milliways_bar | (no subject)

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There was a kaiju attack on St. Lawrence Island today. The memorial service for Gunnar and Vic Tunari is scheduled for three days from now.

Pentecost is not about to admit it in front of everyone in the Shatterdome, but he needs to punch something.

Perhaps there will be an opportunity somewhere at Milliways.

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He inclines his head; there might be something of a smile to his face. "Thank you," he says. "Our Jaeger pilots tend to agree."

"I bet they freakin' do! What sort of qualifications you need for that kinda thing? Special license or somethin'?"

"No license," says Pentecost, "but we do put promising candidates through a training program. Assuming they pass the physical and psychological tests, of course. But they also have to be able to handle linking their minds with their co-pilot- it's part of the Jaegers' control system. We call it the Drift."

"Linking...their...minds? Like a mental link?"

Okay, this suddenly got a whole lot less cool, a whole lot quicker than Raph was expecting.

"So someone's in your head the whole time you're driving the thing?"

"Just as you're in theirs," says Pentecost. "The neural load of piloting a machine that size is too much for the human nervous system to bear. The control system used effectively links the pilots as two halves of a single brain- including sharing memories and thoughts."

Yup. That settles it. No dice. Raph's dreams of fighting Godzilla in a giant robot suit come to a close.

"My brother's got a setup somethin' like that. Don't exactly sound like fun to me."

"It isn't for everyone," Pentecost agrees. "How does your brother achieve the link, if I might ask?"

"Magic."

Remember that face he made when dimensional rifts came up in conversation? Yeah, it's back.

"I see," says Pentecost, who doesn't sound like he thinks much of the idea himself. "Deliberately?"

"Yes an' no," he says running a hand over his scalp. "She chose him, an' he chose to keep the thing going."

He leans back a bit, so as to get a view of the door and a bit down the hall. When he's sure there's no one there, his voice lowers.

"My brother's kind of an idiot."

"Must make his life more complicated," comments Pentecost. "Even the Jaeger pilots who report Drift hangover only seem to have it in momentary patches."

The idea of a permanent, ongoing Drift is... not one he would care to pursue. Not after what happened when the link with Tamsin broke so sharply.

"I assume he comes here as well."

"you got no idea," he mutters.

"Come here? He pretty much straight up lives here. Just down the hall from here, actually."

"I see," says Pentecost. "I might want to ask him a few questions about that in the future. Assuming that wouldn't be taken amiss."

The room gets one more brief once-over.

"Not until I've had a chance to practice, though. I didn't come here to interrogate anyone today."

"Nah, the only problem you're gonna have is gettin' him to stop talkin'."

Good luck with that, Pentecost.

Oh, right, say his expression.
"When ever you've got like...a while to kill, just go up to Bar an' ask for Mike. She'll get'im. In the meantime, don't lemme keep you."

Pentecost nods and steps into the precise middle of the open space.

He's never been much of one for stretching- warm-up, yes; stretching, no. That comes later, after the workout's done. Better to spend that time alerting the muscles and nerves that proper punches are coming by a minute's worth of lesser ones, and the odd kick or two along the way, and then-

He hasn't worn a drivesuit, hasn't Drifted, in years. But he doesn't forget, not ever; and the image of the kaiju that lunged out of the Bering Sea and took his people with it to the grave is still fresh enough in memory to attack just as if it were there.

Raph turns and exits the gym, pausing for a moment to watch the other man work.
Yup, that is one bad ass mofo right there. When Stacker's done, and inevitably makes his way to Bar, he'll find his beverage of choice waiting for him courtesy of Raph who hasn't been this impressed by someone in some time.

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