//------------------------------//
// Wild Mustang 
// Story: A Midsummer Night's Dream. 
// by Killbles 
//------------------------------//

	A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Chapter 10: Wild Mustang
 
 
A construction site wouldn’t be a place where you’d expect to see royalty but the makeshift yards that had sprung up at the Manehatten docks seemed to defy that expectation.. Celestia seemed ill at ease as she stalked through the worksites but continued regardless, this was something she had to do. It wasn’t hard to find one of the humans, they were remarkably easy to track as somepony on site always seemed to know their whereabouts. Before long, Celestia found herself out a small hab-block which overlooked the construction yards. She approached the door and knocked, feeling slightly foolish.
“Enter.”
Celestia hesitated for a moment before pushing the door open, revealing a well-used room which the human had made his home. There were few personal effects but the small quarters seemed surprisingly homely. The human, Michael, if Celestia remembered correctly, turned to look at her, a faint scowl forming on his face as he recognised Equestria’s chief monarch.
“You’re the last person I expected to see here.” Michael remarked, he folded his arms across his chest to show Celestia he wasn’t entirely pleased with her presence.
“Surprises, the little joys of life.” Celestia said softly.
Michael leaned back in his chair. “What do you want then? Come to tell us some other ground-breaking secret? Don’t suppose you’ve got Striker Eureka hidden behind a curtain somewhere, do you?”
“Sometimes it is easier to seek forgiveness than to ask permission.” Celestia answered quietly, “Perhaps now is the time for forgiveness.” She added after a moment of slightly uneasy silence.
“Trust, it’s a two way street.” Michael said, his tone a smidge warmer. He fell silent again, engrossed by the leg frames being steadily assembled across the yard. Sparks streamed down in great torrents from all over the frame like miniature waterfalls as workers with welding torches fastened supporting beams and installed vital components. The internal systems seemed to be quickly taking shape, the engines, shock absorbers, bracing and wiring peeking out from under thick slabs of armour which had been secured in some places already. Everything was coming together, much faster than he would have thought possible. Behind the legs, a large metal skeleton was being welded and bolted together, the main body of the Jaeger if he remembered correctly.
“How goes it?” Celestia asked, following his gaze. Her gaze flickered to the recently refurbished reactor they’d ripped from Brawler Yukon which sat at the heart of the Jaeger with something approaching awe. Even powered down she could feel its power, similar to how a unicorn could detect powerful magic lingering in the air.
“We’re hamstrung by a lack of facilities.” He said bluntly. “Otherwise, as well as we could hope.”
Celestia looked curiously at Midsummer Night which still stood stoically over the dockyard, an unwavering guardian for the citizens of Equestria. “How was yours assembled?’
“We have a dedicated facility for Jaegers called a shatterdome. Most of their service is spent there; everything from construction to repairs, regular maintenance to simulation drops… almost everything happens in the shatterdome.”
Celestia nodded thoughtfully. “What do they look like?”
Michael rooted around for the small holoprojector he’d borrowed from their salvage pile for teaching classes. They’d covered the topic not too long ago so the data would hopefully still be on-board. He booted the device up, giving it a rough thump with the palm of his hand as the image briefly fizzled out in a wave of static. Within a few moments, a slowly spinning projection of the Alaskan Shatterdome, or the ‘Icebox’ as it was known by its inhabitants, filled the room. Michael pulled the projection apart with a flick of his wrist, showing Celestia the three large bays for storing and constructing Jaegers, the sprawling facilities for its occupants and the LOCCENT, the local command centre which sat above the main launch bay.
Celestia concealed her surprise remarkably well, the image, while decidedly alien, was strangely familiar.  She pointed her long horn at one of the long Jaeger bays. “I take it this is where your machines are constructed?”
“That’s right.” Michael nodded, pointing out a holographic representation of a Jaeger sitting in the bays. The sheer scale of the structure struck Celestia quite suddenly, the complex would’ve been several square kilometres at least. “You’re not thinking of building one are you?” He asked suspiciously.
Celestia shrugged nonchalantly. She had a city with a massive unemployment problem coupled with an almost tangible desire for revenge behind her and the giant mecha program she was so fond of being stalled by a lack of facilities… the conclusion had come pretty naturally to her. “Why not?” She looked at the slowly revolving picture again. “How detailed are these plans?”
Wordlessly, Michael expanded the image, the hologram momentarily freezing as the small computer furiously worked to enhance the detail. He pulled apart the wall with another lazily flick, the concrete coming apart to show the hundreds of reinforced steel bars beneath it.
“Good enough?” He asked, wondering how much other data he could find on the shatterdome in the two Jaeger’s systems.
Celestia’s eyes widened with amazement, the small device which he fiddled with so casually seemed to have more computing power than a small town. “I’ll have to have an engineer look at it, I don’t know enough on the matter.” She admitted. A thought nagged at the back of her head. “Why is this information even on file? Surely it seems a little…?”
“Unnecessary?” Michael finished.
Celestia nodded silently.
The human shrugged, a quiet sound of confusion escaping his mouth. “Beats me, this is from Brawler’s database not ours. One of the pilots may’ve nicked it or maybe it was left on there from when the Jaeger was built.” He guessed.
The alicorn raised an eyebrow in surprise. “And that’d be allowed?”
Michael nodded. “Course it would, most pilots have some personal effects of some kind on board. You should check out Shane’s massive collection of po-.”
“I think that’s quite enough.” Celestia interrupted hastily.
“.-odcasts.” Michael finished, biting the inside of his cheek to supress a knowing smile.
Celestia flushed a deep shade of red, clearly embarrassed. “Pray tell, what is a podcast?”
Michael let her off the hook, no doubt he could tease her about it later. “It’s like a show but you can download it and listen to it later. He’s got all sorts of talk-shows, panels and stuff like that.”
Celestia found herself with more questions than answers and decided it best to leave it there, lest she spend the whole day following the rabbit hole that was human culture. Despite their seeming permanent residence in Equestria, she still hardly knew anything about them.
She coughed awkwardly. “Well then, I’ll leave you it.” She hesitated for a moment. “Pass my apologies onto your brother for my… dishonest, behaviour.”
“Let bygones be bygones Princess.” Michael muttered, playing with a small scale representation of what Celestia could only imagine was the Jaeger they were building. It seemed like he was going to something more but he kept whatever other thoughts he had to himself.
“Might I ask, what about the pilots?” Celestia asked politley as he pulled the conpod apart to examine the interior layout.
“Coming along nicely, I think we picked a fairly good pair to start with. I hope to put them through their first simulated drop soon.” Michael answered without looking up.
 “That’s good to hear.” The regal alicorn said a slight nod of her head. She scanned the small room the creature called home, noting the odd collection of metal parts he’d salvaged for whatever reason. Some seemed to serve no other purpose than decoration while others served more mundane roles such as propping up a projector or acting as a rack for what few garments he had. ‘Another interesting tradition of theirs…’ Celestia thought, eyeing his clothes suspiciously. She returned her haze to Michael and coughed quietly.
“I’d like to put you and your brother at the head of our own Jaeger corps.”
Michael’s head snapped up, a look of puzzlement on his face. “I thought we already were?”
“Officially.” Celestia clarified. “Up until now you’ve been merely acting as liaisons or advisors.”
He nodded slowly. “What’s the catch?”
“There is no catch. You simply get an official position with the usual benefits our military personnel get. You’re undoubtedly the most skilled in the matters we are likely to face over the coming months and years, I think it would be fitting for you to take command of our forces.”
“The Pan Pacific Defence Corps is separate from any one country’s military though, it’s a global organisation.” Michael pointed out.
“The only other nation that borders the Eastern Sea, the griffons, would never agree to such a treaty. That and they don’t believe the Kaiju are real, merely a fantasy or some creation of mine to spread panic.”
“Hmm, they sound nice.” Michael remarked offhandedly.
“Simply charming creatures.” Celestia said with a disgusted roll of her eyes. “Regardless, I appreciate it if you’d consider my offer.”
“We’ll do it.” Michael said immediately, no way he’d entrust the fledgling Equestrian Jaeger program to some pinhead who didn’t know his arse from his elbow. He felt a hint of pride, at the thought; this was their Jaeger program.
“Excellent, you’ll need to adopt an insignia and a name for your branch.” She smiled thinly. “The Equestrian Jaeger Corps has a nice ring to it.”
“Indeed.” Michael noted, pondering an emblem for the newly formed corp. He had a sudden flash of inspiration. “A Phoenix.”
“Excuse me?” Celestia asked.
“The corps was made from the ashes of defeat. The Phoenix is a bird which is born from the ashes of its own demise. Fitting, don’t you think?”
Celestia bowed her head again slightly. “I couldn’t agree more.”
 

