Pacific Rim: The Official Movie Novelization (9 page)

In the hologram, the explosive went off. The blast wave propagated through the Breach and the Throat. They collapsed in a granular spray across the face of Gottlieb’s holo-display, and the two universes were severed from each other. Everyone watched the collapse and imagined what it would mean for human civilization if they could make it happen in the real world.

Herc looked at the faces around him: Newt, sullen and boiling with more intellect than he could handle; Gottlieb, like an oversensitive child needing approval for his brilliance; Pentecost, the one who had to make the decision, resolute but clearly weary. Not the kind of weary you felt when you got a short night’s sleep; the kind you felt when you’d devoted ten years to saving humanity and been thrown aside in the name of cowardice and saving money.

Herc wondered what he looked like to them. Old, probably. Washed up. But he wasn’t done quite yet.

“We have one shot at this,” Pentecost said. “We must be sure.”

That was a problem as far as Herc could see. They’d never seen two kaiju come through, let alone three. How could Gottlieb have modeled that? The kaiju were getting bigger, that was true. Maybe he’d gotten solid data on that, but Herc didn’t care. This was a hell of a flimsy conclusion to base an operation on.

Newt appeared to feel the same way. He’d listened with what passed in him for politeness, but now he could no longer contain himself.

“It’s not enough to know when or for how long the portal will be open,” he said, waving at the holo like it was a third-grade science project. “Anyone can chop the numbers and figure that out. I mean, Hermann’s math is good. It always is. But math isn’t going to win this fight. Understanding the nature of the kaiju will. And on that front, I have a theory.”

Gottlieb, primly offended, sniffed.

“Please. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

To Gottlieb’s visible irritation, Pentecost indicated that Newt should continue.

“Why do we judge kaiju on a category system?” Newt said, adopting the lecturer’s tone. “Because each of them is different from the next. It’s almost as if each of them is an entirely new species. There don’t appear to be any family relationships among individuals that would give us a classification system, so we do it by size and mass instead.”

“Get to your point,” Pentecost said.

Newt stomped through the flotsam on his side of the lab and held up a piece of a dissected kaiju gland
—The one,
Herc thought,
he’d been hacking at when we came in.

“Despite the highly individuated appearance of each kaiju, there are some fundamental structures and systems they all seem to have in common. I’ve noticed the repetition of patterns in certain organs. See? This is a piece I collected from the glands harvested in Sydney.”

Everyone looked. It was a gland, sliced across its crosssection, with a clear pattern to the striations of tissue and patterns of... whatever those dark lines were. Veins? Nerves? Herc wasn’t an anatomist.

Newt placed the gland next to another sample on a tray and shoved tabletop debris away from the tray.

“This was harvested in Manila, six years ago.”

I killed the kaiju that gland came from,
Herc thought. He stepped closer, crossing from Gottlieb’s Prussian fantasy of scientific order to Newt’s intuitive maelstrom. He looked closer at the two glands.

They were identical.

Herc looked at Pentecost, who was looking at Newt with absolute concentration. In the background, Gottlieb was making a great show of ignoring Newt.

“Same exact DNA,” Newt said. “Two different specimens, two exact organ clones.”

“Same DNA,” Pentecost echoed.

“Identical,” Newt said. “Like spare parts in an assembly line. The entire organisms are obviously not the same, but different parts of them are absolutely taken from identical cloned snippets of DNA. This is a manufactured organ. It did not evolve this way. There is something more at play here than just monsters wandering through an interdimensional hole, and we need to know what.”

“And now he gets crazy,” Gottlieb said, like he’d heard the whole schtick before.

“The DNA structures replicated in each of these organs serve two functions,” Newt said. “One is of course to create this specific kind of tissue. Even in this silicate form instead of the carbon-based human DNA, the basic task of DNA is to encode the physical form of the being. But with the kaiju, it does something else, too. It encodes memories. I’ve identified structures within the silicate nucleotides that appear to exist purely for information storage. They don’t program tissue formation or function. They’re memory banks.”

Herc wasn’t sure what a silicate nucleotide would be, but memory banks? In each kaiju? He thought he could see where Newt was going, and a moment later Newt confirmed it for him.

“Cellular memory,” Newt said, continuing before Gottlieb could take the group’s attention away from him. He hurried to a large tank holding part of a kaiju brain. “This specimen’s damaged, weak... but still alive. If we can tap into it using the same tech that allows two Jaeger pilots to share a neural bridge, then we could, theoretically, learn where they come from... see
inside
the Breach and experience
exactly
how to get through ourselves.”

Pentecost glanced over at Herc again. There was a lot in that look. Skepticism and worry and doubt, mostly... but also a little bit of hope. He was also looking to Herc to see if he thought Newt was actually proposing what he seemed to be proposing.

“Let me see if I understand,” Herc said slowly, incredulous—horrified.
“You are suggesting we initiate a Drift with a kaiju?”
It sounded crazy to him. Drifting with another human was hard enough.

“A piece of its brain, yes,” Newt said. “And a few pieces of equipment.”

“A few pieces?” Herc said. His tone was sharper now.
Ah, here’s where the rubber meets the road.

“Just enough to create a Pons,” Newt said. “A neural bridge. There’s—”

Pentecost shook his head.

Herc took his cue from the Marshal.

“The neural surge would be too much for a human brain. Trust me, we can barely handle each other. What do you think a kaiju would do to us?”

