25. Interlocution (phased + bemused).
Would a fly without wings be called a walk?

A cool breeze ruffled my hair and caught the hems of my clothing, raising tiny bumps on my skin. Weightless freedom electrified limbs, stomach, heart. Far below my feet, the ground receded into irrelevance, beyond the reach of my released glow.

And a vicegrip on one hand ground the tarsal bones against each other painfully.

"That hurts," I said. "Please relax."

"I'm trying!" gasped Doctor Makinami. Her legs kicked wildly and free hand scythed through empty air. "This isn't a very relaxing situation!"

"I told you I would not let go," I pointed out. "Do you not trust me?"

"Trust's not really the issue here." Her voice was high-pitched and nearly breathless. "Humans have entirely valid instinctive reactions to being this bloody far off the ground, I'll have you know!"

"So your conscious mind is overridden by your base reflexes. That sounds inconvenient." I suspected my facial expression could have been described as 'smirking'.

"Yeah, yeah, you're the superior lifeform, blah blah. Evolutionarily, these reflexes—yeek!"

A sudden zephyr had caught Dr Makinami by surprise, throwing her hair blindingly in front of her eyes. Oddly, even though she had had no more power or control beforehand, this loss of vision seemed to heighten her trepidation. How illogical.

After pushing hair away from her face, Makinami tightened her grip still further and clung my arm against her torso – my limbs were much shorter than hers, as my humanoid vessel was aged less than a decade and far from fully grown, but she seemed to derive reassurance from the limited contact anyway. At least, she was finally inclined to lift her gaze from the ground below.

Our flight could not, of course, take place in the free air of the open world, but the subterranean facilities at Hamburg NERV were as vast as the interior of a mountain – a necessity for the construction of Evangelions – and Dr Makinami floated above the earth by many times her own height.

And she laughed.

In reflexive, mortal panic – she laughed.

"Is this funny?" I asked, bewildered. "A moment ago you were terrified."

"Still terrified!" she gasped, but her expression was enraptured as she gazed around at the distant cavernous walls. They were propped and strengthened by massive steel and concrete pillars, but the earthen and rocky scree reminded us that we were cocooned by the natural world.

"As I was saying," Makinami continued, her fingers digging into my bicep so that they would surely bruise, "evolutionarily these reflexes have been pragmatically critical to our survival. A false positive flight response might waste energy and resources, but a false negative might get you eaten by a tiger."

She gnashed her teeth in inaccurate but evocative imitation, and I snickered.

"With the development of critical thinking I can also appreciate how totally cool this is – not to mention flying has been a treasured dream of humankind throughout our history – but that doesn't mean I can't also be freaking out at the same time! Ahahaheek!"

Turning and craning her neck to take in more of the vista, she upset her centre of balance somehow, and tilted into an inadvertent swoop. I was swept along with her – having not anchored myself in place, but merely deferred gravity's downward draw – and my own breath escaped in a delighted burst as vertigo thrummed in my frame.

"Oh my god, amazing! If I die, this is definitely the way to go! Wahoo!"

"If I wished to end your life, I need not have raised you into the air to do so."

Dr Makinami made a twisted face. "That's not very reassuring."

"It was not meant to be. I promised that you would come to no harm – does my word count for so little?" It did not distress me to be thought a liar – human understanding was limited in many respects – but I was learning exasperation.

She shook her head. "Still not the point, little Angel. The fear of death – no, the knowledge of it, deep in our bones and our hindbrains, is the product of millions of years of fighting for survival. For all our technological advances, the power we've gained over our world, we can never truly forget, or deny, that everything we know, and are, and feel and think and do, can all be gone in an instant." Cobalt shadows faceted her eyes. "Second Impact was a cruel reminder."

But she then cast her gaze upward, to the channels mirroring the sun's light into the cave where we flew, and a smile bloomed on her face that seemed to reach her ears. "Maybe one day you'll understand humans well enough that that makes sense to you."

I snorted. "Do humans understand themselves?"