***

 
Within a few weeks of Celestia’s apology, the first signs of the new shatterdome had started to rise into the sky. Most ponies would’ve been amazed at the speediness of the work as most large construction projects would take months upon months just to get approval, let alone start actual work. When almost certain destruction was the other option though, council approvals and the usual bureaucratic nightmare that construction projects seemed to get bogged down in seemed to vanish. Soon, two long wings had been laid down around a large, central boxy structure. Dozens of derelict warehouses had been demolished to make room for the enormous structure which now sat like a massive concrete and steel stain in central Manehatten. Several high concrete and metal walls were slowly rising into the sky under the direction of barked orders from the largest project management team Equestria had ever seen. Unlike the plans which Michael had handed over for study, the shatterdome was larger, capable of housing up to ten Jaegers and their support staff within its mighty halls. The Shatterdome took over the sprawling docks in inner city Manehatten, the sheer size of the structure extending several dozen metres out into the bay like a trio of long fingers. Priority had been given to the massive central structure which would eventually house the Jaeger construction facilities, the main Jaeger bay and the Shatterdome’s control centre.
“Damn they work fast.” Shane remarked as he and Michael walked through the nearly finished main facility several months later. Wind howled through the hal- built structure and a few fat drops of rain drifted down through the almost finished roof, heralds of a larger storm which was building slowly on the horizon.
“Hong Kong went up in what? Five, six months?” Michael shrugged. “Your perspective changes when the end of the world seems nigh.” He watched a unicorn trot past, clipboard levitated in front of him as he chatted animatedly to another pony. “And they have magic. Who knows how much that speeds up the build process?”
Shane made an unimpressed sound, scooting out of the way of a large forklift carrying a stack of steel beams, each as thick as he was, that threatened to run them over. “Idiots should learn how to drive first.” He remarked sourly. He pointed over at where the Jaeger was now being constructed, a large recessed bay which had been finished some weeks ago. Flood lights bathed the Jaeger in light, picking out every detail from the muscle strands half-hidden under plates of armour to the large pair of imposing missile pods which were slung from the Jaeger’s hips like a pair of bags.
Another blast of wind scoured the building, pleasantly cool despite the sweltering temperatures outside. The walls were starting to go up but the builders had been mostly focused on getting a small part of the shatterdome operational quickly rather than getting it all done at once, leaving some areas more open to the elements than others. The weather was much warmer than what they’d experienced in Anchorage, the cold winter which had gripped the city changing to a wet spring. The rains and mild temperatures had barely lasted two months though before a dry, hot summer had reared its ugly head.
“No conpod?” Shane mused as they approached the Jaeger. He stepped out of the way of another errant forklift with a snarl before deciding the gantries around the Jaeger were much safer.
“Probably still building it.” Michael remarked, looking down at the bustle of the shatterdome rather than the Jaeger. It almost felt like home, the electric buzz of welders and the ratcheting of auto-jigs echoing around the massive space. He found himself slightly melancholy. Besides Shane, he hadn’t seen another human for nearly six months and the strain was starting to show. The ponies were good enough company but he found himself longing for home. Ironically, despite Shane’s lingering distrust of the Equestrians his brother seemed to be enjoying himself more and more, perhaps he felt like he’d left less behind than Michael did?
“What’d you think?” Shane asked, breaking the slightly pensive atmosphere which had fallen over them. He waved at the Jaeger in front of them to dispel any doubt of what exactly he meant.
Michael stared at the Jaeger, the technical specs for the machine had no doubt passed him at some point but numbers on a piece of paper were no substitute for a physical examination.
“Looks like it’ll pack one hell of a punch.”  He said. Down on all fours, the Jaeger looked brawnier than Midsummer Night, not by much admittedly though. His well-practised eye could already pick out flaws in the armour, no doubt that’d get better though as materials and experience improved though.
“And what do you make that out to be?” Shane asked, pointing behind the hulking form of the pony’s Jaeger.
Michael’s eyes widened. “Oh hell, they’re building more of them already?” He asked, the beginning of two more frames barely visible behind the gunmetal grey Jaeger.From a distance  he’d originally mistaken the new constructions as spares or additional parts for the first Jaeger but up close it was plain to see just how different they were.
“Is… is that a hand?” Shane spluttered, pointing at a monstrous frame behind the grey Jaeger which was surrounded by scaffolds. While barely started, the structure had several points of articulation along one end, suggesting a limb of some sort. His jaw dropped, the forearm would’ve been at least twice as big as the one on the nearly finished Jaeger.
“Speaking of hands, how’s your little project coming along” Michael asked, elbowing his brother slightly to snap him out of his stupor.
“Fine, fine.” He answered grumpily. “It’s a full time commitment so I’ll probably be in and out of lessons.”
“Works for me,” Michael shrugged, gripping the handrail slightly tighter as a titanic boom shook the shatterdome, a loud crash as the Jaeger’s massive chest piece was slotted into position.
“I think they like you more anyway.” Shane remarked.
Michael’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “I wonder why…” He drawled.
“Hey, no need to be an ass about it.” Shane muttered. “I’m trying to play nice.”
“Whatever you say.” Michael chuckled, returning his gaze to the imposing form of the pony’s Jaeger.
 

