Chapter Text
Summer in the Nagasaki Shatterdome is Rumi's least favorite season. It's warm, humid, and all around miserable to exist around the base thanks to constant power cuts restricting air conditioning. Add to that the fresh blood, graduating cadets from the Ranger Academy in Kodiak Island, shipped all over the globe to their new deployments, and you have a recipe for Rumi's least favorite time to exist as a Pan-Pacific Defense Corps officer.
Alas, it is her duty, and she will perform it. As she does every year, in this never ending apocalypse. Nobody knew exactly how fucked the world was when the first giant alien beast meandered out of the Pacific Ocean, destroying any and all civilization in its path. It took six days and tens of thousand of civilian casualties before they managed to put the damn thing down using the state of the art military technology at the time.
They named the things Kaiju. Monsters. And so, with humanity having found a boogeyman to unite them, the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps was founded, putting all the brightest minds around the globe to work towards a solution. And, after a lot of failures, humanity found what they needed: Jaegers. Hunters. Giant metal mechs meant to wrestle those wretched aliens back where they came from.
To fight monsters, we created monsters of our own. Humanity forged themselves monsters out of steel and hydraulics and wires to drive them off. And it worked damn well. For a while, at least.
She glances at the clipboard listing information about the new batch of cadets, not bothering to memorize any of their names. Most will flunk out anyway. Military burnout, not finding a drift compatible partner—not many make it to a connpod. And may god save the souls of the ones that do. Ryu Rumi has seen more cadets than she wanted to count. These ones will not be any different.
With the PPDC aircraft personnel carrier rapidly approaching the helipad of the Shatterdome, she clutches her clipboard to her chest, and straightens her appearance.
As the aircraft lands, Rumi's world narrows to the wind whipping her face and the deafening sound of the giant spinning blades as they beat the air into submission. Slowly, the rotors come to a stop, and the giant bay door is swung open by a PPDC uniformed soldier, allowing the new cadets a first glimpse at their (probably temporary) new residence.
With a gesture from the soldier, the cadets start making their way out of the transport. Rumi checks them over as they come outside and gather in a small group, checking the Shatterdome behind her with wide eyes. One recruit, a girl of small stature with black hair, even trips as she greedily takes in all the parts of the base that she can see. Behind her, a taller, pink haired girl snorts, but wraps a steadying arm around the other cadet, and returns her features into a very calculated indifference.
Rumi sighs. Clumsy limbs and wide eyed stares, indifference feigned as a cover for awe and nerves. They were supposed to be the best of the best, humanity's protectors, and yet Rumi was confident she could take them down without sparing them a second thought. The cadets, clearly already familiar with each other, start chatting quietly among themselves. Maybe we'll survive to see next year's batch of cadets, Rumi thinks to herself with a barely restrained sigh.
Clearing her throat, she straightens her posture. "Alright, listen up, cadets." Her voice is just shy of a yell, demanding of respect, but also clearly indifferent.
"I am Officer Ryu Rumi, and I have been assigned to oversee your progress as potential Rangers. Make no mistake," Rumi says as she makes sure to glance at each and every one of them, "you may have graduated the Ranger Academy, but until you find a drift compatible partner, you are still cadets."
Rumi's words visibly chill the new-found jovial atmosphere. People enlist for the Academy for different reasons. Some want the attention and hero worship Jaeger pilots often receive. Others find themselves with no other options and decide to throw themselves at a Kaiju as penance for the lot they were dealt in life. An unfortunate amount come in with unwarranted optimism and stars practically twinkling in their eyes, thinking they will be the ones to finally put an end to this apocalypse. However, finding a drift partner is so abhorrently hard that many never actually get to realize their ambitions, no matter what those are.
Rumi wordlessly turns on her heels, a motion graced with military precision, and starts heading towards the entrance of the Shatterdome, following the dimly visible paint on the asphalt for pedestrian traffic. She does not turn back to check on the cadets, but they follow on her heels like wide-eyed ducklings.
The layout of the Shatterdome is intuitive to no one, by the looks of it, with barrack hallways interspersed between research facilities and training rooms. The J-Tech and K-Science divisions tie for the second most populated areas of the base at any given time, overtaken only by the Jaeger Bay after a Kaiju gets dropped.
"J-Tech," Rumi starts explaining, hand waving towards a soundproofed glass window behind which heavy machinery welds together large metal plates, "is the division that handles all of the technological developments regarding Jaegers. And, obviously, J-Tech engineers play doctor when one of our big bad robots gets a boo-boo."
