Chapter 15
Rest for the Wicked / 'Saturn! look up and for what, poor lost King?
AEON
"The prevalent view of history would have you believe that the Second Cold War was a conflict between the democracies of the New United Nations, and the authoritarian states of the Middle East and China; a conflict over the rights of man. Such a view is, not to put it lightly, a falsehood. China liberalised heavily over the end of the twentieth and early twenty-first century, and the NUN, just like the UN and the League of Nations before it, would always put realpolitik
above the absolute values of human rights and personal freedoms.
The Second Cold War was the result of economics, not ethics. And the first blow was struck by the post-industrial societies of the so-called 'West'. How could it not be? Together, the nanofactory and the D-Engine wrecked economies globally. This was economic warfare on an unheard-of scale. Forget about tariffs and embargos; what do you do to deal with the man who tells you that he no longer needs the services which you have structured your economies to perform and who keeps the technology which makes it possible for himself, as far as he can? And even though the technology proliferated, the economic conditions in the post-industrial nations could survive the transition in a way that industrial economies could not. Imagine a black-box replacing the export trade, manufactured goods without a source, and the reason for that is clear. Between 2020 and 2035, the Chinese economy shrunk by a tenth in real terms, while the Western nations leveraged their edge into a great divide.
And we need not even get started on the details of the petrochemical economies of the Middle East, to realise that the D-Engine and A-Pod together were a knife into the back of the social order, and how the local oligarchs had to cling to China to maintain their personal power. Was there ever any question that there would be a rise in nationalism and protectionism, to protect their own struggling markets from drowning in nanofactory goods? Was there any question that an entire generation of men and women would have their livelihoods taken from them and grow bitter? As history has taught us, and they would have known, such conditions make for militancy. And yet the NUN actively promoted both technologies, without a care for how it would affect non-member states.
Why? Apathy, or malevolence; neither are palatable."
Pravlin Lal
"The Lies of History's Consensus"
POLLEN-Contaminated Zone – Central India
The howl of the wind was a thin whine, razor-high and promising pain to any outsider. Thunder cracked above, casting the dusty, ruined land in bruise-coloured light. The plants that survived in this once-fertile, now-withered land clung to the land around the river. Some of the iridescent, oily slick that covered its surface was manifesting yellowing leaves. There were patches of other growths, away from the water, but they were dark and lacking in the green chlorophyll of Earth. Instead, the sick fungoid bulges were painted in hues of blue, which ranged from midnight to midday's sky, and which sprawled weed-like across the terrain, covering the old cities and tearing the concrete apart from within. Low to the ground, a choking haze of toxic spores hung, whipped around by the movements of the air.
Within the security cordon established by the New Earth Government, the old world had been abandoned. The weapon emplacements and barriers and aircraft were to the west of here, though, for the r-state here was elevated enough that NEG technology frequently malfunctioned and ceased to work; the physical properties of the matter warped by the reality-state, turning delicate microelectronics to junk. Only the crudest technology could work at times, things with vacuum tubes which would have looked more in place a hundred and fifty years ago. This hellhole was left to the Rapine Storm, children of the Ruined King, the degenerate hordes swarming out en masse to dash themselves against the armies of the NEG and the Migou, who were no less determined to maintain quarantine than the forces of panhumanity.
And to the east, murky green-red clouds covered horizon to horizon, rising up high and cascading down from the heights, bringing with them the tainted land of Leng. A storm was coming.
Through the city overgrown with alien vegetation, a predator slunk. Larger than a car, it was roughly centauroid, although its forearms were overdeveloped such that it frequently used them for movement, knuckle-walking across rough terrain. Dropping lower, it continued to stalk its prey, a pack of feral dogs, twisted by their environment, but nonetheless surviving on what they could scavenge from those elements of the Terran ecosystem which survived here. Slowly, meticulously it moved, creeping through the ruins of the buildings, and up and down walls, until it was within range. And then the leathery-skinned beast charged towards the pack, which did not react one bit to the sudden blurred movement.
Perhaps in the beast's mind, it wondered about the complete lack of response. It was not that fast, after all. Surely it must have been seen, its movement must have stirred some suspicion. Why would they not run? But such approximations to thought were meaningless, compared to the hunger from its crossing of these barren landscapes and the desolate hellholes the forces of panhumanity made when they set up breakzones with arcanochromatic weapons. Vaulting up, it snatched at one thin, starved canine with a hand, bringing it towards its vertically-split maw, even as it crushed another one beneath its bulk.
Something was wrong. The one in its hand snapped, yes, bones crushed, but there was a terrible viscosity about it. Instead of squishing it properly, its hand sunk into the dog like it was made of tar. And the canine beneath it did not flatten; instead, it was a thorn, a hardened manikin of bone and carapace that the beast crushed down into the overgrown pavement, traces of red blood smearing the alien blue plants. From within the hand, there was a cacophony of whines, and the balding, unkempt fur of the dog lengthened, miniature copies of its head appearing, sprouting within its flesh. Howling, these mouths bit into the hand of the beast, tearing out flesh and doing what bullets could not have done, as barbed fangs injected the venom-that-was-its-self into the flesh.
And then the rest of the pack piled in. Maws and fangs and glowing opalescent eyes and tarry-black flesh intruded and tore into the intruder, and around it, growing from underground, the mosses and fungi born of Terra, within the clogged-up sewer systems blossomed forth, in tendrils streaked with chlorophyll green as well as the night-dark tar of the substance that every one of those things was made of.
The child of Leng tried to fight, but every move just drew it into the terrible predatory presence of part of the ecosystem of Earth, woken from billions of years of slumber by the resources and the physical laws needed for repair.
Repair, and reactivation.
"Ladies, gentlemen." Gendo Ikari's words were flat, level, and exquisitely professional. "Three Harbingers have been eliminated, and each time, as predicted, their target was London-2."
Oversight raised her eyebrows, red eyes glinting. "The calculations were correct," she said, flatly. "Procedure has been followed adequately, too; I can report that at no point have we violated our permissions. Representative Ikari is to be congratulated for both his efficiency, and his strict obedience to protocol. At no point has the Foundation been exposed to criticism due to actions he has authorised."
"Thank you." A pleasantry, but nothing more. Ranaby was an ally, but an ally was not a slave, and had he made any egregious errors that could have been smoothed over, he would not have been spared. But he had talked to her in private, and she had been pleased about how the situation with the Evangelions had improved the Foundation's status with the NEG as a whole.
"With that in mind, I propose that the requested authorisation for the Evangelion Group that, once evaluations are complete, they be permitted to move the Production Model to reinforce their assets. In L2," the Representative for Research said, shooting a glance at Gendo.
The man fumed inside. She had broken his flow, and he was sure it was intentional. "Seconded," he stated.
"What is the current status of Harbinger-2?" Oversight asked, drumming her fingers on the table.
"Harbinger-2?" Representative Rosaiah, Gendo's old superior for whom he had been Deputy Representative, frowned, the wrinkles deepening. "No signs of activity."
"So we won't have to keep Unit 02 on standby in Tokyo-3 case of sudden activity? It might have to be moved in to... remedy a breakout of containment, and Tokyo-3 is the n..."
The old woman sighed. "I really don't think it would make a difference in such a situation," she said, a hint of resignation in her weary voice, "while an extra Evangelion in London-2 will have concrete benefits."
And that was that. It was approved.
The Representative for Africa ran a hand over his shaven scalp. "Status of the European Front?" Aires Mocumbi asked, tone clipped. "How are repairs going?"
"Northern Europe is a mess," the Representative for Society, Jeltje Aschear, said, her tone harsh. The skin was drawn tight around her eyes. "The NEGA has taken heavy losses, and the NEGN lost the entire North Atlantic Reserve against Mot. The loss of convoys..."
"Up 34%, year-on-year," Finance interjected.
"Yes, thank you, Carmen," she continued. "Convoy losses against Migou interdiction assets have increased, and they're switching to a roaming-bird model, issuing more antimatter weaponry to their air assets."
"The Engel Group has had very promising results with the new Engel Species based on Harbinger-4," the Representative for Research said, adjusting her blue-tinted glasses. "With a proper air combat Engel, we should be able to..."
"But that's in the future," Representative Aschear interrupted, coldly. "We already have enough pie-in-the-sky Projects and Groups and..."
"The Shamshel has already reached the prototype phase. It will be starting testing within six months, at the outside," Ms Egger stated. "It's not 'pie in the sky'." She smiled, faintly. "Well, it's not pie, at least."
"... and what we need more of is conventional forces!" Aschear slammed her hand down into the desk, making her image shake as she knocked her own camera. "It is
logistics that matter, and if the Migou can choke us, split our lines of transfer to joined landmasses, then we are
defeated!" Gritting her teeth, the woman sighed. "I forwards a motion that the Ashcroft Foundation, as a whole, promote funding for the NEGN, with a
pro bono effort to get more factories capable of building more capital and corvette-grade hulls. We
need ships!"
"Then perhaps, Jeltje," Representative Egger said, with a twist of her head, "you could suggest that the Navy to stop wasting resources on things like Project Daeva, and put the resources into conventional forces." The corner of her mouth twitched up, and she shot a sideways glance at Gendo.
"That is not an option," he stated, ignoring her, and moving to take control of the conversation. "Project Daeva is the Navy's ploy against what they see as our undue influence in the fields of R&D, just as they also have Project Osiris to play against the Herkunft and Amunet Groups. It would be acceptable if they would just improve conventional weapon platforms, but what they have done is wasteful."
"Such... pettiness is foolish," the Representative for Research agreed. "Of course, the Evangelion Group going public will take the wind from the sails of Project Daeva."
The Representative for South America smirked, red eyes glinting. "It is a tragedy that the Evangelions will suggest that Project Daeva is obsolete before it even got out of the testing phase," she remarked. "And because of the methods used, individuals from Herkunft, Engel, Evangelion and Achtzig will be on their evaluation board. If they must fuse technologies like that, the NEG would be ill-suited if they were insufficiently safe."
"What a shame," Representative Egger agreed, insincerely. The Representative for Research grinned. "We did warn them that such a project was flawed from the start, and would be obsolete before it was finished, didn't we?"
Gendo smiled, face concealed behind his gloves. "Yes," he said. "Six years ago."
13th of October, 2091
Slumped on his desk, his headphones drowning out the sound of the rest of the classroom, Shinji Ikari was feeling both melancholic and annoyed. This was not exactly a rare occurrence. It was, in fact, common enough that he was aware that he was feeling like this, and the fact that he knew it was a common state of affairs was contributing to the annoyance.
