6.2 Ataraxia
Muphrid
Star of the Lancer
35. Ataraxia
Captain Aoba had taken over the control room.
Asuka had started on the procedures for simulated exercises when Aoba and his people entered the control room. He pretended that he wanted to discuss the Eva's limitations after having removed the Crown of Thorns and repaired the damage from being submerged for so long. That was just a ruse: he and his men were already armed. There had been a brief firefight, with one of Maya's staff grazed in the action. After that, Misato's men had taken positions outside the control room doors. Aoba's people had disabled those doors and disconnected the interior cameras.
Aoba's demands were simple: collapse the launch chute and destroy Unit-14. "This war costs everyone too much," he said over the phone. "We're the ones killing people; they're not. Put a stop to this, General! Just let it be!"
We were in the briefing hall, which Hyuga had hastily converted into a command center for the emergency. Misato sat at the bottom of the bowl with the speakerphone in front of her, and when Aoba made that remark, she put him on mute and sneered. "Yes, sure, we should accept being crippled because that at least doesn't kill anyone!" she remarked, but when she unmuted the phone, her tone was more diplomatic. "All right, Aoba," she said, "if we're going to cooperate, we need a mutual show of good faith—a number of hostages for each concrete act you ask of us. Agreed?"
"Seal the launch chute, and I will release half of the hostages," said Aoba.
Misato put two fingers to her temple. "Wouldn't you like to divide this down to something a little finer? Putting so much leverage on a single act increases the risk for both of us."
"Those are my terms," he said, and he hung up.
Misato picked up the phone and slammed it back on the base to hang up in turn, and she rattled off instructions for Hyuga. "Find a way to launch the Eva without him knowing," she said. "Divert every camera, sensor, and radio to the secondary control room. Assume he has people on the outside looking to funnel him information or sabotage our efforts. Do not let him harm even any more of our people, Hyuga."
Hyuga nodded, and he doled out assignments to the remaining officers and staff. We were to set up in the secondary control room. The base's eyes, ears, and voice would be reconnected there, leaving Aoba with false feeds and dummy radio traffic.
With Hyuga's instructions given, we filed out of the auditorium, but I lingered at the back of the crowd. I ducked into the restroom, turned the cold faucet all the way open, and splashed some water on my face. I leaned on the sink counter with both hands, and I bowed my head.
I'd spoken to Ayanami in a restroom like that one—not that exact one, but they had the same layout: the same cool, blue-white lights; the same cream-colored, plastic countertops. She made an appeal to me in that place. And then she was gone.
I'd spoken to Asuka in the briefing hall before. I'd been sitting right next to her when she sold Misato and Hyuga on the idea of the puncture engine. That was some weeks before. How amazing it was to realize things could change so quickly. If Aoba or one of his men got jumpy, she could be gone just as fast as Ayanami left us.
There was a knock at the restroom door, and it creaked open. "Somebody in there?" asked Misato. "I was banging someone earlier and forgot my panties. Do you mind?"
I huffed, not looking at her. "You're not funny."
"I disagree," she said, stepping inside. "This is my base, and it's a standing order that I'm funny."
I sighed at that. "Don't you have something to do?"
"We both do." She put a hand on my shoulder, and we faced the mirror together. "How are you holding up?"
"It's Asuka in there," I said. "How do you think I'm holding up?"
"She needs you now." Misato rubbed my shoulder. "You up for it?"
I looked away. "I'll try." My eyes snapped back to meet her gaze. "Don't let them take her, Misato. Don't let them take anyone else."
Misato leaned to the side and kissed my temple. "There's not a chance of that," she said. "We're getting Asuka back."
I nodded and let out a breath, and we headed to the backup control room.
Technicians and support staff still had work to do in the backup control room, hooking it up with live feeds and radio systems. I had to log into an unfamiliar station and get my credentials entered for the communications loop. All that work took time—time we didn't have. My chair felt uneven and sat too high, but the lever on its side didn't seem to work properly. The backup control room was cramped, with only half the stations the main one had. In some areas, two or three controllers shared a single station. The lighting was flaky, with one overhead light going in and out ever few seconds. The room was far from perfect, but it would have to do.
I got on the line with Nozomi, who had been loaded into Unit-14. If Aoba wanted us to close the launch chute and trap the Eva inside, we had to do everything we could to get the Eva into the open and free. Nozomi had suited up for the most unusual operation we'd ever considered.
"So, have we got something like a harness to support me?" asked Nozomi. "You guys sent an Eva into a volcano. You have to have a plan for this."
I looked to Hyuga. "Don't count on it," he said.
"Sorry," I told Nozomi, "we'll have to worry about what we can control. I know it's tough."
"Well, for Soryu's sake…" Nozomi sighed. "Let's get this done, right? We got a checklist?"
"Just the essentials," I said, "and thanks."
"'course."
We worked through the quick launch checklist. While most of the basic tests passed, Nozomi felt that the Eva was stiff and sluggish. Some of that was expected: the Crown of Thorns had damaged the Eva's nervous system, and even though our people had excised the artifact, the damage would take time to heal—more time than we had. We were concerned that the loss of motor function or could affect the Eva's ascent, but we didn't have many other options. If the proper safeguards were taken on the way up, the Eva still had a good chance of making it out of the launch chute, but if Nozomi felt she simply didn't have adequate control, it would be on her to abort. Actually launching the Eva was out of the question: the primary control room would detect that, whether through sensors in the launch elevators or by the power flowing to the electromagnets within. We had no choice but to make Nozomi climb the whole way to the surface.