"Hah! Fair point." Another flutter of laughter, and her limpet-curl around my arm suddenly detached and she splayed spread-eagle in vacant space, even extending the arm whose hand still clasped my own, and the contact with which was the only thing keeping her airborne.

Together we drifted, fingers and joy intertwined, comfortably sharing my glow. I met her eye and received a bright smile.

"Thank you, Tabris," she said, and squeezed my hand – but softly now, not death-desperate. "I'll never, ever forget this." A self-deprecating huff. "It'll probably wake me up every night for a year, to start with!"

"And that is a … good thing?" I puzzled.

"Better than good!"

Chuckling, I shook my head, hair tossed into my eyes and then away by the whimsical momentum of weightlessness. "Your kind is strange. You invented mechanically-assisted flight many years ago, and you, Doctor Makinami, understand as well as anyone the properties of AT fields that underpin my ability to decline gravity, and to extend this to yourself. Truly there is no miracle at play here – all is in accordance with the physical laws of this world.

"But if you say that this is remarkable…"

She grinned at me. "Understatement of the century, but yeah." Arms and legs stretched to their full extent, she soared.

I tilted my head back to regard the distant ceiling of the hanger. "…Then I will believe you, Sis."

"And I believe in you, little Angel."

Light played across my eyes, flickering and rippling, blue-cast and smelling of blood…

I blinked. This was not Hamburg.

I stared out at another giant space, water-drowned and framed by white panels each taller than a human. Metal grille ladders and massive tubing crossed wall to wall, and a glass panel above my viewpoint showed several Lilim working at desks in a room beyond.

Tank B, Tokyo-3 NERV, my mind supplied, and in a moment I returned from 'childhood' memory to the present – and to Evangelion Unit 09, resident within the tank. I had projected to it once more.

A fear gripped me that was perhaps not unlike that felt by Dr Makinami.

A low hum sharpened to a whine, in response to my ghostly intrusion and emotional turmoil, and the humans moved busily.

# Instability in psychograph baseline, # reported Lt Ibuki.

# Energy readings from Unit 09 have lifted 0.3%, # added Lt Hyuga. # —now dropping 0.1 … now up by 0.4… #

Lt Aoba consulted his instruments. # Synaptic activity is oscillating. It's approaching the cerebral insulators. #

Dr Akagi looked over her subordinate's shoulder. # Lower the neural conversion fidelity by 1.5, # she instructed. # Double-check the harmonic resonator points and correct for reciprocity. #

There was a moment of activity and waiting. I imagined taking deep breaths into incorporeal lungs, and easing tensed muscles constructed only of thought; slowly, the whine softened back to a hum, as Unit 09 relaxed to my absent presence, and I understood myself to be safe.

- Hello again, - I thought to my vessel, and the words reflected back at me as though by a mirror.

# Pulse-flow is stabilising, # Hyuga said. # Pressure has dropped by 0.9 units. #

# Signal clarity has returned to optimum. Unit 09 pre-initialisation scenario is nominal, # confirmed Aoba.

# All systems are green. # Ibuki smiled at her supervisor. # Well done, ma'am. #

Dr Akagi returned a faint smile, but a sincere one.

# Should we send another prep subroutine before Rei boards? # asked Hyuga.

# No, it's just a dry run today, # said Akagi. # She won't be in full contact, so any remnant fluctuation won't reach her own neural system. #

# Understood. # Hyuga's voice dropped to chuckle to himself, # Dry run in the flood tank, hah. # Aoba rolled his eyes.

The three lieutenants returned to their screens, but Akagi stayed at Ibuki's side.

# What were you going to say earlier, Maya? #

# Oh – nothing, # she replied, suddenly flustered. # It – it's not important, and we're working now. #

Her colleagues were pointedly looking away, but their pretense of un-riveted attention was less than convincing.

# Tell me anyway, # said Akagi fondly, # and I'll decide whether it's 'nothing'. #

# Um. Yes ma'am. Um. # Ibuki swallowed. # There's a – a little gallery near me – near where I live. They're running an exhibition called … "A History of Art … in Forty-Two Cats". #

Aoba and Hyuga simultaneously coughed into their sleeves; Akagi raised her eyebrows but didn't comment.

