November 3, 2021 - Ikari Residence, Sengokuhara, Kanagawa Prefecture, Japan
As far as third birthdays go, it could have been worse. Shinji wasn't playing with any of his new gifts, which Yui decided meant he wouldn't get greedy. He was more interested in marching around with Pen-Pen and describing him to anyone who cared to listen. The stuffed toy had, unfortunately, drawn the attention of Asuka. The little red-haired girl had begun a tugging match for it, and Shinji had responded by pulling her hair and slapping her twice. Asuka responded to that by pushing Shinji down with both hands and kicking him. The two continued their struggle over the penguin.
Rei decided the best response to the whole ordeal was to bawl hysterically and scream for her mother. The sight of her best friend and her devoted brother whaling on each other was more than her poor innocent mind could take.
It could have been worse, though. Yui kept telling herself this. She was thinking now as she grabbed Kyoko by the arm and hissed, "Get them some ice cream now!" She then hurried over to grab Asuka in one arm and Shinji in the other, physically separating the two brawlers. Pen-Pen lay on the floor unclaimed.
Rei was still bawling.
Naoko handled that little ordeal. "Oh, I remember this," she sighed, picking up the girl and letting her sob onto her shoulder. "Did I tell you how Ritsuko's party was? Her dad fed her too much cake. Threw up on her new dress. I hung that over his head until the day he died." At this point, Shinji still had some fight in him, whining and trying to get at both Asuka and Pen-Pen at the same time. Asuka, for her part, had taken to hanging limp like a kitten held by the scruff of its neck, glowering at Shinji.
It was a good thing, Yui thought, that there weren't more kids here. She thought that it would be bad for her boy if he didn't have a lot of little kids to socialize with, but considering the handful two toddlers were providing, a small get-together among friends was just fine. She looked, and saw Martin coming out of the house.
"Oh, good. Reclaim your daughter," she said, hoisting Asuka. These kids were starting to get heavy. The gaunt, red-haired and haggard man hurried over and claimed her.
"Come here, Mäuschen," he crooned, taking the girl and cradling her in an arm. She gave Shinji a look that could only be described as haughty. Kyoko came out with three bowls of vanilla ice cream, handing one to her husband and pecking him on the cheek before handing another to Yui. It was always so strange to see the dour looking and serious Martin alongside the vivacious and beautiful Kyoko, but they were a pair. Yui thought of herself and Gendo, and knew she couldn't sit in judgment.
Gendo himself was going to be late. He was overseeing the final construction on the massive Evangelion Deployment Center, another sign of the growing importance of Sengokuhara in the long term, all while having to meet with some Japanese government employee.
Having their fill of ice cream, the kids seemed settle down. Rei was sharing her dolls with Asuka, and the two were playing and chattering about things that three year old girls found important while Shinji watched them with wide eyes, his mouth buried into the top of Pen-Pen's head. There was a big tuft of red fuzz there, and it gave him the appearance of wearing a kabuki mask.
"Once the facility is completed, we can begin growing the first of the three initial Units," Yui said, stirring her ice cream. "There's just the issue of control."
"You're concerned about them…developing feelings? What exactly?" Naoko asked.
"Something like that," Kyoko explained. "They're essentially animals, living organisms. If you really want to get technical, their humans." Martin listened to the conversation with half of an ear, watching the kids through droopy eyes.
"This is some deep water you ladies are treading in," Martin murmured. "Creating something so alien that's technically a human."
"It's true," Kyoko said defensively, flipping some of silky locks off of her face. "Once they're grown, the only entity that will be more closely related to homo sapiens will be Yui's daughters. Would you say that they're non-human?"
"A 140 foot tall being that can be called a human." He shook his head, then gave them a very serious look. "And you want to enslave it?"
"That's the sticky situation," Yui admitted. "We need a weapon that can generate a large area AT Field, while able to provide the necessary mass and field affect ratio necessary for full-scale combat. That can only be done with an organic weapon. Trying to create one in a way that can be called moral is…" Yui shrugged. "We've had problems justifying it to ourselves, believe me."
"It needs to be done," Kyoko said. "It's that, or humanity becomes a footnote."
"What about an electronic or cybernetic element?" Naoko asked. Yui frowned in thought. "Well, how did you intend to mount the pilots on these things?"
"We were thinking a strange organic interface, some sort of parasite chamber or…womb, for lack of a better word," Kyoko said.
"Why do all that? Think about the advances the world has seen in cybernetic prostheses. A lot of that is largely due to discoveries made through your research into Lilith's tissues. And we're using those tissues to build these things, right? You want to avoid creating something that's too…alive, simply layer it with cybernetic devices. Mechanical piloting chamber, enhanced musculature. Hell, you could even hold off on developing a brain and have the whole thing be run through MAGI."