For one, he was a child soldier being used as a weapon against horrific monstrosities, and worse yet, just because his particular blasphemy against all that was right in the natural world was damaged, didn't mean that he got to miss training sessions. They just put him in simulators instead. And today was a Wednesday, so he got to spend this afternoon in simulator practice, drowning in LCL despite the fact the fluid wasn't necessary for the practice session to work. For two, there was a guardian-teacher conference today, and he was just sure that either Misato would turn up in inappropriate clothing and thus embarrass him, he would be made aware by his teachers just how much he was lagging behind due to his 'illnesses' and the general lack of free time, or, he thought morosely, both.
And for three, it was his birthday today.
"Happy birthday to me," he muttered, slumping down further and letting the music wash over him.
From certain points of view, he might be said to be making a bit of a melodrama over it. Yuki and Gany had called him this morning, and he had received a very enthusiastic rendition of 'Happy Birthday' from a pair of six-year olds. His inbox had been flooded with the normal automatic birthday greetings from various companies and organisations, and some 'Happy Birthday' messages from people he had known back in Tokyo-3 and a few people here in London-2. He had, once again, received his present from his father. A fabrication template had been added to his personal Intellectual Property Library, just as one had every year before; a cold, sterile message accompanying the gift. It would be more meaningful if it
meant anything, if it wasn't, every year, an item recommended by Shinji's muse based on his buying preferences. It would also be more meaningful if it wasn't an Ashcroft fabtemplate, so his father had probably got a massive discount on it. The man probably had a subroutine set up to buy the present without having to become aware of the date, the boy thought bitterly.
He hadn't even scheduled buildtime for it on the nanofac. And that was despite the fact that he had wanted a new PCPU, because he was still using the borrowed one after his one had been crushed in the Harbinger-3 mess. The dull automation of the 'gift' from his father made it worse for Shinji than if he'd paid for it himself.
His fingers drummed out a repetitive beat on the table, as the sounds of the rest of the class washed over him. Besides him, Toja chatted loudly with a shorter
nazzada, discussing something which they'd seen last night, while Kensuke was hunched over his PCPU, an external keyboard plugged into the device, fingers clacking away. Towards the back of the room, Dathan, the one who Shinji remembered was heavily involved with the OIS Cadets, blathered on at a short
nazzady with a ponytail... Jony, that was her name, the one who had talked to him on his first day. She seemed to be mostly ignoring him. And at the front of the classroom, there was a quiet conversation going on between the Class Representative and the Student Council Representative, the two
amlaty looking more awake than most of the rest of the students, on the subject of plays. And their relevance to the class.
Shinji was pretty sure that he'd be able to get out of that. Put simply, he didn't have the time.
"Did you forwards the minutes to the drama club too?" Hikary asked her sort-of-friend.
Ayesha shrugged, tucking a stray wisp of hair back into her headscaff. "Yes," she said, her accent – a mixture of Nazzadi and Arabic – initially hard to place, and, if one were to ask male members of the class, rather attractive. "None of them have replied yet... anyway, I did cee-cee you in on it."
"I know. I was just wondering if they'd just replied to you."
A shake of her head. "No. Because they're drama club. And so all useless idiots."
"Be nice to them," Hikary warned.
Ayesha snorted. "No, we wouldn't want to upset the drama queens, would we? Well, yes, I would, but that was my own rhetorical question so I should probably shut up right now."
The Class Representative raised her eyebrows.
"Yeah, yeah," the headscarved girl said, flapping a hand at her. "Next question."
The raised eyebrows furrowed into a glare, before the
amlaty shrugged at her fellow xenomix. "Actually, I do have one," Hikary said. "Got any ideas for what should be put on the list? I don't."
"Nope," Ayesha said, drily.
"Helpful. Really helpful."
"Look, I'm only on the student council because it looks good on the list of stuff I do. I even stood on a policy of 'the student council has no real authority'." She rolled her eyes. "Making decisions would be against my campaign promises."
"I can't believe people voted for you," Hikary said, with a hint of sullenness in her voice.
The other girl pursed her lips. "Most people are idiots one way or another. And despite that, they still voted for the Truth. Even if it's a painful one for people like you who are
adorably idealistic." Her face suddenly went blank. "Anyway, don't worry. Surely you can just go ask Taly. I'm sure she'll be
glad to help."
Hikary groaned at that. "Not helpful," she muttered.
"What's not helpful?" the aforementioned
nazzady asks, drifting over to the table with a flick of her red-streaked hair.
"Nothing. It's not interesting. Please, go away Taly."
Two red eyes narrowed, and the taller girl straightened up slightly, glaring down at the two seated girls. "Okay, if you're going to be like that,
Horaki."
Hikary gritted her teeth. "I didn't want to talk to you."
"
I was actually going to ask you about plays and your opinions," Ayesha said, intruding before the conversation degenerated further. "Boring student council stuff."
"Okay, I'm interested," Taly agreed, before adding, proudly, "Remember,
Sola Homosapa oa Garemeta was my idea, last year, and it was a triumph."
"Yes," Hikary remarked, more than a little bitterness in her voice, "if you count the fact that we got marked down as a class, because of the fact that we did it, as a triumph."
"Says the person with
nazzadukivility issues who can't appreciate anything outside the dominant
anfrazzadi cultural paradigm which attempts to force homogeneity on..."
"That is not at all relevant!"
"Well, I'll leave you two lovebirds," Ayesha drawled, stepping back, and receiving two hostile glares in response. "Taly, just make me a shortlist, and I can go show it to dramsoc and see what they think."
"That's not helping, Ayesha."
"Yeah. Ha ha, I don't think. I'll do it, but... look, you're asking a favour of me, so could you be less of a... a bitch, okay?"
"My mistake," the other girl said, slumping down in her seat and pulling out her PCPU, while the
amlaty and the
nazzady resumed their debate. "Now, how long do we need to wait for the dramatic kiss?" Ayesha remarked, in a stage whisper, to laughter from the rest of the class, who apparently had been roused from their apathy and tiredness to watch the argument.
"Shut up, Ayesha!" came a synchronised response.
Shinji snorted, and rested his head back down on his arms, only to be roused almost immediately by a tap on his shoulder. It was an
amlaty, a pair of violet eyes staring out from under blue-streaked hair, a smile on her face. The boy blinked. Her name... name... uh... 'R'-something...
He forced himself to smile. "Hi?" he asked.
"Hey," she said, her hands folded in front of her. "Not looking forwards to the parents... well, guardians in my case... conference?"
"Trying to forget about it," he groaned, slumping down again.
"That bad?"
Shinji blinked. "Yes," he said, slightly more slowly. "Well, I've been... ill a lot this term, and I transferred late, and..." Shinji didn't mention the fact that he wasn't looking forwards to Misato being there for him to... damn it, still couldn't remember her name. Firstly, it wasn't actually any of her business, and Shinji had never been the most open of people. And, secondly, what was he supposed to say? 'I'm worried that my guardian might show up in a strappy top, and embarrass me in front of people, and then I'll have to put up with more than just Toja and Kensuke making eyes at her'? Better to stay quiet, and shrug. "Well. Yeah," he said out loud, looking up at the brown-grey skinned girl. "I don't know how sympathetic the teachers are going to be."
She nodded sympathetically. "That is pretty bad," she said, leaning forwards, slightly. "Listen." She hefted the PCPU in her hand. "I'm having a party on Saturday... it'll be an evening thing, so we can still have the afternoon for stuff, after morning classes. I'm inviting a lot of people, do you want to come? You're feeling better, right?"
Inwardly, Shinji groaned. He wouldn't
mind doing it, probably, but he had training scheduled then. As usual. Despite that Unit 01 still wasn't working after the damage that Mot had inflicted, and the fact that Unit 00 had been given priority for repairs because they wanted to get on Eva operational, they would still go and stick him in the entry plug, for synch tests. Which were fairly pointless, in his opinion; certainly, far more pointless than the simulator training that he did afterwards, because at least Shinji could see the reason that training in a simulator could be useful, rather than just sitting in the plug with his eyes closed, listening to the babble of people tracking a number, when he – which was to say, the Evangelion - couldn't even move. And another thing...
"Uh... hello?" the girl asked. "My face is up here."
Shinji blinked. "Sorry," he apologised, blushing, eyes raised from where they had drifted to when he zoned out. "Uh," he added, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I'll have to see if I'm free." He groaned. "And if I'm kept in... after this teacher thing," the boy added, as a spur-of-the-moment justification, which he was somewhat proud of. "I don't think Rei would be free, either."
The girl looked at him strangely. "Why would I inv... what, are you friends with her?"
"Uh. Not exactly friends, I mean we've talked a bit, nothing serious, she's quiet, no big deal... uh..." The boy trailed off. Probably best not to mention the whole 'nudity' thing. Or the 'saved each other's lives' bit, though for a different reason.
A pair of eyebrows raised. "Well, I suppose it's good for her to make friends; she's been in the class for years, and she just sits there, being... Rei. If you've managed to get through to her, that's more than I've ever managed." A shrug. "I'll send an invite to your gridlink... and hers too, then," the
amlaty said. "Try to make it if you can." With a nod and a smile, she drifted off, to talk to other people.
Shinji slid back down, shaking his head. That just wasn't fair. Now it was going to look like a deliberate snub when he couldn't make it to the party. And...
"Hey, Kensuke," he asked, leaning across, speaking softly. "Who was that?"
"That? You mean Reyokhy? Sounded like her," the bespectacled boy asked, without looking up from his own PCPU. "Blue streaks in her hair, got Hispanic blood on her human side?"
"Yeah, probably," Shinji said. "That is, yes."
Sliding a finger across the screen of his handheld device, Kensuke turned to face Shinji. "What'd she want, anyway?"
"She wanted me to come to a party on Saturday."
On his other side, Toja nodded. "Yeah, she does that sort of thing a lot. Her guardians are pretty lenient with her... and she is
rather hot. They're usually pretty fun... you coming?"
Shinji winced. "Probably not," he admitted. "I have... I'm going to be busy with practice, like I am every Saturday evening."
Kensuke snorted. "I didn't get an invite," he muttered, eyes flicking back down.
"'Cause that's a really big shock," Toja interjected, with a smirk. "Don't think you'd even go... or if you did, you'd stay in the corner with your MP."
"That's not true!"
Toja's eyes glinted, and he grinned, broadly. "Oh, wait, no. I remember now."
"Don't say it."
"You'd go and show off that you're a lightweight. And be almost catatonic after two beers."
Kensuke flushed. "Someone spiked those drinks, okay!"
"Weren't they cans?"
"You could spike cans by...like, changing the label!"
The door to the classroom slid open, letting in a cool breeze, and a pale figure padded in, her skin and hair a stark contrast to the black of the uniform's overcoat. In her hand was a pink slip, which she handed to the homeroom teacher.
