Pacific Rim: Legacy

Chapter 13 - Analia

Analia strode down the gray hallway of the cadet quarters, the rhythmic sound of her black boots tapping sharply against the floor breaking the silence. Each step echoed in the narrow corridor, a steady reminder of the weight of what she had to do. The sterile walls seemed to close in around her, the fluorescent lights overhead casting a harsh glow on the metallic surfaces. Her breath felt tight in her chest as she approached the door of the room where the newest recruits were housed.

She paused outside, her hand hovering over the keypad. This isn't easy, but it has to be done, she thought, steeling herself. Drawing in a slow, deep breath, she keyed open the door, the soft hiss of hydraulics breaking the stillness.

Inside, Amara was by her bunk, furiously stuffing her belongings into a worn backpack. Her movements were jerky and aggressive, each item shoved inside with the kind of frustration that radiated from someone on the edge. Analia watched for a moment, her heart heavy. She had seen so much potential in the young cadet—the spark in her eyes, the fierce determination that had reminded Analia of herself when she first started in the program. But now, that same fire seemed to be flickering, weakened by the crushing weight of guilt and disappointment.

"Amara," Analia said softly, her voice cutting through the tension in the room as she stepped further inside.

The cadet whirled around, her eyes wide in surprise. Her body went stiff, as if caught doing something wrong. "Ranger Beckett," she stammered, quickly snapping to attention, her voice tight. "I didn't hear you come in."

Analia waved a hand, her expression softening. "At ease, cadet," she said, her tone gentle yet firm. She took another step forward, her gaze drifting to the half-packed bag on the bed, the disarray a mirror of the young girl's inner turmoil. "I'm sorry you have to leave us. For what it's worth, I'm not mad at you about Ezra. He's his own person, and he'll be rightly grounded for following you. But he's old enough to make his own decisions."

Amara's rigid stance crumbled, her shoulders slumping as she turned back to her bag. The fire in her eyes dimmed as she grabbed a crumpled shirt and shoved it into the backpack with unnecessary force. "It doesn't matter now, does it?" she said bitterly, her voice strained with the effort of holding back her emotions. "I'm being dismissed from the program. All that training, all that hard work, for nothing."

Analia sighed softly, the sound filled with empathy. She moved over to the edge of the bunk and sat down, the mattress groaning under her weight. The room felt too small, too filled with the heavy weight of Amara's regret.

"Amara, look at me," Analia said gently, but there was an underlying firmness in her tone that demanded attention. After a moment of hesitation, the cadet turned to face her, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, her jaw clenched tightly to keep them at bay.

"This isn't the end of your journey," Analia continued, holding her gaze steady. "You have so much potential, so much talent. I've seen it in the way you build Jaegers, the way you think on your feet. One mistake doesn't define you."

Amara blinked rapidly, her hands tightening into fists at her sides as she fought to keep her emotions in check. "I shouldn't have gone into that Jaeger," she whispered, her voice wavering. "I let my teammates down. I let you down."

Analia's heart ached at the vulnerability in Amara's voice. She reached out and grasped the young cadet's shoulders, her grip firm but comforting. "Listen to me, Amara. Every great Ranger, every successful cadet, has faced setbacks and made mistakes. What defines us isn't that we fall, but how we choose to move forward, how we learn and grow from those experiences."

She let go of Amara's shoulders and leaned back, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she recalled a distant memory. "Before I became a cadet, before the world went to hell, I was a nurse. A good one, but I was also young and stupid in those early years. One time, I misread a chart and almost killed a patient by giving them the wrong medication."