Author's Notes: And so it begins, my Hansen story! None of the other fics in this series are required reading - this is a "co-prequel" to the movie. It begins before the events of any of my other fics, but it will eventually merge with them. This first chapter is a little short, basically a prologue, but I will try to have weekly updates. Enjoy, and please remember to leave feedback!

Aurora Australis

Chapter One: The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

September 2, 2014…
Sydney, Australia…

There were many dramatic stories about Scissure. Hercules Hansen didn't like hearing a single damned one of them. But there was no escaping the fact that his family's sensational tale was bandied about in the press, in the pubs, and within the ranks of the armed forces who struggled to rally against the invaders.

Everyone talked about Hercules Hansen, one of the pilots who went rogue in the final hour and the desperate choice he had to make, to try to save someone in his family. Hercules Hansen, who single-handedly stole a helicopter to save his child and had to leave his wife to die.

Herc never talked about it, except to correct the tactless asses who dared to bring it up in his hearing: "I wasn't alone. Scott was with me. Without him, we'd never have made it."

That was his story, and he stuck to it for five years. For some reason, people didn't think it was as compelling a tale if Herc hadn't been alone. Hercules Hansen's hooligan younger brother being the one who'd helped him accomplish that heart-wrenching save didn't seem as romantic in the eyes of the media – and for years, even after they became Australia's first home-grown Jaeger pilots, Herc and Scott both knew it. The idea that Scott Hansen would have a side that cared more about family than chasing women and gambling on races didn't fit the role that the media (and their comrades) wanted him to play.

Herc knew different. At least, for five years, he thought he did.

To Scott's credit, however out-of-hand his tastes in recreation, he doted on his nephew and had always dropped whatever he was doing to help out when Herc and his family needed it. He could turn his attention from his gambling and his girls when the chips were down.

And the chips had never been further down than that day in Sydney.

When the countdown to the second bomb began for downtown, Scott was the one who punched out the second MP who'd tried to stop Herc from taking that Bell Kiowa. He dove into the co-pilot's seat. "GO!" He was watching the time as Herc pushed the old chopper to its limits. "Fuck. Fuck! There's not enough time - Jesus, Herc, we've got one bloody shot, and if we're not out of range, we're all dead!"

He didn't tell Herc what choice to make, and Herc didn't ask him.

He knew without Herc having to say where they were going when they veered towards the smaller buildings outside the financial center. He just checked their fuel reserves and weight. "Time?" Herc yelled as they descended onto ball field.

"Nineteen minutes. Keep the blades going. I'll get him." The door was open before they touched down, and Scott ran. His feet barely touched the ground.

There were school buses and a jammed mass of cars and minivans on the roads surrounding the school buildings. Nothing on the ground was moving. The air was an endless stream of desperate honks and screams of terror and desperation and the wail of sirens. There were other choppers in the area; Herc kept an eye on their rotors and their paths as some of them made for the school's playground to land. Some people ran towards them, pleading, waving wallets, infants and children in their arms, but Herc was blind to everyone else once he saw Scott again.

His brother was tearing back from the mob of people near the buses, still sprinting full-tilt with a wild-eyed, shouting bundle in his arms.

Chuck... Chuck. Herc's son looked more bewildered than scared, gasping something at his uncle, arms around Scott's neck. My son...

Scott was yelling at the people who were trailing after him, warning them off. " - we can't take more! That one takes eleven!" he roared, pointing at one of the bigger transports further down the field.

By some miracle, it wasn't a fight to get Scott and Chuck back in with Herc past any desperate crowds. People were still too confused to really battle for a seat yet. Scott hauled himself and Chuck on board and yanked the door closed, not bothering to buckle them in. "GO!"

"Dad?" Chuck croaked.

"Hang on tight, son," Herc warned, and relied on Scott to keep himself or Chuck from slamming into the windshield as he roared into the air, dodging trees, power lines, and other helicopters as if it were a combat mission.

Scott even managed to rein in the worst profanity as they were jolted against the bulkheads. He braced their young charge in a bear hug. "Shh, shh, you're all right now, Boyo." But his voice went grim and hard when he looked at the clock. "Eleven minutes."

Still in shock, Chuck peered over Scott's shoulder, eyes huge as he looked at his father. "Are we gonna get Mum now?"

