Chapter 6: Lelouch
[MELCHIOR]: MessageIntercept below. Recommend MessageTerminate Immediately. Request Confirmation.
From: Commander--NERV2--Nevada—SECURECHAN
To: Brit--Mil--Attache--NERV1--Tokyo3—SECURECHAN
Lelouch,
Work continues on the S-2 engine. In response to your earlier question: No, I doubt that giving an S-2 engine to a modified Angel (read: Evangelion) will cause trouble.
On the other hand, there's something very peculiar about the EVA project. I don't mean the robots-with-souls issue, either. Nina Einstein found something the other day that worried me. I have attached her data to this message. Contact me if you agree with her assessment.
P.S. -- Start reading up on the Qumran excavations. I'll explain later.
--Schneizel
[BALTHASAR]: MessageTerminate to Original Recipient Confirmed. Recommend First: Copy & Reroute to Commander-NERV-1.
[CASPER]: Concur MessageTerminate to Original Recipient. Concur Copy & Reroute First to Commander-NERV-1.
[MELCHIOR]: Confirm Copy & Reroute. Message Terminated.
Two Evangelions blasted skyward through tunnels that would have made a mole rat jealous. At the bottom of the screen, the clock read 62 seconds. And counting…
The Seventh Angel waited. It—they?—were patient. The red EVA surfaced fractions of a second sooner than its blue counterpart, but not enough to screw up the countdown. In the background, music played.
The Angel looked up. Its flat arm-and-shoulder carapace sagged as a red light glowed on its chest. Three eyes turned to our checkered display screen and glowered at us. The Angel's bone eye covering reminded me of a button, or a showerhead.
In perfect unison, the EVAs leaped into the air, carried by the force of their launch catapults. Out came the spears. As their aerial pirouette concluded, the EVAs hurled their weapons into the Seventh Angel. Pink meat oozed from the cut—a cross between salmon and sewage. The Angel split.
"Pass the popcorn, witch."
C.C. obliged.
Shinji and Asuka descended. Like clockwork, two buildings slid open like cabinets to reveal palette rifles. Metal slugs the size of small animals clanged off the Angels' AT fields. The starfish-creatures fired back. Their blasts ripped holes in the asphalt, but the Evangelions flipped backward in what looked like a gymnast's floor routine.
"Well that's…"
"…ridiculous," C.C. finished.
"Indeed…"
A steel plate shot up between the Angels and the EVAs. It bent inward when the beams hit it, but didn't break. Our antagonists moved forward.
..And by "our antagonists", I mean the Angels. For now.
They slammed into the barrier like football players tackling a dummy, except that the target crumpled. No matter. Already, the EVAs had moved aside. Rocket batteries opened up from the pine trees. Smoke and fire obscured both enemies until the EVAs nailed them with axe kicks that knocked the Angels together again. Their bodies bubbled and fused like putty. Then came the coup de grace—flying kicks from both EVAs that cracked the core.
An explosion. The screen turned orange. As the smoke cleared, it revealed a crater with two EVAs piled on top of each other.
"Well, Mr. Lamperouge…it appears you've finally met your match when it comes to strategic genius."
I stood up and turned on the lights. C.C. feigned a look of disappointment.
"Going already?" she asked.
I rubbed my hands on a linen napkin to remove the remaining spots of popcorn grease.
"Cheer up," I said. "Just loop it fifty times and pretend I'm snarking at it."
The witch rolled her eyes. I opened the door.
"Oh, perfect," she said. "That's my idea of—"
The door slammed.
"—entertainment…"
You're probably wondering why I was in a foul mood. Normally, victory speeches are my bread and butter: they're an opportunity to gloat, inspire loyalty, and ham it up at the same time. Normally, though, I didn't have to give them to...
"LULU!" a voice squealed.
...Asuka.
She glomped onto my waist. I moved my mouth, but didn't have any air.
"Huh?" she said.
The pressure released. Sweet merciful heavens, that felt good…
"Hi, Asuka," I squeaked.
She widened her eyes in a way that she probably thought was cute, but actually looked like an electrocuted hamster.
"H-i-i-i-y-a Lulu!"
I sighed a long-suffering sigh and patted her on the head. On my scale of underage-girls-who-are-creepily-attracted-to-me, Asuka ranked slightly ahead of Kaguya and far above Tianzi. Unlike Kaguya, I'd known Asuka since she arrived at the Britannian court as an emotionally shattered child…
Ergo, she was my responsibility. Asuka exploited this fact with a ruthlessness that I would have admired if not for my bruised ribs.
