Suiting up feels like breathing again. She doesn't have to be in the drift to know that Raleigh feels the same exhilaration.

"It's only shore duty," he says ruefully.

"But it's like—"

"-coming home," he finishes and grins.

Mako beams and they step into the conn-pod.

"Happy to be let out to play?" Choi's voice blares.

Mako presses the comm button. "I heard I was driving you crazy. We should talk later."

"Raleigh!" his voice sounds mock-betrayed. "Can't tell you anything, man."

"Not like she couldn't find out anyway," he retorts. "Release for drop."

The conn-pod slides down to hook up to Gipsy's body. The engine starts, basic systems go. The Gipsy's massive body is pushed out of the Shatterdome's hangar.

Mako hits the comm. "Ready for neural handshake."

"Fifteen…fourteen…" She closes her eyes.

"Anything I should be scared of?"

She smirks at Raleigh without opening her eyes. "You'll know soon, right?"

"And you're not the least bit worried about me stepping into your head."

Mako cracks open an eye. "No. Are you?"

"Neural handshake initiating," the A.I. announces and she inhales as her world shrinks. She's in the Combat Room, bamboo stick in hand and Raleigh across from her, except the perspective shifts and she watches herself launch several strikes. The perspective shifts again and she's back behind her own eyes as he meets them perfectly one by one. The memories slide into one another seamlessly.

Mako's back in the conn-pod, Raleigh at the horizon of her consciousness and the Gipsy strikes a defensive position.

"Calibration complete."

Welcome back, she thinks and his humor ruffles through her mind.

"Neural handshake strong and holding."

Off in the distance she sees Cherno take the closest of the kaiju, Charybdis. It looks like an oversized octopus with an evil-looking red eye near the top. Striker goes out further into the sea to meet Tengu. The beaked kaiju's form is like a nightmarish thundercloud in the distance. Every inch of Mako is itching to move forward. The impulse thrums like an electric current, a tingle that starts at her fingertips and spreads through her.

"Easy," Raleigh says and the impulse lessens. "Better?"

Mako assents, eyes on the monitor. She shakes her head. Taking Charybdis down will take too long.

Raleigh is right there with her, works the comm. "Striker should stay with Cherno."

"That is a negative," Herc Hansen replies. "We can't let two kaiju this close to the shore."

Cherno doesn't reply, heavily involved in the fight. It's bashing the creature on the head, but Charybdis' tentacles don't let up. They slam into the top of the Jaeger repeatedly. Mako can see the steel denting under the onslaught.

"Oh, shit," Tendo yells. "We have another signature!"

"Look alive, Rangers. We have incoming," Marshal's voice barks. "Striker, you will have visual first."

"Permission to engage, sir!" Mako calls out.

Raleigh slaps keypad, doing a double take at the monitor. "Mission control, something's wrong with my readings—"

"Granted! Nothing's wrong with your readings, Gipsy," the Marshal's voice is grim, but even.

Tendo's voice is less calm. "It's coming from above!"

"What the fuck?" Raleigh mutters as they begin moving towards the melee. The Cherno's in a better position now with the beast in a headlock, but they can't see Striker over the waves Cherno and Charydbis are generating.

We saw they could fly. She racks her brain for the range of the plasma canon and the pulse launcher. Her fingers fly over the screen as she runs through estimates.

"Close combat armaments," Raleigh replies to the implicit question. "Won't help if it's airborne."

"Striker, we need your rockets," the Marshal calls. "Cherno, disengage as soon as Gipsy's close."

"Kind of busy here," Chuck's voice comes in after a moment, strained.

"It will be above you in a minute!" the Marshal shouts.

"Coming in hot at your three o'clock!" Tendo's voice joins in.

In front of them, Cherno engages the sparkfists, but the creature slithers away. For a second they lose sight of the Jaeger. They only see Charybdis' tentacles flailing above the sea spray.

"Cherno! Cherno! What's your status?" Raleigh scans the instruments.

"Sparkfist discharged," Aleksis Kaidanovski's voice answers after a beat. "Charybdis stunned. Proceeding to Tengu and Striker."

"Copy that. Happy hunting, Cherno," Raleigh says as Mako loads up the canon.

