Chapter 32

The satellite pictures were displayed on the illuminated table in groups of three, each having been taken within 60 seconds of the others. A grid had been overlaid on top of the landscape, outlining contours and enhancing blurry shapes. Two rulers for scaling framed the top and left sides of the pictures, and helpful labels depicting altitude, latitude, and longitude were also shown.

Fuyutsuki did not need an analyst to be told what it was that he was looking at; the pictures showed an industrial complex surrounded by a sprawling network of railway lines like the spokes on a wheel. And on one of the lines was a strange humanoid shape, its head and broad shoulders distinctive despite the extreme bird's-eye view.

"So we can confirm that the Chinese have advanced their schedule?" the Sub-Commander asked, leaning closer over the table, hoping that perhaps he wasn't seeing what he suspected. There was no doubt, however. The humanoid shape was an Evangelion.

The Chinese-made Unit-A was indeed on its way to the Third Branch test facility outside Beijing.

"Yes. Our agent tells me that they will be ready for the first Unit-A activation test within the week, possibly even sooner than that," Commander Ikari said. "That is more than a month ahead of the plan."

Ikari wasn't poring over the photographs. It was likely, Fuyutsuki thought, that he'd studied them in advance, or that he simply knew enough to make any visual evidence unnecessary. He stood away from the table, half-covered in the shadows produced by the room's dim lighting.

To Fuyutsuki's immediate right was Ritsuko Akagi, her face glum. She said nothing as she examined the evidence. Like the two men in the room, she was keenly aware of the implications.

"Do we know that they intend to activate it?" Fuyutsuki asked.

"We have reason to believe that a pilot has been selected," Ikari said. "Nothing specific, only that certain arrangements have been made similar to our own selection and preparation procedures. My main concern is whether or not they intend to use the Tablet for the activation."

Doctor Akagi nodded. "We have to assume so. There's no reason they wouldn't."

"My God," Fuyutsuki muttered. "Can we be ready in five days?"

"We must." Ikari said. He turned his attention to Ritsuko. "Doctor, I want you to drop everything and focus on getting Unit-00 working. That should take priority over everything else. Nothing is as important. Revert to the old configuration as soon as possible and schedule a second activation."

"Rei is still in the hospital," Ritsuko said. "The effects of the previous contact have not been fully diagnosed."

"Is she physically capable of piloting Unit-00?" Ikari asked coldly.

"The body recovers very quickly." Ritsuko's reply didn't answer the question directly. She always gave a detached sense when talking about Rei, though she was supposed to be her responsibility. With her hands in her lab coat pockets she presented the image of the dedicated scientist, just like her mother had.

The apple didn't fall far from the tree, and Ritsuko Akagi had certainly inherited more than smarts and looks from Naoko. Fuyutsuki, who had now known them both for about the same amount of time, found the similarities uncanny.

"Her health status should be of no concern, then," Ikari said, betraying no emotion. "Lieutenant Ibuki is still looking for the root of the activation problems. She believes it's because of the complexity of the new programming, does she not? That should provide us with a plausible pretext for the overhaul."

"People are bound to ask uncomfortable questions," Ritsuko said. "Major Katsuragi in particular. I'm not sure how long I can keep lying to her."

"It won't matter in five days unless we exert the greatest effort. We have no choice. The current situation has to be dealt with first and foremost. Katsuragi's questions can wait."

That was the sort of dismissive attitude that had landed them in his mess, Fuyutsuki thought. But like a good second-in-command, he kept his fears to himself. Giving the Emerald Tablet to the Chinese had been a calculated risk—they had to be given something to ensure their cooperation as long as NERV needed it. At the same time, however, they were given specific instructions and time-lines. The current scenario depended on them.

Ikari hadn't trusted the Chinese Branch to do entirely as they were told, but he had depended on them to follow the schedule and had dismissed the idea that they were simply too self-interested to obey even that. It could now prove to be just as deadly a sin.

"With your permission, then, I will assemble a team and proceed with Unit-00's re-fit," Ritsuko said. "I would much rather get started sooner than later. I will also look into clearing Rei for a second activation test as soon as possible. Unless you have any objections."

