Chapter Text
The MDPP knew that the Kaiju had a base somewhere within the solar system. Over two decades worth of monitoring both their solar system and deep space beyond the Oort Cloud proved that all of the alien activity was originating from somewhere between Jupiter's and Saturn's orbits.
This was why they sent Jazz to investigate and hopefully scout out the area after unmanned devices failed to find anything, or just disappeared.
Bebop, Jazz’s mecha suit, was the first to ever be rated as space-worthy. She was equipped with advanced life support, hermetically sealed, and more sensors than the average three mecha suits combined. It took a year and a half for the upgrades to be completed and tested, during which Jazz was put through intense classes and training programs to learn how to use all the upgrades. He also went through the astronaut program to prepare himself for the challenges he would face simply by being in outer space. Sensor readouts, troubleshooting, and how to fix the most likely problems with what few supplies they were going to be sending with him.
One week before launch, directly after a Kaiju attack had been wrapped up, somebody leaked the mission specs. The fact the MDPP were doing a manned mission to space earned immediate media attention, making it common public knowledge in under two days. In an effort to control the situation, MDPP made a public announcement. On day three, Jazz was given extensive coaching on what he could and could not say before doing an interview with a large mainstream news channel.
Jazz achieved celebrity status overnight. Between his natural charm, wit, and clear bravery, many began lauding him as the perfect pilot. Coincidentally, pilot testing applications skyrocketed.
The actual launch became a bit of a horse and pony show, but Jazz didn’t mind the well-wishers. Maybe some of those thoughts and prayers would be the difference between coming home and going out in a blaze of glory - he would take what he could get.
The launch went smoothly, and using Earth’s orbit to slingshot himself in the correct direction only took a few hours. He was farther than the moon in under twenty-four.
For a month, he floated through space, travelling on momentum alone. The only sign of his progress was the gradual shrinking of the Earth and Sun. The other planets were pretty far away in their orbits, so he didn’t get to see them outside of using his telescope.
It was pretty boring. All he had for entertainment was taking readings with the equipment he had accessible on the spaceship, eating his dried meal bars, or doing course corrections with the tiny directional thrusters the ship was equipped with. He could also make reports back to the MDPP, but he made those as short and sparse as possible. Bleh.
His real job, the dangerous part, began when he reached Jupiter. He was still pretty far away from the planet itself, but the massive planet still loomed in the corner of his vision. If any Kaiju showed up now, he’d be a sitting duck.
Using the thrusters, Jazz slowed down to a crawl and carefully navigated the balancing act that was getting the ship caught in Jupiter's orbit without being sucked into the gravity well. The plan was to orbit to get readings from the far side of the planet, then slingshot his way back to Earth, just like he did when leaving Earth’s orbit. Once done, he got to do what he’d been looking forward to the entire flight: getting to fly his mecha in space.
The spaceship was custom-built for this mission, made to haul his mecha suit out here and be able to deploy and re-dock it in the vacuum of space. When docked, his mecha’s cockpit was nestled up against an internal airlock so he could move from one to the other safely.
Jazz flipped several switches that would make the Mecha suit begin booting up and start circulating air and heat. He composed a quick report to update Command that he was going to disembark from the ship, sent it, and decided that was long enough. He opened the airlock, climbed into Bebop, and closed it again remotely.
Getting hooked back into the mecha always gave him a little bit of pins and needles while his brain got used to having a whole new set of arms and legs to use. Once he felt ready, he turned off the mag locks and started backing out of the dock.
The spaceship looked fairly awkward when it opened, considering it had to nearly split in half to allow him to unfold his mecha from the pretzel it was in. He floated out slowly to prevent any collisions before putting some space between himself and the ship. He was outfitted with thrusters in his feet and forearms to aid navigation in zero gravity. Only a safety tether kept him from floating away from the ship.
Looking out at the vast emptiness of space from a tiny window on the ship was incredibly different from floating freely without anything hemming in his vision. Goosebumps crawled over his arms, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Suddenly paranoid, he did a thorough scan of his surroundings to ensure nothing was sneaking up on him. The only thing he could see from here was Jupiter and the slightly bigger star that was the sun.
He rolled his shoulders, readjusted his grip on the controls. The cockpit was still cold from the chill of space, slowly warming up as the redirected coolant from the engine flowed through the walls to warm it gradually. He took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Watched the fog from his breath dissipate.
The Kaiju had been coming in semi-predictable intervals of three to five months. He left a week after the last one ended, one month ago. In theory, he should have plenty of time to get readings, orbit around Jupiter's dark side over the next three days, and fly back to Earth as planned with three weeks to spare.
The same stars and emptiness that had frightened him now entranced him. He really was getting a view like no one ever had before. There wasn’t any light pollution to block his sight out here.
Fully calm, he booted up Bebop’s new sensor array. He had wondered, at first, why the vast majority of the sensors had to be added to his mecha and not the ship. The reality was that while his suit was nuclear-powered and not in any danger of running out of juice in the next 100 years, the ship had a limited amount of fuel that he needed to preserve for the flight back to Earth.
His back plate split into multiple pieces smoothly, releasing two ‘wings’ that each had about a hundred sensors built in, costing more than half of Bebop's initial manufacturing costs. They were pretty small compared to the rest of his suit. So small, the other Pilots at Base Gestapo started calling them his ‘fairy wings.’ He was just worried one would get dented or something and not fold back correctly when it was time to dock with the ship again.
Although they didn’t have tactile sensors like his arms, feet, and head, he still received a phantom sensation of a second set of arms moving as his brain tried to make sense of the basic motion data it was receiving.
He spun in a circle, watching the readouts he was getting until he found an angle that was receiving the most and highest initial numbers. Stopping his spin entirely was an exercise in frustration. Every time he made a tiny adjustment, he would start ~slowly~ turning in the opposite direction. The ship hadn’t had this problem earlier; he wasn’t sure why he was experiencing it now.
The only thing his mecha wasn’t capable of was transmitting back and forth with Earth. The radio transmitter and receiver he needed were too big and bulky, so they were mounted on the ship. It was also more practical for use during his flight, both to and from his destination.
A quick link-up later, and he received a notice from command that he was cleared to proceed with disembarkment, sent two minutes ago, long after he was already in his mech. With a snort, he made another report of what he’d been doing for the last 20 minutes. He could almost see Perceptor, his favorite scientist, salivating over every sensor reading and update. Someone should make the poor man some popcorn.
He also set the readings to start transmitting live, since that was the whole point of this jaunt to their celestial neighbour.
He reported in once an hour instead of once every eight, which was the standard while he was travelling. His only break was six hours while he slept on the floor of his cockpit. He couldn’t afford to rest much during the most important and dangerous three days of the trip.
Here's hoping that it will be an uninteresting three days.