I still remembered the day we'd met. She'd just come out of a testing room and asked me what the fourteenth clause of the Treaty of Khazur was. I'd told her it didn't matter, since the entire point of the test was to see how well she could figure out the answers from context clues within the test. She'd rolled her eyes and sniffed that she should have known better than to ask a child about an important test like that. What did I know, anyway?
As it turned out, I'd designed the test.
Unfortunately, right now I needed her. Worse, she required careful handling. I quickened my pace. Since I'm roughly as athletic as an asthmatic mule, she kept up easily.
"So…" she said. "What did you think?"
I smiled and gave her a nonchalant nod.
"Not bad…not bad…"
Asuka skipped alongside me and swung my hand back and forth in her own. Her predatory grin widened.
"Not bad?!" she said. "I was great! Wunderbar—um…I mean…"
Her hand covered her mouth. She blushed and looked at me nervously.
"It's fine," I said. "I'm not one of your tutors. You can speak your native language if you want."
She blushed more deeply and took my hand again—this time, a little more gently.
"Thanks…" she said.
"You're welcome," I replied. "Just don't make it a habit. If they think you've relapsed…"
I let the statement hang in the air. It wasn't a threat, but a friendly warning. Asuka cringed, and her voice grew quiet.
"Let's use English," she said.
"Good idea."
Tokyo-3 wasn't designed for teenagers--especially teenagers who are trying very hard to pamper an egotistical fourteen-year-old without making it seem like a date. As far as I could tell, businesses came in three flavors: cinemas, ramen, and ice cream. Oh, and a steak shop, but I couldn't imagine Asuka getting excited about that.
"Care for a walk?" I asked.
She nodded.
Tokyo-3 could be quite beautiful in the evenings. Even from the streets, we saw the sunlight dance across windows and turn the low-hanging stratus clouds purple with its shadows. On other buildings, horizontal crevices stood out, reminding me how closely some of the skyscrapers resembled filing cabinets.
For a while, we amused ourselves with an old game we'd played when we were children. We took turns. One of us pointed out people on the street, and the other tried to guess what country they came from by their gestures and cone of personal space.
Most of the time, we were right.
Hills hovered on the horizon. A few evenings ago, I had stood on one of those hills and looked at the city. I had realized, then, how concentrated the buildings had become. All of the skyscrapers stood in a cross-shaped pattern at the city center. A stone's throw away, the ground leveled off to a flat plane of airfields and suburbs. The buildings had looked brittle and isolated; as if a giant hand could sweep them away.
"The BNN wanted to run a story about you," I said.
The effect was immediate: Asuka let out a migraine-inducing squee and wrapped herself around my arm like a boa constrictor. Probably for the best, I reflected. Without blood flow, I couldn't feel my joints being wrenched out of socket as she hopped up and down.
"The reporter's named Diethard Reid," I said. "Try to smile for the cameras."
Asuka rose to the challenge by flashing me a smirk. Behind us, I noticed a familiar pair of glasses—Makoto somebody-or-other. Well, well…Misato had her spies as well, evidently.
"I'm really famous these days," Asuka said.
"Oh?"
We turned a corner. Makoto followed.
"Yep," Asuka said. "Really famous…"
She put her hands behind her back and affected an offhand shrug. Unsuccessfully, I might add.
"…I even have my own stalker…"
Something about the way she'd said it bothered me—as if she was worried and trying to cover it up. In the back of my mind, alarm bells went off. I matched my tone to hers: free and easy.
"Go on," I said.
Asuka looked up at the skyline.
"Oh, nothing much," she said. "Real oddball…hasn't said anything to me yet, though. He has this long robe-thingy and a visor, and he's always wearing earphones—"
"Visor?" I said. "Like on a helmet?"
Asuka giggled—nervously. My tone must have betrayed concern.
"Don't be silly!" she said. "Who'd wear a helmet? It's just a visor. Kinda like sunglasses."
Behind us, I heard a muffled grunt as Sayoko clubbed Makoto whatever-his-name-was over the head and stuffed his unconscious body into a dumpster. His laundry bill would cost a little extra that evening. If necessary, Sayoko could do the same to Asuka's new 'friend'…or worse.
I decided to lighten the mood.
"Maybe he's the guy who's been selling pictures of you," I said.
Asuka blew on a strand of hair. It fell exactly where it had been.
"Nah," she said. "That was Kensuke."
"And…?"
A devilish grin appeared.
"Let's just say he's not going to be taking pictures for a while," she said.