The tricky part wasn't the climb, either: it was deceiving Aoba into thinking we were giving in to his demands while betraying him. As Nozomi scaled the chute, pulling the Eva up by nooks and crannies in the carved-out rock, Misato ordered sealing doors shut, cutting Nozomi off from the base beneath her. Aoba was wise to this, though; he wanted Misato to close the topmost sealing door, ensuring Eva-14 couldn't escape.
Misato and Hyuga deliberated about what to do there. Could the Eva break through the top sealing door on its own? And do so without collapsing the launch chute structure? They decided it was worth the risk. They closed one last sealing door behind Unit-14 as well as the topmost one. Nozomi and Unit-14 climbed on with only the glow of orange emergency lights to guide her upward.
With the shaft doors shut, Misato made her counter-demands: Aoba was to release half the hostages, including Asuka. The other half would be for removing and destroying the Eva's core.
Aoba refused. He felt that merely closing the doors wasn't enough. He demanded that we weld them together to ensure they couldn't be opened remotely.
"What does he want us to do—find an Eva-sized blowtorch?" said Misato, incredulous. She turned to the communications controller. "If we decline to do that without a release of hostages," she asked, "what will he do?"
The controller passed that along and said, "He says he'll liquefy hostages one at a time until we comply."
Misato and Hyuga weren't sure what to make of that. Could Aoba have smuggled one of the walkers in without us noticing? How else could they forcibly liquefy someone? Did they have some other technique?
Whatever the answers, Misato decided it was a moot point. It seemed that Aoba had no intention of releasing the hostages incrementally as a show of good faith.
"We're going ahead," Misato decided, coming down the aisle to stand near Hyuga and me. "Break the launch chute door open. Our people will go in on the first crack."
I glanced at the front projector screens. On one screen was the view from the Eva as it climbed the chute. On the next was a millimeter-wave image of the primary control room. In grayscale, Aoba's men manned the control room stations, with only a small handful standing guard. The control room staff sat underneath their desks. Try as I might, I couldn't get a clear glimpse of Asuka: the grayscale figures were recognizable as people, but without true color, clothing, or hair.
"Shinji," said Hyuga, "you need to let her know."
I flinched. "Right! Sorry." I pushed the transmit switch on my headset cord. "Okay, Nozomi, we're going to have you break down the chute door."
"You sure, Ikari?" Nozomi looked at the entry plug camera. "Feels like I'm fighting through soup here, like I'm drawing something but somebody keeps yammering away while I'm trying to concentrate."
Unit-14 pulled itself up on a niche in the rocky chute, but its fingers slipped, and the Eva flailed to regain its grip.
"Can't hold on to anything right now," muttered Nozomi.
"It might be interference from the core," I told her. "We might have to just push through it."
"Okay, just give me the word."
I looked to Hyuga, but he was pressing a finger to his ear. "Major?" I said.
"Tell her to stand by," he said. "There are reports of a security breach elsewhere on base. We need to assess the situation."
I gestured to the front screen. "Nozomi can't hang there forever."
And Aoba's people weren't going to wait forever, either. There was activity inside the primary control room. Aoba's goons went back and forth between distant stations. They used office chairs to set up block the doors or as improvised cover, and all we could do was watch them in run about like actors in a silent film.
"General," said Hyuga, "Aoba's people clearly believe that a confrontation is imminent. If we're going to strike, the time is now."
Misato frowned, tapping a pencil on her desk. "Shinji, do you think Nozomi can break through—despite the trouble she's having with the Eva?"
I watched the front screen. Aoba's men drew their guns.
"Yes," I said. "Absolutely."
"Then make the call," said Misato.
I relayed the instructions to Nozomi, who—despite her unsteady grip on the rocks—pulled the Eva to the bottom of the chute door. Resting its shoulder on a ledge, the Eva drew its prog knife and started cutting.
On the front projector screen, SDF security teams barged into the primary control room, and just as the door opened, the footage went dead.
"Misato!" I cried, turning back to look at her.
She held up a hand. "These things take time," she said.
And time doesn't care how impatient you are.
The minutes ticked away in the backup control room. The air circulation system spat cool air at my neck. The computers hummed and beeped. On the screen, Nozomi sliced through the launch chute door and pried it open. Unit-14 emerged in the midday sun on Hachibuse Mountain outside Tokyo-2, and as the minutes passed, Nozomi guided the Eva on a stroll of sorts. She had nothing better to do, after all.
Hyuga had gone to Misato's station to observe and monitor the situation. Make no mistake: they were watching. They could see what was going on. They just didn't want me watching.
But after a time, Misato let out a breath and sat back in her chair. "Shinji," she said, "Hyuga will take over for you with Nozomi. Get up to the primary control room. Asuka's waiting for you."
My heart skipped a beat. I fumbled with my headset, getting the cord caught around my fingers. I ran out of the backup control room and scampered across the base to the primary control room's building. I ran so fast I lost my footing trying to turn a corner and banged my hand against an exposed pipe, but I shook it off and kept going. When I got to the control room, it didn't even hurt.
The scene there was confused and chaotic: infirmary staff had priority getting in and out. A line of controllers left the area under the supervision of a pair of medics. Base security guarded the doors closely, keeping me at a safe distance.
Then, at the end of the line, came Asuka. She had a medic personally attending to her; the side of her face had swelled up, and she was holding a compress to her cheek to dull the inflammation.
"Asuka!" I cried, and I ran to her—despite the guards' protests. Asuka wrapped an arm around me, cradling the compress and her face with the other.
"I'm all right," she said. "The Eva—did they—"
"No, we got Nozomi and the Eva out," I said.
"Did you now?" From inside the control room came the voice of Captain Aoba. He and his men lay face down between the cubicles, cuffed with cable ties. The SDF officers standing over them wielded tasers, and two leads stuck in Aoba's back. "You got the Eva out?" he said weakly. "Good for you."