She turns and gestures towards the other side. Rumi shudders looking at the fresh entrails dripping Kaiju blood over the cracking cement floors, the blue liquid emanating a faint radioactive shine. "K-Science is where all the information we know about Kaiju comes from. They study entrails, Kaiju brains, blood, anything that could give us an edge over the bastards, in essence."
She gives a cursory glance over the cadets, making sure they're still paying attention and don't need a reprimand. "Both divisions get really busy after a Jaeger deployment," she says, contemplative.
One of the cadets, the one with black hair who tripped out of the carrier, cracks a bright crooked smile. "Two science divisions, both alike in dignity…" she mutters to the taller girl next to her.
Rumi squints her eyes, looking down at the girl's uniform for her name tag: Choi, Zoey.
"Cadet Choi. Do you find the esteemed divisions keeping us alive in this war to be a joking matter?" Rumi asks, matter-of-factly, causing Zoey to straighten her spine and smile sheepishly.
Though, Rumi will admit, the cadet's joking comparison is surprisingly correct.
One glance at the rest of the cadets still lugging around their bags makes Rumi realize it was time for the final stop on this tour, the barracks. The brass made it a point to assign the cadets to the barracks closest to the training rooms and as far away as the Jaeger Bays as possible. Something about getting the cadets motivated to work their way up. (If you ask Rumi, that's complete and utter bullshit. Half the damn reason these people came here was because they are enamored with the metal superheroes keeping the Kaiju at bay.)
Rumi quickly glances at her clipboard and starts calling out the room assignments. The cadets disperse to drop off the luggage as soon as their names are called, relieved to finally be off their feet.
"Cadets Kang and Choi, you're in room 307."
The two girls glance at each other, exchanging quick and private smiles, the camaraderie obvious between them even with Rumi's forced disinterest.
They must have gotten through the academy together, relying on each other. Rumi knows first-hand what a lonely place the academy is. (That's not counting the ghosts that followed her all through the hallways of the Kodiak Island base. But that's neither here nor there.)
Rumi finishes reading off the room assignments and stands to address the distracted group of cadets.
"You are expected for roll call followed by training at 0700 hours. The canteen is open at all hours of the day, but breakfast starts being served an hour before roll call." With one last look at the cadets, she dismisses them, letting them get acquainted with the base for the only spot of free time they will have in a while.
She turns on her heel and walks back to the officer barracks. Rumi exhales, her spine sagging under the weight of all the cadets' gazes. Unconsciously, she tugs on the long sleeves of her uniform, making sure they would not have been pulled up by all the gesticulating.
She is still thoroughly unimpressed by this year's batch of cadets. There's always next year. If we survive that long.
━─━────༺༻────━─━
The worn Burbank High duffel bag hits the bare mattress with a dull thud. A simple look around the room was enough to convince Zoey that everyone in command here wanted them to spend as little time in the barracks as possible or simply did not care about the worldly comforts of the cadets.
The room was sparse in terms of furniture. On the wall opposite the entrance she saw a few shelves that, though empty, were buckling underneath the weight of the previous tenants' ghosts. The bunks, in true military fashion, were nothing more than just thin mattresses stacked together on a suspect metal frame.
The walls were a fading garish yellow streaked with rust coming down from god knows where. A closed door to the left of the room lead to what Zoey suspects is an en-suite bathroom. At the very least there's that.
Zoey sighs and throws herself on the bottom bunk of the rickety bed structure, only regretting it after her tailbone hits the metal ribbing of the bed through the mattress.
"Shit. Well, it seems like our commanding officer hates us."
Mira cocks an eyebrow at her. "And what's the matter with that? She's as stuck up as any other PPDC officer around here." A lazy smirk spreads across her lips, though Zoey knows Mira well enough at this point to know when she's forcing it.
Zoey rolls onto her side, propping herself on an elbow, the metal frame creaking its complaints.
"Yeah, but all the other officers we've had the pleasure of dealing with at least pretended they were not just there to make us miserable," Zoey mutters. "This one seems to have missed the memo."
Across the room, Mira pokes and prods at a shelf, testing it with cautious pushes. The wood lets out a warning groan before Mira backs off and moves on to another one.
"See?" Zoey gestures at the room, wiggling on the bed to make it creak. "Even the furniture's trying to make us desert."
Mira snorts, but it's quieter than usual. For a moment, neither of them speaks.
Zoey studies her friend. "You're doing the thing again."