"Approaching it from a mechanical angle solves the problem of energy," Kyoko offered. She glanced at Naoko. "We've had a problem in understanding the S2 engine."
"We can't figure out how to grow one, basically," Yui said. "It's in the code, we have one from Lilith, but we keep fizzling out whenever we try to actually form one. We've tried manufacturing artificial ones, growing them in culture tanks. We've done CAT scans on Rei and her sibs. They don't have S2 engines, so there's little reason to think that our Evas will as well."
"Will they not live without one?" Naoko asked, concerned.
"Of course," Yui said, "It's just that, for something that large, you need a lot of energy. Just lifting its arm would burn more calories than the Boston marathon. Without something to…power it, basically, it'll just be in torpor. Hibernation, more or less."
"Let's meet on Monday and look at the issue,"Naoko suggested. "I guarantee that the solution for that problem is mechanically based."
"Can you make the adjustments necessary for holding something of that nature?" Martin asked, "The facilities are already built with one kind of creature in mind."
That was an astute question, and one that would require some thought. "We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it," Yui said, firmly. As she did, Naoko's phone pinged, a text message. She glanced at it, and giggled.
"Happy birthday from the college girls. Look at this," Naoko said, showing a picture on her phone to Yui. It was Misato, in her Cadet dress uniform, standing at rigid attention, a mortified look on her face. Ritsuko stood next to her, equally rigid and equally mortified, wearing a cute blouse with a high collar, but with Misato's garrison cap perched on her now-blond hair sideways.
"Silly girls," Yui said, smiling. Misato had made her decision to attend Tokyo University solely on the fact that her best friend was there, which Yui decided was a good thing. Ritsuko was such a mom now, she had organized the meetings with Misato's advisers, contacted the Recruiting Officer for the school's Cadet Battalion, and begun searching for apartments for the both of them on the mere mention of Misato's interest. That was in the first three days.
"Do you get anything from Misato?" Naoko asked,
"She's so busy with school, ROTC, extracurricular sports…did you know she's doing kickboxing now?"
"Like…cardio kickboxing?" Kyoko asked.
"No. Cage fighting kickboxing. I thought the wrestling stuff she was doing was bad. She's going to ruin her looks," Yui sighed, . "And she's got a boy toy, now."
"I beg you're pardon?" Naoko scoffed.
"Do you know anything about a Ryoji Kaji?"
"Yeah, Ritsuko's mentioned him a couple of times. One of her friends in the computer engineering department. Real bright boy. He's double-majoring in that and international relations. Can you imagine doing those two majors together?"
"Well, I have to read between the lines, but Misato has emailed a lot about him. I think she's got eyes for him," Yui warned.
"And Ritsuko is probably playing matchmaker," Martin said quietly, a half-smile on his face.
"I can assure you she is," Naoko murmured. Shinji started whining again, as Asuka had decided to make another attempt at Pen-Pen. He was using every word in his vocabulary to express his extreme displeasure at this development, in his slurred three-year old voice. Asuka was a little less vocal, but no less insistent on her right to the issue. Rei was less upset, but doing her best to be the peacemaker. Diplomacy, of course, is often hit-or-miss among the eloquent as it stood, and Rei was only a toddler.
"'Scuse me," Martin said with a wink, hustling over to disarm the situation. Yui smiled, watching the man hoist his daughter in the air. There were more important things to think about at the moment than Evangelion.
Gendo sipped from a glass of water as the Public Security man continued to regard him with serious eyes. What little he knew about Daisuke Aramaki indicated a man who was used to being in command of every situation he found himself in. A former military officer, he was now a mid-level leader in the Public Security Bureau. Despite his relatively low rank, he was a trouble-shooter, a problem solver. Hence, he had been sent to Nerv to assess how an independent paramilitary organization fit into Japan's overall security apparatus.
"As I'm sure you can understand," the smaller man said, "The military is uncomfortable with the growing presence and power of the Nerv Group, especially in regards to the capabilities displayed by your Tactical Division."
"Getting straight to the point, you fear a coup?" Gendo asked. It amused him to think that he was here, now, talking policy with a government official in such frank terms. His time in the pit with Nerv infighting, Gehirn dealings, and government contracting had prepared him well for such little chats.
Aramaki was also an old pro at this. He narrowed his eyes, and said, "I never implied that that was the case. There are circles that are uncomfortable with the amount of leeway and tactical ability that you have at your behest, especially in regards to the fact you are an international organization that does not answer to the Japanese government."
