Ritsuko stood in the Commander's office. As always, the cavernous space pressed down around her; the dim light from the Tree of Sephiroth was bright enough only to turn pitch black to gloom. The Commander sat before her; Fuyutsuki stood behind him, observing. Ikari radiated annoyance, even while keeping to his trademark pose, his fingers interlaced before his mouth.

"Report."

"The serum appears effective," she said. "Adam's status is back to as it was when we first acquired him. It's proven … resistant to analysis so far, but I should be able to keep him in check, if nothing else. The … factory … provided is working without complaint, but also without my understanding."

If she hadn't been dealing with and even creating worse nightmares for the past fifteen years, even she would have shuddered at the thought of the 'factory'. As was, she merely let a touch of disdain into her voice.

"That's good enough," Ikari said. He never was much of a scientist. "What about our battle readiness?"

If Ritsuko were a stupid woman, she might have thought this was his succinct way of asking about the Evas, their pilots, and the disposition of the UN troops around the city. "Rei will survive with no long-term complications," she said. "It was mostly only sympathetic pain; now that the palpitations have stopped, she's out of danger. She'll be cleared to go home in two days at the most."

"And the rest?"

"The other two Children were not harmed." This was technically untrue, but the Commander didn't care that she'd prescribed them a pack of aspirin and some sleeping tablets apiece. "Unit-00 was badly damaged; it won't be operational as more than a reserve for some time, I estimate three weeks." The explosion tore through the front plating and caused severe internal injuries; if the bomb had been just three percent more powerful or if the interference patterns had resonated even one percent more harmonically, Rei would have been blown to bits. "Unit-01 suffered only superficial damage. Unit-02's wrist was severed cleanly, but it still needs nerve optimisation and burn treatment; I estimate 85% combat efficacy in two days, and the remainder will return more or less by itself."

Ikari frowned. "You know how crucial the First Child is to the Scenario. You should never have allowed her into that situation."

"Katsuragi outranks me regarding operational matters, sir," Ritsuko said coolly.

Ikari glared. "You have the authority to countermand her when the Scenario is in question."

"It was already in question, sir. Both other pilots had already been wounded by the Angel. And …"

She was about to mention that Rei had in fact acted on her own initiative, but something she didn't understand stopped her.

"… and at that point, we needed all the firepower we could get," she finished.

"This will not happen again."

"… Very well, sir."

"It will not happen again because I will not allow the First to pilot again. The Marduk Institute has found the Fourth Child." He pushed a dossier across his desk. "You will synchronise him with Unit-00."

Ritsuko took the dossier and flipped it open to scan the first page, speaking while she read. "Sir, Second Branch has all but completed Unit-03, and I understand that Unit-04 is less than two months away. He would be more effective in combat if he were in a production model than the prototype."

"I have given you your orders, Doctor."

Ritsuko bit her lip but accepted it. There was no arguing with the man. Then she glanced back down at the photo of the Fourth Child and made several rapid leaps of logic. Her eyes widened.

"Sir, I think it's vital that this Child be kept out of Unit-00."

"You think?"

"Call it woman's intuition," she said, a catch-all excuse she developed at college for dealing with non-scientists when only a scientist would understand her reasoning.

"Will synchronisation be impossible?"

"Well – no, not as such, technically, but –"

"Then do it."

"But he wouldn't be able –"

Ikari's eyebrows tightened. "Do I need to replace you?" he asked coolly.

Ritsuko's voice shook in anger. "This is a bad decision. Won't you hear me out?" she asked. Mine is the profession that built Trinity. May God save us all from men who give orders to scientists without listening when they tell you not to do a thing.

Gendo gazed at her impassively. Fuyutsuki's expression wavered and he opened his mouth for a moment, but shut it again without saying anything.

"Fine," Ritsuko said. "Fine. I'll have the Fourth synchronise with Unit-00. May I ask what we will do with the later Units when they are completed?"

"I shall inform you in due time," Ikari said.

Right. It's not like the head of the entire project needs to know minor details like who's going to pilot Eva, when it's a hybrid of at least four technologies we only halfway understand and the slightest mistake could see humankind go extinct. You petulant swine. "Very good, sir." And she turned and left.

Fuyutsuki waited until her footsteps had faded away before addressing his superior. "Are you sure it's wise to antagonise her?"

"She won't leave," Ikari replied. "But she needs to be kept in her place."

"Seele said the same thing," Fuyutsuki said, his tone neither condoning nor condemning.

"Yes," was all Ikari said.

…

Asuka's nose twitched. Okonomiyaki.

She threw on something more than her nightclothes, combed her hair until it was presentable, and staggered out into the kitchen. Shinji had a stack of the savoury pancakes ready, with different ingredients on each. She rubbed her eyes and yawned.

"Good morning," Shinji said, giving her half a glance before double-taking and turning scarlet.

She glanced down. She was wearing a shirt about eight sizes too large which she had no recollection of owning, which was long enough to conceal her shorts: it looked like the shirt was all she was wearing. She considered hitting him for fantasising about her, but decided instead to see what happened if she pretended not to notice. It wasn't as though he'd do anything either way.

"Morning," she replied flippantly. "We have today off, right?"