Mira gives her a puzzled look and tilts her head just so.
"The pretending-you-don't-care thing. That thing."
Mira rolls her eyes. "I always don't care."
"Uh-huh." Zoey rolls her eyes.
The barracks hum faintly with the building's old utilities systems. Pipes clank somewhere behind a wall, wiring buzzes where the connections aren't quite proper in appliances. For the end of the world, they sure skipped a lot of safety standards and maintenance.
Finally, Mira exhales through her nose and stops bothering the crumbling shelving.
"Look," she says, pacing across the concrete floor, "we knew this wasn't going to be summer camp. We knew it would be a whole other level above Kodiak Island and the training program." She flicks at the flaking paint next to the entrance. "New posting, new command. That's how it works."
"Sure," Zoey says. "But even so, they give you a mattress thicker than a tortilla."
Mira kicks the leg of the bunk lightly. The whole structure shudders.
"Adds character."
"Adds scoliosis," Zoey retorts. "It's like they want us to be anywhere but here at all times."
That finally gets a smile out of Mira. Small, but genuine.
"… I'm just worried about not finding a drift compatible partner. I'm not the easiest person to get along with," she says with a small self deprecating smile playing at the corner of her lips for just a second. She pauses, her eyebrows scrunching up. For a second, Zoey thinks Mira is about to say something painfully honest about herself. The taller girl breathes out slowly, seemingly letting go of that thought, and her smile turns sardonic. "The atmosphere of this place sure does not feel very welcoming, either."
Zoey playfully nudges their shoulders together. "If I have learned how to deal with your grumpy ass, others can too."
The shorter girl relaxes a little and falls back onto the thin mattress, staring up at the stained ceiling. The rust streaks next to the light fixture ebb and flow like rivers on a map. Or like blood from a wound. Zoey shakes off the morbid thought.
"You think the bathroom works?" she asks, hoping to distract her friend from the reality of the situation they were in.
"There's one way to find out." Mira eyes the closed door with suspicion.
Zoey gestures dramatically at it. "Be my guest."
The tall girl crosses the room with unsure footing and grips the handle. The latch catches on something before finally giving in with a reluctant click. She pulls the door open and sticks her head in.
A long pause follows.
Zoey stands up, trying to catch a peek. "That bad?"
Mira quickly shuts the door and turns to the other girl. "Well," she drawls, "good news… There is a bathroom"
Zoey raises an eyebrow. "And the bad news?"
Mira wrinkles her nose before continuing to speak. "It smells like something might have died in it."
With a groan, Zoey flops back against the bare mattress, which makes the whole bunk shudder dangerously.
"Fantastic," she says. "First day at the Shatterdome, our commanding officer hates us, and we have to do literal dirty work just to take a shower in peace."
Mira leans on the shoddy metal staircase of the bunk, arms folded. "At least whatever's in there probably won't be worse than whatever miss stuck-up officer is going to put us through starting tomorrow."
Zoey groans, a knot of dread forming quietly in her stomach. Mira chuckles softly at her friend's anguish.
"C'mon, Zo. Let's go explore before they take us out back and put us out of our misery,"
━─━────༺༻────━─━
The corridor outside is hardly an improvement. The lightning is dim and yellowed, flickering every so often, with half the overhead fixtures buzzing. The same garish paint lines the walls, chipped and stained from years of neglect. Somewhere far down the hall, a cart with god knows what rattles past, its metal wheels clanging over the cracked flooring.
Zoey glances around. Rows of identical doors stretch down the corridor, devoid of any and all personality. "Home sweet home," she says.
Mira starts walking, hands shoved in the pockets of her standard issue jacket. She will have to take a pair of scissors to it as soon as she can. "You expected luxury?"
"I expected… I don't know. Less 'abandoned fallout shelter', I guess."
"Figures they don't care about aesthetics when they're fighting a losing war, don't you think?" Mira asks, as they continue moving down the hallway.
They pass an open doorway where a couple of cadets from their academy year are wrestling with a bunk frame that appears to be missing several bolts. One of them looks up briefly, giving Zoey and Mira a tired nod as they pass, and then goes back to trying to avoid being crushed by the potential hazard their bed frame seems to be.
Mira tilts her head towards them as they pass.
"See? It's not just us," Mira says.
Zoey glances back into the room as the bunk frame of the unfortunate cadets snaps loudly.
"… Do not fucking move," one of them says.
The other cadet is halfway underneath the frame, holding it up like they are Atlas shouldering the weight of the sky.