"But we do," Gendo argued, "As well as the American government, Canadian government, British government, German government…I can continue. Besides, as far as being an international body, the Others have not shown themselves to be choosy in who they attack."
"You're getting testy," Aramaki said. "I don't blame you for that. But understand how it appears from our side." Gendo traced a figure on the table, regarding Aramki.
"I'm curious," he asked, changing the subject, "Since the military seems the most uncomfortable with this issue, why the involvement of Public Security?"
"This is something within the borders of Japan, an internal issue," Aramaki said, shrugging. "More appropriate for our department than anyone else." Gendo nodded; he could appreciate that.
"I can only assure you, Mr. Aramaki, that Nerv is not concerned with the internal politics of Japan beyond affecting our ability to deal with the issue of the Others. If anything, we would be more happy with the idea of Japan being involved."
"You refer to the directorship being based in Germany?" Aramaki asked. Gendo mentally smiled. Aramaki was trying to pump for information, and doing it in a fairly easy manner. He could only imagine at the secrets Aramaki had pulled with that method. It was a good thing that Gendo was intentionally opening the deck in his hand. Any means to get the Japanese government closer to them.
"There's a lot of talk, recently, of the Teutonic Revival," Gendo said. "The Germans have just now issued their first military operations abroad, though I think it interesting that none of those missions are to areas affected by the Others. Peacekeeping in the Balkans, 'hostage rescue' in the Ukraine, police assistance to the Nordic countries. Fairly close to home, if you think about it."
"Clearly settling accounts close to home," Aramaki said, "And using the situation to their advantage. Between them and the more aggressive stance of Russia, you could say its the old days all over again: Europe pulled between Bismarck and the Tsar." He folded his hands on the table. "Where does Gehirn fit into all of this?"
The Public Security man was well informed. "The primary council for directing Nerv operations. Each country's program has nominal control over its affairs, but we all answer to someone. It's split between leadership from all the signatory countries, but the chairman and the vital interests are all German. Where does that leave us? It's like they say: to get to Brussels…"
"…Go by way of Berlin. That's why you've been developing your friendship with David Sarif in the United States," Aramaki muttered. "But you knew I knew that." He fixed Gendo with a curious look. "And I have the feeling that you're doing your best to lead me to some sort of conclusion. What is this? A power struggle in the ranks? Are you fitting yourself up for that chairman's position in Gehirn?"
"It's simpler than that," Gendo said, "I have one concern, and one concern only: ensuring that my children inherit a world where they are free from the threat of extinction. I can't be assured of that with the interferences of certain individuals within Gehirn. Our working relationship has been productive so far, but only because I've had the assistance of the Americans, and by default the British on the Council. The Japanese delegation has been reluctant to go against their own Director, and so those three have counterbalanced the French and the German delegates. Every one else has been divvied up among those blocs. I won't lie, though…we've been lucky to have this run of fortune, primarily because of who we know and who is willing to work with us.
"I don't want anything more to do with Gehirn anymore than I want anything to do with Japan and it's internal policies. I just want to be able to do my job."
"As it has been defined," Aramaki said. "I can appreciate that sort of sentiment. I will be watching you, Director Ikari, and so will Public Security. I have no reason to believe you're lying, but understand that a man in my position doesn't get to where he is by trusting people."
"Of course not, Mr. Aramaki," Geno said. He sympathized with that policy more than he cared to admit.
"Be prepared to speak with me more in the future," Aramaki said, "And I would offer an old hand's warning: you have had good luck so far in keeping your rivals in check, it seems. Be aware that they are certainly playing games of their own."
Rubin Coulain suffered from a painful skin condition that afflicted his legs, one that could only be soothed by immersion in warm water. As such, he had taken to the habit of constant baths, even going so far as sleeping in a special tub he had built here in his apartment in Frankfurt. He was too much of an old man to be comfortable with getting prosthetic legs, however, and preferred this admittedly more involved method of pain relief. It was something that could make a man vulnerable, but in spite of being on the Gehirn Council, Rubin thought little of how he possibly be vulnerable. At the most, he was a bureaucrat, and he still thought of himself as a scientist. The fact that he had been the sole voice in the French delegation to stand against the German initiatives time and again had done just as little in convincing him to develop more secure habits. It was why he was so surprised when a man in a suit kicked in his bathroom door and leveled a silenced pistol in his face.
Rubin reacted on pure instinct, holding his hand up between his face and the man. Flesh cannot stop bullets, though, and the pistol barked twice. The intruder shot through Rubin's hand, and his arm fell limp. The assassin put one more round into the dead man, to ensure there was no possibility of surviving. The assassin would have to work quickly, now: a silencer could muffle the sound of a gunshot, but it was no gentle cough. It was still a loud boom, and possibly audible through the walls.