Two SDF members dragged Aoba to his feet, and as they walked him out, I called to him.
"How could you do this?" I said. "We worked on this for so long. Why?"
Aoba froze me with a glance. The stare in his eyes was distant and haunting. "I've seen what could happen to us," he said. "They showed me when they took me to the sea this time. We can't let that happen. Have you thought about what would happen next? No you haven't. I know it." The SDF members began to drag him away. "That's all right," Aoba concluded. "None of that matters anymore."
As the security team walked Aoba and his henchmen to holding cells, Asuka and I lingered behind. One of the medics stepped in, saying that Asuka should go to the infirmary to get checked out, but I wasn't watching. I stared as Aoba and the others went down the hall.
"Asuka," I said, "are you going to be okay?"
"Yeah? I should be fine. Just got hit by a wussy punch; that's all. I should be back to work—"
I kissed her on the lips for just a moment, enough to quiet her, and I waved goodbye. "You rest!" I called out as I started down the hall. "Listen to the doctors! I'll check back later; I need to see Nozomi."
"Shinji? What's going on?"
I headed back to the backup control room at a brisk pace. For a man who'd been tased and defeated in his plan to shut down the Eva, Aoba had been a little too calm about things. Our mistakes soon wouldn't matter? The plot to invade the Black Moon hadn't even been launched.
More importantly, the man who had cleared the Eva for testing—for relaunch—was none other than Aoba. If he'd wanted to shut the Eva down, he'd had more than ample opportunity to do it right under our noses.
When I returned to the backup control room, I explained my reasoning to Hyuga and Misato. We needed to get Unit-14 back in the cage for testing; we should scour every last square centimeter of its body until we were confident Aoba had done nothing to sabotage it. They agreed, and they had me call Nozomi back.
We raised the launch elevator to the top of the chute, but when it arrived there, Unit-14 wouldn't move.
"Ikari, I don't have control here," said Nozomi, pushing on the actuation levers. "The whole thing's gumming up again, just like—"
The Eva shook and recoiled. An appendage grew out of its forehead: a thorny vine. It formed a ring across the Eva's six eyes and ran tendrils along the Eva's limbs like the strings of a puppet.
And they invaded the entry plug, too. Tiny roots crept inside around the entry plug hatch. They yanked Nozomi from her seat, stringing her up on a cross of thorns.
"Nozomi…" I rose from my seat, mouth agape. "Nozomi, can you move at all? Can you do anything?"
"Now, now, Shinji Ikari—you should know better," said a voice from inside the plug. "Eva has a will of its own. Those who dare try to control our precursors' flesh shall be dominated in turn."
Keel Lorenz. He was there—inside the entry plug with Nozomi. He swam freely, and he sat on top of the actuation levers' mount, in front of Nozomi, who stared back at him in fright and horror.
"My thanks for allowing me and the Eva to reach the surface," said Lorenz with a mocking nod. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we must bring about paradise once more."
The Eva took a halting foot forward.
And then another.
And another still.
And it brushed aside the trees as though they were saplings to a bear.
It took the next few hours to piece together what had happened—and how we were deceived.
Aoba and his people had released Lorenz. They'd liquefied him and mixed him into the batch of LCL meant for the entry plug. From there, it was just a matter of time. As long as we thought Aoba wanted us to seal the Eva underground and destroy it, we'd do everything in our power to set it free. Aoba must've deliberately left a piece of the Crown of Thorns embedded within the Eva—a piece that became active and virulent when the time was right. If it had asserted control over the Eva underground, it was very likely we would've kept Unit-14 contained. Even if it wrecked the base, it would've been trapped under tons of rock. Tricking us into releasing the Eva accomplished both of Seele's goals.
And Seele didn't waste any time proclaiming victory. Their propaganda was on the airwaves by the end of the hour, saying that all mankind should "prepare to enter the millennial kingdom." The Crown of Thorns would usher us into a new and final era—and so on and so forth. They rattled off promise after promise of false salvation, and their voices brimmed with giddiness and glee. Only devils could welcome the apocalypse with such open arms.
There was little we could do to shut them up. From Tokyo-2, Unit-14 headed for the ocean. Misato had all remaining SDF forces converge on the Eva's path, but it didn't matter. They bombarded the Eva with bullets, shells, and N2 weapons. It was futile: the Eva shrugged off N2 weapons like they were firecrackers. It flung tanks aside with a flick of its foot.
I stood with Nozomi throughout that time. I kept talking to her, trying to reassure her, but Lorenz was in the entry plug. He could undo all of my well-meaning words with just a look and a smirk. Nozomi resisted him and her bindings, but her efforts were futile. She could lash out at him as much as she liked; Lorenz didn't care. She could tug and yank on the vines, but they had no slack to pull against. She was a prisoner in the Eva, forced to watch and listen as the beast decimated all that stood in its way. Her strength faded, and she drifted into a daze, shutting both Lorenz and me out.
The Eva headed for the Indian Ocean. It could have only one destination: the second Black Moon.
Our purpose was clear, then. The attack plans that had been drawn up to attack the enemy's stronghold were quickly modified and co-opted for a new purpose: Get Nozomi back. Get Unit-14 back. Stop Fourth Impact before Seele make it happen.
All the world would contribute. The American and German Eva would be the vanguard. An international armada would steam for the Indian Ocean, providing passage and firepower. Allied aircraft would blot out the sky. Were it not for the loss of life in Second and Third Impact, it would've been the largest mobilization of armed forces in the history of the world. At the very least, it'd be the largest coalition—in terms of number of countries—ever assembled.
