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“No, dude, why would the brain be empty? Kaiju brains are intense, even the baby ones!”
Newton is gesturing wildly, nearly falling off the barstool and definitely smacking Hermann in the shoulder more than once- though he doesn’t seem to mind, nodding emphatically in agreement, spilling his drink a little in the process.
Their audience, however, does not appear to be convinced.
“How intense could the brain of a newborn be? There’s nothing in there!” The man who asks the question is clearly not the brains of any operation, Hermann sneers to himself.
Or maybe not to himself, judging by the angry glare thrown in his direction. Perhaps he shouldn’t have let Newton convince him that a celebratory drink or five was a good idea. Oh right, the question at hand.
“Even if the kaiju brains were not identical copies of each other, the mind of a newborn would still be chaotic. All of that sensory input would be enough to overwhelm anything.” At least he’s an eloquent drunk; thank everything for those times in University drunkenly debating ethics quandaries with equally drunk professors.
“Yes, very eloqu- el- CLEAR indeed, my friend!” Okay, Herman knows he didn’t say that out loud.
“Are you reading my mind, you insufferable fool?”
“What? No! It’s a conse- con- consequence of the drift!”
The people who were quickly losing interest in the conversation- two local women, a man appearing to be American military, and the bartender- perk up at the mention of drifting; that’s what had gotten their attention in the first place, after all. Newton had announced, while calling for a third round, that they were here to celebrate a successful human-to-kaiju drift. After that the drinks had just started to appear unbidden, the group eager to hear the story.
Which was getting way off track now.
“So you guys drifted with a baby kaiju brain, and it was intense but not chaotic?” One of the women leads.
“Yes! No! Well, it wasn’t not intense, just-“
“Not what one would expect from a newborn of any species, though we were moderately prepared due to Newton’s initial-“
“I’d already done it once!”
And now they’re completing each other’s sentences, apparently picking up on each other’s thoughts. Fascinating, if not a little irritating; he wasn’t very comfortable with the idea of having Newton in his head. He’d drifted with him out of necessity, had been surprised but not overly so to find they had sufficient compatibility to do even that much, and now that it was over he’d hoped that would be the end of it. Apparently not.
Newton sends him a look that might be a glare but more resembled a childish pout, which fit with the sudden wave of hurt feelings he felt. Right, psychic link. Or something.
“My apologies, Newton,” Hermann offers, before turning back to the spectators, “My colleague’s first drift, with a mostly destroyed specimen, provided us with some background on the kaiju, including the fact that-“
“Their brains are clones, too, not just the DNA! It’s like everything is downloaded into the new brain when a baby is hatched or whatever and-“
“That is how the beasts could adapt so quickly to our defenses with each attack, especially after the first drift because in the drift, information flows both-“
“Gentlemen, I think that’s a fine place to stop.”
Newton loses his balance, finally falling from his perch, and Hermann cringes as he turns to face Marshall Hansen, whose crossed arms and narrow glare indicate an impending reproachful lecture. Oh dear, he thinks, and feels an echoing agreement in the back of his mind.
“Story time is over, everyone, enjoy the rest of your evening.” Hansen turns toward the exit and throws over his should, “You two, with me.”
It only takes a few seconds for Hermann to slide from the barstool, surprisingly graceful despite the combination of alcohol and the lack of his cane, and drag Newton up from where he was still slumped on the floor. They trail along after the Marshall with matching feelings of dread.
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They sit in silence on the transport back to the shatterdome, neither scientist quite sure what to make of Hansen’s stony expression. Hermann is mostly sure they aren’t in trouble. Or not too much trouble. Maybe. Newton’s anxiety is making him want to reevaluate, his limbs twitching and brain sending out waves of distress that even the Marshall must be able to sense.
Before they can exit the vehicle, though, the man seems to take pity on them.
“It’s all fine, just I don’t think now is the time to be throwing out details like that, especially not to a bunch of half-drunk gossip mongers. Who knows what people would be touting as “fact” by this time tomorrow? That’s not why I came to find you; Beckett and Mori want to speak with you.”
The relief he feels could just as easily be Newton’s as his own, is most likely from both of them. The awkward salute that Newton gives, though, Hermann recognizes from his own repertoire.
“Aff- affirm- yes, sir!”
“They’re waiting in your lab space; you might want to get down there before they start messing about with things they’ve no business touching.” And here the Marshall cracks a barely-there smirk, watching the two of them scramble out of the vehicle, hanging off of each other in their haste to make it down the corridor quickly but without falling over.
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Hermann gets as far as “Must I remind you, Mr. Beckett, that all of the equipment-” before the clapping and cheering brings his rant to a halt.
Mako and Raleigh are there, certainly, and behind them stand what appears to be half of the shatterdome personnel, all squeezed carefully into the lab. Everyone is smiling and cheering joyously, as if the breach had been closed minutes before, rather than hours, for them. For Hermann and Newton. What?
Newton is still mostly hanging from his shoulder, face beaming out from where it’s pressed into Hermann’s shoulder, and when he turns them in a confused circle he sees the Marshall- Herc, he’s been asked to call him on several occasions, though Hermann has a thing about titles and respect- marching up to them with an actual smile on his face, clapping right along with everyone else.
Newton’s drunken clinging has turned into a full-on embrace, and Hermann thinks to himself that maybe, despite everything they’ve all lost and everything they’ve had to do, they’ll be alright in the end.
For now, they have gratitude to accept with bad grace, and their own to give in return.