//------------------------------//
// Inopportune Timing 
// Story: A Midsummer Night's Dream. 
// by Killbles 
//------------------------------//

	Chapter 15
Inopportune Timing
 
 
The mysterious fate of the Intrigue slowly filtered out the Equestrian community, some news sources loudly parroting the claims of piracy while others had a little more thought and tact about them (The idea that the crew had been abducted by aliens was widely dismissed as rubbish, despite the fact that two alien species had surfaced in the last year). For others though it was mere trivia, more important things in the world were happening than the disappearance of 21 crew off a cargo ship in the middle of the ocean.
Crop yields over the summer had been worse than usual, the changelings had seemingly abandoned Equestria’s south-eastern border and most importantly, Sapphire Shore’s doghouse had sprung a leak, giving the poor creature a nasty cold.
All of these though, meant nothing to Rainbow Dash. She was a mare on a mission. Maybe her mission had seemed a little fantastical at first, but as she walked down the narrow hallway towards what she thought would be her future co-pilots residence, any doubt of fantasy was totally washed away.
It had taken her a surprisingly long time to find Spitfire. It hadn’t been easy at first, after she’d been discharged from the Wonderbolts the former professional flier had taken up a supply position at the Air force office in uptown Manehatten before being moved to Verdant Meadows, a large airbase to the south that was home to several large airships, including her former command, Lucky Seven. She’d seemingly vanished off the radar there though and it’d taken several letters to both some of the remaining Wonderbolts and the Jaeger crews in Manehatten to figure out what exactly had happened to her. After that it had taken another two weeks to get a response from the mare but at least now she was an expected guest, rather than just dropping in unannounced like she had last time.
Even so, she couldn’t help but shake the feeling the fiery mare didn’t really want to see her, maybe it was the fact that the last time she’d seen Spitfire, she’d been chewed out like a wet rag. She forced the feeling down and knocked on the door three times, her hoof rapping sharply on the solid wood. Rainbow heard a few muffled sounds before the door finally opened a crack and a golden eye peeked out, narrowing slightly as it beheld the mare standing in the hallway. The door slammed shut and Rainbow heard a chain being undone before opening again, revealing Spitfire in all her glory, or perhaps lack of.
She seemed to have gotten a lot older since Rainbow had last seen her, her coat seemed a little less lush than it usually did, her head wasn’t held quite as proudly as it once had been and, if the bags under her eyes were any indication, Spitfire looked like she hadn’t had a proper night of sleep for a long time.
“Oh, it’s you.” Spitfire said, her tone somewhere between somewhat polite and bitter. She seemed to contemplate Rainbow Dash for a moment before widening the door and allowing the pegasus to enter.
Once upon a time, Rainbow Dash would’ve been giddy at the prospect at visiting a Wonderbolt in their home but Spitfire’s apartment seemed to defy all expectations of what she had expected. It was small, it was messy and, on close inspection, not that dissimilar to her own home, albeit neither floating nor made of clouds. She pointed out what looked like a few craters in the wall.
“What are those from?” She asked as she stepped inside.
“Anger management.” Spitfire answered carelessly, leading Rainbow Dash down a narrow hallway past a bedroom that had a distinctly dreary smell about it and into a slightly cramped living room. “Want a drink?”
Rainbow looked around at the collection of half-empty bottles which crowded around most of the flat surfaces like eager fans. “Uh, I’ll be all right.” She answered quickly.
Spitfire made a quiet snort and searched around for a bottle that wasn’t empty. “Probably should clean up a little.” She remarked after she’d checked almost a dozen bottle to no success.
Rainbow pawed the ground awkwardly. “So… how’ve you been?” She asked. Normally Rainbow would have skipped the small talk and jumped straight to business, but she thought that she owed Spitfire a measure of respect.
“Great, great.” Spitfire said, finally finding and draining a bottle of a smoky smelling amber liquid. “Best days of my life. I’m always busy. I have plenty of friends and I have a totally relaxed outlook on the future.”
Rainbow Dash couldn’t tell if she was being serious, it seemed unlikely but Spitfire’s tone had no trace of sarcasm in it. “Really?”
Spitfire’s face dropped. “Of course it’s not. I keep having nightmares, my social life is me talking to my pen most of the day and I haven’t flown in Celestia knows how long. It’s driving me mad.” She snapped. “And don’t even get me started on this thin-.” She lifted one of her forelegs up only for it to lock up with a squeal. Spitfire looked at her disobedient leg like she would a stack of new recruits and unleashed a barrage of swearing of a calibre Rainbow Dash hadn’t even dreamed of. The stream of expletives kept rolling as she smacked her leg a few times to no avail. It was incredible to watch, Spitfire worked in profanity like an artisan might work with paints or clay; it was her medium, and she was a true master. She bashed the limb’s joint again, finally knocking it loose with a whine of annoyed servos.
“I think that speaks for itself.” She growled, throwing herself down on a surprisingly clean longue that had one of her uniforms draped over the back. “I’m really quite surprised they haven’t put me in an institution yet.”
Rainbow Dash kept silent, Spitfire seemed to have zoned out, seemingly forgetting she had company. She seemed to contemplate her drink for a few minutes, completely oblivious to the rainbow maned pony that stood awkwardly in the middle of her living room.
The mare snapped back to reality. “Guess there are some perks though, get plenty of time to sit around, drink and talk to ponies like you.” She said with a small smile. “Anyway, what do you want?”
Rainbow Dash stood up a little straighter. “I want to join the Jaeger academy. I want to pilot a Jaeger.”
“Good for you, maybe you actually make a difference to the world there. Fighting eighty metre high alien bugs.” Spitfire remarked. “Want to know happened when I last fought an eight metre high alien bug?” She asked, high eyes widening slightly as she spoke. She seemed to hold the painful silence for a few moments, staring slightly to the left of Rainbow Dash. “I crashed an airship into it.” She summarised bluntly, making a quiet explosion sound as she finished. She stared into her drink for a few seconds. “That went well for me, didn’t it?” 
She seemed to refocus again. “What’s this got to do with me? You got no friends or family to tell the good news to and receive kind word of support from? Pretty sad If I’m your first port of call.”
“Well, no, I was just thinking that you could go with me and be my co-pilot.”
Spitfire stared at her with shocked surprise for a few seconds, the thought had seemingly never occurred to her. She gained a critical eye and seemed to regard Rainbow for a few moments, almost as if she was shaping her up. Much to Rainbow’s disappointment though, she didn’t seem particularly moved by the idea.
“No.” Spitfire answered after a few agonisingly long seconds.
Rainbow Dash stood in stunned silence. She hadn’t expected Spitfire to say no, it somehow seemed unfair that former leader of the Wonderbolts was turning her down.
“Why?” she found herself blurting out before she could pull the words back. She immediately expected Spitfire to flip at her but instead the pegasus sighed wearily.
“Look kid, I’ve changed a lot from when you knew me. I’m not to pony I used to be.” Spitfire explained. “I’ve lost too much, become too bitter, to let somepony like you into my head.”
“Somepony like me?” Rainbow asked indignantly, unsure if she should be offended,
Spitfire laughed quietly. 
“I know the type too well, cocky and arrogant, so sure of their own abilities until something nosedives. Thinks they have nothing to lose until they’ve lost everything. I used to be like that, before I tried to be a hero.” She shrugged slightly. “Maybe we would’ve made a good team, but not anymore.”
“But I can’t do it by myself.” Rainbow argued.
“Well then I suggest you find somepony else.” Spitfire said, her voice not raising a single decibel. There was a trace of finality to it though and Rainbow knew there was no convincing the other pegasus no matter how hard she tried. She felt a wave of frustration wash over her, what Spitfire was doing to herself wasn’t right.
“What happened to you? The Spitfire I know wouldn’t let herself become like this. Wasting away in some dead-end joint like this. She would be rearing at a chance to push herself and achieve greatness.” Rainbow asked piercingly.
“The Spitfire you know is gone, kid.” Spitfire said, looking at Rainbow Dash over the rim of her glass, like she was a piece of dirt stubbornly clinging to the wall.
“Is that so?” Rainbow found herself glaring at Spitfire. “Well, I think you should take a look at yourself and see just how far you’ve fallen.” She sneered. “It’s disgusting. To think I would’ve ever aspired to be like you…” She trailed off, wondering if she’d perhaps gone too far.
Spitfire clapped her forehooves together sarcastically. “Thank you for the wonderful motivational speech. Now if you’re going to keep insulting me, I suggest you get out of my apartment before I decide to stand up.” She said levelly.
Rainbow stood her ground. “You don’t know who you are anymore. This isn’t you, Spitfire.”
Spitfire stared at Rainbow Dash for half a second as if considering her next words very carefully. “I know damn well who I am, kid. I fought an army of changelings to a standstill not once, not twice, but three times. I’ve led expeditions beyond the furthest reaches of Equestria and seen wonders that defy the mind. I’ve seen reality torn apart by a madman and defeated horrors that would leave you sleepless for weeks. I’ve seen my friends die by my wing and have sacrificed more for this country than a mere featherhead like you could even possibly understand. That’s who I am, that’s what I am.” Spitfire snarled, her voice rising as she rose out of her chair, her eyes never leaving Rainbow Dash’s. “If you think you can come in here and tell me who I am and what I have to do with my life, then you’re sorely mistaken. Now get out!”  She barked, righteous fury in her voice. It was a barrage that would’ve made a rampaging Manticore pause in its tracks and go find its mother in panic. An emotion fuelled tirade that made Rainbow Dash simply want to turn tail and run.
She stood her ground though, determined to not let Spitfire see how frightened she was. “Well it seems she’s not all gone after all.” She said quietly, backing out of Spitfire’s apartment cautiously. A few seconds later the door clicked shut, leaving Spitfire standing alone in her living room.
“Damn kids.” She muttered, noticing that she seemed to have spilled her drink in the excitement. She let out an irritated huff and started searching for another bottle that wasn’t empty.
 