Ikari looked at her sternly for a moment, a look that was both a warning and a threat. "None." He then turned to Fuyutsuki. "Maintain a link to the UN's spy satellites and keep an eye on our Chinese friends. I don't want any more surprises."

"As ordered," the Sub-Commander answered. "Should we alert the Security Council?"

Ikari thought about his answer for a long, silent moment—he wasn't the heartless maniac people seemed to think he was, after all. Then, he shook his head and said heavily, "Foreknowledge denotes complicity."

Fuyutsuki understood.

It was a terrible thing, but he understood.

...

"Asuka's gone to school," Misato said from the doorway. Her voice was meant to be comforting, Shinji was sure, but he felt no comfort from it. "She'll be staying with Hikari for now. I don't know if she'll be coming back."

It was early in the morning, around the time when Shinji would normally be up and getting ready for school. Asuka would be on his heels, barking orders left and right—make breakfast, make bentos, put your shoes on, normal stuff—and Misato would look on them from the kitchen table wondering how they managed to make it work every day.

They didn't—they never had. Their interactions were the result of their characters, hers domineering and his subservient, and existed only because they had to. They had never managed to come to terms with another. Not as teens, not as roommates, not even as Eva pilots. Was it surprising at all that they couldn't live together?

Shinji lay on his bed, facing the wall so that his back was to Misato. His S-DAT had died during the night and he hadn't felt like changing the batteries. From that point on his only companion had been the silence; he had waited in vain for sleep to relief him of his thoughts.

He had already been awake for hours when Misato knocked on his bedroom door. Hearing no reply, she had quietly slid it open. Unlike Asuka, he'd never bothered installing a lock.

He wished now that he had.

Misato was looking at him, and he could almost see the pity in her eyes. He could feel it. And it made the guilt harder to bear. He didn't deserve it—if she only knew what he'd said to Asuka she wouldn't pity him. Even if she knew the redhead had said it to him first, even if she knew Asuka had tried to strangle him. She would despise him, too.

Behind him Misato sighed, realizing he wasn't going to answer her. "Shinji, I understand that some things are hard to talk about. But that doesn't mean you should keep them to yourself. And you do have people around you who are willing to listen."

She paused, perhaps to give him a chance to say something. To refute her, maybe, or to tell her how she was wrong and how alone he really was.

"Maybe you could go see Rei?" Misato suggested. "She's well enough to see you, I think. I'm sure she'd like to have you visit. It'd make her feel better. Don't worry about school, I'll make something up. That always works."

Shinji stared at the wall. He could not, however, ignore the fact that Rei would indeed be the one he could talk to without feeling worse than he did now. Everyone else would drive stake of guilt deeper.

Rei—it was because he defended her that Asuka had got upset in the first place. What else was he supposed to do? Shinji could tolerate Asuka being abusive towards him—her insults and her punches had become the routine—but for her to treat Rei that way was more than even the human doormat could bear. He'd done what he thought he needed to do. He'd only thrown Asuka's own words back at her. They were hurtful words, but they were HER words. She'd only been on the receiving end of the same kind of spite she used on everyone else.

That's what it felt like to have someone tell you they hated you, that they wanted you to die. Like she herself had done to Rei.

"This is just like what happened with that boy, isn't it?" Misato said. "You felt like it was your fault, even though nobody would blame you. I'm not your mother, Shinji. I know that. I'm not going to tell you everything will be alright. But what I can tell you is that it will never get better unless you decide to make an effort."

"His named was Kaoru," Shinji said suddenly. It was the first time he spoke to her that morning. "That boy—his name was Kaoru."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." She hesitated. "Just think about what I said. Don't let this be like before. You don't have to. You are not alone."

Shinji heard her move away, the sound of her footsteps slightly muted by her stockings, and then he heard his bedroom door sliding closed. Misato would be going to work and probably wouldn't be coming back until very late. For all practical purposes she was gone for good. He was alone, whatever she might say. He felt alone.