"Careful, Gipsy." It's Sasha now. "It is a slippery one."

And just as she's finished speaking, a tentacle splashes out towards them, wrapping itself around the Gipsy's arm. They jerk the arm over their shoulder, pulling the creature partially out of the water.

"Sword!" Mako yells out.

"Watch the blue!" Raleigh warns, just as the sword lights up with an electric charge. They slash at the tentacle, leaving a smoking stump.

Improvement.

She feels his grin. "Show off." He fires up the plasma canon.

"Gipsy, can you put a bow on it?" Tendo calls. They can hear the Marshal in the background, talking to the other pilots. "Striker and Cherno need you."

"Aim for the eye!" Raleigh says, continuing to discharge the canon. Several blasts later, the kaiju lies prone and they wade through the ocean to the rest of the jaegers. "Copy. Give me an update, Tendo. What're we going to find over there? Is the flyer down?"

"It's down, but alive. Striker's incurring heavy damages. Cherno's not doing so well either."

They're close enough to see Cherno use sparkfist on the flyer. The creature lets out a deafening cry and collapses, sinking into the ocean.

Tengu, the remaining kaiju, seems to notice from where it's busily smashing its snout against the top of Striker, dangerously close to the conn-pod. It echoes its comrade's cry, takes a step back and divides into two smaller versions of itself.

Mako blinks and freezes for a second in spite of herself. It can't be!

"Rangers, report, we're getting two readings, but the breach shows no movement!"

"It just…divided!" Raleigh replies, as they try to run even faster. "Tell Chuck and Herc to get out!"

"What do you mean, it divided?"

Mako scans their diagnostics. We're low on ammunition. We're going to have to take it down with the sword.

"Like a lizard tail!" She can feel Raleigh's urgency feeding her own as they plow through the waves. "Except the whole thing. Like a cell that divided. Replicated! We need to get the others out."

Striker is sandwiched between the two kaiju, sparks scattering everywhere. They catch sight of Cherno cutting through the waves, perpendicular to them. Cherno is closer than they are to Striker, but still too.

"Negative. They're too far from the shore for extraction," the Marshal's voice is tight. "We'd lose them and risk another crew."

"Then call Cherno back!" Raleigh turns to Mako. "How much ammo do we have?"

Five rounds. She runs the numbers again. At this distance we won't hit it. Not from here.

"We don't have to."

They keep running, firing in the general direction until the clip runs out. The blasts distract the kaiju, long enough for Cherno to arrive. Cherno gets to work, crashes its charged fist against one of the creatures, sending it sprawling back with a screech, the electricity making it glow. Cherno forcibly pulls the other creature off Striker, flinging it away in their direction, but still too far for them to engage.

Cherno pulls Striker up. Even from this distance, Striker's breastplate shows heavy damage. It's partly ripped and the Jaeger stands unsteadily, Cherno propping it up. The Russian Jaeger begins moving them both towards the shore, pulling Striker from the back. The creature nearest to the Gipsy stands and roars, ready to launch itself in the direction of the two Jaegers.

It'll land on Cherno, Mako works out. It'll use its own weight combined with Striker's against Cherno. Mako clenches her fist, feels Raleigh's determination interlinked with hers as she focuses on running harder, gaining impulse, and -–jumps-

There's a moment of weightlessness, then the impact jars her to the teeth. The kaiju wails, pinned in place by the Gipsy, it wails harder when the Gipsy's blade lights up, the charge of the sword shocking it with its charge. The monster turns around, and they knee it in the head.

"Wait!"

She's not sure whether Raleigh's really spoken outright, but there's no time. Mako pulls out the blade, and swoops it down, cleanly slicing the monster's leg off in the process. It hisses from below, and spits out acid at the Gipsy's arm and the blade.

The sting of the burn sears through her consciousness and she almost falls back screaming. It's more painful than anything she's ever felt. It wrests her breath away.

"Mako, Mako! Stay with me!"

Easy, easy, easy, she hears him in her head, louder than his voice. The pain recedes. Not much, but it becomes tolerable. She breathes shallowly.

We lost our last weapon. She thinks that the creature is half-dead anyway, but—

"Not dead enough."

