressing down on his mind wouldn't color his treatment of Mako?
"You are the best judge of your own fitness, Mr. Pentecost," she said, dropping title altogether as she always did when they spoke solely of his role as father. "Every parent should be a harsh self-critic, but there are limits to all criticism. In this day and age, I can safely say that you don't need to remind anyone – let alone Mako – that the world is a hard place. Nor yourself. And if you question your own ability to give her a happy home, you should address that yourself." She raised her eyebrows. "Your Rangers are all required to undergo regular counseling, aren't they?"
Stacker nodded. "For the sake of aiding their drift, yes."
"Parenting is its own sort of drift. Instinct and hope and experience and the desire for understanding. In that respect, maybe you should address what you carry into it, especially if it concerns you." She stood again and picked up her bag. "That's not my job, of course, but you have no lack of resources available. Do page me if Mako has any difficulty tonight."
She let herself out, and Stacker studied the empty table for a long time.
He stirred from his musings when his screen signaled an assembly call for the Academy – both the prospective Rangers and their former classmates, now moved on to the other disciplines. On a split-second impulse, he called Schneider back to stay in his quarters in case Mako woke up, then headed for Marshall Gagnon's office. As he left, he saw Schneider's knowing smile. She might be billed as a child psychologist, but she had a very accurate read of most adults.
Gagnon made no mention of their earlier disagreement. "I saw that your flight was canceled. With luck, the weather will clear tomorrow."
"I'd hoped to be down there before Christmas, but we're still ahead of schedule," he said neutrally. "I assume by the assembly call that you've made your final decisions?"
"I have." Gagnon held out the tablet, which contained no surprises.
Stacker nodded. "May I join you for the announcement?"
It was an about-face, but Gagnon had the decency not to remark on it. "Of course. This is your class, after all. Would you care to do the honors?"
"Thank you."
Sixty candidates had made the first cut of Class 2016-B. Forty-nine remained at the Academy in some capacity, be it placement in Jaeger support crews or training in some other area of the PPDC's mission. Six of those forty-nine were prospective Rangers. Although they hadn't been officially summoned, all of the current and former Rangers presently at Kodiak Island appeared in the assembly hall: the Gages, the Tunaris, and the D'onofrios, along with a small army of their support staff.
Stacker had previously been adamant that the Academy should not have a "graduation ceremony." This was a life-and-death situation, not a college campus, he had said (thinking the Rangers had enough sources of ego-inflation as it was.) But this unofficial tradition had only grown since the first batch of pilots had been assigned their mechs.
He kept his speech brief… but found the giddy atmosphere a little less frustrating than before. "Candidates. Upon review of your training performance and test results, the Academy has reached its decision."
Six pairs of eyes were locked on him with rapt attention; six young men and women of different ages and walks of life who'd risen to every challenge that Stacker and the instructors could conceive to throw at them. Behind them, six experienced Rangers, as different as the candidates, who'd undergone the same trials. Not always with the same formality and structure, but with the same result.
"Your three teams have been approved by the Academy senior officers and the PPDC for assignment as pilots of the Jaeger Program." There was a collective, soft intake of breath. "You are all declared Ranger Ready."
Unsurprisingly, the youngest ones showed the strongest reaction. Raleigh Becket, Stephanie Lanphier, and Kennedy LaRue looked as if they might burst from the elation. The Hassans maintained impressive dignity, but shifted their weight closer together. Yancy Becket kept up his considerable self-restraint and held his composed, neutral expression even as his younger brother beamed.
Stacker stepped aside and let Gagnon take the final honor. "Jaeger Academy, Class 2016-B, congratulations. Dismissed."
The explosion of applause didn't bother Stacker as it once had. Even the whoops and whistles from the more exuberant souls was mostly amusing, though he took care not to show it.
Jasper Schoenfeld had slipped in with a few of his senior techs to watch the action, and Stacker joined him and Gagnon. "The first of our class is ready for assignment, Marshalls," Schoenfeld murmured. "Really, whenever you're ready."
Gagnon held out his tablet and tapped the name of the chosen team lightly. "No surprises here, I assume?"
"Nope. I've seen the sim scores and test results. Engineering approves." Schoenfeld smiled. "It's Christmas Eve, you know."