***

 
It was barely two weeks after inspecting the new Equestrian Jaeger when Michael ran the first drift. Brawler Yukon’s conpod had been salvaged and heavily redesigned, both to accommodate the new pilot’s physiology but also the rebuild pons that Twilight Sparkle had delivered personally to the base earlier in the week. She’d inspected the new Jaeger as well, citing it was much different to what she’d seen on paper.
“Always is.” Shane had remarked. That was an understatement, most of the original design had been changed, the number of fingers going from five to three for simplicity and the originally planned heavy armour being stripped down due to power concerns. She’d handed over a list of changes to made to the reactor, necessitating the Jaeger’s chest be reopened so the power source could be accessed and delaying the project further while the changes were made.
“Small little tweaks we’ve found that can boost the output, there’s so much we’ve learnt even since rebuilding your Jaeger’s reactor.” She’d explained to a wary Wave Chill and Soarin. She’d vanished after that, going away to continue work on the next generation of nuclear reactors in some distant facility.
 Her arrival had coincided with another special delivery, making Michael waste no time in calling the two pilots down to one of the shatterdome’s main repair bays once the alicorn had left. He strolled through the assembled detritus, surprisingly cheerful despite the pensive mood he’d had earlier. Midsummer Night took up most of the repair bay, her arm still torn to shreds and the last of the dings from the fight with Rasputin now being walloped out.  Choice parts of Brawler Yukon were scattered around the bay, the arm, large segments of its leg… Michael ignored those, making a beeline for the Jaeger’s massive conpod which was propped by carefully in the far corner of the repair bay.
The two pegasi he was training trotted behind him carefully, most of the time they’d spent in the Shatterdome had been either in their quarters or in small, makeshift classrooms. They’d seen their Jaeger on occasion, marvelling it its massive size and urging the workers that were adding the finishing touches to add them faster.
“Where’s Shane?” Wave Chill asked, not entirely displeased by the human’s absence. While Shane wasn’t exactly hostile, he got the impression that the human didn’t think very highly of him. Then again, he was reading a completely different specie’s body language, for he knew Shane could’ve just been shy. He shook his head, how did the humans read each other’s emotions without wings or without using their ears? Their face seemed to move and their arms occasionally flapped about but that was about it.
“He’s busy working on a little pet project of his.” Michael explained, clearly happy to not be partaking in whatever activity his brother was. He gestured vaguely across the wide bay, “He’s somewhere over there probably.”
“Fair enough.” Wave Chill said, looking around the repair bay curiously. He’d always enjoyed watching things go together, it was always incredibly fascinating for some reason he couldn’t quite describe.
“Michael.” Soarin said, breaking his co-pilots thoughts. “How do you name Jaegers?”
“Name them?” Michael scratched his head. “Don’t really know, there isn’t really a procedure if that’s what you’re asking. The only rule I’ve noticed is their names only have two words.
“Any two words?”
“Yeah, like Matador Fury… or Diablo Intercept. Cool names.”
“Who names them?” Soarin pressed, hopping over a cable which was nearly as thick as his torso.
“Anyone really. Comes down to whatever name sticks. Mostly it’ll be one of the manufacturers, deck crew or pilots who comes up with the name. Why do you ask?”
Soarin nodded at Wave Chill. “We were thinking about naming our Jaeger.”
“Oh yeah, what’d you have in mind?” Michael asked curiously.
“Our old boss suggested Wild Mustang.” Soarin said sheepishly, sure it’d be rebuffed by the human.
“That’s a pretty good name. It’s your Jaeger after all, call it what you want.” He hesitated for a moment. “Just don’t call it Flaming Flamingo or something, that’s just ridiculous.”
Soarin chuckled, wondering what the hull would look like in hot pink.
“Alright here we are.” Michael announced, clambering up a short flight of stairs two at a time and cranking open a heavy door, he waved the two ponies inside before following them through and shutting the door behind him.
Soarin and Wave Chill looked around the conpod excitedly, they’d never been inside one of the human machines before. Lights blinked and flashed and the Jaeger’s forward viewport was covered in a multitude of calculations, figures and diagrams. A movie played silently in the bottom right corner, evidently one of the humans had gotten bored during the reconstruction or had just wanted to show off something to one of the work crew. A centreline console dominated the space in between the two harnesses, dozens of switches, knobs and dials that they found vaguely familiar jumping up at them.
Behind the two hanging harnesses was a crude device Soarin immediately recognised as a pons, the vital piece of technology that made drifting possible. Although much more makeshift than the ones Michael and Shane had shown them, the device shared several similarities, the two inputs and the large central processor buried in a mess of cabling the most obvious of all. 
“Welcome to the conpod, take a good look. Soon you’ll be in one of your own. Today though, we’re just doing some practice.” Michael said, strolling around the edge of a gaping hole torn into the centre of the floor. He punched a button, making the two harnesses drop from the ceiling smoothly. It was only now the two pegasi realised they had clearly been built with equine physiology in mind. In comparison to the two cradles, the conpod seemed almost comically large.
“Practice what, exactly?” Soarin asked, nosing one of the harnesses curiously. It seemed much more complicated than the ones Shane had shown him in their lessons, longer than it was tall and much lower.
“A drift, and if that goes well we might be able to try a little simulation to try and get you used to controling a Jaeger. Baby steps.”
Wave Chill’s wings fluttered with excitement, after months of classes about improving mental focus, identifying Kaiju biomorphs and learning the ins and outs of both Jaeger and Kaiju physiology he was well and truly itching to get into a cockpit. “Really?” Wave chill asked excitedly.
“Yeah, really. And something else that arrived today for you...” Michael said, turning around and breaking open a crate. He fished around the interior for a moment before pulling a heavy half helmet out with a dramatic flourish. It was shaped like a regular crash helmet, covering the back and sides of the head but was otherwise vastly different. Three bundles of heavy cables ran down the crest of the helmet, each one slightly recessed into the gleaming metalwork. A large visor was swung down where their face would go, a large optic port on the left and on the right, a link to the Jaeger’s sensor arrays.
“Drivesuits.” He finished, tossing the helmet to Soarin and pulling the second one out for Wave Chill.
At first, Soarin thought it was a stupid design, they’d only be able to see out one side of the helmet, cutting their field of vision and limiting their depth perception. As he turned it over though, he realised with the direct link to the Jaeger’s sensor suite, he’d effectively be able to see what the Jaeger could see. The optical ports, he realised, were mirrored on each helmet, allowing a good drift pair to still see with both eyes. When not drifting or when they felt like it, the helmet’s visor could be swung up, offering the pilot a completely unobstructed view. The whole thing was held in place by a large chin strap which dangled loosely as Soarin flipped the helmet over.
While they were busy examining their new helmets, Michael pulled out the rest of the suits, a pair tar-black circuitry suits which glinted with streaks of gold as he shifted it under the bright spotlights and nearly a score of thin metal plates which covered key parts of the pilot’s body. A pair of heavy boots, thigh guards and a three-part chest plate followed along with a pair of thick shoulder pads, one bearing a phoenix and the other stamped with the owner’s cutiemark. Each plate was about an eighth of an inch of a light but sturdy alloy backed with a soft, flexible plastic which seemed to mould to a pilot’s body as he moved. He nodded appreciatively, whoever had made these had spared no expense in the design. The suits were a dark navy blue, each piece embossed with a short, white serial number which presumably would’ve meant something to somebody.
“Very nice.” Wave Chill said, fawning over one of his shoulder pads. He paused and looked over the black under-suit. “Can we put them on?”
“That’s why I got them out.” Michael quipped. Normally a team of technicians would help don the pilot’s drivesuit, fastening bolts, attaching the spinal clamps and completing other tasks the pilot would otherwise find difficult. The crates didn’t come with technicians though, leaving Michael to figure out how they went together. Luckily, the design wasn’t over complicated and quickly he’d figured out which parts went where. He helped Soarin first, getting Wave Chill to assist when necessary. The circuitry suit went first, the one piece body suit being fastened by a long zipper than ran down the front. Next came the multi-part chest piece; two pieces went around his forelegs and the last piece over his back. A pair of holes allowed his large wings to sit outside the suit, resting comfortably against the cool metal. The leg and flank armour came last, a mixture of small and large pieces which clipped to each other or the circuitry suit. Michael left Wave Chill to the more sensitive areas, he wouldn’t have put his hand down there even he was being paid in solid gold bars.
“Is there a reason for this armour? I mean, looks cool and all, but will it… ah… really help in a fight?” Soarin winced as Wave Chill adjusted his crotch plate.
“Protects you if you come loose of your harness and smash into something. Also helps against shrapnel.” Michael explained. “Full face helmets also help prevent you from drowning, should probably look into that.” He remarked dryly.
“Well that’s just great.” Soarin remarked lamely, looking at his own helmet and reminding himself to stay clear of deep pools of water.
Wave Chill was up next and now with some idea of how to suit went together, the stallion found himself fully armoured with a few minutes. He plopped the helmet over his head and looked around, a slightly foolish grin on his face. Michael had to contain a laugh, fully suited up, the two ponies almost looked like medieval warhorses. They were the least intimidating warhorses he’d ever seen though, the top of Wave Chill’s head barely reached past his hips.
“You two look ridiculous.” He chuckled.
Wave Chill reared up onto his hind legs and punched the air, still surprisingly agile despite the suit of armour he wore. “I like it, feels like it was made for me.”
Michael wasn’t surprised, it was standard practice for suits to be tailored to individual pilots.
“Alright, if you’re done mucking around let’s get started.” Michael chided, directing the two ponies over to the new harnesses. He showed them how to clip their boots into the drivetrain and then fastened the harnesses onto the back-plates, covering the twitching spinal clamp in the back of each drivesuit. Soarin took the left side and Wave Chill the right by unspoken consent, making Michael wonder if ponies had a dominant side of the body like humans did.
“Get a feel for the harness, it’ll restrict your movement slightly but you’ll get used to it eventually.” He explained as the two pegasi fumbled around slightly. The harness was fairly heavy, providing a fair amount of resistance to many otherwise casual actions. “Comfortable?” He asked.
“Hardly.” Soarin grunted, a worried look on his face. By the way he suddenly windmilled backwards Michael guessed he wasn’t used to only have two hooves on the ground while he was still technically on all fours.
“Good enough. Now, we’ve talked a bit about drifting already but I’ve got to warn you, the feeling itself is completely unlike anything we’ve described. It’s terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.”
Soarin chuckled nervously, he’d been looking forward to this moment immensely, perhaps dreading it alittle as well. What would it be like to have Wave Chill in his head? No point wondering anymore, he was about to find out. “Any tips?”
“Take a deep breath and stay focused, don’t single out any one thing. Don’t latch on to anything, just let it all flow.” Michael said, standing behind the primitive pons. “Normally your neural strength would be monitored from the LOCCENT but since we don’t have that I guess I’ll just pull the plug if one of you starts dropping out.” He hovered his hand over the activation switch. “And remember, don’t chase the RABIT.”
“What?” Soarin asked.
Michael sighed and rubbed the arch of his nose. “Random Access Brain Impulse Triggers; come on, we’ve talked about this stuff before.”
“You love your acronyms.” Soarin remarked nervously, starting to sweat a little. There was so much that could go wrong now, it would take only a slip up and the whole program would fall part.
“They’re fun.” Michael shot back with a smile. “I’m starting the drift in 10 seconds. “Remember, focus.” He cautioned, activating a small timer on the conpod’s single window.
“This is it.” Wave Chill chuckled apprehensively.
“Over the edge and b-.” Soarin started to say but the timer outpaced him, plunging the world into a swirling blue mist. It felt like someone had ripped his brain out of his skull and was playing a macabre game of catch with it. Suddenly he could feel another voice in his head, a voice that didn’t belong to him. It was faint, like the distant glow of lights on a clear summer’s night, but undeniably there. He was starting to adjust to the feeling when, without warning, his mind exploded, memories from his past flashing past his eyes, thoughts and feelings he’d harboured since he was small rushing past like they were caught in a series of rapids before a waterfall.
Gradually, other foreign memories started appearing, images of a small foal crying in the corner were quickly shoved aside by a jet of fire shooting up into an overcast sky. Soarin’s mind raced, unable to keep up with the sheer amount of information that flashed through his brain. It was the most incredible yet terrifying thing he had ever experienced. He felt the other presence probing at his thoughts tentatively and he instinctively withdrew, worried of what it would find in the depths of his mind. Before he could properly process the other presence though, the memories were suddenly ripped way, replaced by thoughts and voices which were not his own. He wanted to scream, to shout, desperate to not loose himself to the other being in his mind but all that escaped was a tiny whimper. He locked himself away, frightened by the clambering of voices which now filled his head. Voices of ponies he’d never met or even know about bumping around, all desperate for attention.
Then, as quickly as they arrived the flashes were gone and Soarin found himself again, he sucked in a deep breath of air gratefully, tiny rivers of sweat running down his forehead. He realised he had slumped to the floor, the harness the only thing holding him up. He looked up shakily, his vision being filled by the slightly concerned face of Michael. His eyes darted to the screen, only a few seconds had passed since the drift had started.
“You were screaming.” Michael said, throwing a look at Wave Chill. “What happened?”
Soarin quickly explained the odd feeling he’d felt as best he could, relieved to get a thoughtful nod from Michael.
“Sounds like you had a shutdown.” He said, displaying what Soarin saw as an underwhelming amount of concern.
“Is that fairly normal?”
“The first drift is usually pretty rough. Don’t worry about it, most people don’t get it on their first try. You just have to try and keep your mind open. Your psyche doesn’t want to share its secrets, it wants to protect itself.” Michael explained slowly.  “It doesn’t like feeling naked in front of someone so you’ll naturally try to cover yourself and push the other person out. You have to really drop your guard to make the connection. You have to trust the person next to you implicitly.” He glanced back at Wave Chill, the other Pegasus seemed much more composed that Soarin did. Evidently there was something in Soarin’s mind he didn’t particularly want to share.  “What happened is probably because you shut you mind off to your drift partner. Because of how the drift works, by sharing memories and feelings, he’ll still be trying to share with you and in effect, anything he takes will torn away and anything he offers will hound you until you open up. You need to open your mind, even if that means sharing your darkest secrets.” He fixed Soarin with a sympathetic gaze.
“Can you do that?” He asked finally.
Soarin nodded shakily. “I’ll try.”
“Good, we can run it again if you feel up to it?” Michael offered.
Soarin nodded silently.
Michael nodded and returned back to the pons. A moment later the countdown started again, ticking away with worrying speed.
Another wave of blue light enveloped Soarin and again he felt the strange sensation of not quite being in his own head. The memories flowed quickly now, thousands of flashes which raced past too fast for his mind to process. He could hear the unfamiliar voices in his head again but didn’t retreat to the bastion of his own mind, instead making a conscious effort to keep his mind open to the intruder. He felt his thoughts get torn away again and he nearly pulled back reflexively out of fear. He concentrated on keeping his mind open and the pressure in his mind waned, more like delicate plucking now rather than violent tears.
Their consciousnesses overlapped and Soarin started hearing more than just memories. Every ambition and dream that he and Wave Chill had experienced flashed before him, he stared in wonder, desperate to learn more but resisting the urge to latch onto any specific memory or feeling for more than a microsecond.
We have twelve generations of weather experience in this family, what do you think you’re doing running off to join the air force?
Are you trying to prove yourself or something?
Damn this suit is hot
Why would she ever be proud of me? Her son that ran away to follow a stupid dream…
There was a gut-wrenching tug at the base of his skull and suddenly everything was clear again. With a shudder the two pegasi snapped forward in their harnesses, their minds finally melded into one.
“Can you feel it?” Soarin whispered softly, as if any noise would break the new bond which had formed between them.  Wave Chill nodded but Soarin could somehow feel him agreeing before he saw his head bob up and down.
It was like they were back on the sparring mat, only this time Soarin could almost physically feel the connection. He was sure if he reached out and pulled, Wave Chill would’ve come flying across the cockpit towards him.
“Good, good!” Michael cheered excitedly, his voice almost a little distant. “Now just hold it steady, I’m going to boot the sim up.” He added, ducking to the front of the conpod and mashing a series of buttons too fast for the eye to follow.
Soarin grinned stupidly, they were really doing it!
He only had a moment to savour his triumph before the visor dimmed suddenly before glowing a faint blue.  A large swirling icon filled the screen before finally being replaced by an open bay of water. Soarin looked down and felt a sudden sense of vertigo. They were a good sixty metres in the air, a massive but somewhat blurry gunmetal grey body laid out beneath them. A hundred metres to their right was a long but narrow strip of sand which ran until it vanished around a curve in the land. A dense tropical rainforest filled the landscape, climbing higher and higher up a mountain range which rose up further inland.
“Pretty.” Wave Chill remarked, taking in the beautiful landscape.
“Enjoy it while you can Rangers.” Their radio crackled suddenly, the voice of Michael coming in through both the conpod’s speakers and from next to them. “Your first simulator run starts now, don’t worry, I’m not going to throw any Kaiju in just yet.”
“Yet?” Soarin asked sceptically.
“Just kidding, have a Kaiju!” Michael exclaimed cheerfully.
The air seemed in front of the Jaeger seemed to shimmer like a heat wave and after a few moments, a confused looking Kaiju appeared in front of them. ‘Kaiju’ was perhaps a stretch, the creature was barely eight metres high and seemed no more threatening than an ant was to a lion. It stared up at the Jaeger quizzically, barely ten metres in front of them. It let out a tinny cry and extended its tiny arms skyward, almost as if it expected a hug from the metal giant.
“Uh, what?” Soarin stammered, just as surprised to see the Kaiju as it was to suddenly be waist deep in water.
“Right.” Wave chill said, taking an experimental step forward. The Jaeger seemed to lurch forward drunkenly, its mighty hoof crushing the Kaiju to a thin paste. The two pilots stared at each other in confusion when the words ‘Category 0 Kaiju: Squishy defeated!’ flashed across the screen.
“Seems you two aren’t completely inept after all.” Michael jeered. “Now, let’s move onto some actual drills…”
 