"Medical appointment," Rei said, tersely.
"Oh, right, yes," the elderly man said with a nod, after scanning over the form. "Matches the email... okay, just sit down, we've already taken registration so..." he trailed off, as the girl stepped away, heading towards her customary seat at the back of the room. The noise of the classroom, which had dipped slightly, rose again.
Standing up, Shinji ran a hand over his face, and took a breath. Then he reached into his bag, and withdrew a book, an old-style paper one. It was better that he do this now, rather than wait until later.
If he waited, he might have to visit her home again to return it, for one.
Ignoring a slight sense of vertigo, no doubt from standing up so quickly, he made his way over to her. The girl had hung her bag up on her Desk, but had not booted it up yet, instead staring out the window to the artificial dome environment outside.
"Ahem," he said, clearing his throat. She wasn't going to look at him otherwise, it seemed, which was rather awkward. "Um. Uh. Sorry for taking so long, but here's your book back."
"Your opinion," Rei asked, in an unquestioning tone, still staring out the window. He was feeling a little discomfited by her continued refusal to make eye contact.
"I have... um... to admit, it didn't make much sense," Shinji admitted. "It seemed to assume a bunch of stuff I didn't know. I was a bit foggy at the time, because of the tiredness. And... well," he let out a short laugh, "...also the painkillers."
Rei blinked. "It is the third book in the series."
"I... see," Shinji said, slowly. One hand went up to massage his neck. "Yeah... that would explain a lot." His lips twitched. "Sorry. But... uh... why did you..."
"I am," the girl paused, for a fraction of a section, "fond of this book." Her hand reached out, thin fingers brushing against the cover. "It was a present. It feels right."
"Oh, okay." The boy looked around, eyes skipping over the
sidocy. He didn't follow why that meant that she had to give him the third book, rather than the first one. Maybe the others weren't very good. Or... yes, this
was Rei, after all. At least she had all her clothes on.
"Well... it was interesting enough," he blurted out, "and it'll probably make more sense once I read the plot summary and... thank you." He blinked, as Rei picked the book up, and, still looking out the window, flicked through it without a glance.
"It is not damaged," she said, after a moment.
Nervously, compulsively, Shinji brushed some imaginary dirt off his sleeve, and made a noise of agreement. "Well, uh, I'll be seeing you this afternoon, and..."
"Yes."
His flow slightly disrupted, he nevertheless continued, "... so I hope that, uh, the conference goes well for you."
"It will." She placed the book back down on the table. "My academic standards are satisfactory."
He snorted. "Mine aren't."
"Try harder." The words were cold and razor sharp, and Shinji almost bristled at their immediacy, before a motion out the window caught his attention. The doors, on the far side of the dome, which led to the adjoining train station had opened. Already, stationed in position across the school grounds were the bulky forms of power armour, three metre high figures that stood like silent sentinels. There was something disturbingly un-alive about them, a mechanical lack of motion which reminded the viewer that the human pilot was only a single component in the warmachine. The bulky, human-sized figures in SP-armour with their oversized weapons cradled in their arms were a relief.
Shinji was pretty sure that the ecstatic noise of glee to his left was Kensuke.
A motley crowd of adults was swarming through, now that their security profiles had been cleared; the delay enough to allow the youngsters to get in, and to their homerooms first. The mix of clothing they were wearing was quite in contrast to the regiments of black-overcoated students who normally passed through. Even from this distance, and through the window, Shinji could hear the buzz of automated speaker systems kindly requesting that they stick to the path and keep off the grass of the playing fields. He could also see that these requests were not being followed.
The parents and guardians had arrived.
Squinting, Shinji peered at the crowd. Was that... yes, that was Misato. At least she was wearing business dress, rather than, say, the strappy yellow top she tended to wear around the house, although, as she got nearer, Shinji was rather of the opinion that her outfit was a
little too form-hugging. And the top two buttons didn't look buttoned, if he squinted a bit.
He sighed, with a glance sideways at the other students at the window. Call him paranoid, but he was
sure that they were paying rather more attention to her than he would like. It was probably just...
"Wow," Kensuke exhaled, sliding open the window, camera in hand. "Major Katsuragi looks even better than she did the last time. And... zoo~ooom, wow. What I wouldn't give to see her in a full BDU, with a large gun... maybe even SP-armour!"
... right. Well, it seemed he wasn't paranoid, Shinji thought. The world really
was out to get him.
And then another cycle of motion, and a pair of scout mecha, painted white, emerged from unseen compartments built into the wall of the arcology dome. The figures, long-limbed, hybridising quasi-organic and utilitarian aesthetics, loped into their positions, over twice the height of even the bulky power armour, and set up a vigil.
If there was some small mercy, Shinji thought, it was that the sight of such things had distracted Kensuke from the sight of Misato. The other boy was making high pitched noises, and being harassed by Taly, to make sure that he was getting all the pictures of the mecha that he could.
But even that conversation was not enough to dissuade Shinji's line of thought, because he was fairly sure that there was only one man who could dignify such an excessive, and, frankly, showy display of protection and force.
A figure emerged from the entrance, flanked by bodyguards, dressed mostly in black, and wearing his customary arglasses. Even from this distance, Shinji could recognise his father.
He suddenly knew who the guest speaker would be this year. It wasn't as if... if that man was going to be there for
him.
A movement of white in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He looked over, to see Rei waving down, slowly and solemnly, each movement of her hand a precise tick of some unseen metronome. She was smiling slightly, her face unusually animated by her standards.
Shinji looked down to see his father wave back up at Rei, ignoring his biological son completely. He felt rage well up in his stomach, twelve years of suppressed anger at those horrible memories that he didn't think about from the second worst day of his life, immediately after the worst. Silently, he turned on his heel, and strode back to his desk even as the others stared out the window, his lips thin with anger.
With a sigh, Dr Ritsuko Akagi reached forwards, and tapped the paw of the waving cat before her, stilling it. Then, with a flick, she set the figure back into motion, and returned to her work. The messages from Tola and Sarany all needed a response, there was the conferencing with Dr Schauderhaft over in Chicago-2 about the Unit 02 demonstration, and then there was the nagging presence of the Ministry of War asking for more details about the Evangelions, requests from the Achtzig Group for data to update the strategic schema of the TITANs, the series of meetings with the Representative for Research, oh, and did she mention that she was doing this all with a lack of staff, because a considerable number of people had leave this morning, including Representative Ikari and Misato, meaning that several key people weren't answering emails, and...
There was a bleep, and the woman leant back, noting the caller ID displayed in the upper-right of her vision. "Yes, Maya?" she asked the Operator, nerves humming.
"The detailed analysis of the damage to Unit 01 has been forwarded to me, doctor," the voice of the younger woman said, even as her body floated down in the Operator dive tanks. "Do you want an abridged summary to be prepared, or I can send it straight to you?"
Ritsuko massaged her brow. "A summary would be lovely, Maya," she said, with a slightly forced smile. "I don't have time right now, but I need to know if there's anything important."
"Right away, Doctor Akagi!" Lieutenant Ibuki said enthusiastically, cutting the communication.
The dyed-blonde shook her head slightly. Maya was young... except she wasn't. It wasn't as if there was that much of an age difference between the two; maybe five years, at the most. But she
felt young. The fact that she, like all the Operators, had cybernetics woven into her spinal cord and cerebrum, didn't seem to have taken away from her natural liveliness at all. It was somehow... a little reassuring to have people like her around.
[Doctor,] said the emotionless voice of her muse. [New mail from Dr Sopheap, marked Urgent.]
Ritsuko sighed, mentally cursed, and got back to work.
It was dark in the main hall. For the majority of the audience, this was a mildly special occurrence, because the Ashcroft Representative for Europe had chosen to speak here, of all places, and rapt attention had been given to the speech.
Shinji narrowed his eyes at the slightly sycophantic laughter to the end of the speech. He was almost
certain that his fa... that the man was just reading it off the inside of his glasses, that he hadn't even bothered to memorise the speech. Bland, meaningless platitudes of... bland meaninglessness. Just as superficial and artificial as the man himself. They were even in the same building, and he hadn't even taken the chance to wish his son happy birthday.
He certainly wasn't about to stand for the round of applause which the headmaster called for. Shinji Ikari merely stayed seated, glaring at his father. Misato nudged him in the side, motioning for him to stand. He chose not to.
"That was a bit rude," the dark-haired woman said, afterwards, as they stood in the corridor outside the assembly hall.
The boy shrugged.
"I know you might not get on, but you could at least have stood," Misato remarked. "I mean, it's not normal for him to give this speech. It's not usual for the European Representative to take time out of his schedule. It's the first time he's done it, and you're here, so..." she trailed off.
"I don't assume my father does anything good for me," Shinji said, drily, trying to stop any other feelings from showing. "It saves disappointment later. In fact," he added, as a thought struck him, "he's probably only here because his Deputy Representative is ill. He is pretty old, after all."
Misato winced a little, a slight cold feeling running down her neck. It was true, Fuyutsuki was over in Geneva-A today, touring some new facilities, but that wasn't necessarily the only reason that Representative Ikari was here. Probably.
And to speak of the devil, here he was, striding past, with his eyes concealed and his jacket streaming behind him, flanked by the inevitable guards. Trailing behind him; cold, fragile-looking, was Rei Ayanami, her customary expression of detachment on her face. She felt, besides her, Shinji shrink back slightly, as that obscured gaze scanned from left to right, settling onto her.
"Major Katsuragi," Representative Ikari said, a factual statement of indemnity.
"Yes, sir." The woman stared back at him, trying to discern his intent, but his eyes were concealed to even the IR and UV of her Eyes. She couldn't tell if he was staring at her for Shinji, or, indeed, neither of them. Perhaps the rows of school photographs behind her were a sight of exquisite fascination.
He tilted his head slightly. "You are prepared for this afternoon?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," she repeated, retreating behind military formality in the awkwardness of this open place.
"Good." A hint of a nod. "I will be waiting. Now. Is it mathematics first?" he asked.
"Yes," said Rei, lurking behind him, hands limp against her sides.
"Okay." White-gloved hands flexed. "We will go see him, then." And he was off again, the crowd parting like the waters before him, no doubt aided by the armoured figures as well as the fact that he had been the one giving the speech. Misato watched him go, not quite sure whether the sheer normalcy of the conversation was disturbing or amusing.
She soon discarded that, though because the boy beside her had gone stock still, nostrils flared, his breathing forced. Misato paused for a moment, caught in indecision, before reaching down to take his wrist. She could feel the muscles corded like wire against the too-thin arm, feel it shake slightly with suppressed feeling, before it went limp. She squeezed his arm, in an attempt at reassurance, and it seemed to work somewhat, because the boy followed her lead, even if he said nothing.