 

***


 

Recaf.
The seemingly innocuous liquid seemed to be the lifeblood of many of the shatterdome’s staff, fuelling the research and behind the scenes work that allowed the Jaeger operations to run relatively smoothly. The combined shatterdome, now nearly a staff of nearly 3000 ponies, went through more recaf than a small town did on a weekly basis.
Nopony in the shatterdome, other than perhaps some of the LOCCENT staff, exemplified this quite as well as High Noon. A relatively carefree earth pony with golden eyes that seemed to wander and lose focus far too often. High Noon worked in the Jaeger Corps K-Science division, a small but skilled section dedicated towards studying anything and everything to do with the Kaiju. Breach study? That was them. Containment and decontamination? K-Science’s department. Physiological profiles and Kaiju anatomy? K-Science had a specialist for it.
Unlike any of the other disciplines in the shatterdome, K-Science didn’t really have a ‘head’, or an organised structure for that matter. Nothing like Twilight’s finely tuned, regimented and organised department. It was a loose collection of biologists, chemists, mathematicians, physicists, and engineers working in their own specialised fields. K-Science was also a much smaller affair, numbering only a few dozen members compared to several hundred which made up the shatterdome’s J-Tech division. While this may have seemed a little unfair to an outside observer, anypony connected with the division knew that most of the work was outsourced and for good reason. Dozens of institutes across Equestria were desperate to get a slice of the science pie that the Kaiju’s arrival had baked, and unlike J-Tech, which was based in the shatterdome for ease of manufacturing and assembly, Kaiju related science could be done fairly effortlessly anywhere.
None of this of course meant anything to High Noon. She was barely alive in the early morning and required a strong cup of recaf before she’d even consider putting her mind to work. While a 4am start was a little bit of an oddity for her, she had been woken by a loud roar followed by a spine-tingling whine of electricity and with her sleep disturbed, she had figured now was as good a time as any to wake up and get to work.
Cheerfully ignoring the fact that her clock said it was only three and a half hours after she’d gone to sleep, she forced herself upright and staggered towards her personal recaf machine. She swung clumsily at the buttons, swearing loudly until the machine purred quietly and dispensed a nice, hot cup of invigorating liquid. While most of the shatterdome’s staff would get their drinks from one of the numerous refreshment kiosks located around the facility, she’d quickly decided their take on recaf (which in her mind was simply hot water mixed with something that tasted suspiciously like ground citrus peels) was completely unsuitable for her needs and invested in her own machine.
“That’s the stuff.” She sighed, taking a sip and feeling some of her synapses have something resembling a spark of activity. She bundled her scattered notes together quickly, undoubtedly missing several important pieces of information in her daze, and set off towards the K-Science labs deep in the bowels of the facility, recaf mug held in hoof like it was a newborn child.
She trotted down the main hallway, her brain absently processing the fact that there seemed to be a bit more of a draft than normal. She pondered this for a moment but gave up after a few seconds, her brain wasn’t capable of walking and thinking at the same time just yet. She passed a perfectly circular ten metre wide hole in the outer wall without pausing. The idea that the melted edges, heavy plasma scarring and the particularly stressed purple alicorn that fluttered around trying to fix it, was anything out of the ordinary barely occurred to her.
 “Morning.” She muttered absently to the slightly blackened pony as she passed, a few cogs in her brain slowly starting to tick. It was only when she’d reached the elevator and was seven floors down did she realise that something had been a little odd about the whole thing.
“Right. Wrong elevator, pay attention to which way you walk.” She muttered to herself as she stepped out into the far side of the mostly deserted K-Science labs. Her brain had finally started working now, the mental cogs finally clicking into place and allowing her to act like a mostly rational being.
High Noon drifted into the open-plan laboratory, exchanging an occasional greeting with the handful of other scientists already at work before settling at her own station in the back corner. From there she had an excellent view of the entire space and an even better view of her ‘best friend’s’ section. Although she hated to admit it, the pony that was already at work across from her, a humourless unicorn that went by the annoyingly simple name of Aurora, was the closest thing she’d ever had to a friend. Which was even more hilariously depressing when she really thought about it, considering that Aurora tried her hardest to have nothing to do with the slightly eccentric physicist that worked opposite her.
She had thin pale blue eyes that seemed more fitting for a fashion model rather than a scientist, eyes which held an equal mixture of scientific curiosity and disgust for almost anything she looked at. As usual, her charcoal grey mane was done up in a perfect bun, High Noon probably couldn’t have even found a single strand of hair out of place been if she’d used a magnifying glass, Aurora was like that. Obsessive described the unicorn well, an obsession for the strangest, most trivial things about biology but an uttermost disregard for almost anything out of her field. That wasn’t to say she was dumb, no way. She probably knew nearly as much about theoretical physics and nuclear mechanics as High Noon did but simply seemed to think such studies far beneath her.
It managed to both irritate and turn High Noon on at the same time.
“Do you ever sleep?” High Noon asked tiredly, noting that the she was still pouting over something that looked like an oversized muscle. If High Noon wasn’t mistaken it was the exact same specimen the unicorn had been examining nearly four hours ago when she’d gone to find her bunk.
“Sleep is an unnecessary distraction from discovery.” Aurora said flatly, not even looking up from her slab of meat.  She levitated a razor sharp scalpel from the workbench beside her and carefully sliced away a thin strand of some slimy goo from the muscle and expertly placed it away in a sample jar.
“So what, you just don’t sleep, Rory?” High Noon teased, draining the last dregs of her recaf and wishing she had a second one.
“My name is Aurora.” The biologist responded, still not looking up from her work.
High Noon smiled toothily. “Whatever you say, Rory.” She said, flopping down in her comfortable chair on the opposite side of the lab. She quickly checked her computer, noting that her models were still compiling. Well, nothing to do until that was done. She flashed a look back over at her colleague, her legs making her walk over to her seemingly on their own violation.
“What’s this?” She asked, resisting the urge to poke the fibrous slab of meat in front of the unicorn. It was a light tone of grey and had a distinctly unhealthy blue tinge to it, almost like someone had run it through a bucket of blueberries.
“A sample of the right-side Latissimus Dorsi taken from Quillback.” Aurora answered, still not looking up at the earth pony.
High Noon blinked, she knew next to nothing about anatomy. “So… what is this?”
“It’s a muscle.” Aurora said like she was explaining how a light switched worked to a simpleton.
“Huh. Wasn’t that a lot easier to say?”
“Not really…” Aurora growled.
“Is it safe?” High Noon persisted.
“High Noon, go away.” Aurora said, still refusing to take her eyes off her specimen. “Go and play with your silly numbers.”
The mare scoffed indignantly. “Silly? You think my highly complex mathematical models are silly? Does that mean your slab of meat is a joke?” She asked indignantly.
“No, it’s a Latissimus Dorsi.” Aurora said humorlessly.
High Noon fixed an incredulous look on her. “You really don’t get out much, do you?”
The biologist finally designed to look up at the earth pony. “If I say yes, will you go away?”
High Noon let out a disgusted sigh and marched away crossly. She’d been working with the unicorn for a little over two and a half months but she was still as dull and tiresome as ever. She never slept, never seemed to eat and rarely displayed anything resembling a sense of humour. If she didn’t know better she would’ve suspected the unicorn was some sort of robot. She flipped one of her dozens of notepads open to an empty page and started furiously scribbling down some equation she could use to divine if the unicorn was in fact an extragalactic being sent to observe Equestria. She was busy with her ‘work’ that she didn’t even notice Aurora standing next to her until the unicorn cleared her throat in a completely over the top fashion.
“Oh hey Rory, what’s up?” High Noon asked innocently.
“That’s my pen.” Aurora said matter-of-factly.
High Noon shrugged. “So?”
Aurora bristled. “That’s my pen I use to write my reports.”
“You’ve got hundreds of pens.” High Noon pointed out, scribbling out a large block of equations which looked more like scrawl than anything else. She contemplated the scrawl for a few moments, absently chewing on the end of the pen as she did so.
“It’s my pen you kleptomaniac.” Aurora said, grabbing the pen with her magic and yanking it out of High Noon’s grasp. She have the earth pony another scathing look before retreating back to her side of the lab. “Damn magpie.” She hissed quietly, cleaning the pen off and neatly writing down a few notes about her Kaiju sample.
“It’s my pen you kleptomaniac.” High Noon mimicked childishly. It wasn’t her fault that she compulsively stole things. Okay it was, but she had been better than she usually was; she had not even pinched Aurora’s stapler for nearly a week. She stared at her computer blankly, it would still be a while until her predictive model would finish and until then there was not much she could do other than play around with the records from Quillback’s breach, and she did not particularly feel like doing that.
“Aurora, I’m bored.” She complained, throwing her head back and staring at the slightly peeling ceiling in the hope it would give her an idea.
The unicorn glared at her silently for a moment before turning back to her sample.
“Rory, tell me a joke.” High Noon said after a minutes of bored silence.
The unicorn looked at her angrily, momentarily placing her slender pen down on the bench with deliberate precision. “I’m not very good at jokes, but here’s one. What’s brown, orange and red all over?”
“What?”
Aurora shot her another cold look. “You, if you talk to me again today.”
High Noon laughed sheepishly and kicked her hooves up on her desk. “Hah, good one.” She looked around her messy table, maybe the recordings were not such a bad idea in the face of the alternatives. She had once amused herself by going into the Jaeger bays and sketching their reactors with funny faces but her clearance into the area had been withdrawn after that incident involving one of Wild Mustang’s rockets and her office. The only reason she’d kept her job after that little incident was the fact that she was damn good at it, the mathematical models of the breach and her study into the unique form of radiation given off by the portal was unparalleled. Although there had been no proof to support it at the time, she had predicted Quillback’s breach date with an accuracy of three days and once her most recent model was done, she was confident she’d be able to predict the next breach with a similar degree of accuracy. She checked her computer again, just in case the model had somehow finished early before booting up the sensor recordings. All pretty normal stuff, well at least as far as ‘normal’ went. The amount of energy given off by the breach defied many well established scientific laws by its mere existence, it should’ve by all reason collapsed in on itself or simply fizzed out with the amount of energy that it was chewing through daily. Something, though, was keeping it open and High Noon wanted to be the pony that found out what exactly that something was.
She poured over the new data closely, replaying the sensor log over and over as the beast tore through the portal like she did a sandwich. It was completely silent yet she could almost hear it in her mind, an alien shriek that chilled her to the bone. She shuddered, no way did she want to be anywhere near one of these things when it was still alive, the bluish alien armpit across the room was enough to put her off the idea. She leaned forward slightly and wiped a smudge of dirt off her screen. The earth pony frowned and leaned closer, noticing that the small smudge of dirt wasn’t actually on her screen but actually part of the recording. Curious, she played the loop again, noticing that the smudge seemed to be underneath Quillback’s comparatively massive signature, almost as if it was hiding. She played the recording through one more time, noticing that the tiny blip vanished after a few seconds, obviously whatever it was had been scared off by the sudden appearance of the skyscraper sized Kaiju appearing out of nowhere.
“Aurora.” She said absently.
“What?” The unicorn sighed in frustration.
“What do you make of this?” High Noon asked, pointing to the small smudge on her screen. Aurora glared at her, wondering if it was some sort of joke before trotting over to examine the small mark.
“It looks like a small signature.” She answered after a few moments.
“I guessed that,” High Noon said flatly. “But what is it? You’re the biologist, not me.”
“You’re asking me to tell what creature you’re looking at from a small dot on a screen.” Aurora questioned irately.
“Just take a stab, genius.”
“From its relative size, I’d say it’d be a whale calf, maybe an Oradron.” She guessed.
High Noon looked at her like she’d spoken gibberish. “A what?”
“It’s a large species of shark. Where did you get your doctorate, out of cereal box?” Aurora asked snidely.
“Geez, how’d you know?” High Noon snapped sarcastically.
Aurora looked at her sceptically and went back to her Kaiju specimen, unsure if the earth pony was being serious or not.
“Hopeless.” High Noon muttered, turning back to her attention back to the small smudge. The black smear seemed harmless enough, maybe she was just overthinking things. Filing the small anomaly away for future study she continued examining Quillback’s signature, the small signature eventually fading into the realm of obscurity.
 