***

 
 
Big Mac lifted up his set of heavy goggles and inspected the new weld line he’d made. With Equestria well and truly advanced to summer, Sweet Apple Acres had more or less enter a sort of hibernation. All the trees had been picked clean and the ground was far too hard and dry to make ploughing new fields worthwhile. Big Mac usually had plenty of work to do throughout the summer months but this year’s summer had been surprisingly hot, dry and early; leaving him with little to do around the farm. A sense of perpetual boredom had fallen over the red stallion as he struggled to find odd jobs to keep himself occupied.
So when the newspapers had reported a massive construction project now underway in Manehatten, he was on the next train to the great city, eager to help where he could. The site manager had practically jumped with glee upon seeing Mac in the workers queue, there were few other ponies who could match his strength or stamina pound for pound.
His family, partially Applejack, viewed the move slightly less favourably than his new boss had. Big Macintosh snorted at this, she had no idea what she was missing out on. Thousands of ponies milled around him, both higher and lower up the massive wall they were working on. From his vantage point, Big Mac could see towering cranes shifting loads of steel from trains and monolithic concrete slabs stretching far into the sky.
“Hey, Big Mac.” A voice called from next to him. “Times up.”
He spun around in surprise, surely his shift couldn’t be over yet? Standing on a gantry behind him was another earth pony, Diamondback. Like Big Mac, Diamondback had come from afar to work, all the way from Phoenix in fact. Like Mac, he was a large, well-built pony whose presence seemed to fill an entire room.
“Can’t be that time yet.” Big Mac complained.
“Sun is going down buddy, time for me to take over.” Diamondback said. It would’ve been nice to have Big Macintosh stick around to chat but their manager didn’t believe in a thing called ‘overtime’, almost fanatically enforcing their rostered times to keep his workforce in top shape. A pity, they both seemed to get along fairly well and Diamondback was sure they’d make good friends.
“Guess I lost track of time.” Big Mac said, shucking the heavy pack he carried off and handing it Diamondback. He had a few tools of his own but most of the gear had been supplied. He shivered, suddenly cold as the last few rays of the sun graced the land. High up on the wall a strong breeze was blowing, the wind chill bringing the temperature down to something more appropriate to autumn. Lights had started springing up all across the construction site and as the light quickly faded, the night crews taking over from the day shift. It was unlike anything Big Mac had seen before, the construction in Ponyville usually ended in the early evening before resuming just after dawn. Here, work was ongoing all hours of the day, every day of the week.
“I saw something on my way up, might interest you.” Diamondback rumbled as he quickly fastened the pack. Despite the chill he wasn’t wearing anything more than a light jacket, amazing considering the hot and dry climate he’d come from. He leant over the railing precariously and pointed further down the wall.  “Check it out.”
Big Mac followed his gaze and whistled lowly. What he could only describe as a large mechanical head, previously hidden by the wall sat on a large mechanical crawler. Bathed in a cool yellow light, Big Mac could see although it was clearly mechanical, it was vaguely equine. The crawler rumbled along ponderously, headed for the other side of the construction yards where most of the work had already been completed.
“Maybe you should check it out.” Diamondback suggested, pulling himself back over the edge and patting Big Mac on the back. “See you in the morning buddy.” He said before clambering up a metal spar with all the confidence of a squirrel in a tree.
As way of answer, Big Mac’s stomach grumbled lowly, a sound he was sure must’ve been heard out in harbour. He smiled sheepishly, apparently his body had other things in mind
 