"Come on," Misato said to Shinji. "Let's get this over with, eh?"
Hikary Horaki smiled to herself, as her father thanked the teacher who handled the Ethics modules. Once again, another glowing report. She couldn't resist looking a little smug, as, seated behind her, Kensuke Aida shuffled up with his father, but that was only for a moment, and she managed to suppress it as she headed down the corridor, confidently leading the way.
"Well, that was good," her father said. His deep voice was almost a rumble; his native Nazzadi accent was almost completely gone. "The Ethics modules aren't just a dead-weight; future employers, especially the Foundation, really do look at them. And universities are so competitive nowadays, especially for the high end."
"I know, Dad," she replied, looking back, her orange eyes meeting his red ones. "I do need straight A1s for everything. And... yes, I think it's English Lit next... that's Mr Daye, brown hair, brown eyes." She rolled her eyes. "A bit of a bumbling academic sort," she remarked.
"Thanks... I think I can remember him. Native accent? Fan of... oh, I can't remember the author."
"Yes, that's the one." Stepping aside, she nodded to Kaga and Tsuka, as their grandmother took the twin boys around, and smoothed down her skirt with one hand. "And it's Koch, the author he raves about. Early twenty-first... or maybe end of twentieth century."
"Ah." Her father let his hand brush against the wall, jet-black against pale blue paint. "Have I said what the current big thing at work is?" he mentioned, casually.
"Oh, Dad," Hikary sighed. "Let me guess... you finally got permission for a new school?"
"It's sort of needed, 'Kary," he said, a hint defensively. "The old surface schools aren't fitting for the modern era, and..."
"... it gives you a chance to get better facilities for the ghettoes?" she teased.
"Yes," the man answered, assertively. "The self-segregationist policies of too many of the poor Nazzzadi harm everyone, themselves included. I keep trying to persuade the L2 Board, in my role as Advisor, that the best way to break the cycle of poverty is..."
"I wasn't making fun of it," Hikary said defensively, a hand going to one of her pigtails. "You don't need to treat me as if I'm a political opponent or anything."
Her father winced, flashing chisel-like incisors. "I'm sorry," the
nazzada told his
amlaty daughter. "It's been getting rather heated, with those," he glanced around, "Nazzadi Culture League sorts around. And of course, I'm meant to be objective, so I can't let my dislike of them show. Even when I know that they'd keep us poor and unskilled if it meant that they could be 'separate' and preserve a culture which isn't even real." He sighed. "We're all human," he said, forlornly, "yet why do some of us fight it?"
"I
know how annoying they can be," Hikary said, a hint of weariness in her voice. "And, again, Dad, you don't need to speech-ify at me. Just... try to keep it down, okay?"
He grinned, then. "Heh. You sound just like your mother. And you'd be doing her proud right now with your grades..."
"Dad. Don't try to change the topic by bringing her up."
"Sorry."
~'/|\'~
Things were not going well, as they went from teacher to teacher, their reports all blurring into one another.
"While I understand the fact that he's been off ill," said the physics teacher, her face rigid, "the amount of homeworks and remedial works that he's missed means that he's severely lagging behind the class mean and the expected level for his year group. If he doesn't want to be looking forwards to resitting a year, he should step up his game
now."
"He's coasting," said the teacher who taught the Nazzadi language. "I'd guess that he's already fluent, and just took it as an easy option... oh, don't look so surprised." The dark-skinned woman folded her arms. "But even so, I expect the work to actually be done."
"His grasp of history is poor. He doesn't know what happened, or the roots of the current conflicts. If one does not pay attention to the past, how can one know what is happening in the present?"
"... and his presence has been responsible for several noted disruptive influences," was the opinion of the maths teacher, who seemed to be holding a grudge for some reason.
"To be honest, Shinji needs to try harder," the biology teacher said, clinically. "At the moment, he's just not doing well enough."
No, indeed things were not going well.
"Remind me why I can't be privately tutored?" he asked Misato, bitterly, as they headed off to the next teacher who was no doubt going to blame him for something that wasn't his fault.
The woman sighed. "It's complicated," she said, simply. "From what I can tell, the programme is really set up before... um," she looked around, aware of the fact that they were in an insecure location, "things really started to happen. So back then, getting a guarantee that you get to keep normal schooling was a good thing. But... we didn't expect for the timing to be what it was like. We'll probably look to getting you a tutor, though."
"Oh. Joy," Shinji sighed. That looked like it was more of his free time gone.
"And it does you good to be out and about and have a life of your own to worry about," she added. "Imagine how boring life would be if everything was easy."
"Yes. That's what I'm worrying about. Being bored."
Misato snorted. "That's the spirit," she said, with a grin.
~'/|\'~
The teacher crossed her legs nervously, and shifted, gripping the PCPU with her notes on tighter. She ran her tongue across her lips, and took a breath, swallowing yet again. Her eyes flicked between the cold grey gaze of her student, and the eyeless stare of her guardian.
"Um..." began Ms Sweet-Corazon. "So... Rei's performance in her physics modules so far this term..."
The girl stared at her, barely blinking. Representative Ikari was just as still.
"... her academic... uh... performance is good... excellent, actually, and... uh..." She shivered slightly. "Uh..." she continued, trying to steel herself, to continue along the notes that she had made for herself, "... I do believe that she has a certain attitude problem in lessons?" Inwardly, the teacher cursed. That shouldn't have come out as a question. But this man was
disconcerting. No wonder Rei Ayanami was as she was.
Before her, Representative Ikari tilted his head slightly. "Continue," he stated, one gloved finger going up to push his arglasses back up to the bridge of his nose.
~'/|\'~
It was the disappointment that was getting to him, Shinji thought morosely. A certain air of patronising disapproval, which indicated that they were being
very understanding about how much he was off ill, but he was
pushing their patience, and should
try harder to keep up. And he was fairly sure that he could track the teachers that his father had got to first, because he could feel them scrutinising him, as more than just another pupil. The one he wasn't sure about was the maths teacher, and Shinji suspected that the man probably hadn't forgiven him for being responsible for the heavily armoured soldiers breaking down his door to recover the pilot, for what had turned out to be a false alarm.
About the only person he'd seen who looked as bad as he felt was Taly, one of the girls from his class, who had been sitting sullenly beside a woman who looked barely to be in her twenties. The
nazzady's skin and red-streaked black hair stood as a stark contrast to the peroxide blonde human. He had exchanged a wincing, sympathetic nod with her, and received a smile in return, but it really wasn't that much.
And now this.
"Oh, Shinji is doing well, despite his illnesses," the balding man said, with a toothy smile. "He's not quite good enough for the first team, but with a bit more practice, he could be on the bench, eh, and he's doing a really good job keeping fit despite all those illnesses. I mean, I have to tell you, there's a boy two years below who's off all the time, and he's a spindly little thing, but Shinji has good physicals all around. Sound about right?"
"Yes," the boy replied, flatly.
The sports teacher missed any lack of enthusiasm. "A real problem with a lot of kids these days," he continued to Misato, his eyes rather lower than they should have been. "They just don't get the exercise. I mean, you really have to
try nowadays, and arcology life means if you don't go to the gyms... well, these younger lot, eh? They think diets are the same as eating properly and burning it off, and are all scrawny and useless at sports!"
Misato nodded. "Yes," she said, with a nod, as she looked him up and down. "I apologise for asking," the Major said, "but... you're ex-military, right? Infantry by the build?"
The man grinned wider. "Yep. Groundpounder all the way. Served in Ghana and was there for Madagascar. You? Look like a flygirl or an earthshaker, from the body."
"The second," the woman replied, with a smug grin. "Heavy assault mecha. Now on secondment to the Foundation."
The teacher laughed, a noisy exhalation of breath which drew stares from the other people waiting. "Listen, Shinji, that woman," he pointed at Misato, "is officially nuts. But in a good way," he added, with a sideways glance. "'Least flygirls are nice and up in the air. People like her?"
"What's the point in having time to know you're going to crash?" Misato completed.
"That!" The sports teacher ran a hand over his head. "Yes," he continued, "you're doing well, Shinji. Just try to be less ill, okay?"
"I'll try my best," the boy said, with a smile which was only a little forced.
Had he really sunk that low? Was he really looking for praise from one of the sports teachers? It said something about the day that he was having that Shinji didn't mind the depths he had sunk to. Even if it meant that to the teachers, he was 'not that bright, but good at sports', which sadly wasn't enough at an Ashcroft Academy.
~'/|\'~
Ryoji Kaji leant back on the hard chair, PCPU in hand, and idly scrolled through channels. Asuka was in the changing rooms, getting dressed in her plug suit, and... he stretched out and yawned... it was too early in the morning to be up and about like this. With a groan, he pulled himself to his feet, and went in search of something that did coffee. He would ideally like a cafeteria, but he would settle for instant coffee, if needs be.
Well, actually, he would ideally like a extra-hot, no-whip, white chocolate macchiato served by scantily clad ladies who would also be willing to give him a massage to remedy his stiff back, but the chances of him getting that on this military base were... not good.
Flicking through, he selected the NABO News channel, and spared a glance at the elegantly coifed man reading the early morning news. A flick, and he purchased the rewatch, and then turned the screen off, ambling idly through the halls. He stroked his chin. He needed to shave, Kaji thought; the stubble was getting to the stage where it was stopping being stubble, and starting to be a beard. Well, he hadn't had time early in the morning, and Asuka had been hogging the bathroom.
Of all the things that he had found as her temporary guardian, all the oddities and abnormalities, she was still very much a teenage girl in that one particular aspect. And a few other ones.
There was a bleep as Kaji scanned the chip in the back of his hand, and the vending machine hummed and whirred, and eventually spat out an overpriced cup of hot chocolate. The man took a sip, and grimaced. They'd been out of coffee, and this wasn't good at all. Still, at least it was warm, and would do something to keep him awake. He checked his PCPU again, and noted the new message. Switching to harcontact mode, the lens fused to the front of his eyeballs initialised, and he sat down, drinking his vile drink.
Because, as the news had been going on, all sort of clever technology behind the scenes had been associating a squirt of noise into the public datafeed with a one-time pad on his PCPU. And once the decyption was done, he now had his orders.
[Agent Doorknob. Approval has been given to your transfer. The resources are in place. Pathway is open at ABN on assigned date.]
Well. This was it, then.
The spoon clinked against the side of the cup of tea. Weighting the teabag, Shinji stared down into the brown depths, before letting go. It still had to be left to stew for a while.