 

***


 

 
The victory of Frontier Justice over Quillback seemed to be a tipping point for the Shatterdome. For the first time since the Mark I pilots had been inducted, all of the crews seemed to be united in the same purpose. It was not to say that every pony suddenly got along, that would’ve been pushing it, but at least they had put their differences aside for the sake of the greater good.
This welcome change in demeanour gave Shane and Michael plenty of time to start stressing over the launch of the Mark II program. The Trottingham shatterdome was lagging behind schedule slightly but the first of the three Mark II hulls had started taking shape in the shatterdome’s construction bays. Auto-jigs, workers and cranes working night and day to bring the Jaeger online. To a casual observer it could’ve been mistaken for Wild Mustang, the body and head bearing a slight resemblance to the veteran Jaeger. On closer inspection though, the sleeker lines and curvier body gave it a distinctly more advanced and slightly more feminine appearance. If Wild Mustang was the rough copy, then this Jaeger was the slimmed down variant.
In addition to the new Jaeger taking shape, the rotary project started coming to fruition and before long they’d received another letter from the head of the manufacturing plant that the design was ready for its first demonstration.
“They’ll be here next week. A few days to transport them across the ocean and then a quick shakedown before they fly.” Michael relayed. He and Shane were lounging in his office, going through a stack of mail that they had neglected for the last few days. They really started taking on their command roles, Shane involving himself in the training more and Michael deigning to more administrative tasks. They’d enjoyed their foray in Midsummer Night some months ago but it was apparent no one else was quite ready to take over the reins of command just yet.
Shane peered at the diminishing stack of letters suspiciously. “Bit of time to run an air drop sim then.”
“Nah, I’m sure dropping our pilots from a chopper without any training will be fine. Might land on their face or something.” Michael remarked, pulling another letter of the pile and flipping it over.
“What is it you reckon?” Shane asked, noticing that his brother seemed to be hesitant opening it.
“Probably a bill.” Michael answered dryly, tearing the envelope open carelessly. He studied the letter inside for a moment, his flat expression slowly changing to a curious one. “Or not.” He was silent for a few more minutes before speaking again. “Well that’s interesting.”
“You going to explain or am I going to have to guess?” Shane asked.
“If you had to guess we’d be in here for months. There’s two things. First, it’s an invitation to a tech convention of some kind.” Michael said, not looking up from the letter. “They’ve asked us if we’d like to make a display.”
Shane blinked, he hadn’t expected that. “Are we?”
“I don’t see why we shouldn’t. More publicity isn’t a bad thing.” Michael answered with a shrug.
Shane huffed. “When is it?”
“A couple of weeks. We could probably put a Jaeger on display.” Michael mused. “I’m sure they’d love us for that.”
“I’m sure they would. Now what’s the other part?”
“I know you’ll love this.” Michael answered sarcastically. “There’s a formal dinner for VIPs, I assume that includes us as we've been cordially invited.” He held the invitation so Shane could read it.
“Oh great, an event where we awkwardly rub palms with the elite class as they try to use us to aid their own ends.”
“I take it you don’t want to go then?” Michael asked, an eyebrow raised slightly.
“Of course I have to go, otherwise you’ll go and have no one else around to at least feel appreciated by.” Shane responded gruffly.
“Huzzah, a fantastic day for camaraderie.” Michael mussed, tossing the invitation against his ornate desk idly. “So, who are we taking?”
“Jaeger-wise? Well, Wild Mustang is still being patched up, apparently Twilight’s lot are doing some firmware and software upgrades so I think it’d be best to not touch the old horse for the moment. Castle Bravo is still undergoing reactor shakedown trials and its final fitting. It’ll be ready to deploy in another three weeks or so.” He summarised. “So unless you want to take our Jaeger, that just leaves Frontier Justice.”
“Well I think that works fine, it’s the one the public want to hear about at the moment.” Michael said. Frontier Justice seemed to have become rather popular after its victory, it had become the unofficial poster-boy for the Jaeger Corp and if the repeated letters asking to make a toy line for it were any indication, kids seemed to love it.
“So we’re sorted then?” Shane asked, rising slightly from his chair. He wanted to inspect one of the lower port seals on Midsummer Night. It had sprung a leak during their last deployment and regardless of what he did to it, it didn’t seem to want to seal properly.
“Yeah, we’re done. I can handle the rest of this myself.” Michael replied, looking at the small stack of paperwork with distaste. He personally hated the administrative role but accepted it grudgingly, there wasn’t anyone else he considered up to the task.
Shane on the other hand, seemed thrilled. “Great, I got some airdrop sims to set up.” Shane said cheerfully. “This is going to be fun!”