***

 
As usual, the mess hall was bustling with ponies, most of them other day shift workers knocking off work with empty stomachs and high expectations. Thankfully the cooks seemed up to the challenged, the massive kitchens churning out more food than Big Mac had eaten in his life in a single day. The clamour was truly fantastic, outclassing the ring of hammering, grinding and roar of machines which usually dominated the worksite. It took several minutes to find a seat, the mess hall being so packed that a stallion of his size had trouble finding a spot. Eventually he dropped into a seat near the end of the mess hall next to two pegasi who seemed maddeningly familiar.
“Howdy.” He said, feeling oddly conversational. The two winged ponies looked up, one of them doing a slight double take at Big Mac’s size.
“Hello.” The one next to him said, his companion still staring slack jaw at Big Macintosh. He twitched awkwardly, wishing the Pegasus would stop staring.
“Wave Chill, cut it out.” The other one snapped, reaching across the table and rapping a spoon across his friend’s foreleg.
“Sorry.” He mumbled awkwardly, shaking his head as if snapping out of a trance.
“Good food here.” The stallion next to Wave Chill remarked.
“Eeyup.” Big Mac agreed, shoving a collection of gently steaming vegetables into his mouth.
The pale blue Pegasus looked down at his food, not at all put off by Big Mac’s voracious appetite. “I guess you’re one of the workers around here?”
The question caught Big Mac slightly off guard. The way it was seemed to imply he wasn’t part of the workforce. ‘Typical, lazy Pegasus…’ He nodded.
“I’m Soarin, by the way. This is Wave Chill.” The stallion said. “We’re pilots.”
Big Macintosh sighed internally, the name finally matching with the face. He’d heard more than enough about the Wonderbolts from one of his sister’s friends, another lazy Pegasus whom he’d kicked out of far more apple trees than he dared count. Maybe it was some kind of joke to her when she fell out, sprawled out on the ground at his feet like a sack of potatoes… but Big Mac just found it annoying.
“Big Macintosh, most ponies call me Big Mac though.” He remarked, wishing he could move away from the famous fliers without appearing rude. He personally thought the whole flying business was a whole load of mucking about, why bother with flappy wings when you can have a good set of hooves on the ground?
“Nice to meet you.” Soarin said cheerfully, “Where you from, Big Mac? Country?”
“Ponyville.”
Soarin’s eyes seemed to light up. “Ah, nice little place. I know a few ponies from there.” He remarked. “Know a Rainbow Dash by any chance?”
“All too well.” Big Mac said dryly.
Soarin laughed. “I suppose she can be a bit like that. Let me guess, you work in the apple orchards?”
“I own the apple orchards.” Big Mac corrected. 
Soarin’s face lit up. “Oh really? Love those orchards, I’ve spent my fair share napping in some tree on a hot summer’s day.”
Big Mac shook his head slowly. What was with pegasi and sleeping in his apple trees? They were like rats with wings…
“What do you say you did around here?’ Big Mac asked politely, changing the topic before Soarin could start describing what sort of trees he liked the best.
“We’re pilots.” Wave Chill answered again. “You know, drive stuff.”
“Okay, and what exactly do you drive?” Big Mac continued.
Wave Chill and Soarin exchanged a glance, their position as Wild Mustang’s pilots wasn’t exactly public knowledge yet. They’d heard more than enough speculation as they’d settled in on base but nopony seemed to really know who’d be piloting the massive machine sitting at the heart of the new Shatterdome.
“You wouldn’t believe us if we told you.” Wave Chill said with a small grin.
Soarin poked his co-pilot in the ribs gently. “Say, how about when you’re done we show you what we pilot?” Soarin invited.
Big Mac looked between them uncertainly. He was planning on checking out the big head he saw before, not wander off to see what he guessed would be some fancy airship or something. How could he say politely say no?
“Well ah was gonna have a look at this big head I sa-.” He was cut off as Wave Chill fell out of his chair ungraciously. Big Mac stared at him worriedly, clearing wondering if the Wonderbolt’s head was screwed on right.
“Did you say big head?” He asked excitedly, quickly clambering back to his hooves with a nervous smile. “You mean like, a big mechanical head, yeah?”
Big Mac blinked slowly, had he said something wrong? He eventually nodded, slightly put off by the eager stare Wave Chill was fixing him with.
Wave Chill’s head snapped around to look at Soarin. “It wasn’t supposed to be done for another week, wasn’t it?”
Soarin had an excited, almost childish look in his eyes now. “I don’t think so.”
“But he saw it, it must be done then.” Wave Chill stammered. “They weren’t bringing it in till it was done.”
“It’s done?” Big Mac asked, looking at the two pegasi like they’d grown extra heads. What were they on about?
Soarin and Wave chill snapped around, seemingly like they’d forgotten they had company.
Soarin beckoned quickly.  “Come on, we’ll show you.”
 
Whatever Big Macintosh had expected, what Soarin and Wave Chill showed him exceeded the bounds of his imagination.  A vast grey machine stood vigil over a wide bay, its thick armour gleaming under the large illuminators that shone on it. A few narrow blue lines stark agaisnt its otherwise mostly grey colour scheme. A large golden phoenix was emblazoned accross the machines’ chest proudly
“You pilot one them robots?” He asked, his surprise evident. He’d hear rumours of course, rumours of the machine but having never lid eyes on the machine himself, he’d never believed them. Word had spread around the construction site of the war machine but big Mac had turned a blind eye on them, he was there to work, not gossip.
Now though, with the mighty machine lit up brightly in front of him, it was impossible to deny.
“It has a name you know.” Wave Chill said. “Wild Mustang… what a beauty eh?”
Big Mac was lost for words, his eyes running over the large vents which covered the machine’s chest and then to the fin-like ears which jutted out of the side of its head. His eyes flickered to a scaffold which was obscured some object off to the side, a large hand it looked like. His eyes followed the machinery and widened as realised what lay in the shadows. There were two more of the machines being built, their missing metal skin revealing a slew of complex machinery.
Unable to comprehend the sight, his mouth flapped open and shut like a beached fish.
“Those?” Soarin, following Big Mac’s stunned gaze. “Those are the other two Mark 1s. Wild Mustang is the prototype.”
“Yeah, apparently there’s so much the designers could improve on just by seeing what flaws cropped up in our one.” Wave Chill said irately. “Which sort of sucks, because we get left with the shitty design.”
Big Mac didn’t respond, the biggest machine he’d seen with his own eyes was a crane back home, these metal giants were completely beyond his comprehension.
“They’ll be looking for pilots soon you know.” Soarin suggested absently.
Big Mac looked at him stupidly. “How?” Big Mac stammered.
“It’s complicated.” Soarin said with a dismissive wave of his hoof. “But you need a partner, a good friend maybe? Family, perhaps? Know anypony like that?”
Big Mac froze on the spot, it was crazy, foolish. He should go back to farm where he belonged, none of this ‘pilot’ business. He remembered back to the first monster attack, the helplessness he’d seen, the desperation that everpony had felt. They need a weapon, now they had one. All it needed now was a pony to hold the reins. Something clicked inside the big red earth pony.
“I know just the pony.”
 