While Misato and Hyuga coordinated with our allies, I stood watch in the backup control room. We'd lost contact with Unit-14 once it reached sufficient depth, but there was still a chance that, even if we couldn't hear back from the Eva, that Nozomi might hear me. Every ten minutes, I made a call out into the dark.
"Eva Unit-14, this is Manoah Base Control, do you read?"
Nothing.
"Nozomi, it's Ikari. Can you hear me?"
Always nothing.
Every ten minutes, I made the two calls, gave it a ten-count just in case, and shut off my microphone. My responsibility was to stay on watch. What I did after making the regular check and hearing nothing was my business.
So, I brought some things with me to pass the time: A Tale of Two Cities and a sketchpad.
Well, I'm exaggerating slightly. To say I used these things to pass the time would be an overstatement. I didn't, really. I laid the book and the sketchpad on the desk—not my desk, mind you, but a similar plastic desk to my own in the real control room.
And I'd watch them.
Now, I know that sounds a little crazy. It's not as though I expected the book or the sketchpad to move.
But I watched them.
I watched them, and they spoke to me.
I heard Ayanami reading the monologue of Sydney Carton as he went to the guillotine for a death he didn't deserve. I heard Nozomi giving me tips on pencil strokes and perspective.
These voices I heard clearly, yet in time, they would fade, as all things inevitably do. My memory would fail me if I didn't hear those voices again. At some point, no one would live who'd ever heard either of them speak, and their voices would be lost forever.
That's all logical, but there was a part of me who didn't want to believe that. There was a part of me that stared at the book and the sketchpad. It stared and even held on to those objects, as though to capture Ayanami and Nozomi's voices in my hand like fireflies, but I had no jar to keep them in.
I realized then that Seele was right about one thing: life is painful. Life is full of pain and suffering, for that is the nature of it. The world itself and the passage of time—they were my enemy, my bane.
The promise of a world with people betrayed me. I'd known that time would come; I'd dared to think it wouldn't be so soon, but it came—not because Ayanami and Nozomi had been taken from me but because of what I'd left them with.
You never say all you ought to say to someone.
You never feel like you know people love you as much as you think you should.
This is always true, and yet how often do we go out of our way to tell people what they deserve to hear? How often do we remind the people around us that they're loved?
Not often enough.
Now, the easy thing to do would've been to speak some of those words over the radio, hoping Ayanami and Nozomi could hear, but that would've been empty. At best, it would've made me feel better without accomplishing anything.
What good are words shouted to an empty forest?
The ten-minute check-in came again.
"Eva Unit-14, this is Manoah Base Control, do you read?" I said.
Nothing.
"Nozomi, it's Ikari. Can you hear me?"
Nothing.
I looked up at the projector screen. As Unit-14 walked along the ocean floor, a dashed line traced its path. It would make landfall in China, presumably to continue its journey to India on the ground. Maybe then we'd be able to reach her.
Until then, there was only the faint hum of electrical noise in my ear. My words spoken to the void were never heard.
I passed on monitoring of the plugcom station after a few hours. There was no chance of reaching Nozomi while she was underwater, and Misato had been gracious enough to offer another SDF officer as relief while I retired for the evening.
I stopped by the infirmary to pick up Asuka—she was fine, aside from the bruise on her face. They'd given her some fluids just to be safe. As soon as the doctors cleared her, I took Asuka back to our quarters to rest—and I insisted that she rest. A little food was fine, but after that? Right to bed. No questions. I wouldn't have it any other way. Asuka was a little taken aback at how forceful I was about this, but once it was clear I wouldn't budge, I think she appreciated where I was coming from. She might have even liked it a little.
While Asuka was sleeping, I got back to work. I brought a heap of photographs and documents from my office and spread them over our desk. I brought up dozens more on Asuka's base laptop: photos of the Black Moon, disposition of naval forces, satellite thermal imaging, and more.
I searched through the material like a termite chewing through a grand staircase. Once I devoured each sheet, I tossed it aside. Papers fell like snowflakes around the desk.
Maybe you can't understand it, but have you ever felt there was something you had to do because you wouldn't forgive yourself if you didn't? Or, did you ever know there was something totally pointless ahead of you—something you could never succeed in—yet you felt like you had to go through the motions anyway?
This was like that, for me. I'm no tactician, no military planner. I knew even less about materials and battle formations than I did about Seele's prophesies, but it was something I had to do. If I had the choice between sitting there, listening to the silence, and combing through every document or piece of data we had on the enemy, I'd make the same choice every time.
These people had taken Ayanami from me. They were taking Nozomi from me. They'd almost taken Asuka from me. They'd nearly driven Misato from me. Well, not anymore, not if I had something to say about it! You can't stress friendships—you can't steal loved ones—and expect no one to come knocking on your door. Seele believed that there was nothing good in this world. They were the real problem. They were the ones dissolving the bonds that made us human. There could be no greater crime than forcing Ayanami to face an eternity of sameness—of neverending stubbornness—just so we could enjoy the right to exist. There could be no greater sin than crucifying Nozomi just so Lorenz could enact his twisted vision of paradise.
No more. No fucking more of that. I wouldn't have it.
Even so, as much as I felt that anger driving me, I don't think I expected to find an answer in those photos and briefings. I think, at the time, I felt compelled to look just so the rage wouldn't consume me.
But I did find an answer in there. I found a way to save Ayanami and Nozomi both. I found the way to end the war.
I held it in my hand, and the paper trembled, for my whole body shook as I realized the significance of it. The way to finding Ayanami—to bringing her back and stopping Lorenz cold in his tracks—was built on the simplest of things:
A diagram of a Geofront support strut.