"See," Misato said, through her mouthful of noodles, "... that wasn't so bad, was it?" The chatter of the cafe around them, located deeper than the school, but still in the main portion of L2 rather that the Geocity, was a constant background noise. In his school uniform, he stood out among the neatly dressed professionals. He suspected, strongly, that if it wasn't for the bodyguards he was sure were all around him, he would have been asked why he wasn't in school by the ArcSec officers on the way here.
Misato blended in perfectly.
Glowering slightly, lips pursed, Shinji nonetheless nodded, and agreed, because it seemed like the easiest thing to do. "I suppose not," he said, tapping his fingers against the synthwood surface of the table. He couldn't resist adding, "And, of course, they wouldn't be complaining if they took into account how little free time I have, and how much time I've been..." he sighed, looking around the public area. "How much I've been ill this term."
"Yeah, well." A half-shrug and a slurp as she took another mouthful of noodles . "Come on, Shinji, eat your soup," the dark-haired woman said, changing the topic. "Or drink your soup or... is it thick enough to eat, rather than drink? Anyway. You've got a busy afternoon ahead." She paused, tilting her head slightly. "And," she added, more gently, "I think you did okay."
"Really?" Shinji asked, cynically.
"Yes," Misato said, her voice definitive. "Certainly much better than I was doing at your age." There was a slight silence, before she added, "And... look, speaking as... well, in my role, I... I'm sort of asking you as a favour here, don't take it personally against Rei. He's her guardian, so he had to attend." Except he didn't, she knew, considering his position, and she resolved to look into it a little deeper. There were certain... similarities in appearance between the First and Third Children, beyond their ethnicities, after all. "Blame him if you want to, but... try not to feel jealous of her."
"I'm not jealous," Shinji snapped. "She's welcome to him."
Misato declined to comment, and instead chose to change the subject. "Come on then, eat up."
The boy grumbled, but complied. Fishing out the teabag with a spoon, he took a sip, and then moved onto the soup, scooping up a chunk of protein in the first spoonful. It tasted of chicken. Not like the LCL that he would be spending the afternoon breathing, and swallowing, and tasting. It never got better. Although that reminded him;
"Misato?"
"Hmm?" She seemed to be slightly wary.
"Um." Playing with the spoon, he tapped it against the side of the mug, until he realised what he was doing, and stopped. "I... that is, I've been invited to a par... to do something with some friends this weekend, and I was wondering if I could be excused from... that is, if I can go. I mean, uh, I'd just be doing things on computers, rather than for real, and so it doesn't really count in the same way, does it?"
He noticed the way that Misato stiffened up slightly, her face rigid and mask-like. "Your activity schedule is fixed; you can't just have time off," the Major stated, her voice flat. "Especially... well, we can talk about it when we get down to the Geocity, yes?"
With a groan, mostly suppressed, Shinji nodded. It wasn't like it had been too likely that he would have got to go, anyway, was it? He was a hero saving panhumanity, apparently, and seemingly that meant that his time was state property. If... if only they sort of understood that there was a person at the heart of the giant ACXB war machine.
"If it helps, I'm sorry for this." The cold expression broke, and Misato grinned. "And," she added, with a grin, "there's going to be something interesting for you to see down there. It might change your mind about a few things."
Shinji sighed inwardly. That sounded like it was going to be unpleasant, no matter what Misato thought.
It was early morning in Chicago-2, clear and warm. This was not directly relevant down in the deep military bunkers, which remained at their constant light levels, but the bright autumnal day was somehow pervasive, even down here.
"Ah, it looks good, Captain. We have clearance confirmation on the test; security cybirds are in place, and report an all-clear for hostile unmanifested ENEs," said Dr Shauderhauft, drumming his fingers against the wall as he stared at the weather projections on his bulky argoggles. "We're going public, and it looks good for us. It's a brand new day, and the sun is high." Perfect weather for such a public demonstration, as they both knew.
The Deputy Director of Operations responsible for Unit 02 groaned, elbows resting on the railings, as he stared at the titanic face of the Evangelion. It had been repainted in a flat military grey for this test, and it made the behemoth feel somewhat soulless. "You better not be slipping," he muttered.
"Huh?"
"A single technical mistake and everything could go wrong. Everybody will be watching. And if this goes wrong, I'm blaming you, Wilhelm."
Plug suit already donned, cowl down, A10 clips in place, Test Pilot Soryu made a disgusted noise. "It won't go wrong, Captain Martello," she said, her tone clipped, eyes jumping between the two older men. "I will make
no mistakes, and my test display was
perfect."
"Well." The shrug, and the tone of voice said everything to the teenager, and she bristled, before forcing herself to relax in front of her superior.
"Were there any flaws in
my performance in the test run,
sir?" she asked, letting a hint of sarcasm creep in.
"There
is such a thing as overconfidence."
"Indeed there is," an older man said, the click of his shoes echoing in the storage bay. In the brightness of the storage facility, his dark suit, the shirt a deep, deep red sucked at the light, the authorisation entopics floating around it visible to anyone tuned into the right band.
"Ah." Captain Martello cleared his throat. "Uh, Professor Sylveste. What are... that is, this is a restricted zone, and..."
"... and I am no longer a member of Project Evangelion?" the man asked, one eyebrow raising elegantly. And then he waited, his silence uncomfortable for the staff of the modern Evangelion Group.
Asuka smirked.
"Have you come to wish us luck?" Dr Shauderhauft ventured.
"Luck?" A twitch of the mouth, a crinkle of the eyes. "No." And then a faint sneer creased his face. "Luck is for people who aren't
good enough. If I was here to wish you
luck," and the disgust was evident, "I would be telling you that I think you needed it."
"Oh,
thank you, Uncle Cal," the red-blonde girl said, a smile on her face. That was high praise from him, and she treasured it. He was one of the few people who she could accept such words from as genuine and earned. "The captain seems to have his doubts, but," she giggled, a girlish and unprofessional display of emotion, "I suppose he just hasn't been involved with the Group
long enough."
"I think..."
"You may be right there, Asuka," the man with the rust-coloured hair said, smiling. "Now, I would like some time with Asuka before she is loaded," said Calvin, tilting his head. Despite the phrasing, it was not a request. And although he was not part of the Evangelion Group any more, he had been part of the original Project, and was the head the Herkunft Group, a man who, together with Naoko Akagi, had been instrumental behind the LITAN system in the Eva. Such an individual was not a man one wished to needlessly aggravate. "Alone."
The man and the girl stood alone in silence, until they were the only two standing there. Just as the Captain had before him, Dr Calvin Sylveste sighed, and stared at the mask of Unit 02. "You know," he said, glancing over to Asuka, but his voice soft as if he were almost talking to himself, "I never thought this day would come."
"Why not?" the girl asked, with a half-shrug. "You shouldn't be so pessimistic, Uncle. I was always going to be good enough for the Evangelion Project to go public... in fact, I was good enough two years ago. It's just they
finally seem to have decided to acknowledge it."
The two of them stood in silence, before the man sighed. "Asuka," he began, "before you go, before the demonstration... I had intended to give this to you on that dinner we had together, but..."
"... but a Harbinger interrupted," the girl interjected.
"... yes. And there never seemed to be the moment." There was a snort. "That was the real reason for the dinner," he said, darkly. "But, here."
The box he passed to Asuka was rosewood, and from its weight and feel, it was genuine, not just a thin texture imprinted on plastics. Even through the thinner material at the fingertips of the plugsuit, she could feel the whorls and bumps; a sniff, and the scent of old varnish filled her nostrils. The sides were engraved with a recurring ribosomal motif. After a moment's examination, she flipped the catch at the front, and her eyes widened at the contents.
Within the archaism of the ancient box was a fully modern containment unit, sealed utterly by the fact that it had been constructed around the thing that was to be protected. Through the adamant faceplate, Asuka could see something brownish and curved, part of some greater object, like a piece of pottery or...
"... a skull?" was her response, as she lifted the sealed unit out of the box. Now that she could see more of it, it was clearly a skull, one of an adult, with the lower jaw bone missing. The bones were the colour of mud, and one of the eye sockets was heavily damaged, the jagged breaks a contrast to the smooth curve of the other socket.
"Yes."
Her blue Eyes met his, one eyebrow raised. "Why? Why would I want a skull piece? And
who's?"
Almost reflexively, the man ran a hand through his rust-coloured hair, now greying from age. "No one you know," Calvin remarked, the corners of his eyes crinkling up, although the girl could see the disappointment in his eyes.
Asuka flinched at that. She
hated to disappoint Uncle Cal, and her breath sped up, her mind whirring. What did he want? What did he expect her to know that she didn't and what had she missed and what was she doing wrong and
what did she need to do to make him happy again and...
"Unless you're about 170,000 years old, of course," he added.
She let out a breath. Information. Yes. A clue. He was letting it out and she had to work it out and... "Archaic
homo sapiens," she said, Eyes narrowing, as she tried to control her breath. "No... 170,000 years ago, that's... there are both archaic and anatomically modern examples at the time." She gazed up at him. "I... I don't know. There isn't enough information yet."
There was a gentle sigh from the man. "Asuka, I'm not trying to test you."
He
always did this! He always tested her. What did he want? What game was he playing right now? What did he
want? "Looking at it... I d-don't think it's an ape one, and..."
"Calm down." There was a slightly sharp note in his voice, now. "It's a present." The man glanced over at Unit 02, running one hand along the neatly trimmed beard. "Yes, it's an example of anatomically modern
homo sapiens, from around 170,000 years ago; part of the skull."
Asuka stared down at it. "Well... um." She swallowed. "Thank you." There was an awkward silence. She glanced up at the man, who was staring back at her, as if looking for some other response. "Thank you very much, Uncle Cal," she said, before closing it, and giving him a hug, which he seemed to freeze up at, not shrinking away, or reciprocating. "I... I can't say I was expecting it, and it isn't my birthday for a while, but... yes," she continued, her voice growing stronger, "... today is a special day, after all."
"You're welcome," he said, finally, before smiling. "Your mother gave it to me as a present, before you were born," he continued. "About two years before... yes, that would have been in '73 or so. You're old enough, and you've grown up enough that... well, especially today, I felt I should return it." And then he returned the hug, hands clad in sterile gloves squeaking against the outer material of her plug suit. "Kyoko would have been proud to see how you turned out," he said, staring over her shoulder at the four eyes of the Evangelion. "Even without her influence."
Asuka bit her lip, and hugged tighter. "Thank you," she said, voice soft. And then she looked down, and coughed. "Um. Can you hold on to this for me, Uncle Cal?" she asked, as she let go of him. She ran her hands down her body. "Sort of lacking pockets here," she explained, with a smirk.
"Oh. Yes. Right. Of course."
Footsteps behind them. "Asuka," Kaji said, a half-smile on his lips. "They want you in the plug now."