***

Set behidn the construction bays was a much less impressive, but still very important part of the Shatterdome. The vast and sprawling facilities which fed, housed and provided the other need s for the steadily growing staff. The sun had barely risen over the shatterdome but the ponies which inhabited it were already springing to life.
A loud buzz awoke Torque from his slumber, prompting a flailing hoof to emerge from beneath his sheets in a clumsy attempt to halt the squaking alarm.
“Damn thign needs to learn some manners.” He muttered sourly, just like he did most mornings. Despite feeling awake immediately he yawned loudly, savourign the feeling a moment before rising out of bed lethargically. 
Torque looked around his new home with a disgusted sigh. ‘Home’ was probably overstating the two concrete rooms which contained his living quarters and a small bathroom. Like most of the staff and equipment at the Trottingham monitoring station, he’d been reassigned to the gargantuan structure as soon as it was reasonably practical to do so. Compared to the sleek modern building which he had occupied previously, the massive concrete box which had been dubbed the ‘Breadbox’, was much more utilitarian. On the plus side though, there were three excellent meals provided daily, completely free of charge in the Shatterdome’s massive kitchens and plenty of assorted beverages and snacks for him to indulge on when he felt like it.
And the robots, or Jaegers he learnt they were called, the robots! Torque couldn’t believe his eyes when he’d first seen the massive alien Jaeger hauled into one of the Breadboxes’ massive repair bays. He thought to the posters of the machine which were still neatly folded in some box lying around  in his quarters, they did the machine no justice. And then there was the native machines; the newly completed Wild Mustang, a burly fighter which was piloted by no less than two Wonderbolts and the two other nameless machines which were slowly starting to take shape.
And what did he have to do in exchange for all this? Sit in a glass box at the end of one of the Jaeger bays and monitor the sensors he was quite used to by now. Apparently he’d done such a good job in Trottingham that Skyray had recommended him for a promotion and now he was the chief command technician in the Shatterdome, monitoring data feeds and interpreting them where necessary.
All in all, if he discounted his slightly dank room, he loved it.
He chuckled, at least he wouldn’t have to see his room for another nine hours or so. Whistling quietly to himself, he treated himself to a quick shower before trotted outside, slamming the heavy steel door shut behind him and locking it with a satisfying clang. ‘Not that there‘s anything that anypony could really steal…’ He thought, the ugly thoughts he had of his room fading as he strolled casually down the short hallway to the large elevator that would take him up to the shatterdome’s command centre, or LOCCENT, as it was offically called. He personally disliked the term, preferring to just call it ‘The Command Centre’ or ‘The Hub’. Still, he didn’t really have a say in the matter.
The elevator came to a smooth stop, allowing a few more ponies he vaguely recognised in before resuming its journey to the top of the Jaeger bays. The elevator stopped once more before Torque finally reached his destination. He trotted into the command centre, quickly making sure everypony who was supposed to be there was there before talking his seat at long console which overlooked the Jaeger bay through a row of panoramic windows. He looked down at the console suspiciously, something was different; there were more banks of controls than he remembered and a dozen more screens than there had been since his last shift. It was also distinctly cruder, as if someone if taken to it with some spare parts, a few wire cutters, good-old enthusiasm and a lot of duct tape.
“New gear, hope you like it.” A foreign voice said, causing Torque to nearly fall out of his chair in fright. He turned around to one of the aliens sitting in the shadow next to a bank of communication consoles, barely visible unless somepony was looking. What passed for a thin smile passed over his face. “Sorry to scare you, I’m Michael. That’s Shane.”
Who? Torque thought before spinning around to find another alien, barely a metre to his right. He almost fell over in fright again, where had he come from?
“Hi.” Shane said quietly, playing with a few of the new switches experimentally.
Torque’s fear was replaced by a confusion and then finally, what he could only describe as ‘fanboyism.’  He struggled to maintain his compose, driving down to urge to ask the alien pilots for something stupid like their autograph.
“Torque.” He stuttered, playing with his hooves nervously.
“Nice to meet you, I’m told you’re in charge here.” Michael said
Torque resisted the urge to gush. “Mostly, there’s al-.”
“Me.” Another voice butted in, the form of Skyray appearing from between two consoles stealthily. Torque nearly had a heart attack, where was everyone appearing from?! She flashed Torque a quick smile before returning her attention to the two aliens. “Name’s Skyray.”
Shane rolled his eyes and continued flicking switches, when would he meet a pony with something that resembled a sensible name?
“How can we help?” Skyray asked pleasantly, her voice a stark comparison to her horribly scarred face.
Michael cleared his throat and averted his eyes from the heavy scarring. “We’re scheduling a test run for Wild Mustang in a few days, you may have noticed a few new controls around.” He remarked.
“I was about to ask if they had something to do with you…” Skyray said, making it clear that she didn’t appreciate them messing with her gear without her permission. “What’s your point?”
“The way a Jaeger is controlled, the whole launch is usually managed and monitored by the LOCCENT staff. It’s possible to start a Jaeger without external help, but it’s a whole lot smoother for the operation to be slaved to the command centre before the Jaeger’s computer takes over completely.”
“And you want us to do that.” Torque guessed.
“Yup.” Michael affirmed, gesturing to the panel Shane was playing with. “It’s mostly just monitoring equipment, you just have to make sure everything is lining up nicely and provide directions to the Jaeger crews if something goes wrong.”
“Presumably you’ll show us how this works?” Skyray asked.
“Look lady, I’m a pilot, not a LOCCENT jockey. I wouldn’t know shit about it.” Shane answered curtly. “You’ll have to play it mostly by ear, we’ll show you what a good drift looks like and what a bad one looks like… that’s about the extent of our knowledge.”
“Drift?” Torque asked curiously, just to remind everone he was there.
“We’ll explain later.” Michael answered. “We’d appreciate if you’d be able to do this though.”
“Means we won’t have to babysit the Jaeger crews all the time.” Shane finished.
“Of course we can.” Torque blurted, “Just show us what we have to do.”
 

***

 
With construction of the new christened Wild Mustang now finished, there was little time wasted in organising a test run. Shane had even taken time off his project to help the Jaeger’s pilots ready themselves for their first run in their new metal body. The day of the trail crept up quite suddenly and despite their training, both Wave Chill and Soarin were starting to feel the first anxious jitters.
“Nervous?” Shane asked, looking out one of the wide windows set in the shatterdome’s outer wall above the Jaeger bays. There had been a public announcement a few days ago about the reveal and the dockside was lined with ponies of every shape and colour, everyone seemed incredibly eager to see the first Jaeger stride forth. The massive steel doors which lead into the central Jaeger bay were still shut, waiting for the crawler carrying Wild Mustang to approach before they rolled open.
Soarin nodded meekly, his drivesuit squeaking quietly as he bobbed his head up and down.
“It’ll be a piece of cake, nothing to it. Just get out there, show off to the crowd a little and then head back in.” He said, radiating a confidence Soarin didn’t quite feel.
“Yeah, piece of cake.” The Pegasus replied nervously.
Shane looked around cautiously. “Just focus on staying in sync and you’ll be fine. Drifting in a Jaeger is completely different from the simulator.”
“How?” Wave Chill asked, sudden apprehensive.
Shane gave him a quick wink. “You’ll see.”
Soarin and Wave Chill exchanged a nervous glance. What wasn’t he telling them?
“You’ll be making history today.” Shane continued, abruptly changing to topic. “First Jaeger pilots, first Jaeger. That’s a pretty big deal.”
“Yeah.” Soarin said queasily.
“You should be honoured, taking a stand and fighting back for you people.”
“Yeah, I just wish quite so many of them weren’t watching.” Wave Chill gulped.
“You used to be a showpony, right? You can do this.” Shane said encouragingly.
Wave Chill nodded, thankful for Shane’s words of support more than the human could readily appreciate.
A door cranked open at the end of the room and Michael appeared through the portal, the sound of machinery grumbling drifting up through the open hatch. He nodded at the two pilots and gestured through the now open door.
“Showtime.”
 