Stacker nodded and raised his eyebrows at Gagnon. This time, Gagnon definitely smirked at him. "Beckets." The newly-minted Rangers slipped quickly out of the crowd of milling well-wishers. "With us, please."
Both young men caught sight of Schoenfeld and worked out where this was going. Raleigh Becket's eyes widened comically, and even his stoic brother went a little pale. As the group of them departed the conference hall, Stacker heard Tendo Choi whisper, "This is it!"
As they reached the Assembly Building, Schoenfeld took the lead. "Now that all the official stamps are in place, the I's are dotted and the T's are crossed, an introduction is in order."
He led the way into the testing bay that was almost identical to the launch bays of the Shatterdome – the stage for the final steps in preparing a new mech for its launch. Both Beckets' caught their breath. Schoenfeld stepped in front of them, sweeping out his arm as if making a grand introduction. "Raleigh and Yancy Becket, meet Gipsy Danger."
Now their expressions were identical, their faces slack and eyes wide with awe as they took in the sight. Schoenfeld went on, knowing they couldn't speak. "Nuclear vortex turbine core in the central torso with sixty feet of shielding for the conn-pod. I-19 plasma particle dispersal cannons on each arm, elbow rocket launchers and rear turbo jets. Liquid circuitry neural pathways, fully detachable conn-pod head, rotates three-hundred-sixty degrees. She's the first of the Mark IIIs, flying the American flag. And she's yours."
The decal of a buxom brunette astride a bomb bespoke the origin of her name. The newly-assigned pilots were no longer aware of any presence in the room except the one towering over the layers of walkways and harnesses.
"Yance?"
"Yeah?"
"I think I'm in love."
"Me too."
Stacker Pentecost let himself smile. He knew they wouldn't notice.
To be continued...
Coming Soon: Our heroes celebrate graduation, Christmas, and a hopeful future for the Jaeger Program. Sadly, neither the war nor life are completely escapable even during the holidays. Goodbyes must be said as duty calls for some of their friends, and Yancy is forced to make a painful declaration in Chapter Twelve: If Only In My Dreams!
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Original Character Guide
Marshall Vincent Gagnon - newly-appointed commanding officer of the Jaeger Academy and Anchorage Shatterdome, successor to Marshall Pentecost. Canadian Air Force Marshall, around age 50.
Dr. Tanja Schneider - child psychologist, German, mid-40s, hired by Marshall Pentecost to travel with them and treat Mako's trauma.
Devi and Susanti Hassan - First-generation daughters of Indonesian immigrants to Australia, ages 26 and 24. One of three teams including the Beckets to graduate Class 2016-B and become Jaeger pilots.
Familiar Faces
Vic and Gunnar Tunari - brothers, successor pilots of Coyote Tango. In this fic, they are Americans of Bolivian ancestry, late 20s, sons of a US Marine who lived for several years in Okinawa, hence their being assigned to a Japanese Jaeger. They graduated Class 2016-A of the Jaeger Academy directly before the current class.
Dr. Caitlin Lightcap - age 30ish, from Pittsburgh, PA, inventor of the pons neural bridge and co-pilot of Brawler Yukon until its destruction. Retired from piloting to supervise pons training and drift sync testing at the Jaeger Academy. Now married to her co-pilot, Sergio D'onofrio.
Captain Sergio D'onofrio - age 30ish, test pilot and then co-pilot of Brawler Yukon,until its destruction, and moved on to a training position at the Jaeger Academy. (He was a Lieutenant in Pacific Rim: Tales From Year Zero - I'm assuming he got promoted. He and Caitlin Lightcap fell in love, and Stacker Pentecost referred to them as "the D'onofrios" a year later.)
Dr. Jasper Schoenfeld - engineer who created and designed the first Jaegers, now head of Jaeger Engineering in the PPDC. Had an affair with Caitlin Lightcap when she was his graduate student and he was married, which they resumed after his divorce while they were working on the Jaeger project. Caitlin ended the relationship after drifting and falling in love with the test pilot, Sergio D'onofrio.
Kennedy LaRue and Stephanie Lanphier - childhood friends from Seattle, age 18, former high school athletes and cheerleaders. Developed a romantic relationship at the Academy partly as a result of drifting together. One of three teams (including the Beckets) to graduate Class 2016-B and become Jaeger pilots.