Oh, god. Herc's hand hovered over the throttle as he turned them inland. Eleven minutes. There was already a massive plume of smoke rising above the city center... all the movement he could see was to the north side. That bloody motherfucker from hell had already made a few passes through downtown, and Herc couldn't even tell where it was at the moment. Scott had a radio to his ear with one hand, still bracing Chuck with the other. "Location?"

"Middle Harbor. Moving north, but..." Scott glowered out the window. "They're still saying ten minutes to detonation."

God fucking damn it. He opened the throttle and turned them southeast. As far as they could get. Away from Sydney. Away from that indestructible, godforsaken thing.

Away from his wife, away from the mother of his child. "Dad... what about Mum?" Chuck repeated.

"No time," he mumbled, keeping his eyes forward. Had to watch the radar, keep an eye out for crossing traffic. It was chaos out there. "There's a bomb coming. There's no time; we can't find her."

Forgive me, Angela.

Who was he kidding? Of course, she'd forgive him. She'd scoff and say there was nothing to forgive. Herc was doing precisely what she'd ask - what she'd demand. Angie would be screaming her head off if she thought he was even considering doing anything else. Saving their boy, getting her baby the hell away from this nightmare. She'd tell him to do precisely this.

He dared a quick look at his boy, with Angela's strawberry blond hair and a complexion lighter than Herc's ruddy color. Cheeks streaked with tears he didn't seem to realize he was shedding, staring at his dad in disbelief at what they were doing. Leaving Sydney behind. Leaving his mum to her fate.

How did you explain to an eleven-year-old that the movie monster ripping apart his home had probably already crushed his mother to death - if she was lucky - and even if it hadn't, they were all going to get incinerated if they weren't at least ten miles out in ten more minutes. Half the buildings in the city center were already down. Hell, that stinking thing had gone right over the school itself, judging by the destruction trail Herc had seen from above as he approached. Only its squat size among the larger buildings had saved it from being stepped on.

She's probably already dead. And even if she weren't, even if I had her on the phone, she'd be telling me to step on the gas.

Five minutes later, Scott was wrangling with the seat straps to get himself and Chuck locked in, and forcing Chuck to hide his face in his chest under his jacket. "Whatever you do, don't look around," he admonished the boy. "Herc. HERC! Glasses. You won't do us any good flash-blind."

Herc growled bitterly at him but let his brother shove the shades over his nose. Eyes squeezed shut, arms wrapped around Chuck with the radio propped against his ear, Scott counted. "Four... three... two... one..."

Herc took the measure of their nearest airspace and shut his eyes for the count of a few more seconds, just to be safe. If there were tears that escaped when he opened them again, well, the shades hid that too.

Only a little turbulence got them at that altitude. They were flying into a head wind. So that would spare them the fallout, blowing the worst of it out to sea. Scott fumbled at the radio for a few minutes as they went, aimless now, just putting extra distance between themselves and what was behind them.

Finally, Herc's brother mumbled, "Richmond Air Base is in the clear. They're calling all units and personnel who can hear to regroup there."

"Right." Sixty kilometers west of Sydney, RAAF Base Richmond would safe even if the nuke had been an ICBM with a couple of megatons. Herc had no idea how large the bomb had been, and didn't especially want to know. It didn't matter. Anyone still downtown when it had hit was almost certainly dead or dying.

Herc turned them in a long arc towards the northwest of Sydney, and Scott's breath caught along with his own when they saw the mushroom cloud. In Scott's arms, Chuck tried to squirm around, and Herc muttered, "No."

Scott tightened his grip, his chin on top of Chuck's head. "Stay where you are, Chucky. Just like I said; keep your face covered." They were well past the blast or the flash, but they both knew that wasn't what they to keep from Chuck now. Herc's brother muttered wearily, "It'll get around soon. Pictures'll be everywhere."

"I know," Herc replied. Chuck would see it, probably within a few days, this sight of his mother's death. "Not here. Not like this."

To be continued...

Coming Soon: Australia's military families struggle to move on after Scissure, and their PPDC liaison approaches Herc and Scott to attempt a far-fetched training for the new line of walking weapons being prepared to battle the kaiju. But if they both go, where will that leave eleven-year-old Chuck in Chapter Two: Priorities.

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