“I agree,” Pentecost said. “Dr. Gottlieb, I want all your data on my desk as soon as possible.”

He turned to leave. Herc hung back a little, knowing Stacker would wait for him down the hall and wanting to get a brief sense of how Newt was reacting to the brushoff from his commander.

Newt looked angry and frustrated and crestfallen, like a kid who thought he’d had a great idea only to have all the grownups tell him they’d all thought of it before. Gottlieb looked like he might be the slightest bit sympathetic.

Because he didn’t rush out, Herc heard the two scientists talking quietly, as if he wasn’t there.

“I know you want to be right, so you’ve not wasted your life being a kaiju groupie,” Gottlieb said. “But it’s not going to work.”

Newt stomped back through the drifts of lab equipment, samples, and whatever else, on his side of the floor.

“Fortune favors the brave, dude,” he said, defiant again.

That’s the spirit, kid,
Herc thought.
Channel that frustration. Someone tells you you can’t do something, you go and figure it out just to prove them wrong.

Come to think of it, Newt’s attitude reminded him a bit of the kid Raleigh Becket. Seemed to Herc that both of them came at life with a bit of a chip on their shoulders. To hear Stacker tell it, that’s what had brought Raleigh back into the Ranger service. Same thing kept Newt’s fires burning when the higher-ups took Gottlieb seriously and not him.

“You heard them,” Gottlieb was saying. “They won’t give you the equipment, and even if they did, you’d kill yourself.”

Herc had heard enough. Time for him to catch up with Stacker before the conversation in the lab took a turn for the incomprehensible. But before he got out the door, he heard Newt say, “Or... I’ll be a rock star.”

WALKING WITH MAKO AS SHE SHOWED HIM THE
rest of the facility, Raleigh thought to himself,
There is more to her than meets the eye
. He’d have to find out what. Stepping back into the Ranger life after five years away, he was discovering right off the bat that there was a lot he didn’t know.

“So, the bomb run,” he said to her. “Pretty crazy— right?”

“It’s the only hope we have,” Mako replied. “If Marshal Pentecost believes it can work, I believe it too.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I agree.”

“Come,” she said. “Marshal Pentecost wants me to show you something.”

It was a short walk back to the main central space beneath the Shatterdome proper. Mako led Raleigh to a different side of the dome. Through another security door was a repair bay, one of the six that defined the organization of the Shatterdome, along with the deploy ramps and conveyors that spoked out from the central landing and staging area.

The construction was all steel, designed for function, and the entire bay was littered with repair benches, tool cabinets, totes and bins full of parts and wires... everything you might need if your job was to keep a skyscraper-sized robot in fighting trim. They passed a crew tuning up a relay engine the size of a small car. Other smaller motor assemblies sat on benches in various stages of cleaning or repair. Crews were scraping, welding, cutting, soldering...

And standing in the center of it all was Gipsy Danger.

Raleigh stood perfectly still.

He forgot all about Mako, and the Shatterdome, and Hong Kong, and the past five years he’d spent chasing construction jobs from Nome all the way down to Sitka, where Stacker Pentecost had found him. He forgot all of that. He even, for a moment, forgot that the world was ending. Five years...

She looked pretty good, was Raleigh’s first thought, when he could think again. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been missing an arm and half her head, and was spouting fluid from a dozen holes, including the gaping wound punched through her torso by Knifehead. He fell back into that moment, remembering the driving snow on the beach, the blood in his eyes, the shocked look on the face of the old man with his metal detector. The last thing he’d seen before he passed out was the young boy at the beachcomber’s side, eyes wide. There had been snowflakes in the boy’s eyelashes.

The last thing Raleigh had felt, as he slumped to the frozen sand, was the empty space in his mind where Yancy had once been.

Now Gipsy Danger towered over him into the floodlit night sky, her hull flickering with the light cast by welding sparks, as if none of that had ever happened.

“She looks like new,” Raleigh said.

“Better than new,” Mako said. “She’s one of a kind now.”

“Solid iron hull,” someone else said from behind Raleigh. It took him a moment to reset and place the voice. Then he turned and saw Tendo Choi coming across the repair deck with a big welcoming grin on his face. “No alloys,” Tendo went on. “Forty engine blocks per muscle strand. Hyper-torque drivers in every limb and a new fluid synapse system. And this little lady,” he pointed to Mako, “oversaw it all.”

“Tendo!” Raleigh exclaimed. They clapped each other into a bear hug. Raleigh held it, feeling suddenly that perhaps he belonged here after all. Not everything had changed. He took a stop back and said, “So what’s going on?”

Tendo popped open a small tin and handed Raleigh a pill.

“Metharocin,” he explained. “New precaution. It’ll shield you from radiation while you’re out of your suit.” Pointing up at Gipsy Danger’s torso, he added, “Exposed core is still fuel rod.”

Raleigh took the pill.

“No, I meant with you,” he said. He pointed at Tendo’s left ring finger, which bore a gold band that hadn’t been there last time they’d seen each other.

“Um, well, remember Alison from munitions? We got married. Got a one-year-old son.” Tendo grinned proudly, but just as quickly his happiness was tempered and his tone wavered. “Haven’t seen him in six months. You know Pentecost, got me on Breach watch. Night and day, day and night; I am a caffeine-driven low-rider, my friend!” Having gotten his Tendo-bonhomie back, he watched Raleigh studying Gipsy Danger. “The Drift’s going to stir it all up, man. Memories. You sure you’re ready for this?”