The interior of Wild Mustang’s conpod was smaller than Soarin expected, the walls filled with electronics and covered in thick slabs of armour creating a smaller space than one would’ve imagined.
The interior layout was similar to Brawler’s cockpit in many ways, the console was mounted centreline and most of the dials, buttons and readouts were in the same places as well. It offered a sense of familiarity to an otherwise unknown place that comforted Wave Chill and Soarin somewhat. They clipped themselves into the drivetrain, the harnesses slipping down from the ceiling and resting softly against their backs. There was a faint whirr as the bolts secured the pilots to the harness and the two long arms which Soarin and Wave Chill would attach around their forelegs rose up, eager to clamp around the pilot’s drivesuits.
The conpod’s door slammed shut, the long bars which locked it shut sliding into place smoothly and locking the pilots securely inside the conpod.
“How we looking in there guys?” The Jaeger’s radio crackled, the sound being routed to a pair of small speakers at the back of their helmets. The two pilot’s looked through the thick windshield towards the large open-plan room which overlooked the end of the Jaeger bay, the Local Mission Control. No doubt Shane and Michael were up there, wondering if the last seven months of preparation, construction and training would finally pay off.
“A-okay.” Soarin answered, leaning forward to key the radio on. The buttons were much larger than the ones he remembered training with.
“Good to hear it. Engaging pilot to pilot protocols, standby.” Michael said before the radio clicked off.
“Pilot-to-pilot connection protocol sequence, engaged.” An oddly metallic voice chimed, surprising both Soarin and Wave Chill. Brawler Yukon’s AI had been removed during their training, making this was the first time they’d encountered the Jaeger’s computer in the flesh. The Jaeger seemed to hum in life, lights sparking into life all across its hull and a low growl came from below their feet, almost as if their Jaeger was eager to be released upon the world.
“Prepare for Neural handshake, starting in ten seconds.”
The Jaeger jerked forward, evidently the crawler had started rolling them towards the massive steel portal at the end of the Jaeger bay.
“This is it…” Wave Chill said nervously.
“This is it.” Soarin agreed, letting out a long breath he’d subconsciously been holding. No backing out now, this was the moment they’d been preparing for. He watched the timer click down and focused on clearing his mind as the digital readout clicked over to zero.
“Neural handshake, initiated.”
The now familiar tug at the back of Soarin’s mind briefly disconnected him from reality and the familiar blue sheen to drift imposed fell over his thoughts. Thousands of memories flashed by, some new ones that hadn’t surfaced before briefly catching his attention. The familiar presence of Wave Chill tugged at his mind until he trouble distinguishing which one of them was which. There was something different here though, almost like a third presence hovering in the drift between them. It roared and growled with a bestial voice, purring and humming as the two pilot’s feelings expanded through it. It was a flawless drift, mind and machine forming into one being like there’d never been a distinction in the first place. With a snap, Soarin and Wave Chill crashed back to reality, the low growling and humming fading away to a faint echo in the back of their heads.
“Neural handshake strong and holding, good work.” The radio crackled.
“Calibration required, right hemisphere calibration commencing.” The A.I. chimed, a trace of irritation in its robotic voice.
Wave Chill cautiously lifted a hoof, the right hoof of Wild Mustang mirroring his movements smoothly, gears and servos whining and grinding to lift the Jaeger’s massive right foreleg a few metres above the crawler. He held the stance for a second before returning the Jaeger’s hoof to the deck gingerly. He couldn’t hear it, but a titanic cheer erupted in the LOCCENT as the Jaeger’s hoof lifted from the surface of the crawler.
“Left hemisphere calibration commencing” The AI intoned, prompting Soarin to repeat the procedure.
The computer chimed again, an almost happy tone sounding as the hoof returned back to the deck. “Calibration complete, ready to activate the Jaeger.”
As if hearing the computer, the massive steel doors slid open smoothly, flooding the Jaeger bay with harsh sunlight. The Jaeger rolled forward inexorably, the crawler chugging forward through the open doors and onwards until it broke through the surface of the water outside. The Jaeger hovered uncertainly on the large metal plate and the crowd seemed to hold its breath, wondering what the Jaeger would do.
With the whirring of gears and clank of metal, Wild Mustang took a step forward cautiously, the ground trembling as one of the Jaeger’s hooves stepped off its crawler and impacted against the reinforced concrete laid outside the shatterdome. Its head turned slightly, as if surveying the landscape which surrounded the half-finished shatterdome. Assured their Jaeger wouldn’t fall flat on its face, the two pilots strode further down the ramp, the sunlight gleaming off the fresh gunmetal grey paintjob. Even from their great height, Soarin and Wave Chill could hear the roars of the crowd which seemed to stretch all the way to the horizon. Excitement churned through the drift, any apprehension they may have felt washing away.
“Try standing up.” The radio crackled.
After a moment of hesitation, Soarin and Wave Chill reared up on their hind legs, their harnesses smoothly sliding back and locking into position, comfortably holding them upright. With a loud grinding sound, Wild Mustang slowly backed up. Its weight shifting off its forelegs and into its bulky hindquarters. The Jaeger’s pelvis rotated forward, bringing the rest of the body upright before finally locking in place. Inside the conpod, the view screen flashed twice, confirming the body was secured in the upright position.
With a whine the pair of massive missile pods that hung from the Jaeger’s flanks like a set of saddlebags slid up the Jaeger’s spinal column until they sat just behind their hunched shoulders and locked into place with a sharp click. With another loud clunk, Wild Mustang’s shoulder sockets popped out of the hull, broadening the Jaeger’s stance considerably. Lastly, the Jaeger’s three fingers slid smoothly out of their housings and locked into position with a metallic thud. Soarin tried wiggling one of the fingers and much to his delight, the stubby digit waggled happily. The crowd which jostled around the wharf to watch let out a titanic cheer and everywhere the pilots looked, they could see the flash of cameras or the metallic glint of a set of binoculars. Now fully upright, the Jaeger towered over everything except the Shatterdome itself, the ponies that stood near its feet looked positively tiny compared to the machine.
“So far, so good.” Soarin remarked with a nervous chuckle, taking another careful step forward. The Jaeger seemed to pitch forward, though whether that was simply just an effect of Soarin’s mind or not was debateable. Walking on two legs was normally very difficult for a pony but with the harnesses holding them upright and the joints locked securely in place, the mighty machine seemed to manage it without difficulty. They took another step forward, the slightly awkward gait of the mecha making Soarin’s gut lurch for moment. He shared a brief smile with Wave Chill before suddenly becoming very conscious of where the Jaeger was standing, it would be something indeed to crush a boat or somepony underfoot on their first outing.
“Alright, bring him back in.” The radio hissed again. There was no denying whoever was on the other end, probably Michael, was holding back a great deal of excitement.
Feeling Wave Chill’s eagerness coursing through their neural bond, Soarin couldn’t help but grin stupidly. Wave Chill raised the Jaeger’s arm slightly and waved gingerly for the crowd’s benefit, before wheeling the Jaeger around and marching back to the shatterdome’s doors, their confidence in the metal giant growing as they stepped back onto the large metal crawler which would carry them back inside. While the display had been short it was enough proof for the thousands of ponies assembled outside that Equestria was ready to take a stand and fight back.
‘Just like the simulator.’ Soarin thought cheerfully, unconsciously ducking the Jaeger’s head even though it passed a good five metres under the rim of the shatterdome’s door. He could tell, even without looking, Wave Chill was feeling the same sense of exhilaration.
But as he thought about it, it wasn’t. Unlike the simulator, being in control of the Jaeger… it was almost surreal. He could feel the cool breeze blowing over the outer hull, the soft patter of a few stray droplets of rain as they splattered against the roof the conpod. He could feel the streams of oil pulse through the Jaeger like blood and the reactor seemed to thrum in time with his steady heartbeat. Maybe he was just imagining things, but Soarin almost felt he was the Jaeger… or was the Jaeger another entity altogether, a third partner in their drift? The raw power which surged through him was staggering, he felt invincible, like a god amongst mere mortals.
Wave Chill grinned infectiously as the tracked crawler slewed sideways into the bay set aside for their Jaeger, agreeing silently with Soarin’s first impressions.
His day couldn’t get any better.
He made to lower the Jaeger back into its four legged stance when the radio crackled again. “Not so fast you two, we’ve got one last thing left to do.”
 

***

 
Up in the control room, Shane and Michael nodded approvingly as the Jaeger re-entered the shatterdome’s main doors, seems like they’d done an alright job after all. Like everyone else in the shatterdome, they watched the steel grey Jaeger chug along on its crawler intently. Even the construction crews working down at the other end of the Jaeger bay had paused their work to gawk at the passing giant.
“Well that went about as smoothly as it could have.” Michael said, clapping his brother on the back. “Good work.”
“Just one more thing before we let them go I think…” Shane said, raising an eyebrow questioningly. His hands instinctively drifted towards the simulator controls before withdrawing slightly. “Right?”
“Right.” Michael agreed, his eyes still focused on the narrow golden slit which marked the conpod’s visor.
“What are you two on about?” Torque asked, his gaze hardly leaving the screens in front of him. He seemed remarkably unmoved by the new Jaeger, instead focusing on the neural readouts which covered the console he was sitting at. While Michael and Shane’s crash course on the operation and monitoring of the drift sequence was fresh in his mind, he appreciated having the two humans close on hand in case he messed something up.
“It’s an initiation thing we have back at the Ranger Academy. Right about now they’ll be feeling pretty good about themselves, top of the world. Pretty much godlike.” Michael guessed, accurately describing the feeling that almost every new Jaeger pilot felt when they first drifted into their metal body. “Time to cut them down to size I think.” He brushed off the questioning glance the stallion threw at him with a knowing look. ‘Trust me, I’ve been there.’
“Yup.” Shane agreed, flicking the intercom with surprising cheer. “Not so fast you two, we’ve got one last thing left to do.”
“And what would that be?” Wave Chill asked, his voice slightly tinny through the speakers.
“One last bout of simulated combat.” Shane replied with a thin smirk as the Jaeger was locked into place out in the bay. Four yellow scaffolds extended out from the sides of the bay and surrounded the conpod, locking the Jaeger’s head and shoulders securely in place. He sorted through the short list of Kaiju he had on hand and after conferring briefly with Michael, selected one suitable for their purpose.
“Who are we fighting then?” Wave Chill asked eagerly, his tone almost a little arrogant.
“Just a little guy, shouldn’t be that hard.” Shane said flatly. The Kaiju they’d selected, a CAT II called Atticon, was a classic academy choice to reign Jaeger pilots in.  While only a category II, the Kaiju was lethal; it was stronger than most CAT IIIs, lightning fast and had a hidden weapon, a barbed tongue coupled with a dangerously acidic bile that it could vomit forth when it needed to. The pilots of Eden Assassin had found out the hard way, being drowned beneath the waves of the Yellow Sea before Cherno Alpha had ripped the creature’s head clean off. Now, the Kaiju was used as a warning to overconfident pilots, being something of a final test before a Jaeger was put into active service. Only a trio of Jaeger crews had managed to beat it the first time around; Shane and Michael weren’t lucky enough to be counted amongst them. Hubris, it seemed, was an extremely common trait in human pilots.
“Prepare for drop, simulation starting in 5…4…3…”
 