Zoey winces. "Oh wow. That's… somehow worse than ours."
"Hey," the one standing calls out to them. "Either of you know where they keep the tools around here? "
Mira steps towards the doorway, studying the scene with a morbid fascination.
"You mean besides the place with all the real life Gundams?" she says.
The cadet sighs. "Helpful."
Zoey taps on the doorframe. "Have you tried… not moving it?"
The cadet under the bunk groans, voice ever so slightly muffled. "Great idea. We'll just keep it hovering in the air all night."
Just as she finishes speaking, the frame creaks ominously. The conversation suddenly freezes.
Mira slowly straightens and backs off into the hallway again. "You know what? I think we're gonna let the two of you continue that little engineering project.
"Cowards," the standing cadet mutters.
They've barely taken a few steps away when a loud clang echoes from the room, followed by:
"—SHIT!"
Zoey grimaces. "Well. Let's find some duct tape before that happens to us, too."
Mira snorts, but vows silently to be on the look out for a a tool kit to snatch.
As they continue down the hall, there's more and more people walking purposefully to and fro, their boots thudding against the worn concrete. The corridor stretches, and the ever present metallic hum and clanking grows stronger the deeper they head in.
Zoey rubs at the back of her neck. The air smells faintly of machine oil and corroded metal, like they're walking on top of a Jaeger graveyard.
A deep rumble pulses through the floor. Zoey stops mid-step.
Zoey slowly looks down the hall.
"Okay," she says carefully, "either that was a minor earthquake…"
Mira's eyes light up, already wanting to see this mischief through.
"… or this is the part of the base where the things that can level buildings are parked," Mira replies, ignoring Zoey's silent pleas to stop.
"Well," she drawls, already stepping forward again, "we didn't come all this way to not see that."
Zoey groans and hurries after her.
"Mira, I swear, if we get court-martialed on our first afternoon in the Shatterdome, I will kill you.
"Relax, Zo."
Another deep mechanical boom rolls through the hall as they round a bend.
"If we get caught," Mira adds, "we'll just say we were looking for a tool kit for those poor souls back at the barracks."
Zoey stares at her, but curiosity has already taken root in her heart. She shakes her head, and grabs Mira's hand, heads pointed down, hoping to blend in with a group of J-Tech engineers.
In front of them are huge bay doors clearly meant to be opened only with the proper access, but held open by bits of metal lodged in the joints by all the sleep deprived nerds too exhausted to remember where they left their badges.
Zoey and Mira step forward, already numb to the dull clanking of metal that seems to be growing louder with each step.
The doors open into a space so vast that Zoey stops walking without meaning to. The ceiling disappears somewhere high above into a tangle of steel support structures and hanging cables, lost in dim haze. Massive industrial lamps hang on long cables, bathing everything in a pale glow.
The air is thick with humidity and machine oil, and Zoey nearly chokes on it.
The center of the bay is full of activity, scientists hauling tools and blueprints with hurried movements, and forklifts carrying pallets of metal pieces. Ladders, lifts, and suspended work platforms crisscross the open space like webs.
And lining the wall—
Zoey's breath catches.
Multiple Jaegers stand proudly, visors and cores lit up, ready for deployment at a moment's notice. Technicians fuss around them, but at the scale of the robots, humans just end up looking like ants next to them. The armored legs of the robots are locked into massive hydraulic clamps bolted to the floors. Thick cables as wide as Zoey snake from the walls into various ports hidden alongside their backs and shoulders.
One Jaeger, slightly obscured by a concrete pillar is in clear desperate need of repair. Its shoulder joints are clearly destroyed, with an arm hanging limply by its side while the other one is completely de-attached and suspended on massive cables. A crane slowly rotates overhead, carrying away a slab of golden-colored armor plating the size of a car.
From their observation point, the Jaeger's head is partially obscured, its armored visor dark and lifeless, the only light emanating from it coming from the welding sparks of a couple of technicians. The half of the robot's head that is visible to them has clearly seen better days. Jagged metal edges give way to circuitry, and the dark purple paint chips and gives way to a dim gold metal underneath, as the giant hole on the right side of the Jaeger's head gives Zoey a glimpse inside the connpod.
Out of all the Jaegers standing around, functional and ready, Zoey cannot take her eyes away from the lifeless-looking one.
"Okay," Zoey murmurs.
Mira glances at her.
Zoey swallows, still staring at the metal giant.
"… I take back every complaint I had about our barracks."