"Oh, good," the girl said, spinning to beam at the ponytailed man. "You'll be watching, won't you, Kaji? A chance for them to see how amazing I can be, and you can be my lucky charm, yes?"
"Sure, why not?" The man shrugged. "Of course, I'm not allowed into the entry plug, but I'll be in the stands."
Asuka grinned. "Okay!" she said, over her shoulder, as she skipped over to the entry port. "I knew you'd be there, and this is going to be good! Just watch me closely, Kaji!"
The GIA agent was uncomfortably aware of the head of the Achtzig Group glaring at him.
"01-Nerv reports green on limited synch test, although activation is sealed off due to damage."
"00-Selee is fully operational in Unit 00 and is ready."
"We have confirmation that both Ouranous LITANs are green, Dr Akagi."
Shinji hiccupped, and tasted bile in the LCL that filled his mouth, before it was washed away by the all-consuming tang of the orange fluid. Of all the things they made him do, carrying out synch tests in Unit 01, when it was still heavily damaged and inoperable, was probably one of the least painful. That didn't make it not-pointless.
"Ready," he informed Misato, flexing his fingers around the butterfly grips. "Let's get this over and done with, so you can stick me in the training simulation. And then it can be time to shoot at Asherah. Again."
Major Katsuragi appeared in his left eye. "Actually, no, we'll be doing something different."
Shinji blinked. "Oh joy," he said. "Of course, you'll be adding Mot to the training simulators now.
"No, I..."
"That was my favourite bit, the bit when the bomb went off in my chest. Even better than the bit when I got shot and died." He swallowed. "I
do hope that I get to do it again."
A second window joined the first one. "That is not true, Test Pilot Ikari," the milky-skinned girl stated. "You do not wish to do so again."
The boy's eyes narrowed and he looked away, hands clenching around the butterfly controls. He... he wasn't sure how he felt about Rei, now. His previous confusion had collapsed into perplexity. She was brave and mentally strong and he owed her his life and she
had bought him a book. But she was also off-putting, and above that, his father seemed to pay more attention to her than he did to him. The man had attended
her parent's day, and ignored him even when they were in the same class. The boy had seen him smile at her; he had never seen that. And she had
hit him when he had said something which, if it had been said about another man, would have been an insult, but which for his father was merely a statement of fact.
Shinji Ikari understood, intellectually, that it was not Rei's fault that his father only ever wanted to use him, and would bribe him with casual offerings to obtain loyalty, but never give him anything that mattered. That didn't change how he felt.
Why
would his father effectively adopt a
sidocy like her, anyway?
"Look left, Test Pilot Ikari," instructed one of the Operators, intruding into the conversation. "We want to check the vision calibration, because Nerv isn't synching with the superconducting QUI devices... they're still in damage-constrained mode. So just look at the red lights when they appear... sorry, Major, but we're going to have to go to Audio Only for this."
"Okay," the Major said. "So we're going to
not put you against a sim of Mot, okay? Feel better?"
A bit, the boy had to admit.
"This is going to be purely conventional training, against smaller targets... man-sized to tank-sized," she continued.
"Look left, Ikari. Please," added the operator, running the checklist.
Shinji complied, but groaned. "Dealing with smaller enemies?" he asked. "What's the point of that?" He squeezed tighter on the control yokes, wanting to get the synch test over and done with, so at least he could get out of the plug of this damaged Eva. "I'm
not a soldier. And the Harbinger are giant... giant evil monster-things which are Eva-sized. You're just trying to..."
"Yes, because of
course the Harbingers will always have the decency of showing themselves at a scale that you can fight them properly," Ritsuko snapped. "But, oh, fine. I'm sure you'll enjoy it when you're swarmed by... oh, say, car-sized centipede things that can cut through an AT-Field."
"Oh." Shinji winced. That did actually make sense. "So I'm going to be practicing against that kind of thing?"
"... Ikari, I'm going to need a check on the vertical alignment. Please don't frown. And try not to make facial expressions," ordered the Operator, and he complied. "Okay, look up." Not making facial expressions was, in the boy's experience, harder than it seemed when one was talking with Ritsuko Akagi; nevertheless, he looked up to the red light at the top of the screen.
"No," the blond said, her voice clipped. "That will be initial training, so you will be practicing a mixture of anti-armoured-vehicle and anti-infantry tactics, in the simulator, using your mean synchronisation value for combat effectiveness and Evangelion behaviour."
"Bottom right, Ikari. Please look as soon as you see the red light."
"This is also to teach you how to use your LITAN better, Shinji," the Major added. "Nerv is meant to handle the anti-infantry systems, but it still needs guidance. Rei'll be working, independently, on sync and AT-Field control, so you will be on your own. We'll be using Migou units as the OpFor," she continued. "They don't act quite in the same way as normal vehicles, and..."
Shinji pursed his mouth. "Okay," he said, unwillingly, "... and you think that I might have to fight them." It... yes, it seemed fairer that way. The Migou were a threat, after all, and it wasn't like they were people. As long as they didn't plan to use him as a proper soldier; he
had read the contract he had signed, and it was clear that as a Test Pilot, he was restricted to anti-Harbinger deployments, except in cases of immediate attack.
"Yes." The black-haired woman's words confirmed his suspicions. "Unit 02 has already seen field use in emergencies on the Eastern European Front, and we can't be sure that the Migou won't try to take out the Evangelions. They've tried before."
His eyes widened. "Tried? When?"
"It doesn't matter," Dr Akagi intruded. "Suffice to say, we are not wasting your time with this." The woman coughed. "Now, if you could just hurry up and set up the Costal Urban Arctic sim, Maya, then we can get started." The blonde cut the link to the plug, tapping her fingers on the control console in front of her, with the sound of calibrations in the background.
"Nervous?" Misato asked, resting one hand on her shoulder. "The 02 test?"
Ritsuko slipped away with a shrug. "No," she said, flatly. "I trust Schauderhaft enough to know that there won't be any mundane problems with the Unit, and there's no point worrying. I can't change anything, so I should just accept it, and make the most of it."
"Bet you're biting your nails, though," the dark-haired woman said, with a faint grin.
"I am not!" Ritsuko protested, balling her hands into fists to prevent any examination of her fingers. She sighed. "Although I'm going to have to get my roots touched up," she added. "Haven't had time, and I'll need to be looking good for Saturday. It's just such a waste of time, though."
"Which bit?"
"Precisely," the scientist said to her old friend, with a sigh.
Dr Calvin Sylveste leant against the wall, the light recess preventing the breeze from stirring his immaculately coifed rust-red hair. Besides him, the man from the GIA, his blue shirt unbuttoned, lit a cigarette, and sucked in a breath. The slight wrinkling of the scientist's nose was testament enough to what he thought of Ryoji Kaji.
Nevertheless.
And it was in the mood of 'Nevertheless' that the silence, which was hostile on Sylveste's part, and inattentive on Kaji's part, continued. In fact, the red-haired man was pretty sure that the agent was wearing softcontacts and a subvocal microphone, and was doing something in a little world of his own. They needed to talk.
"Ryoji Kaji?" he asked rhetorically. "You are with the GIA?"
The ponytailed man blinked heavily, and turned around, his eyes focussing on the scientist. "Huh?" he asked. "Oh, yes. Office of Administration only; I'm with Human Resource Protection."
That was almost certainly a lie, and Dr Sylveste made a mental note to see how far he could probe this man's background to find out what he really did. "One might query why a member of the GIA is assigned to bodyguard duties, as the guardian of a teenage girl," Calvin remarked idly.
A smile and a shrug from Kaji. He knew the other man knew exactly why; he suspected that he knew that he knew, too. But that didn't make asking someone who'd just said his job was with Human Resource Protection why he was Protecting a Human Resource any less inane. "She is a high value target," he said. "Her safety is rather important, and," another shrug, "I'm primarily her guardian."
Behind the bland, smiling mask, the agent was letting none of his opinions of Dr Calvin Sylveste slip. It would be enough to say that they would not be polite.
"You
are aware of Asuka's... infatuation," the other stated, Eyes narrow, as he raised one hand to stroke the rust-coloured stubble that decorated his jaw.
Kaji winced, and nodded. "Yes," he said. "Whatever else she is, she's a teenage girl. Emotionally
and physically."
"And you're keeping
both of those facts in mind?" Sylveste asked, words slotting into place with mechanical precision. "That she is
sixteen, and no matter how she acts around you, it is
only teenage hormones, and so she's not being rational about it?"
The younger man was not smiling any more. "Don't take me for either an idiot or some kind of predator," Kaji said, his voice dropping. "She's half my age, someone I'm tasked with protecting," and suddenly the genial smile was back, "... and, anyway, I prefer my women curvy and experienced, rather than bony, still-awkward teenagers." He waited to see what the response to that baited statement was.
The injection of humour produced no visible shift in the scientist at first, besides a slight tightening of the muscles around the edge of his Eyes. Nevertheless, the feel of the atmosphere shifted, and after a moment's contemplation, Calvin Sylveste nodded. "Good. Just so we have it clear. She'd mentioned you repeatedly, but I hadn't seen how she acted around you until just then."
"I'd heard of you, too, from her and others," Kaji said, casually.
"Ha! Good things, I hope."
"Asuka seems to... well, look at you as a father figure," the agent said neutrally, eyes flicking across the other man's rust-red hair and complexion. And, yes, that was something he had wondered about. That wasn't who her father was recorded in her profile, and the lengths that one would need to go to, to conceal something like that, would be extreme, but... "She only has the highest regard for you," Kaji said.
The smirk on the scientist's face suggested that he had noticed the evasion. "I've known her all her life, and I'm the closest thing she's had to family since Ky... since her mother died," Calvin said, a hint of cold defensiveness creeping into his voice, despite his expression. "She lived with me when she was younger, back before my wife died, as you quite well know."
The agent nodded, smiling. "Yes." Time to change the subject. "And, of course, I'm fairly sure how much this means to her."
"Oh, yes. It means a lot to me, as well, but..." Calvin Sylveste trailed off. "Excuse me," he said, straightening up, with a somewhat predatory look in his eye. "We can talk later; there's someone else I need to talk to." Hands in pockets, with an almost insultingly nonchalant swagger, he made his way over to the
nazzada who had just moved into sight. "Oh, Tokita," he drawled. "It's wonderful to see you on this fine morning."
Two red eyes narrowed at that. "Ah," the man said, clearly repressing a shudder of annoyance, and Sylveste's smile grew. "Dr Sylveste. How nice to see you."
"I know, I know." The auburn-haired man flashed a glance to the side, up at the sky. "Hmm... looks like it should be clear for at least the morning, wouldn't you say?"
"I suppose so."
"But of course." He inclined his head towards the woman accompanying the
nazzada, in her early twenties and dressed in the uniform of a low ranking officer in the New Earth Government Navy. "I get ahead of myself. Tokita, please introduce us."
