Chapter 4: Nunnally

Bureaucracies are like promises: once you make them, you can never take them back. So it was with NERV when my father built it. NERV began as a small project headed by an eccentric Japanese couple. It had languished under Kururugi's administration, since Genbu had regarded it with suspicion. It didn't help that NERV drew most of its funds from the EU after Prime Minister Lorenz took it under his wing.

With conquest came new management. And catastrophe.

When I was a little girl, Second Impact drowned the southern hemisphere. The world lost half its population; Britannia and the EU barely lost a tenth. Then Britannia swept down from the north, gobbling up Area after Area--Columbia, 2003. Ecuador, Peru, 2004. Bolivia, Venezuela, 2005. Brazil the same year. And the rest…Father gained more land in five years than Britannia had conquered in the previous hundred.

Fourteen years after Impact, the Angels arrived. We met them with knightmares and failed. We met them with FLEIJAs and failed. NERV met them with the Evangelions. What had once been a small research organization had glutted itself on Britannian funds like a bloated tick on the body politic. Gendo Ikari was a murderer, but his weapons worked.

Now we depended on him. Knowing what I knew, that piece of information terrified me.


"F-Father?"

The cold man on his cold throne did not offer me a smile. No matter. I knew—really, I did—about the affection that he hid behind his mask.

This was his evening audience. Most nobles had left hours ago. The Britannian flag hung above the throne: a serpent and viper wound around each other. When I was young, I thought they were kissing. Even though Schneizel corrected me, I still liked to think that our heraldic animals made out when nobody was looking.

The lights shone faintly on the Emperor's throne, aside from an odd green glow that came from behind him, giving his double-breasted buttons the look of old copper when it reflected from them. It crept through cracks in a sandstone frame, and I soon realized that the cracks were hieroglyphs. I remembered what they meant, too.

Father's eyes seemed to burn like coals…or Geass. I reminded myself that he didn't know anything yet.

Just a trick of the light…

"Speak," he said.

"I…um…"

I found myself fiddling with my hands. Not a good start. His brows rose.

"Er…Ahem!" I said. "Father, I wish to take over the Jet Alone project."

"Jetalot," he said.

"But that name's so silly…"

His voice became stern.

"Jetalot," he repeated.

I sighed.

"Oh, very well," I said. "Jetalot. Now that Lelouch's in Tokyo-3, I want to help him as much as I can. I feel…well, I feel guilty for leaving him there, Father."

The sides of Father's mouth curled into a sneer. He looked down at me too quickly, which upset his curls. As I looked away, he straightened the wig again.

"Guilt is a weakness," he said.

My mouth dried out. I could feel a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach. Nobody, not even Gendo Ikari, has ever scared me more than Charles zi Britannia….despite the fact that I knew he meant well…

I fought the tremor in my voice.

"I—Yes, it…um…is a weakness, I-I guess…but it's useful, isn't it, Father? To you, I mean? Lelouch might, ah…be your heir someday, and because I love him, I could help…"

His mouth twitched, almost too fast. Lelouch, who always hated Father, would have thought it was a dismissive smirk. I knew better. The orbicularis oculi muscle had also twitched, which meant it was a smile. Our kinesics tutors had a word for that expression—something French, I think.

Hands behind his back, Father stepped off the throne and descended the steps until he stood a few places below me. Our heads rested on the same level, which I found unnerving.

His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"And your credentials?" he said.

It was a struggle, but I gave him my cutest smile and handed him my CV. He pretended to leaf through it as he watched me. Both of us knew its contents.

"On page three," I said, "you'll find that I graduated with a dual J.D. / M.P.A. from the Camelford School of Government two years ago…ah….Sixth in a class of seven hundred…and…um…Oh! Right! I managed a position in the Exchequer for a year…"

He turned the page with a fwop so loud I nearly jumped.

"A sinecure," he said. "Not a genuine post."

"Um…true, but I improved productivity by six hundred percent!"

I threw him another cute smile. Couldn't hurt.

Something clicked as he pulled it from his pocket. I nearly fell over when his hand emerged with a pair of reading glasses. He must have seen me gaping, because he tapped the paper loudly.

"What's this?" he demanded.

I peeked over his shoulder.

"The E.N.O. is the largest private charity in Britannia," I said in my most official-sounding voice. "As its Dictat…um…Director, I nearly doubled its collections volume and—"

He raised a hand.

"I know what it is," he said. "But why is this filth on your resume?"

So that was it, then. The dismissal. My jaw tightened. I decided that I might as well go down fighting.

"Because I think it's important, Father! I think it's very noble…"

His glare silenced me. The only sound for the next few seconds was the click of his glasses as he folded them and stuffed them back into his pocket. Without a word, he clip-clopped back up the stone steps and sat down again.

I gulped.

"Very well," he said. "Director Nunnally. Report to the Jetalot program immediately."

"YAY! Oh, Daddy, this—um…I mean, I appreciate your faith in my abilities, Your Majesty. I hope that I shall prove myself worthy."

He graced me with a polite nod. I bowed.

"I doubt it," he said. "In any case, you may go."

I was so close to skipping out of the throne room that I shudder to think about it now. As it was, my steps were a little too springy. I had walked halfway down the darkened hall when Father's voice stopped me.

"Director?"

"Eep! Er…yes?" I said.

"Tell anyone about my glasses and I'll have you shot," he said.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Now run along. Your father has work to do."


Cornelia sat in silence as the video feed played. At the beginning, she'd crossed her legs over the footstool, tapping her finger impatiently on the armrests. She'd been indulgent. Now she huddled forward, eyes wide, mouth open. I couldn't blame her.

Euphie stood behind Cornelia. Since the rest of the room was dark, the television painted her blue. On the screen, two Evangelions confronted something that looked like a four-legged starfish. The red Eva moved first. The girl's. Asuka's. Heedless of the boy's warning, she leaped—

"She cuts it in half," I said.

Asuka cut it in half.

"Shinji concedes that she's done well after all…"

…which he did…

"And now it splits into two and reforms," I said.

Cornelia bolted from her chair when triune bone masks regenerated on each side of the corpse, followed by legs and arms. A single body gave birth to two new opponents—one bronze-colored, the other silver.

"Bang…fwoosh…splat," I said, sweeping my hand upward to mimic the red EVA's impending flight. A moment later, the blow landed. The god-machine burrowed into the mud up to its waist, head first. Poor Asuka…

"And now Shinji," I said.

It was so. The gauze on Euphemia's dress turned a bright red as the screen showed an N-2 explosion. Cornelia's eyes snapped to Euphie's. She wasn't laughing now.

"You're sure this is a live broadcast?" she demanded.

Euphie nodded.

"She did the same thing during the fight with the Sixth," she said. "And the Fifth…and the Fourth…"

"So it's true…"

Now, Cornelia looked at me with her parade-ground glare that melted men in their boots and had cowed me as a child…but now I felt a twinge of pity instead. Third Impact had showed me her deepest thoughts. I knew the price she'd paid for her reputation, and the longing for acceptance that drove her to pay it. For Father, of course.

…But Cornelia was my sister. Her expression softened, and then cracked entirely. Before I could say anything, she wrapped me in her arms and hugged me tight. Then I remembered that she'd protected me from Lelouch's teasing in the days before Lelouch had grown beyond the petty meanness of little boys.

"You poor thing," Cornelia said. "You poor, poor thing…"

Euphie's arms smothered me from the other side. A three-sister Britannian sandwich. For a moment, I basked in the warmth and wanted it to last forever. Alas, Lilith had given me a job to do.

"We need to talk," I said.