Captain Aoba had taken over the control room.
Asuka had started on the procedures for simulated exercises when Aoba and his people entered the control room. He pretended that he wanted to discuss the Eva's limitations after having removed the Crown of Thorns and repaired the damage from being submerged for so long. That was just a ruse: he and his men were already armed. There had been a brief firefight, with one of Maya's staff grazed in the action. After that, Misato's men had taken positions outside the control room doors. Aoba's people had disabled those doors and disconnected the interior cameras.
Aoba's demands were simple: collapse the launch chute and destroy Unit-14. "This war costs everyone too much," he said over the phone. "We're the ones killing people; they're not. Put a stop to this, General! Just let it be!"
We were in the briefing hall, which Hyuga had hastily converted into a command center for the emergency. Misato sat at the bottom of the bowl with the speakerphone in front of her, and when Aoba made that remark, she put him on mute and sneered. "Yes, sure, we should accept being crippled because that at least doesn't kill anyone!" she remarked, but when she unmuted the phone, her tone was more diplomatic. "All right, Aoba," she said, "if we're going to cooperate, we need a mutual show of good faith—a number of hostages for each concrete act you ask of us. Agreed?"
"Seal the launch chute, and I will release half of the hostages," said Aoba.
Misato put two fingers to her temple. "Wouldn't you like to divide this down to something a little finer? Putting so much leverage on a single act increases the risk for both of us."
"Those are my terms," he said, and he hung up.
Misato picked up the phone and slammed it back on the base to hang up in turn, and she rattled off instructions for Hyuga. "Find a way to launch the Eva without him knowing," she said. "Divert every camera, sensor, and radio to the secondary control room. Assume he has people on the outside looking to funnel him information or sabotage our efforts. Do not let him harm even any more of our people, Hyuga."
Hyuga nodded, and he doled out assignments to the remaining officers and staff. We were to set up in the secondary control room. The base's eyes, ears, and voice would be reconnected there, leaving Aoba with false feeds and dummy radio traffic.
With Hyuga's instructions given, we filed out of the auditorium, but I lingered at the back of the crowd. I ducked into the restroom, turned the cold faucet all the way open, and splashed some water on my face. I leaned on the sink counter with both hands, and I bowed my head.
I'd spoken to Ayanami in a restroom like that one—not that exact one, but they had the same layout: the same cool, blue-white lights; the same cream-colored, plastic countertops. She made an appeal to me in that place. And then she was gone.
I'd spoken to Asuka in the briefing hall before. I'd been sitting right next to her when she sold Misato and Hyuga on the idea of the puncture engine. That was some weeks before. How amazing it was to realize things could change so quickly. If Aoba or one of his men got jumpy, she could be gone just as fast as Ayanami left us.
There was a knock at the restroom door, and it creaked open. "Somebody in there?" asked Misato. "I was banging someone earlier and forgot my panties. Do you mind?"
I huffed, not looking at her. "You're not funny."
"I disagree," she said, stepping inside. "This is my base, and it's a standing order that I'm funny."
I sighed at that. "Don't you have something to do?"
"We both do." She put a hand on my shoulder, and we faced the mirror together. "How are you holding up?"
"It's Asuka in there," I said. "How do you think I'm holding up?"
"She needs you now." Misato rubbed my shoulder. "You up for it?"
I looked away. "I'll try." My eyes snapped back to meet her gaze. "Don't let them take her, Misato. Don't let them take anyone else."
Misato leaned to the side and kissed my temple. "There's not a chance of that," she said. "We're getting Asuka back."
I nodded and let out a breath, and we headed to the backup control room.
Technicians and support staff still had work to do in the backup control room, hooking it up with live feeds and radio systems. I had to log into an unfamiliar station and get my credentials entered for the communications loop. All that work took time—time we didn't have. My chair felt uneven and sat too high, but the lever on its side didn't seem to work properly. The backup control room was cramped, with only half the stations the main one had. In some areas, two or three controllers shared a single station. The lighting was flaky, with one overhead light going in and out ever few seconds. The room was far from perfect, but it would have to do.
I got on the line with Nozomi, who had been loaded into Unit-14. If Aoba wanted us to close the launch chute and trap the Eva inside, we had to do everything we could to get the Eva into the open and free. Nozomi had suited up for the most unusual operation we'd ever considered.
"So, have we got something like a harness to support me?" asked Nozomi. "You guys sent an Eva into a volcano. You have to have a plan for this."
I looked to Hyuga. "Don't count on it," he said.
"Sorry," I told Nozomi, "we'll have to worry about what we can control. I know it's tough."
"Well, for Soryu's sake…" Nozomi sighed. "Let's get this done, right? We got a checklist?"
"Just the essentials," I said, "and thanks."
"'course."
We worked through the quick launch checklist. While most of the basic tests passed, Nozomi felt that the Eva was stiff and sluggish. Some of that was expected: the Crown of Thorns had damaged the Eva's nervous system, and even though our people had excised the artifact, the damage would take time to heal—more time than we had. We were concerned that the loss of motor function or could affect the Eva's ascent, but we didn't have many other options. If the proper safeguards were taken on the way up, the Eva still had a good chance of making it out of the launch chute, but if Nozomi felt she simply didn't have adequate control, it would be on her to abort. Actually launching the Eva was out of the question: the primary control room would detect that, whether through sensors in the launch elevators or by the power flowing to the electromagnets within. We had no choice but to make Nozomi climb the whole way to the surface.