***

 
The week leading up to the arrival of the rotaries went about as smoothly as one could have hoped. Shane managed to squeeze in a few simulated air drops for the pilots which was met with anything from almost giddy excitement from the two pegasi crews and downright horror from the two earth ponies. While Shane assumed this would  amuse him to end, he didn’t enjoy it nearly as much as he could have hoped when he remembered his life could possibly ride on the ability for them to land on their feet and not on their arse.
“Fun week?” Michael asked absently as they waited patiently for the griffon to arrive.
Shane shot him a silent look.
“That bad?” Michael jeered.
“I swear some of them don’t know what ‘up’ means.” Shane drawled. “Come on, how hard is it to drop eighty metres, straight down?”
“Fun, Unsafe, City Killer!” Michael piped up, quoting the general attitude most pilots held towards airdrops, in particular concerning airdrops where the Jaeger ended up landed face down in what used to be a city block. He leaned back in his chair, grinning stupidly at the brief chuckle he got out of Shane.
Shane folded his arms across his chest, trying to wipe the smirk off his face and appear more serious. “You know, I’ve heard enough about these guys from our pilots. Most of them reckon we shouldn’t trust them further than we could throw a tank.” He said, changing the topic to something a little more serious.
“Okay, go jump in Midsummer Night. Then we can trust him.” Michael shot back wryly.
Shane made an amused snort and was about to make a retort when the door swung open, revealing an exceptionally well groomed and proud looking griffon. A pony showed him in then quietly excused herself, quickly closing the door behind her.
He looked he was ripped straight from a cook on mythology, albeit he was much shorter than either had expected. His plumage was a wonderful white, offsetting his golden coat beautifully. He wore an expensive looking half-suit of some charcoal grey material that seemed to shimmer under the light.
“Good morning, glad you could make it. I’m Michael an-.” Michael started, extending his hand in greeting.
“Yes, Mikhail knows who you are.” The griffon said, considering Michael’s hand for a moment before shaking it delicately. “More importantly though, do you know who Mikhail is?”
“You build helicopters, this much we know.” Shane grumbled.
“Rotaries.” Mikhail corrected. “But yes, Mikhail builds finest rotaries in the world.” The griffon asserted proudly. “Today, Mikhail has brought design to you so you may see for yourself.”
Michael was perhaps a little surprised by the griffon’s blunt and businesslike manner but he played along regardless. “Where are they now?”
“Mikhail’s crew are unloading as we speak.” He gestured absently with a talon. “You will see, no?”
“Yes, yes. We’ve just been ironing out a few details for a tech convention next week, hard to move a Jaeger so far you see.” Michael explained, leading the small group out of the office and towards the lifts.
Mikhail looked at him curiously. “Display in Martingale, no?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
The griffon nodded. “Mikhail goes every year with new designs. Well, he does not go in person but will always send representative.”
“Are you going this year?”
“Of course, Mikhail will go with Broadway to convention. It would be foolish not to.”
“Broadway?” Shane asked.
“Is what Mikhail calls them, make noise like big fat theatre performer at Mikhail’s favourite theatre. Is appropriate name.”
Shane coughed. “You have a theatre called Broadway where you come from?”
“Rough translation, yes. This is odd?”
“No, not really.” Shane said, stifling a chuckle. It should’ve hardly been a surprise to him at this point considering how many of Equestria’s cities were named but the parallel was still astonishing.
“It’s been a remarkably short turnaround time for such a big project.” Michael complimented, drawing the conversation back to the subject at hand.
“Short, yes. No new engine needed, chassis based off older design but reinforced for heavier loads. Mikhail was fortunate to not encounter issues with design.” He hummed appreciatively. “She is like queen of the sky. Is fat queen, but still queen nonetheless.”
“So you’ve built something like this before?” Michael asked, punching the button for the loading dock and watching the doors slowly slide shut.
“Not this big, no. Mikhail must admit your giant machine’s needs are…” the griffon seemed to struggle for the right word for a moment. “Unique.” He eventually decided.
The griffon stumbled as the elevator smoothly dropped down, his face holding an expression that someone who’d narrowly avoided throwing up would wear.
“You alright?” Michael asked idly, wondering if he should find a doctor for the queasy looking creature.
“Altitude sickness.” Mikhail spat, “Rarely come down here.”
“We’re what, fifty metres above sea level, how do you get altitude sickness from that?” Shane asked.
“Fat man does not understand. Mikhail lives four, maybe five kilometres high on plateau. Air is much, much thinner there.”
“Fat?” Shane yelped indignantly.
The griffon held up a claw diplomatically. “No, no, not fat. Mikhail never say fat. What is the word Mikhail mean…” He waved his claw around for a moment as he thought for the right word. “Stocky, yes stocky. Stocky is word.” He said as if he were addressing a dismissive servant.
Shane’s eyes locked onto the back of the griffon’s skull. “Yeah, right.”
“Mikhail build you rotary, biggest rotary in the world. Mikhail does this because he is clever griffon who likes your metal giants. Would Mikhail lie to you?” The griffon protested innocently, plucking a fat cigar from his pocket absently.
“Yeah, we’re also paying you a lot of money, I’m sure that has nothing to do with it.” Shane snapped back, plucking the brown stub from between the griffon’s claws with a scowl.
“You’re a terrible bastard, Mr O’Connell.” Mikhail lamented, eying his cigar wistfully.
Shane gave the cigar a disgusted look before giving it back to the griffon. “Our dome, our rules.”
Michael hid a smile. “How about you just show us your helicopter.”
“Rotary.” Mikhail corrected.
“Right, whatever.” Michael muttered, gesturing for the small group to continue as the elevator doors slid open. A blast of cool air wound its way around the trio as they made their way out onto the wide concrete loading dock, dodging a few small cargo haulers which seemed intent on taking the most roundabout route they could along the waterfront.
They emerged from behind a slowly rusting shipping container, catching another blast of the chilly autumn sea breeze.
“Oh wow.” Shane said, words failing him as a machine of immense proportions jumped out at him from the usual mess that covered the dockyard. A few other griffons padded around the massive craft or lazed on top in an attempt to catch some sun, their every action being closely watched by a few of the shatterdome’s guards.
“She is beautiful, no? Mikhail has never designed better Rotary.” The griffon said proudly, padding over to the rotary and running a claw down the bulky flank of the machine. The helicopter, or Rotary, as Mikhail continually insisted, was absolutely massive, at least 40 metres long from nose to tail and nearly half as high. A pair of massive rotors jutted out the sides on thick prongs-like wings, each one at least 35 metres in diameter. A quartet of engines were nestled under the rotors, massive turbines making it look like a bastard love child of a commercial airliner with its wings stuck on the wrong way and an oversized skycrane.  The front of the Rotary was an ugly snub nose with a large canopy, built for utility rather than style or grace. A large series of braces, cables and winches sat in the middle of the airframe, presumably that would hook the helicopter to the Jaeger. The massive machine had already drawn a sizeable crowd, dozens of the Jaeger’s ground crews gathering around the new machine that almost rivalled the Jaegers in size.
“Beautiful isn’t the word I would use. Looks like an overweight whale with wings.” Shane retorted.
“You don’t like it, Mikhail will order you strapped to harness and dropped in ocean. You don’t know what you mean, she is beautiful.” The griffon snapped back, clearly quite offended by the comment.
“Does it fly well?” Michael asked, suppressing a smile.
“Flies gracefully, like eagle in thermal. Yes, it will do what you want.” The griffon affirmed.
“Can you show us?”
“Of course.” Mikhail answered. He turned to a few the other griffons who had been lounging lazily on top of the leviathan and barked a few orders in a language that sounded like a bird gargling a potato. It obviously meant something to the griffons though, as they hauled themselves upright and dropped through a hatch in the roof, a few muffled echoes banging through the hull as they clambered around inside.
“Might want to clear room, is loud and makes lots of wash.” Mikhail explained, leading by example and retreating nearly a hundred metres back from the idling rotary. A low mechanical groan came from the aircraft and slowly, but surely the rotors starting spinning up. Michael didn’t need to order the watching crews back, most of them had already scattered when the blades had started moving.
Mikhail hadn’t been lying about the noise, a mighty roar was already sweeping across the open courtyard as the blades spun faster and faster. Mikhail raised a claw, presumably a signal to the massive craft’s pilot as a moment later the massive construction lifted off the ground.
“Well I’ll be damned.” Shane yelled as the leviathan ascended higher and turned on the spot. It powered over the bay with surprising agility, pulled a wide banking turn and then powered back to the shatterdome, its rotors thumping loudly through the clear sky as it thundered towards them. It roared overhead and vanished behind the bulk of the shatterdome, the sound of its rotors noisily chattering away the only sign that it hadn’t simply vanished. After a few moments the Rotary reappeared over the lip of the building and hovered above the dock like with a deafening roar.
“Top speed is about 250 kilometres an hour, range is about 900 kilometres with external fuel tanks and full load.” Mikhail explained as the rotary spun on the spot and slowly lowered itself to the ground. No sooner than the craft’s heavy landing gear had touched the ground the pilot cut the power and the loud roar of the engine faded away to a high pitched whine.
“Is best thing you’ve seen, no?” Mikhail asked hopefully.
“Certainly seems to have the flying part nailed down.” Michael remarked. “What about lifting?”
The griffon raised his head proudly. “Our first test, lifts 290 tons. Is good for first prototype. Mikhail improve though, this model can lift 375 tons.”
Shane looked impressed. “Not bad. That’d be what, eight or so to a Jaeger?”
“Good, you know how to count.” Mikhail droned flatly. “Mikhail can also count, Mikhail knows you will need many rotaries to lift all your robots.”
Michael mused over the numbers for a few moments. When the shatterdome in Trottingham was finished they’d need a fleet there as well, effectively doubling the number of machines they needed. He guessed they’d need at least three squadrons for each base, plus some in reserve to allow for breakdowns and the like.
“56, by my reckoning.” He said.
The griffon nodded appreciatively. “Easy job, Mikhail can have order in twelve weeks or so.”
Shane crossed his arms. “Well, I think we still want to see you lift a Jaeger before you buy all these choppers from you.”
Mikhail nodded as if he hadn’t expected anything else. “Naturally. Mikhail is smart though, Mikhail brings twelve rotaries to display. Eight will lift your Jaeger, yes?”
Shane and Michael exchanged a look. “We’ll need a pair of volunteers to pilot the Jaeger.”
“I like how you say volunteers.” Michael replied.
“Well, I have a pretty good idea of who can do it in mind. I’m sure they’ll love it…”
 