# It's – well, a few artists – local artists – have done paintings – or sculptures, or other media – in different art styles from around the world, and different time periods … but they're all – the subjects of all the pieces … are… #

# Cats? # Akagi guessed drily.

# Yes. # Ibuki's voice was small. # So … so Cubist cats, and Impressionist cats, and – and Palaeolithic cats … it looked – I thought it looked … interesting. #

# Hm. #

There was a moment of silence. Ibuki blushed fiercely.

# Is the gallery open on Sundays? #

# Yes! I – I think from ten to four. Is … does that work for you? #

Akagi nodded. # Let's do this Sunday. #

Ibuki's face lit up. # Yes ma'am! #

Out of their supervisor's field of vision, Hyuga and Aoba mimed high-fives to Ibuki and each other, and she somehow reddened further. Apparently she shared Shinji's preternatural talent in that area.

Dr Akagi opened a new communication channel. # Rei, we're ready for you now. #

# Yes ma'am. #

For a moment my connection to Unit 09 wavered, as the entry plug spiralled out and then back in; when it slid home once more it was occupied by my friend.

"I'm in place," she reported to the crew.

# Pilot docking complete, # Aoba confirmed.

# Rei, # said Akagi, # no need to work too hard today – just relax. #

"Ma'am," said Rei, "why am I the subject of this test? Nagisa's synch ratio with Unit 09 is higher."

# The fight in Berlin was only a week ago. Kaworu's recovering well, but there's no need to rush him back to the scene of that disaster. #

"You are … being kind to him," Rei said, and for some reason Dr Akagi looked uncomfortable, though Ibuki was glowing at her.

# It's a logical caution, as his doctor. This test is only a touch-trial, anyway – we're just confirming the progress of the spinal repair configuration. #

"Understood."

Rei closed her eyes to centre herself, then blinked open in surprise, looking directly at me. "Nagisa?!"

# Huh? What about him? # asked Hyuga.

"N–nothing," she stammered. "No problems."

- Hello, Rei, - I thought, and in the partial unions we each shared with Unit 09 she heard me.

- Nagisa, how are you here? Are you truly here? - Her cognitive composition was scattered, though comprehensible – I inferred that she was unfamiliar with direct telepathic communication.

- Not truly, no. The lingering side-effects of cannibalism are yet limited. - My mental voice seemed to be less hampered by traumatic aphasia than did my physical.

- Cannibalism? -

- Unit 09 is born of Adam, as am I. Ergo, it devoured its own kind at Matsushiro. -

She looked perturbed.

- Do you see me as a physical shape? - I asked curiously. - Or merely an impression of awareness? -

- I see you as you appear in the world, - she answered, - …mostly. -

- Mostly? -

- I see your wings also. Six wings, glowing like spider-webs caught in sunlight. -

- How poetic! Be not afraid, - I smiled. - Though four of them are not my own soul's wings, but Adam's. -

Her gaze roamed; though I was unable to see myself in this projected form as she did, it was clear she was examining the Angelic accoutrements of my soul and my parent's (at the back of my mind, Adam stirred to return her attention, but did not intrude).

- They are beautiful, - Rei said after a moment, and as though surprised by her own assessment.

It took me a moment to respond. - You are generous to view them as such. The last time these wings spread in the sky of this planet was during Second Impact. They are a harbinger's sign. -

- But you are not a harbinger. -

- My chosen path and future do not negate the past, nor the harms caused by my kind. -

- No, - she agreed gently. - You can only shape what is yet to come. And since your path's goal is to protect Ikari's happiness, I trust you to do so. -

- You trust me, - I repeated joyfully, and so strongly imagined hugging her that her shoulders snuggled into the seat. - Rei, have I told you how glad I am to know you? -

- You have. -

- Well, I am telling you again. Of all cosmic accidents, meeting the Lilim is by far my favourite. -

She ducked her head, and though she made no specific answer, her shy smile told all that was needed.

Clatter—clang!