The tricky part wasn't the climb, either: it was deceiving Aoba into thinking we were giving in to his demands while betraying him. As Nozomi scaled the chute, pulling the Eva up by nooks and crannies in the carved-out rock, Misato ordered sealing doors shut, cutting Nozomi off from the base beneath her. Aoba was wise to this, though; he wanted Misato to close the topmost sealing door, ensuring Eva-14 couldn't escape.
Misato and Hyuga deliberated about what to do there. Could the Eva break through the top sealing door on its own? And do so without collapsing the launch chute structure? They decided it was worth the risk. They closed one last sealing door behind Unit-14 as well as the topmost one. Nozomi and Unit-14 climbed on with only the glow of orange emergency lights to guide her upward.
With the shaft doors shut, Misato made her counter-demands: Aoba was to release half the hostages, including Asuka. The other half would be for removing and destroying the Eva's core.
Aoba refused. He felt that merely closing the doors wasn't enough. He demanded that we weld them together to ensure they couldn't be opened remotely.
"What does he want us to do—find an Eva-sized blowtorch?" said Misato, incredulous. She turned to the communications controller. "If we decline to do that without a release of hostages," she asked, "what will he do?"
The controller passed that along and said, "He says he'll liquefy hostages one at a time until we comply."
Misato and Hyuga weren't sure what to make of that. Could Aoba have smuggled one of the walkers in without us noticing? How else could they forcibly liquefy someone? Did they have some other technique?
Whatever the answers, Misato decided it was a moot point. It seemed that Aoba had no intention of releasing the hostages incrementally as a show of good faith.
"We're going ahead," Misato decided, coming down the aisle to stand near Hyuga and me. "Break the launch chute door open. Our people will go in on the first crack."
I glanced at the front projector screens. On one screen was the view from the Eva as it climbed the chute. On the next was a millimeter-wave image of the primary control room. In grayscale, Aoba's men manned the control room stations, with only a small handful standing guard. The control room staff sat underneath their desks. Try as I might, I couldn't get a clear glimpse of Asuka: the grayscale figures were recognizable as people, but without true color, clothing, or hair.
"Shinji," said Hyuga, "you need to let her know."
I flinched. "Right! Sorry." I pushed the transmit switch on my headset cord. "Okay, Nozomi, we're going to have you break down the chute door."
"You sure, Ikari?" Nozomi looked at the entry plug camera. "Feels like I'm fighting through soup here, like I'm drawing something but somebody keeps yammering away while I'm trying to concentrate."
Unit-14 pulled itself up on a niche in the rocky chute, but its fingers slipped, and the Eva flailed to regain its grip.
"Can't hold on to anything right now," muttered Nozomi.
"It might be interference from the core," I told her. "We might have to just push through it."
"Okay, just give me the word."
I looked to Hyuga, but he was pressing a finger to his ear. "Major?" I said.
"Tell her to stand by," he said. "There are reports of a security breach elsewhere on base. We need to assess the situation."
I gestured to the front screen. "Nozomi can't hang there forever."
And Aoba's people weren't going to wait forever, either. There was activity inside the primary control room. Aoba's goons went back and forth between distant stations. They used office chairs to set up block the doors or as improvised cover, and all we could do was watch them in run about like actors in a silent film.
"General," said Hyuga, "Aoba's people clearly believe that a confrontation is imminent. If we're going to strike, the time is now."
Misato frowned, tapping a pencil on her desk. "Shinji, do you think Nozomi can break through—despite the trouble she's having with the Eva?"
I watched the front screen. Aoba's men drew their guns.
"Yes," I said. "Absolutely."
"Then make the call," said Misato.
I relayed the instructions to Nozomi, who—despite her unsteady grip on the rocks—pulled the Eva to the bottom of the chute door. Resting its shoulder on a ledge, the Eva drew its prog knife and started cutting.
On the front projector screen, SDF security teams barged into the primary control room, and just as the door opened, the footage went dead.
"Misato!" I cried, turning back to look at her.
She held up a hand. "These things take time," she said.
And time doesn't care how impatient you are.
The minutes ticked away in the backup control room. The air circulation system spat cool air at my neck. The computers hummed and beeped. On the screen, Nozomi sliced through the launch chute door and pried it open. Unit-14 emerged in the midday sun on Hachibuse Mountain outside Tokyo-2, and as the minutes passed, Nozomi guided the Eva on a stroll of sorts. She had nothing better to do, after all.
Hyuga had gone to Misato's station to observe and monitor the situation. Make no mistake: they were watching. They could see what was going on. They just didn't want me watching.
But after a time, Misato let out a breath and sat back in her chair. "Shinji," she said, "Hyuga will take over for you with Nozomi. Get up to the primary control room. Asuka's waiting for you."
My heart skipped a beat. I fumbled with my headset, getting the cord caught around my fingers. I ran out of the backup control room and scampered across the base to the primary control room's building. I ran so fast I lost my footing trying to turn a corner and banged my hand against an exposed pipe, but I shook it off and kept going. When I got to the control room, it didn't even hurt.
The scene there was confused and chaotic: infirmary staff had priority getting in and out. A line of controllers left the area under the supervision of a pair of medics. Base security guarded the doors closely, keeping me at a safe distance.
Then, at the end of the line, came Asuka. She had a medic personally attending to her; the side of her face had swelled up, and she was holding a compress to her cheek to dull the inflammation.
"Asuka!" I cried, and I ran to her—despite the guards' protests. Asuka wrapped an arm around me, cradling the compress and her face with the other.
"I'm all right," she said. "The Eva—did they—"
"No, we got Nozomi and the Eva out," I said.
"Did you now?" From inside the control room came the voice of Captain Aoba. He and his men lay face down between the cubicles, cuffed with cable ties. The SDF officers standing over them wielded tasers, and two leads stuck in Aoba's back. "You got the Eva out?" he said weakly. "Good for you."