***

 
“Are you crazy?” Applejack yelped, “That’s got to be the worst idea I’ve ever heard!”
“Come on Applejack, it’s not that bad. It’s just a bit of flying.” Shane teased, hiding a wicked smile behind a sheet of paper. They’d tracked down Applejack and Big Macintosh after organising the specifics for a test drop. They’d found the two ponies sparring in one of the shatterdome’s combat halls and if the collective look on their face was anything to go by, they were not impressed with the idea.
 “Why don’t you get one them pegasus ponies to go up and do it, they love flying.” Applejack suggested, looking a little green in the face at the idea of flying around in a 2900 ton Jaeger.
“What, you afraid of heights?” Michael butted in.
“No,” Applejack said uneasily. “It just ain’t natural.”
“Well, Wild Mustang is still in for repairs and Castle Bravo shouldn’t be moving yet so I think that just leaves you two.”
“And you.” Applejack said back pointedly.
“Fantastic, I knew you’d be happy to help.” Shane said, disregarding her last comment. He was struggling to maintain his composure now, the mix of horror and fear on Applejack and Big Macintosh’s faces almost too much for him to handle. “Report to your Jaeger in an hour.” He said, quickly turning on his heel and striding out so they couldn’t see him laughing.
Applejack scowled. “Oh, he is so going to pay for this.”
 

***

 
An hour later Frontier Justice was running hot, its reactor spun up and the two pilots locked securely in their harnesses. Outside, the eight rotaries being used for the demonstration powered overhead in two groups of four, each group connected by a large frame that would snake down to the Jaeger to create one lifting body. Shane, Michael and the other four pilots had found their way out onto one of the shatterdome’s many observation decks to watch the spectacle for themselves.
“Here we go.” Michael yelled, pointing out the eight rotaries chattering obediently into position like giant crows above the Jaeger bay. He could hear the radio chatter of the griffon pilots but whatever they were saying was completely incomprehensible as they were speaking in a foreign tongue that sounded like a jumble of Polish, Russian and an eagle’s shrieks all spoken at once through a potato.
Then, with a low boom, the shatterdome’s roof retracted and opened up like a massive steel flower petal, massive metal doors splitting apart and sliding back to allow overhead access to the Jaeger bay. It was a design feature that had been initially questioned but had been built at Shane and Michael’s insistence. The entrance had at first been deemed useless but now that the Corps had heavy lift capacity, the massive doors seemed to be well worth the trouble they’d been to install. The eight rotaries shifted slowly into position, the rig used to lift the Jaeger dangling beneath the two quartets of ugly craft like a wireframe. Once in position, the cables winched down to the Jaeger’s shoulders so the small gaggle of ponies, now in charge of attaching the Jaeger to the rotaries, could get to work.
The Jaeger already had several hardpoints on its upper hull to facilitate the shatterdome’s cranes moving it around in the bay so it took only a short while for the Rotaries to hook up to the Jaeger. Despite the aircraft’s ungainly appearance, it seemed to be managing the tight formations Jaeger carrying required rather well, hovering steadily as their massive cargo was quickly latched on.
Michael keyed the radio. “You two ready in there?”
“Just get this darn thing over with.” Applejack snapped back, managing to convey her apprehension very well over the link.
“Alright, take them up then.” Michael ordered and as one, the rotaries rose into the sky, their engines howling like wraiths as they struggled against gravity. Slow but surely, the Jaeger slowly rose into view over the lip of the roof, climbing higher and higher until the Jaeger’s massive feet had cleared the roof. The assembled rotaries hovered for a moment before slowly tipping forward and powering out over the bay, Frontier Justice being carried below like a statue. It was only a short flight, the Jaeger was being dropped only eight hundred metres from the shoreline and the rotaries were quickly eating the distance up.
“You’re in position, disengage transport.” Michael urged once the Jaeger was in the assigned drop zone.
Applejack and Big Macintosh hesitated.
“Come on, you’ve run the simulation. It’ll be fun.” He insisted after a few seconds.
“Ah’m gonna regret this, disengaging transport.” Applejack managed. A few beeps sounded and the cables snapped away, recoiling like stretched elastic bands. Frontier Justice seemed to hang in the air for a moment before dropping like a brick, the air shrieking as the Jaeger plummeted downwards. Several curses flew over the link as Big Mac and Applejack braced for the surely bone-crushing impact to follow.
With an explosion of water, Frontier Justice smashed down into the bay like a hammer from the heavens. A fine mist obscured the Jaeger for a moment as it stooped over, its double joint knees bent to absorb the titanic crash.  After a moment the machine rose up like a boxer from the ropes, its joints unlocking and allowing the Jaeger to pivot around and face the shatterdome.
“Damn, she looks pissed.” Shane remarked with a laugh as the Jaeger made a crude gesture in their general direction.
“I ain’t ever doing that again.” Applejack said over the radio, sounding like she wanted to throw up. “Y’all crazy.”
“Alright princess, bring it back to the barn. No need to get snippy.” Michael instructed, flicking the radio off with a chuckle. He turned to Shane, a wide grin on his face. “Best, volunteers, ever.”
 