“...2… 1…”
 Wild Mustang’s conpod lightning dimmed slightly as the Jaeger’s on-board A.I. ran a quick systems diagnostics check. Nearly pointless since they’d done one barely fifteen minutes ago, but protocol was protocol…
‘Systems nominal, simulation online.” The A.I. canted, the inside of the visor already flickering.
The walls of the shatterdome faded to obscurity, being slowly replaced storm ravaged sea. Ten metre swells battered at the Jaeger before crashing up against a high, half-finished wall behind them. Beyond that lay a sprawling city of alien design. Their sensor suite picked up two contacts, one a few kilometres off to their left which while covered in strange runes, pinged reassuringly as friendly. The other was moving through the water towards them, a large blip which seemed to take up more and more of the screen as the seconds ticked by. Soarin and Wave Chill had a moment to realise they weren’t in Equestria anymore before the target became visible and the computer shrilled an alarm.
“Warning: Kaiju threat detected, category II.” It chimed once before Wave Chill silenced the alarm.
“Yeah, fat load of help you are.” He barked. Through sheets of rain and the occasional lightning strike he could see the Kaiju, its glowing cyan eyes staring out from the almost pitch-black surf malevolently. Their radio chimed once and Soarin immediately answered.
“Wild Mustang, standing by.” He said firmly, strangely calm despite the oncoming Kaiju.
 The voice that answered him though, nearly made him jump out of his harness in fright. Instead of the LOCCENT officer he’d expected to answer, he heard the rough, harsh tones of a completely alien voice; a voice which seemed be infused with such power the storm which raged around them seemed to pale in comparison. It spoke a few words, which to Soarin sounded more like a Minotaur gargling with a potato before switching off again.
“What the hell was that?’ Wave Chill asked, double-checking the six rockets they carried were all armed, trusting Soarin to keep an eye on the slowly approaching Kaiju.
“Must’ve been our friend.” Soarin guessed, watching the friendly contact move slowly towards the Kaiju. There were horribly out of position though, there was no they’d arrive before the Kaiju reached Wild Mustang. Soarin forced down an inkling of panic, they faced a CAT II before in the simulator, but not one this big.
The Kaiju drew closer, slowing slightly as it noticed the Jaeger standing between it and the city. It let out a loud yowl, almost like a cat spotting a rival and starting circling them slowly.
“Come on, let’s mess this spikey dude up!” Wave Chill called, adopting a textbook shallow-water defensive stance. He could hear Soarin’s mind churning beside him as he analysed the Kaiju, searching for anything that seemed like a weak point.
Atticon returned the treatment, continuing to circle the Jaeger slowly and meowing lowly. It almost looked like a cat, a slimy, furless, spine covered cat. That was eighty metres tall…
In fact, the more Soarin thought about it, the more he realised it wasn’t at all like a cat. A pair of luminous blue eyes blinked at them, two large glowing balls of blue fire that threatened to consume them if they stared too long. The Jaeger took a step forward and Atticon took a step back, muscles rippling as it mirroring their stance almost perfectly.
Without warning, Atticon leapt forward, seemingly overextending itself for a blow. Wild Mustang took a step back and pivoted out of the way of the Kaiju’s claws, using its momentum to counterattack; bringing its three-fingered hand around to grab at the Kaiju’s stumpy neck.
“What th-?” Wave Chill exclaimed, his surprise being mirrored by Soarin. The Kaiju was impossibly fast, vacating the space which Wild Mustang’s hand now occupied in a flash. The Jaeger pivoted on its hip to track the Kaiju, at least preventing them from being completely blindsided by its next blow. There wasn’t time to raise their arm to parry the blow, the Jaeger’s movements were almost sluggish compared to the lighting quick Kaiju. Atticon smashed into them, tearing deep rents in their armour and sending the Jaeger reeling. It was too quick, too fast for them to even defend themselves from the hail of blows that crashed against them.
With a fierce yowl, Atticon slammed Wild Mustang’s back against the base of the wall, causing a miniature rock slide which bounced off the Jaeger’s armour harmlessly and sending the two pilots reeling. Before either Soarin or Wave Chill could gather their wits, Atticon leapt forward, pinning Wild Mustang under its razor sharp claws. A series of alarms went off as the creature’s claws pierced their metal skin like razors and prickles of discomfort flared up over Soarin’s skin, the tight circuitry suit he wore responding to the damage Wild Mustang was taking. The battered Jaeger tried to rise but was slammed back into the wall by the impossibly strong Kaiju for its trouble, loosing another hail of boulders which rained off their armour like hailstones. With a loud croak, the Kaiju’s long barbed tongue shot forward and pierced the conpod’s outer shell, throwing Soarin and Wave Chill back in their harnesses with a cry of surprise. Before they could react, its gargantuan mouth clamped over the breach, spilling a torrent of acid into the confined space. It was complete overkill, the Kaiju’s tongue smashing through the conpod’s visor would’ve torn both of the pilots to shreds in a heartbeat.
“Shit!” Wave Chill snarled, the dark depths of the Kaiju’s throat being overlaid with the words ‘Mission failed’. That had hardly been a fair fight, Wild Mustang not even managing to land a single blow on the creature. He was furious, it was almost as if they were supposed to lose.
The intercom flicked on. “How does it feel to be dead?” Shane jeered, powering the simulator down. The shattered viewport and slowly dripping acid vanished, replaced with the comforting solidity of the conpod’s walls. The slowly pulsing amber lights which flashed around the conpod winked off, being replaced by the cool white running lights they were much more used to.
Wave Chill threw his helmet off with an annoyed snarl, his lip curling up in annoyance. “It’s absolute bullshit.” He spat.
“That’s life, chum.” Shane said, his voice cracking slightly over the intercom.
“You should’ve warned us.” Soarin said flatly. He looked over at Wave Chill with an annoyed scowl.
“And ruin the surprise? You two need to harden up if you want to last more than one deployment. The Kaiju have never fought fair, so don’t expect them to start now.”
Soarin but his lip in annoyance. “And we’re supposed to beat that thing? We’d barely moved before it had pinned us.” He pointed out.
“I’m really starting to think we can’t.” Wave Chill groaned, snapping his helmet back into place with a frustrated grunt. Swallowing his ego, he started to understand the point of the exercise. Only a few minutes ago he’d thought themselves invincible, unbeatable. Now he could see just how wrong he was. It was the first time they’d lost in simulated combat, the first time they’d seen they were in fact, still mortal. It was a harsh lesson to learn, but one they’d needed to learn all the same.
“Want to run it again?” Shane asked.
Wave Chill glared at the conpod’s visor, mere moments ago it hadn’t looked so flimsy. “Do it again.” He ordered.
Shane chuckled lowly. “Alright, standby.”
Several tense minutes passed but the projection didn’t flicker into life again. Soarin suddenly became a little nervous, was something wrong? He was about to key the intercom again when Shane’s voice crackled back into life over the intercom. Unlike last time where they had been a faint trace of smugness or condescension in his words, this time he sounded worried.
“We’re going to have to cut this short, we’ve got an inbound Category I Kaiju. Midsummer Night isn’t ready to deploy so it’s up to you to play introductions. Get ready ladies, this is for real.”