Two SDF members dragged Aoba to his feet, and as they walked him out, I called to him.
"How could you do this?" I said. "We worked on this for so long. Why?"
Aoba froze me with a glance. The stare in his eyes was distant and haunting. "I've seen what could happen to us," he said. "They showed me when they took me to the sea this time. We can't let that happen. Have you thought about what would happen next? No you haven't. I know it." The SDF members began to drag him away. "That's all right," Aoba concluded. "None of that matters anymore."
As the security team walked Aoba and his henchmen to holding cells, Asuka and I lingered behind. One of the medics stepped in, saying that Asuka should go to the infirmary to get checked out, but I wasn't watching. I stared as Aoba and the others went down the hall.
"Asuka," I said, "are you going to be okay?"
"Yeah? I should be fine. Just got hit by a wussy punch; that's all. I should be back to work—"
I kissed her on the lips for just a moment, enough to quiet her, and I waved goodbye. "You rest!" I called out as I started down the hall. "Listen to the doctors! I'll check back later; I need to see Nozomi."
"Shinji? What's going on?"
I headed back to the backup control room at a brisk pace. For a man who'd been tased and defeated in his plan to shut down the Eva, Aoba had been a little too calm about things. Our mistakes soon wouldn't matter? The plot to invade the Black Moon hadn't even been launched.
More importantly, the man who had cleared the Eva for testing—for relaunch—was none other than Aoba. If he'd wanted to shut the Eva down, he'd had more than ample opportunity to do it right under our noses.
When I returned to the backup control room, I explained my reasoning to Hyuga and Misato. We needed to get Unit-14 back in the cage for testing; we should scour every last square centimeter of its body until we were confident Aoba had done nothing to sabotage it. They agreed, and they had me call Nozomi back.
We raised the launch elevator to the top of the chute, but when it arrived there, Unit-14 wouldn't move.
"Ikari, I don't have control here," said Nozomi, pushing on the actuation levers. "The whole thing's gumming up again, just like—"
The Eva shook and recoiled. An appendage grew out of its forehead: a thorny vine. It formed a ring across the Eva's six eyes and ran tendrils along the Eva's limbs like the strings of a puppet.
And they invaded the entry plug, too. Tiny roots crept inside around the entry plug hatch. They yanked Nozomi from her seat, stringing her up on a cross of thorns.
"Nozomi…" I rose from my seat, mouth agape. "Nozomi, can you move at all? Can you do anything?"
"Now, now, Shinji Ikari—you should know better," said a voice from inside the plug. "Eva has a will of its own. Those who dare try to control our precursors' flesh shall be dominated in turn."
Keel Lorenz. He was there—inside the entry plug with Nozomi. He swam freely, and he sat on top of the actuation levers' mount, in front of Nozomi, who stared back at him in fright and horror.
"My thanks for allowing me and the Eva to reach the surface," said Lorenz with a mocking nod. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we must bring about paradise once more."
The Eva took a halting foot forward.
And then another.
And another still.
And it brushed aside the trees as though they were saplings to a bear.
It took the next few hours to piece together what had happened—and how we were deceived.
Aoba and his people had released Lorenz. They'd liquefied him and mixed him into the batch of LCL meant for the entry plug. From there, it was just a matter of time. As long as we thought Aoba wanted us to seal the Eva underground and destroy it, we'd do everything in our power to set it free. Aoba must've deliberately left a piece of the Crown of Thorns embedded within the Eva—a piece that became active and virulent when the time was right. If it had asserted control over the Eva underground, it was very likely we would've kept Unit-14 contained. Even if it wrecked the base, it would've been trapped under tons of rock. Tricking us into releasing the Eva accomplished both of Seele's goals.
And Seele didn't waste any time proclaiming victory. Their propaganda was on the airwaves by the end of the hour, saying that all mankind should "prepare to enter the millennial kingdom." The Crown of Thorns would usher us into a new and final era—and so on and so forth. They rattled off promise after promise of false salvation, and their voices brimmed with giddiness and glee. Only devils could welcome the apocalypse with such open arms.
There was little we could do to shut them up. From Tokyo-2, Unit-14 headed for the ocean. Misato had all remaining SDF forces converge on the Eva's path, but it didn't matter. They bombarded the Eva with bullets, shells, and N2 weapons. It was futile: the Eva shrugged off N2 weapons like they were firecrackers. It flung tanks aside with a flick of its foot.
I stood with Nozomi throughout that time. I kept talking to her, trying to reassure her, but Lorenz was in the entry plug. He could undo all of my well-meaning words with just a look and a smirk. Nozomi resisted him and her bindings, but her efforts were futile. She could lash out at him as much as she liked; Lorenz didn't care. She could tug and yank on the vines, but they had no slack to pull against. She was a prisoner in the Eva, forced to watch and listen as the beast decimated all that stood in its way. Her strength faded, and she drifted into a daze, shutting both Lorenz and me out.
The Eva headed for the Indian Ocean. It could have only one destination: the second Black Moon.
Our purpose was clear, then. The attack plans that had been drawn up to attack the enemy's stronghold were quickly modified and co-opted for a new purpose: Get Nozomi back. Get Unit-14 back. Stop Fourth Impact before Seele make it happen.
All the world would contribute. The American and German Eva would be the vanguard. An international armada would steam for the Indian Ocean, providing passage and firepower. Allied aircraft would blot out the sky. Were it not for the loss of life in Second and Third Impact, it would've been the largest mobilization of armed forces in the history of the world. At the very least, it'd be the largest coalition—in terms of number of countries—ever assembled.