 

***


 

With the rotary display over and a firm contract locked in with the griffon building them, the shatterdome’s staff attention turned to the next event, the Martingale tech convention. Situated several hundred kilometre inland, the city had been posing a slight problem logistically. Luckily, the arrival of the massive rotaries alleviated this somewhat, Frontier Justice would be able to soar through the sky like an overweight brick rather than pound along the ground or be lashed haphazardly to a train. Mikhail, already attending the convention with several of his other rotary designs, was more than happy to lend the Broadways to the cause, after all, what better display of strength and power would it be than for his designs to be seen airlifting an entire Jaeger?
After much coaxing and convincing, Applejack and Big Macintosh had agreed to be carried by the rotaries to the convention in Martingale, a trip that would at least take two or three hours for the encumbered craft. The rest of the pilots would be going by airship, a small but speedy craft the shatterdome had acquired to move personnel around quickly.
Soarin and Wave Chill were more than happy to go, they had several friends who would mostly likely be in attendance, not to mention Soarin’s family, and the social evening was a welcome change in pace from the regimented training they’d been through. Applejack And Big Mac were going out of necessity rather than desire, it would simply be overly inconvenient to return back to the shatterdome after delivering Frontier Justice and carrying a fully armed and fuelled Jaeger around with pilots on board was dangerous, to say the least.
Misty Fly on the other hand laughed off the invitation with a harsh snort of amusement and a condescending look; she had much better things to do than rub noses and she was hardly a socialising pony at the best of times.
Lightning Streak had other ideas though, ideas mostly involving a certain farmer. He had decided now was a good a time as any to try talking to her, after all, when would he get another chance to have a relaxed and laid back evening?
He waited up in the prep area near the top of the Jaeger bay, knowing full well Applejack would have to pass through there to reach her Jaeger. Lightning Streak found himself nervous, perhaps he was being a little too forward. Maybe he should back down and try again another time. He forced himself to stay still, waiting patiently until the farmer showed up.
He would not have had time to sneak off anyway as Applejack appeared around the corner, Big Macintosh trailing a few steps behind her. He gulped, no backing out now without looking exceptionally weird. He waited a few moments before falling into step with Applejack.
“Hi.”
Applejack tossed him a sidelong glance. “Howdy.” She muttered.
The little script Lightning Streak had been preparing suddenly vanished leaving him with his mouth hanging open like a surprised goldfish. He wracked his brain before deciding he’d just have to wing it. “I like you.” He blurted out, mentally slapping himself a moment later as he realised exactly what he’d said.
Applejack raised an eyebrow. “That’s nice.”” She said levelly.
Lightning Streak was slightly taken aback by her unenthusiastic response. “Well, uh, I was thinking maybe we could get to, um… know each other a bit better, you know, I mean, maybe you’d like to go and get a drink or something tonight..?” He fumbled, following one step behind Applejack. He smiled with a confidence he didn’t feel and waited several tense moments for her to reply.
Applejack stopped him before he got ahead. “Look, you’re a good pony and all but, uh, Ah just ain’t interested.” She said firmly, stopping to look him in the eye.
Lightning Streak blinked quickly, smarting from the mare’s words. “Wow. Um, yeah. Well, thank you… for your honesty, I guess?” He mumbled, looking down at the hard concrete awkwardly.
“No hard feelings. Ah just ain’t, uh, looking for something like that right now.” Applejack said with a nervous smile.
“No, not at all. Of course. I’ll, um, I’ll just get out of here.” He mumbled to the ground. He backed up, nearly crashing into Big Mac before skirting around the massive stallion and slinking off before Applejack could lay down another word in his direction.
“What’s his problem?” Big Mac asked, tightening his large helmet over his head.
“None of your business.” Applejack shot back, taking a step back as a technician swung the door into the Jaeger bay open and bringing Frontier Justice’s conpod into view.
Big Mac smiled thinly, leading the way out onto the gantry. “Guess I’ll find out soon enough.”
 

***


 

Skyray prowled the LOCCENT cautiously, unlike Torque, who liked to kick back and watch the show from his sweeping station that overlooked the Jaeger bay, she preferred to be more mobile, trotting around steadly and checking each of the console operators and then forming a picture from the information they collected. She found that it helped them focus with her watching more closely, that or her scarred face was enough to make the majority of the staff apprehensive around her. She liked to imagine it was the second, the idea amused her for some reason that she couldn’t quite lay a hoof on. Today though, she wasn’t quite at ease as she usually was, with most of the pilots and one of the Jaegers preparing to leave the shatterdome, she felt a little vulnerable. She didn’t trust the griffons and their flying machines further than she could throw them, and she certainly didn’t trust her luck to hold out while the shatterdome’s fighting force was reduced. She’d made her point of view incredibly clear to the marshals, and while they seemed to understand, they seemed much more at ease about it than she would’ve liked.
“What if a Kaiju attacks when you’re gone?” She had asked.
“We’ve still got an operational Jaeger ready to roll, we can be back within two hours, more than enough time before anything could make landfall. I assume you can radio through to the airship.” The one she thought was Michael had responded. Truth be told she’d never really bothered keeping track of them, they both looked the same to her and more importantly, they both seemed equally as competent as each other, though one did seem a little more temperamental.
. “Of course.” She had replied sceptically.
“See, no problem.” Michael said, a line that had hardly convinced the LOCCENT chief. “Besides, what are the chances a Kaiju would just spring out now of all times?”
“Tenfold, because you just said that.” Skyray deadpanned.
“Nice to see some positivity around here. I’m sure everything will be just fine.” Michael said
She glared at her monitor, almost as if she was daring a Kaiju to be foolish enough to tear through the breach. She kept replaying the conversation over and over in her head, a mantra that kept repeating and repeating itself over and over again as she tried convening herself nothing bad was going to happen. She paused from her rounds and dropped into the command chair. How did Torque do it? She kicked up her hooves on the console and tried acting casual but all she felt was a worrying wave of paranoia. She glanced out into the Jaeger bay through the ceiling to floor windows, Wild Mustang looked a little sad tucked away by itself, the spot that Frontier Justice usually occupied next to it being conspicuously empty. She found the sentiment amusing, here she was giving the machines personality. Personality! They were machines for Archon’s sake! She swept the notion aside, the pang of worry slowly eating away like a persistent child at the base of her gut. She glanced down at the console again, just in case the alarm had failed for whatever reason. It was clear. Clear like it always was.
Her harsh glare returned, her one good eye boring into the monitor as if intimidating the machine would make the Kaiju co-operate until the Jaeger got back to the shatterdome.
“Just try it, I dare you.” She growled.
The computer beeped at her.
“Shit.”
 