I jerked, blinked, and Rei and Unit 09 were gone; I was in my own apartment, standing at the balcony door with one hand on the latch, and a dwindling rattle told of the metal pan on kitchen tiling that had woken me.

"Sorry!" came Kaji's voice. "It made a bid for freedom…"

Blearily I rubbed my eyes. "It's … fine." A yawn overtook the last word.

"Wait, were you asleep?" asked Kaji, alarmed. "If I'd realised I would've stopped you, before…" He gestured outside.

"Close one."

"Yeah." He gathered up the fallen cookware and returned them to the cupboard, visibly shaken. "Sweet dreams?"

"Mm … sweet but strange." I yawned again. "Was … program install … successful?"

"Yep! Thanks to our pal Hyuga. Here…"

Seemingly glad of the distraction, Kaji brought my laptop over to the coffee table (brushing off a tiny fern frond from his newest pet) and switched to an innocuous-looking text window. As we watched, words slowly appeared.

# send … beer. #

We laughed.

"That was the first phrase she ever learnt in Morse code," Kaji reminisced fondly. "Used it to win a bar trivia night when we were at university."

I typed 'Hello Misato' into the window and sent; promptly, the transmitter Hyuga had spliced into the operation light of the security camera in Misato's cell began translating it into short and long blinks. Although there was no feed from the camera, since monitoring was only active during visits to her cell by other people, when she tapped a certain spot on the wall just below it, the transmitter picked up the vibrations.

# hi … kiddo. #

In the days since her arrest, only Shinji had been permitted short, supervised visits, and any gifts had been thoroughly examined and dissected; there was no chance of unobserved interaction.

That, of course, would never have satisfied or stopped Kaji. And so Lt Hyuga had been inducted into the conspiracy of his former colleague's survival, and after commending me once more as "good people" for my part in it, had managed to smuggle Kaji's bug into NERV's high-security detention centre.

"Once this is all over, I'm buying Hyuga a drink," Kaji declared. "Even for an inside job, that's quite a feat."

Over the subsequent minutes, at slightly more than snail's pace, we caught Misato up on the outside world, including further measures being taken against Russia NERV after the discovery of incriminating evidence in the Moscow MAGI by the United Nations' investigators.

"It looks like Moscow NERV were behind the attack by Bethany's Unit 11 after all," Kaji concluded, with a frown.

"You are … annoyed?" I asked him.

"Oh, it just wasn't what my investigation had been suggesting," he shrugged. "But you can't hang onto a falsified theory – then it's just dogma."

# no … more … Moscow … NERV, # sent Misato.

"Exactly," he agreed. "Between that and Unit 06 being fixed up and ready to enforce, the Russian government has given in and shut them down. Though they weren't happy about handing over all that data and material to Germany, so a lot of it's either coming here or going to the United States, since Commander Van Statten over there has been talking a lot more peacefully than anyone was expecting over the last few months."

Hopefully they won't decide to come up with creative uses for it, I thought, without much optimism.

Once Misato was up to date, she then shared her own situation as it had developed since Shinji's last visit.

# likely … demote … to … captain. #

I sent, 'Kensuke will protest.'

# ha … ha. #

"He'd be right to do so, # said Kaji loftily.

# if … i … can … fight … last … angel … thats … all … i … need. #

My face fell. Misato, at least, had not lost sight of her ultimate enemy.

Seeing my dismay, Kaji gathered me against his side in a half-hug. "Don't worry about it – lots of people don't get on well with their mother-in-law," he joked. "One day she'll understand."

"Hope so," I murmured, and set my fingers to the keyboard.

His hand on my shoulder clenched suddenly. "Wait – you're not telling her, are you?"

I fixed him with an appalled look.

"…Sorry. Dumb question."

Shaking my head, I turned back to the laptop. 'So no beer then?'

# not … funny. #

Kaji evidently disagreed, to judge by his burst of laughter.

I managed to smile as well, and reaffirm my hope for a day to come when I could be honest with all the people I cared for. Only then would I feel truly Free; only then could I begin to write my own fate. One day.