The man produced a spray can from his coat pocket, and painted the letters B A D, for the Bloc d'Action Directe, the premiere French anti-EU group these days. They were the ideal scapegoats to pin this little murder on: they were professional, well-connected, and it was perfectly reasonable to assume they would be operating in Germany.
In two hours, the man was meeting with Chairman Lorenz Kihl at the scientist's penthouse. It was one of the most secure locations in the city of Frankfurt, and any conversation of devious and unethical nature could be safely had here away from prying eyes.
"I take it Mr. Coulain has been dispatched?" Kihl asked. The man shrugged.
"In a way that won't lead back to you, or your overall objectives," the assassin said. Kihl nodded, satisfied. Now they could begin maneuvering another ally into that spot: with the one holdout in the French delegation liquidated, Gehirn control in Europe would be that much more powerful. The issue now was what to do with the Ikari bloc, as Kihl had dubbed it in his mind.
Whether those scientists had realized it or not, they had entered into a dangerous game with a dangerous man. The cards had been arranged just so that most of the advantage lay in their field, and they had used those advantages. Their mistake was in not using them to the hilt. If they were wise, they would have pushed so hard that Kihl would have been unable to stand against them at all. As it was, they were only scientists, which limited the way they could perceive human interactions. For instance, assassinating a holdout was well and beyond how Gendo Ikari and his precious wife would have perceived of solving a problem.
"I have another mission for you," Kihl said. "This one I imagine will require the use of other resources, most specifically your team. Are you familiar with the Zarathustra Group?"
"Think tank of some sort. I'm vague on the specifics," the man said.
"They've been developing theories on the Others, metaphysical theories that are moving in a direction I am not comfortable with. It's not that I doubt their truths, but I am concerned about these ideas becoming disseminated. They are at a point now that, should they get wider readership, it still will not damage our overall objective. That being the case, the longer they are allowed to theorize, the more dangerous they could be."
He slid an envelope to the man. "Their having a conference at a resort in Bavaria in two months, which, to our good fortune, will include Ingrid Bouffier as a keynote speaker."
"The representative to the Bundesrat for Hesse who's been giving you trouble. Pat and neat. You don't miss a trick," the man said. "When you say team, then, you mean the whole thing. All twenty shooters."
"I want this to be a massacre," Kihl said evenly. "The resort is isolated, and will be largely filled with Zarathustra members for the conference."
"Collateral?" Referring, of course, to any wayward guests who might just happen to be at the resort.
"There is no collateral, only targets," Kihl replied. No witnesses, nothing living left behind.
"Who should we blame this on?"
"The Zarathustra Group ran afoul of Halid Ibn-Kush about three years ago, and he issued a fatwa. No one took it seriously, of course. Might as well make up a group for the occasion," Kihl mumbled thoughtfully, "Shift the blame to the Muslims." It was not that Kihl had any particular grievance against the Muslim population of Germany, but they were much smaller these days, and just so easy to blame. It never failed: whenever Kihl needed people to look the other way, he went to the tried and true sleight-of-hand tricks, and the crowd roared. "You're payment for Rubin is in your account. I'll issue you operational funds and down-payments for your salary and your teams within two weeks."
"Fedayeen of Ibn-Kush or something along those lines. Yeah…that'll work," the assassin said. "I'll see you in three months." Considering the gravity of what he had been tasked with, there would need to be at least a month of silence to let things die down a bit before reporting back.
Kihl listened to the man leave, pondering the city of Frankfurt in front of him. This ancient city was now a modern metropolis, the hub of Europe even before Germany's new rise to prominence. A rise that was solely Kihl's responsibility, bar none. There was no overweening pride in that statement: the facts, though hidden from the public eye, spoke for themselves.
It was not out of any patriotism that Kihl did this. If he was French, France would be the predominant power. If he was Spanish, the same. Hell, he would have put the world at Monaco's feet if that was all he had to work with. It was simply the tools he had. The future was being shaped here, and he was the one shaping it. Opportunity had arisen following Arrival Day, and he had seized it with both hands while stomping on those below him. Little by little, yard by yard, he was getting closer. Closer and closer, to his goals. No matter how many corpses he left among the foundations, he would stand on that pedestal, be it made of marble or made of bodies, to grasp his prize.
That was for the future, though. In the meantime, he still had the present. He sat in his penthouse, staring at the city, pondering whatever inscrutable thoughts a creature such as himself pondered.