 

***

 
The rough observation decks studded along the shatterdome’s outer walls were a far cry from beauty and even further from comfort. Most of the small platforms had nothing other than a dim light set into the wall and a chest high wall to stop anyone from falling over the edge without a bit of conscious effort on their behalf. One thing they did possess though, was a rare peacefulness and quiet that seemed so rare in the constantly hectic environment. It wasn’t uncommon then, to find a pony or two out there lost in thought, seeking a moment of solace away from the bustle of the shatterdome’s main facilities. 
Lightning Streak had been out on one such balcony for the last few hours, his head resting against the weathered concrete wall glumly. He’d seen, or more accurately, heard, Frontier Justice winched up into the sky and carried away like a massive statue. It’d been mostly peaceful after that, the only other big disturbance being when the machines returned and set down in the shatterdome’s massive loading docks like a flock of noisy crows. It was starting to get cold, autumn was rearing its head and there was a slight nip in the air, a slightly unseasonal cold snap that stole the fire from bellies and made your breath mist slightly. He heard the door creak open on its hinges behind him but didn’t look around, if somepony wanted him they’d talk, and if it was a wanderer, they’d hopefully just leave him alone.
“Thought I’d find you out here.” A voice that could only belong to Misty fly said. The way words sneered out of her mouth was quite distinctive, making even a friendly conversation sound a little harsh to the untrained ear. She pranced up to him, a few choice comments about the temperature drifting from her mouth as she left the relatively warm confines of the shatterdome’s interior. “I thought you went with the others?” She asked.
He shook his head slowly.
Misty’s face drifted into view, a slender eyebrow arched over one icy blue eye. “You going to talk to me, or am I going to just have to amuse myself?”
Lightning Streak shook his head again, prompting an amused snort from his sister.
“Rough day, huh?” Misty asked, leaning against the guardrail and looking out over to bay. The view from the shatterdome was frankly quite beautiful, more of the city’s lights dazzling distant across the vast expanse of water and along the black, open ocean to the east. She could make out a few boats chugging along the shipping lanes, the only movement on the otherwise mirror-still surface. It was a quiet night, almost too quiet, Misty thought. The calm before the oncoming storm. While there wasn’t a single cloud visible in the sky her instincts could tell something big was coming, and when it hit, it would hit hard.
Lightning Streak still didn’t look around, while he hadn’t been expecting company, Misty’s appearance didn’t seem to surprise him in the slightest. “Yeah.” He answered simply.
Misty nodded, seemingly content with his answer. “What’s up?” She asked after a few moments.
“I’m surprised you care.” Lightning Streak scoffed, looking away from his sister.
“You’re both my brother and my co-pilot, I have to at least pretend I care.” Misty chuckled. She sighed “Look, I’ve had this absolute bastard of an itch in my wings all night, like a hive of bees decided to visit. Whatever is bothering you can’t be that bad. So come on, out with it.”
Lightning Streak turned to look over the bay again. “She turned me down.” He muttered after a moment.
“Applejack?” Misty guessed. It didn’t take a genius to figure that one out.
Lightning Streak took his head off the railing and looked at his sister sullenly. “Yeah.”
Misty shrugged noncommittally. “Hmm, too bad. For you that is, she kicked me in the face so I’m honestly quite happy for your girlfriend to dump you.” She clarified.
“She’s not my girlfriend.” Lightning Streak grumbled.
“That’s the spirit.” Misty said cheerily, stretching her wings until they popped in their sockets.
“I want to go home…”
Misty stopped stretching and looked at him with concern. “You mean Home home, yeah?”
“Yeah. Home, home.”
She paused and looked at him incredulously. It was hard to say they’d ever really had a home, they had been together since OCS and their precious profession had left them moving around the country on a fairly regular basis. The last time they’d had a real home was when they just foals and living with their parents, and they’d already kicked the bucket. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
Misty scowled at him. “Oh for Archon’s sake, pull yourself together. What are doing moping over a mare anyway? You’ve been turned down so many times that I’ve simply lost count, I would’ve thought be you’d be used to it by now.”
Lightning Streak looked at her silently, an unimpressed look carved onto his face.
“Right, not helping, sorry.” Misty said, realising exactly what she’d said. She took a breath and started again. “As they say, home is where the heart is.”
“Gee sis, I didn’t know you were that sentimental “
“I’m not, its absolute bullshit.” She agreed.
Lightning Streak cracked a thin smile “Well, are you happy here?”
“Of course I am, I’m happier than a seagull with a potato chip. This place gives us purpose, gives us something to strive towards. Every time I plug myself into a Jaeger I get a real sense that I can change the world.” Misty said with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.
“You’re getting sentimental again.” Lightning Streak warned.
“Oh just shut your face and let me enjoy my moment.” Misty snarled, giving him a playful shove. Lightning Streak took the move without complaint, he had not seen Misty so easy going, for lack of better words, for years.
“Whatever. How ‘bout you just go back to your itchy wings.” He suggested, enjoying the shudder that passed down Misty’s spine.
“Actually, I was just thinking about heading back inside. Get an early night or something.” She yawned theatrically. “If you’re ready to stop moping, we could even run a sim-drop.” She suggested.
Lightning Streak seemed to perk up a little. “Could we run the Squishy round?”
Misty had to hold back the immediate ‘no’ that formed on her lips. Squishy was by far a joke, a stupid joke that Michael had played on Soarin and Wave chill that had now become a rather popular time-waster for the pilots. He was barely a Kaiju, he didn’t even have a proper category assigned. Misty had vehemently refused to add him to her simulated combat record, it seemed ridiculously undignified for starters.
“Alright, fine.” She sighed, judging that she could justify it as an attempt to cheer her brother up in case somepony ever asked her why she’d sunk that low. “But I don’t want to hear any more of this mopey crap about that farmer, alight?”
Lightning Streak nodded slowly. “I guess I can agree to that.”
Misty was not sure whether to boo or cheer. On one hand, she had to deal with the humiliation of fighting Squishy while on the other, she could at least be spared from the invariable moaning that was sure to follow. She let out a huff, suddenly quite annoyed at the situation she found herself in.
“Great, let’s this this shit over with then.”
 