Raleigh reaches for the kaiju's severed leg, and they bring it down against its head over the white-hot blast of pain in her burned arm. Again and again, they slam it down until she feels the give of bone below and the creature stops moving.

"The second!" The other kaiju surfaces several miles away, quickly approaching Cherno and Striker, heading towards the shore.

It feels like a reflexive motion, mainly Raleigh's – a quick extension of the right arm. She shifts her left leg forward and the arm swings. Release.

They hold their breath until the severed leg hits the beast over the head. What used to be half of Tengu falls, skidding to the coast, landing on its stomach before the Cherno Alpha. It opens its mouth to let out a defeaning cry-

Cherno brings down its spiked heel on the kaiju's head.

"So you sliced its leg off and then you bludgeoned it to death with it?" The younger Hansen can't keep the grudging admiration off his voice. "Now, that's just fucking barbaric."

Raleigh chuckles. "You didn't ask us here to discuss the humane killing of kaiju, did you?"

Hansen lets his head fall back on the pillow and Mako catches his wince. She's certain he's the worst patient in the Shatterdome. Several broken ribs, some of them even perforating the lungs, and both Hansen and his father are lucky to be alive. The elder Hansen drifts in and out of consciousness, but is stable at least. Their Jaeger is not as lucky. Striker will be out of commission for a while.

Only two for now, she thinks wearily. During the sleepless nights since the mission, it's all she can think about. It's been two days since the attack and the unease has returned with a vengeance.

"No," Hansen replies grudgingly. "I thought that it might be a good idea to say good job." He juts his chin out with his usual swagger. "You know, before both of you get killed."

"Nice." Raleigh nods as if that remark is exactly what he was expecting.

"We appreciate your concern, Mr. Hansen," Mako says.

Raleigh leans forward on the hospital bed railing and juts a finger at her. "She. She appreciates your concern. I still think you're an asshole."

"No," Mako corrects him. "I think he's an asshole too. I'm just being polite."

"Well, aren't you two a sweet couple."

"You can buy me a beer," Raleigh retorts. "I'll even do you the favor of getting it for me." He looks at Mako and points at Hansen. "Mako, you want a beer? Chuck's buying."

She's about to speak when a choking feeling comes over her, the air being squeezed from her throat. The feeling comes more frequently now and she pushes it back with difficulty.

Raleigh is still looking at her expectantly and she forces a smile. "That's all right." She pretends to look at something in her notepad. "I should go," she lies over the chokehold on her throat, the clamminess of her hands. "Tendo's expecting me."

He looks at her skeptically. "This late?" He sighs. "He really is going to ban you from mission control."

She shrugs, wincing at the phantom burn of her arm. "Get well, Mr. Hansen" she says curtly, trying not to make her desperation to leave obvious. "I'll see you later, Raleigh."

He nods and asks Hansen something, but she's too busy running through her breathing exercises to make it out.

With her arm still recovering, practice in the combat room is out of the question, so she ends up sitting in her room, drenched in a cold sweat with her stomach clenched. Trying to shut off her mind, she watches the clock tick down the minutes, keeps herself still through sheer force of will and ineffectual attempts to control her breathing. There's still an image of the last kaiju in her head playing on loop. Dividing in two. Four. Six. Eight.

Two. Four. Six. Eight.

The feeling doesn't leave her until the morning.

The Marshal sends for her several days later. Mako knocks twice and waits for him to call her in. She does a couple of breathing exercises. She still hasn't gotten used to the build up of leftover adrenaline. It had taken weeks for the feeling to build up last time, and now, days…

"Miss Mori," he greets her with a slight bow of his head, breaking through her thoughts. "How's the arm?"

"All right," she answers, stepping in. "Getting better."

He gestures her in. "The nervous system takes some time to align. Same arm as last time?"

Mako nods. "I've utilized the chain sword in the last two drops."

"Maybe you're relying on it too much."

"Maybe." Mako bites her lip. "At the time, it seemed necessary for the kill."

The Marshal makes a noncommittal sound. "Regarding the last two drops – you've submitted the last report? The Kaidanovskys have submitted Cherno's report for Tengu and Charybdis, and since I won't be seeing Striker's for the present, I would like to see the Gipsy's. Science division has requested it as soon as possible for a better sense of this new kaiju mutation."