While Misato and Hyuga coordinated with our allies, I stood watch in the backup control room. We'd lost contact with Unit-14 once it reached sufficient depth, but there was still a chance that, even if we couldn't hear back from the Eva, that Nozomi might hear me. Every ten minutes, I made a call out into the dark.
"Eva Unit-14, this is Manoah Base Control, do you read?"
Nothing.
"Nozomi, it's Ikari. Can you hear me?"
Always nothing.
Every ten minutes, I made the two calls, gave it a ten-count just in case, and shut off my microphone. My responsibility was to stay on watch. What I did after making the regular check and hearing nothing was my business.
So, I brought some things with me to pass the time: A Tale of Two Cities and a sketchpad.
Well, I'm exaggerating slightly. To say I used these things to pass the time would be an overstatement. I didn't, really. I laid the book and the sketchpad on the desk—not my desk, mind you, but a similar plastic desk to my own in the real control room.
And I'd watch them.
Now, I know that sounds a little crazy. It's not as though I expected the book or the sketchpad to move.
But I watched them.
I watched them, and they spoke to me.
I heard Ayanami reading the monologue of Sydney Carton as he went to the guillotine for a death he didn't deserve. I heard Nozomi giving me tips on pencil strokes and perspective.
These voices I heard clearly, yet in time, they would fade, as all things inevitably do. My memory would fail me if I didn't hear those voices again. At some point, no one would live who'd ever heard either of them speak, and their voices would be lost forever.
That's all logical, but there was a part of me who didn't want to believe that. There was a part of me that stared at the book and the sketchpad. It stared and even held on to those objects, as though to capture Ayanami and Nozomi's voices in my hand like fireflies, but I had no jar to keep them in.
I realized then that Seele was right about one thing: life is painful. Life is full of pain and suffering, for that is the nature of it. The world itself and the passage of time—they were my enemy, my bane.
The promise of a world with people betrayed me. I'd known that time would come; I'd dared to think it wouldn't be so soon, but it came—not because Ayanami and Nozomi had been taken from me but because of what I'd left them with.
You never say all you ought to say to someone.
You never feel like you know people love you as much as you think you should.
This is always true, and yet how often do we go out of our way to tell people what they deserve to hear? How often do we remind the people around us that they're loved?
Not often enough.
Now, the easy thing to do would've been to speak some of those words over the radio, hoping Ayanami and Nozomi could hear, but that would've been empty. At best, it would've made me feel better without accomplishing anything.
What good are words shouted to an empty forest?
The ten-minute check-in came again.
"Eva Unit-14, this is Manoah Base Control, do you read?" I said.
Nothing.
"Nozomi, it's Ikari. Can you hear me?"
Nothing.
I looked up at the projector screen. As Unit-14 walked along the ocean floor, a dashed line traced its path. It would make landfall in China, presumably to continue its journey to India on the ground. Maybe then we'd be able to reach her.
Until then, there was only the faint hum of electrical noise in my ear. My words spoken to the void were never heard.
I passed on monitoring of the plugcom station after a few hours. There was no chance of reaching Nozomi while she was underwater, and Misato had been gracious enough to offer another SDF officer as relief while I retired for the evening.
I stopped by the infirmary to pick up Asuka—she was fine, aside from the bruise on her face. They'd given her some fluids just to be safe. As soon as the doctors cleared her, I took Asuka back to our quarters to rest—and I insisted that she rest. A little food was fine, but after that? Right to bed. No questions. I wouldn't have it any other way. Asuka was a little taken aback at how forceful I was about this, but once it was clear I wouldn't budge, I think she appreciated where I was coming from. She might have even liked it a little.
While Asuka was sleeping, I got back to work. I brought a heap of photographs and documents from my office and spread them over our desk. I brought up dozens more on Asuka's base laptop: photos of the Black Moon, disposition of naval forces, satellite thermal imaging, and more.
I searched through the material like a termite chewing through a grand staircase. Once I devoured each sheet, I tossed it aside. Papers fell like snowflakes around the desk.
Maybe you can't understand it, but have you ever felt there was something you had to do because you wouldn't forgive yourself if you didn't? Or, did you ever know there was something totally pointless ahead of you—something you could never succeed in—yet you felt like you had to go through the motions anyway?
This was like that, for me. I'm no tactician, no military planner. I knew even less about materials and battle formations than I did about Seele's prophesies, but it was something I had to do. If I had the choice between sitting there, listening to the silence, and combing through every document or piece of data we had on the enemy, I'd make the same choice every time.
These people had taken Ayanami from me. They were taking Nozomi from me. They'd almost taken Asuka from me. They'd nearly driven Misato from me. Well, not anymore, not if I had something to say about it! You can't stress friendships—you can't steal loved ones—and expect no one to come knocking on your door. Seele believed that there was nothing good in this world. They were the real problem. They were the ones dissolving the bonds that made us human. There could be no greater crime than forcing Ayanami to face an eternity of sameness—of neverending stubbornness—just so we could enjoy the right to exist. There could be no greater sin than crucifying Nozomi just so Lorenz could enact his twisted vision of paradise.
No more. No fucking more of that. I wouldn't have it.
Even so, as much as I felt that anger driving me, I don't think I expected to find an answer in those photos and briefings. I think, at the time, I felt compelled to look just so the rage wouldn't consume me.
But I did find an answer in there. I found a way to save Ayanami and Nozomi both. I found the way to end the war.
I held it in my hand, and the paper trembled, for my whole body shook as I realized the significance of it. The way to finding Ayanami—to bringing her back and stopping Lorenz cold in his tracks—was built on the simplest of things:
A diagram of a Geofront support strut.
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