***

 
It wasn’t quite as bad as Misty had at first feared. She had insisted they do a few ‘real’ simulations before facing Squishy so they spent several intense hours completing virtual obstacle courses, reactions, defensive moves and techniques, both solo and with other virtual Jaegers. They killed a large CAT I solo, more so Misty was assured they could do what Frontier Justice had done some three months ago than for any experience it would offer them. When they finally booted the Squishy sim up, they barely wasted a minute before tearing the tiny virtual Kaiju apart limb from limb.
‘Pathetic’ Misty thought as they crushed the creature’s tiny skull in their palm. She could feel a hint of humour from Lightning Streak’s side of the neural link but forced it away, she found it incredibly undignifying to be fighting something that couldn’t realistically hurt them; it was like killing an ant and then proclaiming yourself defender of the universe. With Squishy now being little more than a trophy on the metaphorical mantelpiece, the simulated world dissolved and faded to black. Misty glared at the slightly orange tinge around the edge of the screen as if it was somehow the computer’s fault for making it too easy.
“That was fun.” Lightning Streak said cheerily, ripping his helmet off and patting his mane back into shape. Misty snorted and removed her own helmet, quickly disengaging herself from the test harness and trotting out to the suit racks. Unlike real drivesuits, the simulator suits were light and easy to don and remove without the aid of another set of hooves. They were also much flimsier, lacking any of the armour or advanced circuitry needed to interact with the Jaeger’s complex control suite.
“You didn’t enjoy that at all?” He queried, following his sister lead and carefully removing the suits circuitry layer. He looked at it slightly wistful, he’d tried his real drivesuit on only once and he was surprised at how eager he was to put it on again.
“Not at all, give me a real challenge for crying out loud. Not this little tiny baby Kaiju shit.” Misty complained, attempting to remove her own case of bad helmet hair with little success.
“We’ll get our shot soon enough, don’t you worry.” Lightning Streak reassured her.
“Hope so.” Misty rumbled, stretching a few cricks out of her wings and trotting over to the heavy door which lead back out into the main hallway. Like most of the drift related equipment, the simulator bays were nestled up near the top of the shatterdome, a necessity to keep the sensitive machines away from the heavy gear located in the Jaeger bays and J-Tech areas. She slid the door open, surprised to both see nopony around and to hear an insistent alarm suddenly ringing in her ears.
Lightning Streak looked around at the alarm, a persistent blaring sound that cut into the base of his skull like a razor. “That can’t be good.” He observed.
“Yeah, that’s the Kaiju alarm.” Misty realised with a jolt of surprise. How long had that been going without them noticing? They both seemed to share the same thought as they exchanged a worried look and galloped down to the elevator, Misty punching in the level for the LOCCENT with almost indecent speed. The elevator smoothly accelerated downwards, seemingly taking an age to reach the right level. Misty almost pried the door open when the car stopped and within a minute they were in the command centre.
 “What’s going on?” Misty demanded, making a console operators jump at the sound of her booming voice.
The LOCCENT chief, a scarred pegasus Misty remembered was named Skyray spun around in surprise. “What are you two doing here? I thought you were in Martingale with the others?”
“Well we’re not, what’s the situation?” Misty said matter of factly.
Skyray looked at Misty like she was just another problem to deal with. “We have a confirmed breach, dilation indicates a Category II Kaiju. That was nearly an hour and a half ago.”
Misty twitched involuntarily. How had the LOCCENT staff not informed them by now? “Brilliant, I assume you’ve told the others?”
“We’ve been trying, but I haven’t gotten anything back yet. I sent a runner but they won’t get there for another few hours at best.”
“Okay, and how come nopony thought to go, ‘Hey, what about Castle Bravo’s crew? Maybe they could do something.’” Misty said flatly. “Very clever of you, considering we were just upstairs in the simulator.”
The pegasus spared Misty a look, now wasn’t the time to be bandying insults. “One: We didn’t know you were here. Two: You aren’t rostered for deployment, your Jaeger isn’t ready yet. I mean, sure, if you want to go out there you’re quite welcome to throw rocks.” She snapped.
“Alright, cut the cheek sweetheart. Where’s this thing headed?” Misty growled.
 “Central coastline is what we’re guessing. It lit up the scanners so brightly we’ve still got an active track.” She pointed out the screen which had a bright white splotch over it. It was so bright that the rest of the screen looked almost black in comparison.
“It’s not even trying to hide?” Lightning Streak asked curiously. That was a first.
“A sledgehammer would be more subtle if it smashed you in the face.” Skyray deadpanned. “This thing is spewing out so much shit that I thought the computer was going to have a heart attack.”
Misty’s mind ticked over for a moment, running some quick numbers through her head. Martingale back to Manehatten would’ve been doable but the central coast from Martingale was too far, way too far for any Jaeger to go on their current time frame. The only thing they’d be reinforcing ny that point would be a graveyard. “Start-up Castle Bravo, we’re going after it.” She ordered.
Skyray’s good eye widened. “What, are you crazy? Castle Bravo still has dozens of shakedown trails to go through, it’s certainly not ready to launch!”
“Just do it. Thanks to your incompetence, it’ll take hours before anypony else gets back here. We’ll barely have time to intercept at this rate anyway.”
The LOCCENT chief looked mutinous. “You can’t just-.”
“Look you one-eyed freak, you get that Jaeger started or so help me I’ll go and start it with a pair of jumper cables and a potato battery, do I make myself clear?” Misty snapped.
Skyray looked set to knock Misty over the head with a brick. “Crystal.” She fumed.
“Good.” She turned to Lightning Streak and motioned for him to follow her.
“Question, how do you plan on getting down there in a reasonable time frame? The tracks put about say, seven hundred kilometres between us and there. I don’t know about you, but I didn’t pack my running shoes.” Lightning Streak asked, trotting behind her obediently. They weren’t making their way up to the suiting rooms, as he’d expected, but down towards the shatterdome’s extensive dockyards. They stepped out into the now biting wind, Misty still leading the way like a mare possessed. He looked around in confusion at the sudden gust, the now idyllic night had turned angry; a cold autumn wind had picked up and was blowing clouds across the sky like rockets.
“During our little outing before, I noticed the Griffon transporter still in the dock.” Misty said quietly, as if their job had somehow turned into a stealth mission. She peered around the edge of a shipping container, relieved to see a dozen of the massive rotaries still tied down on the main deck.
Lightning Streak saw the heavy transporters and understood immediately. “Ok, but I can’t fly those things.”
Misty smiled thinly, pointing out a few griffons lazing in a circle beneath one of the gangways up to the ship. “True, but they can.”
“Right, because they’ll help us. Their boss went with the others and they don’t seem the type to take orders from ponies.” Lightning Streak pointed out.
“Where’s that optimism of yours?” Misty jabbed. “I’m the cynical one.” She jeered, ducking out from behind the container and approached the griffons, her brother following behind her nervously. “Who’s in charge here?” Misty demanded when they were in earshot.
A few of the griffons looked at each other, clearly not understand what she’d said. One of them, a massive creature that probably stood a good foot taller than her, stood up and padded over.
“No one is in charge.” He said gruffly. “What do you want, pony?”
“I want you and your friends to here take me and my brother to fight a Kaiju.” She pointed at the ship which carried the rotaries. “Using those.”
“Kaiju?” The griffon asked, struggling to pronounce the word.
Misty made an annoyed expression, didn’t these griffons know anything?. “Basically a big monster capable of destroying a city.”
The griffon looked at her dubiously and relayed her message to his companions. Misty waited for several moments as the griffons discussed it amongst themselves in their own tongue.
He finally turned back to her. “So let me get this straight, you want me to hop in my rotary, carry you halfway across Equestria, risking life and limb in this scrapheap, to fight a monster that could swat me out of the sky with a single look?”
“Uh, yes.” Misty admitted.
The griffon made a cackling sound. “You’re hilarious. Now get out of here.” He ordered, waving a talon at them dismissively.
Misty resisted the urge to floor the massive griffon, he was not only considerably larger than she was, but he also had nearly a score and a half of his friends sitting around. “You have a name, turkey?”
The griffon spun around, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Gaston.”
“Well, Gaston, I suggest you should really reconsider your stance.”
The griffon cackled again. “And why would that be? There’s only two of you and almost thirty of us.” He said, his beak seeming to curl up slightly. He poked Misty’s chest gently. “So I suggest you run off with your tail tucked between your legs before you get hurt.”
Misty, much to Lightning Streak’s surprise, backed off with an amused look. “We’ll be back, and then there’ll be one of us.” She chuckled, wandering off and leaving and leaving the very confused griffon behind her.
 

***

 
Gaston tried to not think about the annoying pony after she’d been shooed away, immediately going to back to incredibly important task of preening and cleaning his feathers. While pegasi tended to only preen themselves only when they had to, griffons tended to preen themselves at every moment they could afford to.
After all, appearances were everything.
His preening session though seemed a little more lacklustre than usual though, his mind constantly drifting back to last words the bossy pegasus had said.
What had she meant by ‘One of us?’ Surely no pony was audacious enough to take on nearly thirty griffons alone. He paused his cleaning and scoffed silently, instead busying himself with watching two of the other griffons fight over a portion of their rations. Everyone seemed to be watching them now with barely concealed interest, several of the other pilots already betting on who would win. He didn’t bother, he already knew out of the pair would win the brawl. His suspicions were confirmed a few moments later when a dark specimen by the name of Genevieve dropped down next to him, the extra rations gripped victoriously in her beak.
“Like taking candy from a chick.” She purred, preening some of her ruffled feathers back into place. She bore a few scratches along her flanks but Gaston knew better than to trouble her about it.
“Sharova does not have quite the same mettle as you.” He agreed. Almost all griffons were extremely prideful and the simple compliment made her glow all the brighter.
“It seems I have chosen a good broodmate after all.” Genevieve jeered, tossing him a few thin strips of salted meat from the bag. Gaston took it without complaint, none of the griffons were prepared to stoop down to getting food from the locals, leaving them with a simple but fulfilling diet of salted meat, dried fruit, and the occasional fish.
He was about to make a reply when the lights suddenly snapped off. A few of the other griffons cursed loudly and jumped to their feet, prowling cautiously around their small camp. Was this some trick of the overbearing pony who’d approached them before? Maybe she sought to use the darkness against them. Gaston blinked quickly as he searched for trouble, his eyes unused to the sudden darkness. He swore quietly, while having very good eyesight, griffons tended to be lacking a little with their other senses.
“Anyone else hear that?” Someone asked cautiously.
Whatever it was, Gaston could certainly hear it. A steady, rhythmic boom and low tremor that seemed to be drawing closer and closer. He glared out into the swirling darkness, still unable to make out anything more than a few metres away.
Then Gaston saw one of the skyscrapers move.
“Flap my feathers…” He gawked, his eyes going up to follow the shape that suddenly loomed out of the darkness. The lights snapped back on, suddenly blinding the assembled griffons and allowing their new arrival to make a suitably dynamic entry. It was huge, massive. The largest machine Gaston had ever seen. It thrummed with power, every inch of its pure white bodywork showing off its supreme strength and agility. Gaston scrambled back as a massive hand slammed onto the pier beside him and the machine stooped down so he could get a good look at its head. It seemed to glare at him through its ice-blue visor for a second before a frustratingly familiar voice rang out from its head.
“Ready to reconsider?”