The
nazzada, the head of the NEGN Project Daeva, straightened up subtly, taking a step back from Dr Sylveste, who was leaning in. "Uh... yes. Sylveste, this is Lieutenant Mana Krishima. Mana, this is Dr Calvin Sylveste, head of Ashcroft's Achtzig Group, and..."
"That's the AI one, isn't it?" the woman asked him directly, in a slightly distracted-sounding tone.
"Indeed," Sylveste said, running hand along his neatly trimmed beard. "Tokita also forgot that I have the Yi Prize for Advances in Cognitive Neuroscience, the Dyson Prize for Computer Mind-Theory, and have a history of getting on his nerves," Calvin continued, in the same cheerful, friendly voice that, if one were not to listen to the words, would sound amicable. "Well, no, I flatter myself."
"He's an egotistical, arrogant, smug..."
"... exceptionally intelligent, gifted, talented..."
"... self-righteous Ashcroft type, basically," Tokita concluded. "And... why is he even here? I was under the impression that this was meant to be the test of some new Ashcroft prototype weapon, not anything to do with the Achtzig Group... unless you've loaded one of your precious TITANs on board?" he hazarded, fishing for information.
"Heavens no," was the response. "This is a personal matter, why I'm here, to give support. And, no, it's not a TITAN on board; it's cruder than that, and nothing that the Achtzig Group has made," Sylveste said, with misleading honesty.
Tokita relaxed subtly. "I've been hearing about this 'Evangelion' prototype," he admitted. "I have to say, it's a little mean-spirited of the Foundation to schedule this on an emergency, when you damn well know that our thing is scheduled for this weekend. Of course," he snorted, "maybe you're just afraid of what our Daeva will do, eh, Mana?"
"Maybe, sir," the woman said dreamily.
The expression of Calvin Sylveste's face was studiously blank. "We will see," he said, before glancing down at his watch. "Only a few minutes to go," he said, staring out over the testing grounds.
~'/|\'~
Sirens sounded. They were not the high wail of an evacuation notice; no, they were the precautionary sounding of a prearranged alert. Yellow lights lit up within the hollow bowl-shape of the testdome, cascading along the walls, while emergency floor markings directed the way to the nearest halt-point. It was merely a safety precaution, because no-one should have been inside the testdome by now, but it was still protocol.
"Cameras are check-lit green. All rolling, and we're pseudo-live. Transmission status check?"
[Transmission status is: Operational. Functionality is green.]
"Keep an eye on it," Dr Schauderhaft ordered. "And make sure the testdome walls are responding properly to flash stimuli, then go to green."
They didn't want anything to go wrong today.
[Warning. Special Weapons Test In Progress,] proclaimed LAI systems out in the test dome and in the command centre, repeating their warning in Nazzadi. [
Rahui prekati. Nekwekutermumani xamoni nowetemagini.]
Captain Martello leaned forwards. "Well, looks like everything's in place, people," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Get Unit 02 up. Let's go and make the news."
In the entry plug of the Unit, Asuka Langley Soryu took a steady breath of LCL, the taste as nothing to her, and flexed her fingers around the control yokes. Closing her eyes, she took a second breath, and rolled her neck, and her Evangelion moved with her. Synchronisation was holding steady, and the unique qualia of piloting the synthorg were already at the forefront of her mind.
[Are you ready, Test Pilot?] asked Nerv, her Ouranos LITAN, in its harsh, synthetic voice. [Captain Martello requests confirmation that you will carry out the drills as rehearsed.]
"Yes," she said, simply. Both Kaji and Uncle Cal were watching her, as well as the eyes of the world. She would not contemplate anything less than perfection, because she would not
fail. At all.
The four-eyed behemoth rose from the chute, clouds of chilled gas enveloping it. The titan was motionless, dead, still, arms limp, head lowered.
And then it moved.
~'/|\'~
"Turn up the news," the elderly man ordered Hikary, sitting at the edge of his seat, aged hands clasped around one of his walking sticks. Beady eyes stared from under snow white brows, darting between the girl and the screen.
The
amlaty suppressed a sigh. You had to make exceptions for people this old, because even the heights of modern medical science couldn't keep the edge of the mind sharp when one was, as he had told her several times, 101 years old. "I can't," she explained to the individual she was helping on her Social Work Programme today. There were entire arcology domes of people like this, all humans, usually without any family and having problems caring for themselves. "Remember, Mr Britton, you have the muse locked to your voice."
The old man blinked. "Oh, right," he said, tone distracted, as he peered around, before settling his gaze back on the screen, and leaning forwards even further. Evidently, he had given up on whatever he had been looking for. "You know, I don't approve of all these mecha," he said to her, with a nod. "They aren't natural. How do they not fall through the ground, that's what I'd like to know? They don't look like they should be real. Like something from science fiction." The man snorted, and reached behind him, pulling out an old fashioned remote control which he had apparently been sitting on. "Mind you, I started thinking I was living in the future when I was twenty, and things have only got more so. Look at all the 'arcano' stuff that's all around... I can remember when it was all theoretical physics and blather. Far less theoretical, still as much blather to me. Can't trust it. I can remember when we had proper science, you know. None of this 'r-states' and 'arcano-magic' stuff that drives people mad."
Hikary noted the shake in his hands, as he looked away from the screen, to a picture propped up on the side, taken in the 2050s, before the Nazzadi invasion. A younger him and a woman about his age stood by a lake, with a woman who looked like a daughter, another man, and at knee level, what could only be a young grandchild, sulkily glowering at the camera.
"All these magical mecha... and none of them can make you happy," the old man said, voice querulous and soft.
~'/|\'~
One foot broke the armoured ground, one subtle shift to the balance of the thrusters sent the Eva springing off, and the indomitable will of the AT-Field thrust with heat-shimmers back, to vault the simulated barricade. Eyes half-closed, barely breathing, a flick of her Eyes across the screen painted the model hostiles in red, and the salvo of micromissiles took them down. A few managed to return fire, the dumb drones acquiring the hulking shape, but their dummy shells rattled off battleship-thick hull plating and then they were eliminated.
Check for balance, adjust posture for recoil, keep low because hostiles may aim for the head.
In a half-crouch, the Babylon cradled in the Unit's hands roared, and a cloud of smoke replaced the effects of an arcanochromatic shell, 'wiping out' an entire block. Inwardly, Asuka sneered, because the plume was nowhere near authentic, but only for a second, because the traceries of artillery paths on the inner wall of her plug indicated that her opponent had located her, and had apparently decided to take no chances that she might intercept the on-target shells.
As if that would be enough.
"Counterbattery targets," she instructed her LITAN, and began a dodging weave designed to maximise the fire-time for her laser defence grids. She could feel her plug move deeper and deeper as her synch ratio increased, and, eyes hooded, she smiled.
And leapt, boosting the A-Pod thrusters in the Type-B(F) armour to max as an AT-Field punched a hammer blow in the air in front of her. Yes, she wasn't
meant to do it this way, but she'd had the simulations checked, and as it turned out, the shockwave of her jump sent shells tumbling. The sonic boom of this sudden
transition pulsed through the test dome, sending drones flying, and she took her chance.
One step, two steps, spin-kick low – and the air cracked like a whip as she demolished the building – and leap. Two shots from the Babylon at the stationary defences and a missile barrage to clean out the foxholes with fire. And then there was only the burning hot whiteness of the plasmathrowers, sadly only simulated for this, and her triumph.
Test Pilot Asuka Langley Soryu opened a channel back to her commanders. "Objective completed; total destruction of assigned targets." Her Eyes flicked up to the clock. "Mission time, T-plus one minute and nine seconds. Which is four seconds better than the test run. And a new personal best. Oh, and a new Test Pilot best, but that goes without saying, because I
already had the record for that."
And only then did she let out a slow breath of LCL. "Nerv, stand down," she ordered the Eva.
[Yes, Asuka,] the LITAN said, obeying.
Leaning against the wall, Ryoji Kaji let out a slow breath. He had seen more that his fair share of Evangelion operations – and had the increased security clearance to show for it – but it was hard to become jaded. Even if the sheer scale of the behemoth-class mecha could be adjusted to, the way they moved and the organic grace of the underlying ackersby organism still drew the eye. And that had been a more impressive than usual display.
Right on cue, his muse alerted him of an incoming call.
"That was very nicely done, Asuka," he told her by way of greeting, letting his lips creepy up as to make sure that his approval could be picked up by the throat-mike. In his experience, it was best to get that in as soon as possible, before she could start to fret that she had let someone down or failed in some way.
Kaji put the blame for that directly on Calvin Sylveste's head.
And true to form, her first words were, "Are you sure?" spoken in a concerned tone. "I mucked up one of my landings. I came in too quickly and there's a minor stress-fracture in the plating on the right leg. I can see the warning icons."
"Trust me, Asuka," Kaji said, lips barely moving. "You did fine. I didn't see anything wrong with it at all."
A pause. Then, "Really? You think I did my best?"
"Yes, really."
"Thank you so much, Kaji! Wasn't I amazing!" the girl said, smirking from within her plug. She tried to keep it out of her voice. He had believed that she'd actually mucked up on a landing, in public like this. It was so sweet of him to tell her that she was perfect, even when she'd 'admitted' to him that she hadn't been so. It was part of the reason he was so wonderful; he could see enough to see that she was just that good.
The spluttering noise coming from Tokita was like music to Calvin Sylveste's ears. He was, in fact, rather pleased that he had chosen to record all of this conversation, because this would mean that he would get to listen to it any time he liked.
"Just our little humble offering to the field of ACXB design," he said, not even trying to conceal his expression. "Nothing much, really. I'm sure that your war machine will come with an AT-Field which can take the ventral weapon of a Migou capital ship without breaking." He paused. "And I'm sure that your in-atmosphere flight capabilities put the way that this forty-metre mecha can go supersonic in atmosphere to shame." Another pause. "There's no way we can beat you, right?"
"Should be a fun challenge," Lieutenant Krishima said, a faint, almost distracted-looking smile on her lips.
Tokita shot her a disgusted glare, and seemed on the edge of saying something, but chose not to. "Very nice," he managed instead, glaring at Sylveste. "No wonder you wanted to get your prototype out before ours. But..."
"Oh no, dear boy," Calvin said, slapping his hand down on the other man's shoulder with unwelcome forwardness. "That's the Production Model. The Test Model and the Prototype have already seen active combat against Harbinger-class entities, and the Production Model itself had to be moved over from the Eastern European Front for these final tests." One finger went to his lips. "Oh," he said, with mock sympathy. "Are you still in the prototype phase? I suppose it will be a while before you iron out all the bugs."