"Ah…"
We were halfway across a street before I realized we'd crossed it. The light was green, but no horns honked because there weren't any cars. That's post-Second Impact for you…
"I heard you made the Student Council," I said.
She fiddled with her hair and met me with an upturned nose.
"Obviously," she said.
Oh, good grief…
I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes.
"How is it?" I asked.
She tapped her finger on her lips.
"W-e-l-l…" she said. "Hikari's okay…Shirley's a bitch, and I hate Milly's stupid games, and Kallen's just so shy and boring that it makes me sick…"
She paused for effect. I knew what was coming, which only made it worse. Like sitting on train tracks.
"…But it's great when you're there!"
Cue another glomp.
After I wheezed myself back from the brink of a near-blackout, I turned the conversation to its real purpose.
"How's the Third Child?" I asked.
Asuka raised an eyebrow.
"Bo-ring," she said. "Oh, stop looking at me like that. Fine, I guess. But nothing like—"
"Yeah, I know. Nothing like me. Listen, Asuka. We're playing high-level political games right now that I can't tell you about…"
Her eyes widened. The pressure on my knuckles increased until they nearly cracked. Apparently, adding the element of danger to my job transformed Asuka from a rabid fangirl to an even more rabid fangirl. (Still not as bad as Kaede, my Japanese secretary who liked to appear at parties with pink hair. But that's another story.)
On the other hand…
Whatever else could be said of Asuka, she knew her duty. Britannian or not, fourteen or not, she understood the tie of loyalty between a knight and her prince…which was exactly what we were.
Asuka had given the oath seven years ago, when she was barely old enough to understand it. All she'd known was that I was a nice prince who'd protected her from her Britannian "tutors".
By now, she understood its importance.
"What do you need me to do, Prince Lelouch?"
"It's…complicated," I said.
Asuka snorted.
"I'm a genius."
I laughed to myself, which earned me a what's-so-funny? look.
"So am I," I said. "Unfortunately, our high IQ's don't particularly help us in this type of mission."
Asuka tilted her head to one side.
"Eh?"
"The Third Child is working with his father," I said. "I'm not sure what yet, but I am sure that he knows something."
"Something about what?" she asked.
"No idea."
Asuka rolled her eyes. I didn't blame her.
"Yeah," she grumbled. "That helps a bunch…"
"Basically, I want you to get close to him," I said. "Gain his confidence. Listen, though: whatever you do, don't get emotionally involved with him. Gendo might instruct Shinji to play on your part-Japanese ancestry. I know you're not keen on Britannia, but—"
"—But I'm loyal to you," she said.
I smiled and patted her on the shoulder. Just once, so it didn't seem patronizing.
"That's very nice to hear," I said.
"It's true."
Another awkward silence. She slapped me on the back.
"Don't worry--I won't get emotionally invested. You're talking to a human AT field."
Neither of us realized just how right she was. We walked in silence for a bit longer.
My phone rang: Nunnally, of all people. The call didn't last long—just a short "how are you?" from her and a "congratulations about Jetalot" from me. Asuka grimaced, but that was nothing new. She'd never liked Nunnally.
I only mention the call for a peculiar comment at the end:
"Lelouch?"
"Yeah, Nunnally?"
"About C.C…."
"Yes?"
My sister hesitated a moment. She spoke carefully, like a sixth grader at a spelling bee.
"She…um…gets along well with you…" she said.
Asuka stared at me. She must have caught my look of puzzlement.
"Er...I should hope so," I said. "She's my former governess, after all…"
"Oh, I suppose…but that's not exactly what I'm trying to....I mean, C.C. doesn't express her emotions very well…not like normal girls…"
Apparently, my sister had decided to waste valuable phone time belaboring the obvious.
"Heh…you're telling me," I said.
To my surprise, I heard an angry huff on the other end.
"You're hopeless!" she snapped. "Someday, Lelouch, you're going to regret spending so much time playing your stupid political games that you ignore the only person—"
"Sorry, Nunnally, but I'm not sure what you—"
"AUGH!"
The line went dead.
"Well, that was peculiar…" I said.
From: Brit--Mil--Attache--NERV1--Tokyo3—SECURECHAN
To: Odysseus--eu--Britannia--TravelSecretariat—SECURECHAN
Odysseus,
Get Asuka's father out of the E.U. if possible. As long as they hold that game piece, they can capture our knight…
--Lelouch
[BALTHASAR]: As before?
[CASPER]: Confirm.
[MELCHIOR]: Confirm.