Mako frowns, making a mental note to make Raleigh do it this time.

"This was your third drop with Becket."

"Yes. We're … getting used to each other."

"You're doing well," he says and she smiles lightly, but feels there's something else. The Marshal goes to his desk and opens one of his drawers. He pulls out several sheets and turns them towards her, spreading them across his desk. Mako approaches tentatively, eyes drifting over the numbers and graphs.

"Simulator evaluations. Mission evaluations. Physiological stress response readings?" Mako looks up. The drift might be a mind meld between two pilots, but control keeps their readings and stats separate for debriefing and analysis. Her stomach knots in dread.

"The simulator evaluations are yours. The mission evaluations are Becket's. There's been some," he pauses. "…Irregularities in your combat profiles."

"Irregularities?"

The Marshal reaches for a set of sheets and hands them to her. She scans through them voraciously. Her eyes dart from the data to the identification numbers repeatedly. Her head snaps up, eyes wide, and she feels her pulse beating in her ears.

"They're switched," she says. "Misattributed."

The Marshal shakes his head. "I thought so, but the data has been double-checked."

"The risk assessment percentages…"

"They're the same as yours - in simulation."

"Permission to look at my mission evaluations?"

The Marshal nods and passes her a folder. It feels like looking at a different person. "This has to be normal load balancing," she finds herself muttering in Japanese. Her eyes go back down to the graphs under her fingers and she stifles the impulse to crumple the paper. "Part of the drift, two pilots synching the left and right hemispheres of the brain. It's normal," she hears herself insist in English. "In the literature, the drift causes the pilots to… trade. To approximate one another."

"You're referring to transfer function." She nods and he continues. "Ghost-drifting. But that happens after long term exposure to the drift and it's additive. Pilots pick up aspects of their copilot. It's not an outright exchange. Load balancing usually doesn't entail your copilot's combat profile supplanting your own and vice versa."

"Then is it a hardware problem? Maybe a problem with the interface-"

"I took the assessments to med bay. They haven't seen anything like it before either. Dr. Wu suggested a neuropsychiatric approach."

She scrunches her face skeptically. "A disease of the nervous system? But everything is fine-"

"Dr. Wu doesn't rule out the possibility of pathology." The Marshal sounds weary. "There is no record of brain imaging for Becket after his dismissal at Anchorage. We needed him here and I never asked."

It's her turn to shake her head furiously. "Raleigh is fine," she says firmly. "He is fully functional both in combat and outside of it. I trust-"

"And you?"

The question surprises her. "I have been examined, sir."

"Not since the drift has been initiated. What one pilot experiences in the drift can pass to the other. "

She takes a moment to process the information. "But even if there is an exchange, then there's still load balancing. We continue to be drift compatible. The neural handshake holds."

"For the moment. But nonetheless, it is highly unusual. And could have ramifications."

"You can't ground us!" It comes out harsher than she expected and she looks down. "Cherno is the only fully functional Jaeger beside us."

"I know that." He stands and comes over to her, placing a gentle hand on her back. "There might be no reason for concern. I've sent for Dr. Simran Malik, she's a specialist, formerly based in Lima's Shatterdome. We'll arrange some preliminary evaluations, so she can orient herself and begin to rule pathology out." The death grip on Mako's throat is back.

"I refuse to take unnecessary risks, Mako." His eyes scrutinize her. "Has Becket been acting differently since the drops?"

"No, sir." She forces herself to look at him steadily.

"And you?"

Every instinct screams to tell him. She wants him to know. He has to know that she's running ragged, that she's unsettled under her own skin. And maybe if she tells him, the tightness of her chest will ease up a bit. Maybe he can make it all go away, just like he did when she was a child. Maybe she'd be able to sleep.

But there's only a lump in her throat. "No more than I expected."

He nods, but stays quiet, as if expecting her to add more. She remains silent.

"Report to medical bay at oh-eight-hundred hours," he finally says.

"Yes, sir." She thinks he'll let her go, but he simply looks at her until she feels her resolve cracking. It's his way, ever since she's been a girl. He could always wait her out. Except she's not a girl anymore. It's her call. "Permission to be dismissed, sir."

There's something sad in his eyes, mingled with the concern, and she feels the lump in her throat return.

"Granted."