The
nazzada slid away from the violation of his personal space, face darkening with anger. Rather than respond, though, he turned heel, and with a barked, "Come!" he marched off, trailed by the woman.
"See you on Saturday!" Dr Sylveste called after him, his grin reaching from ear to ear. "Good luck!"
Leaning back, the Ashcroft scientist cracked his knuckles. That had been
fun. It wasn't often enough that he got to do things like that, and that would almost certainly leave the head of the NEG Naval Project Daeva in an appropriate mental state. Though, really, it was just a shame that Tokita just wasn't good enough.
He'd have been more of a challenge if he'd been better.
Whistling, Calvin Sylveste reached for his PCPU to check how the news organisations were responding to this revelation.
~'/|\'~
There was a high-pitched noise coming from Kensuke Aida, as he stared at the screen. His hands were shaking, and his fumbling attempts to reach for his PCPU were in vain. The fact that he refused to take his eyes from the display was another handicap in this objective, and would soon pose a problem to any attempts of his to talk about this on the Grid.
Any chance that the other Naval Cadets would get on with their tasks was similarly remote. And their supervisors were similarly distracted.
It was, all present agreed, fair enough.
Toja felt his MP vibrate against his thigh, and ignored it. He had it on silent, its muse only vocalising in emergencies, and he was in the junior classroom, helping nine and ten year olds with their spelling.
It was probably Kensuke getting bored in the Naval Cadets, he thought, with a roll of his eyes. Honestly. Didn't he know that some people needed the marks from the Social Work Programme to bring their grades up, and couldn't just answer their MP any time?
He drew his attention back to the classroom, running a hand through his dark hair. "Uh," he said in response to the platinum-blonde girl. "I think... yes, it's an 'e' there, not an 'o'. It's... it's sort of an 'er' sound, not an 'or' one, if you sort of say it to yourself. Makes sense... uh, Christine?" he hazarded.
The little girl nodded enthusiastically. "I see," she said. "Thank you, Kany's brother."
His attention shifted to the girl sitting next to her, who had her chin propped up on one hand, staring out the window at the shrouded pillar in the centre of the city, rising up, still surrounded by the flocks of containment vehicles. "Are you stuck?" he hazarded. That was one of the things he had to do, remind students who looked like they weren't paying attention that they were meant to be working. "Want help?"
"I do not need your help," the dark-haired girl, Imi said, not looking at him. "I have finished already. And I don't need your help with the spelling. Spelling is just remembering things. It's easy." She paused. "I'm thinking," she added.
Toja nodded, and moved on to an
amlata who has his hand up, and who was having problems with the word 'instrument'. He liked the brighter ones, because they made his work easier. They meant that he had to do less things. And things with Imi were still... awkward, after that bit with the Harbinger. Clearly she felt the same way, if she wasn't going to look at him.
Towel around his neck, his change of non-school clothes folded on the bench next to him, Shinji Ikari stared at the mirror. Rivulets of water ran down his front and back, painting traceries on his skin. He was not cold, because the changing rooms were heated, but nonetheless he shivered.
He
really hated how normal showers, even with the hair wash they provided, never quite got rid of the scent of LCL. In the warmth of the men's changing room, he could still taste it with every breath he took, through his mouth and through his nose.
And sitting here, in this quiet with only the slight drip of water in the background as his companion, he had experienced an unpleasant realisation. Heavens knew, he didn't like his father. There were so many reasons. The fact that he was cold, unpleasant, manipulative... the list of personality flaws that Shinji assigned to his father could have filled a tome of ancient curses. The man was the bane of his life, someone who only ever
used him like a toy or a puppet, who threatened others to force him to obey, and who never seemed to show him the slightest bit of love of affection. And if Gendo had ever loved him, ever treated him as his son, he certainly did not do so now save when it suited him. Shinji wanted rid of him, the bonds of blood severed with a knife, so that they could go their separate ways. That was what he told himself.
Yet he had still been jealous when he had seen the man taking Rei Ayanami, rather than him, around for the teacher's conference.
The disappointment, the nausea-invoking heart-pounding
anger to see that, against his expectations, Gendo Ikari had turned up, but had not turned up for
him, wasn't something he wanted. He wanted to be rid of the man, didn't he? He wanted nothing more to be allowed to go home to Japan, back to Yuki and Gany who valued him as more than a component in a machine, more than an unwilling child solider necessity, who actually talked to him for reasons other than they wanted something.
And yet jealousy was still there.
Shinji sighed, and slumped forwards, wrapping his arms around his bare chest. He took several deep, shuddering breaths, before letting them out explosively. Fine. Fine. Just fine. He was seventeen now, so got to be the big brave hero soldier – even if he didn't want to be, and if he wasn't stuck as an Evangelion pilot, he would have to be twenty-one – and so clearly he could stop anything that got in his way. He was strong! He was tough! He didn't care that his father seemed to want to take a creepy White girl to the teacher's conference, but not him! He was a veritable powerhouse of... power. His name was a killing word and why was he even thinking that?
He managed to keep that attitude up for all of about ten seconds, before he started to snigger at the sight of himself in the mirror, posturing like this. He wasn't a hero. He was a fairly skinny Japanese teenager staring at himself, ribs protruding against his skin, because he hadn't put on weight since his last growth spurt. He was all pale, almost washed-out under the bright-lights of the changing room, and... and just not that kind of thing. Shaking his head at his own stupidity, he sighed again.
And... hmm, he should probably put some underwear on before he thought about trousers or the t-shirt. It would be cripplingly embarrassing to forget.
So suitably attired, he made his way out of the changing rooms. And so he was rather surprised to find Misato, and quite a few of the other staff waiting for him there. With... with a cake. And paper party hats. And balloons. And... well, and everything.
"Happy birthday," the dark-haired woman said with a grin. "Heh. I bet you thought I wasn't doing anything and was just going to make you do tests."
"...not that there's anything wrong with tests," Ritsuko said, leaning against the wall and giving off an aura of forced joviality, the pink hat incongruous with her dyed hair. She caught Shinji glare. "Joking, joking," she said, raising her hands up, and gesturing the younger woman in the loose overalls of an Operator forwards with the cake. "And there isn't even anything like LCL in the icing."
"There also isn't LCL," Maya added, as she put it down on one of the seats along the hallway. "Who had the knife? I'm pretty sure I put it down over there."
"No, I'm pretty sure you had it in your pocket," Shigeru Aoba said, with a shrug. "You tucked it in."
"No," Maya said, patting herself down. "Not in the pockets."
Ritsuko sighed. "Right!" she called out. "Has anyone seen a knife?"
"Rei was practicing with the prog-knife today," Misato contributed, with a grin.
The blonde glowered. "That's not very helpful," she snapped. "Okay, people. I want a proper search for this. Maya, where do you think you left it?"
"... we were keeping it in the fridge in the office on 6V," the brown-haired woman said, with a moment's thought. "But I'm sure we took it out of there."
"We did," contributed another one of the Operators. "Remember? Because Sary started humming the music from Madness Place while pretending to kill Hukary, and that was in the lift."
"Okay, which lift was it?"
Misato sighed, and shuffled closer to Shinji as the Great Knife Hunt began. "Eh," she started, massaging the back of her neck. "It was going to go better in my plan."
Shinji let a smile creep onto his face. "At least you've never lost the Eva's prog-knife," he said, softly. "It's probably better this way around."
"That's the spirit," she said, sounding delighted. "Anyway, the prog-knife has all sorts of tracking things on it. And..." she paused. "Rits, does it need to be this knife? What'd be the nearest staff-kitchen where you could get a new one?" she called out, provoking a new flurry of debate.
There was a pause between the two of them, then; "Thank you for remembering," Shinji managed. "It means a lot."
Misato ruffled his still-wet hair. "Hey, I've missed birthdays too," she said, a lilt in her voice. "It's not fun. It's just we had to get all the teachers complaining about your grades and the training out of the way first, before we could go do something this evening, right? Better this way?"
Shinji made a noise of agreement.
"And that's the other thing I wanted to tell you now," she continued. "You're getting the weekend off, and I'm taking you on a trip over to Chicago-2." Shinji stifled a groan at that; when would people understand that he didn't like flying? Misato continued unabated, "There's a bit of formal technical stuff which is the 'real' reason we're there, but it's also a bit of a chance for a break for you. I mean, your synch ratio is back to what it was before Mot... actually slightly higher, which is really good..."
"It actually is," Ritsuko called from the other side of the room.
"... and, well," Misato shrugged, "it was your birthday. So we'll head over Friday night, get the business out of the way, and then it can just be fun stuff, right?"
The boy felt a slight urge to protest that she was treating him like a child, and that he really just wanted to do nothing and catch up on homework, but suppressed it. After all, Misato was trying to be nice, and... yes! He deserved some time off from training and away from the Evas!
"Oh, and you should take some of your friends," Ritsuko added, as she approached, knife in hand. "Aoba had it," she clarified. "I mean, don't expect to get many more weekends like this off, so you should make the best of it, right?"
The boy nodded, silently.
"We'll also be picking up the Second Child... that's Test Pilot Soryu, and her Evangelion, Unit 02, which is the Production Model, while we're there," the blonde added. "She's the most experienced Test Pilot, and has seen combat on the Eastern European Front; she's the one who was used when we went public today. Apparently she was furious that she got transferred to America just before Mot showed up. So she'll be stationed in L2, too, so we have another Evangelion here."
That did sound nice, Shinji had to admit. An experienced pilot would mean that he wouldn't have to be the main Evangelion pilot, and... maybe they wouldn't need him as much, then. Which means there wouldn't be painful sympathetic burns and tedious recovery because horrific monsters had damaged his giant robot, and the idiot who had designed the thing had decided that he should suffer because of that. A world which that happened less was one which, if perhaps not all was right, then at least considerably more was.
"She's a bright girl, and a very good pilot," Misato said, cheerfully, nudging Shinji in the ribs. "I heard she's already interested in you. I think you'll like her."
The boy blushed, but smiled nonetheless, as the cake was cut. Maybe today wasn't so bad after all.
And then he blinked, as something sunk in.
"... wait. The Evas went public?"
The tinted coloured figures sat around the desk, the immaterial, intangible entopics blank and emotionless.
Yellow spoke.
"The initial phase is now complete."
White spoke.
"Phase II is now in progress."
Red spoke.
"D-d-deviation from extra...polated ssssschema; minimal. There, but m-m-minimal."
Purple spoke.
"Interference from hostile powers; within tolerated levels."
Green spoke.
"Conclusion. The path remains viable."
Gendo Ikari leant forwards, eyes hidden by opaque glasses. "All is going according to the scenario," he said, simply.
~'/|\'~