Shinji glanced at the microwave's display, which doubled as a clock. 11:38 on a Monday. "I'm pretty sure the teacher knows not to expect us today," he said. His eyes flicked back to her thighs. "Um, Asuka … are you –"

"Hungry? Are you stupid? It's almost noon and I haven't eaten." She hopped up onto the counter beside the stove, fighting not to laugh at how his eyes tracked her thighs. "And we were up all night. Fighting the Angel," she added. "Not that you'd know."

"I was out cold for three minutes," he said, stirring the pan while staring at her legs.

"Which was plenty of time for me to kill it."

He blinked. "Wait, I thought it was Ayanami who –?"

Asuka rubbed one thigh against the other. Shinji yelped, then ran over to the sink to run his hand under the cold tap: he'd burnt himself. "Little Miss Honours Student does three things, Third. She grabs things, she throws things, and she commits suicide. She doesn't get credit for kills." She took the stack of okonomiyaki and helped herself.

"That's not really fair."

"Yeah? Name one time when she did something else."

He ran the fifth, ninth, and tenth Angels through his mind. "She neutralised the tenth's AT Field."

Asuka rolled her eyes and began massaging her thigh. "I think I'll go to the pool today. I feel a bit stiff."

"Me too," Shinji muttered.

"What was that?"

"Uh – well, yeah, I feel like swimming too. Hey, do you have Doctor Akagi's phone number? I want to ask how Ayanami's doing."

Asuka shrugged and swallowed another mouthful. "Call Nerv directly, if you care that much."

Shinji considered this. The Nerv call trees were legendary. Legendary and horrible. He suspected they made them deliberately obtrusive, just to stop people from hassling them; he blamed this, like most things, on his father.

There came the sound of a door sliding open, and out walked a bleary-eyed Misato, clearly having just woken up. Asuka narrowed her eyes at her guardian's appearance: bed hair, mismatched buttons, bare midriff, unshaven, penguin feathers stuck to indecently short shorts.

"Awake at last," she said sardonically. "Shinji, why don't you fetch the Major a beer, so she can welcome the dawn in traditional Japanese fashion?"

Misato yawned, scratched her head, and blinked at her. "Asuka? Why are you wearing Hyuga's shirt?"

Asuka's eyes widened, and she tore off the offending garment with a yelp. Shinji's eyes swivelled downward again, so she kicked him before rushing back to her room. "Idiot! Pervert!"

Misato walked over and set about finishing Asuka's pancakes. "It must have got mixed up with my laundry when he offered to do mine for me," she mused. "No idea how it wound up in her wardrobe, though. Sorry about that."

"It's okay," said Shinji, rubbing his hip where Asuka's foot had connected. It hurt more than usual; it felt like she'd got him right on the pelvis this time. "Do you have Doctor Akagi's phone number?"

…

Hikari was Class Representative for a reason. She liked to think she paid as much attention in class as anyone, and she was certainly the most responsible, for all that that wasn't an especially high bar. Still, her attention had to wander sometimes, as did her gaze.

At the front of the class, Asuka's seat was empty. The usual gaggle of hangers-on who surrounded her was bored and listless. It seemed odd to Hikari that they followed Asuka so slavishly; if they wanted her popularity to rub off on them, then they didn't make much use of it when she was out. It wasn't like her own friendship with the girl, which was a mixture of shared sensibilities, friendship, and actually enjoying one another's company, like friends were supposed to do. Further back was Rei's spot, which was empty as often as not anyway; and Shinji's. Her gaze naturally slid sideways, to Toji and Kensuke. She sighed wistfully, thinking it would be nice if Asuka were here. At least then she'd have someone she could talk to.

She did a double-take at Kensuke's screen. That definitely wasn't anything to do with the syllabus. Why couldn't he be more like … no, Toji wasn't really paying attention either. And if she exhorted him to be more like Shinji, he'd ask her whether that meant he was supposed to randomly skip one day in four. She tabbed into the laptops' IM program.

HorakiH: Aida! What do you think you're doing!

Kensuke glanced over his shoulder at her with a pathetically guilty expression, and she felt a thrill of schadenfreude. Busted.

AidaK: come on, rep. even you arent listening.

She bit her lip. He doesn't know that. He's just guessing. Bluff him.

HorakiH: Yes I am. He's talking about Second Impact.

Kensuke muttered something indistinct which may have been 'for a change'.

AidaK: look, the bells going to ring in two seconds anyway.

HorakiH: That's not the point!

AidaK: fine, ill pay attention til then.

The message arrived literally a split second before the lunch bell rang. She clamped down on her irritation to complete her duties.

"Rise! Bow! Sit! Dismissed!"

Kensuke gave her one look, sighed, and stayed where he was. Toji saw and stayed with his friend, as Hikari walked up.

"Told you you should've waited until after school," Toji said.

"What's so important you have to ignore a lecture to do it, anyway?" Hikari asked.

"Can you name two things that aren't?" Toji asked.

Hikari glared, then looked over Kensuke's shoulder. "A dating site? Don't you have to be over eighteen to use those?"

"Technically, shippers dot com is a friend-finding site," Kensuke said. "See? It says so, right there in the tagline."

Hikari's eyes skimmed the top of the screen, which read I am a male looking for female company. "Right."

"It's legal, and this site has a pretty good reputation. It's perfectly safe. I've restricted the age to mine plus or minus two years. I've done my homework on this."

"There's a first."

"Look, there's that big festival this spring, right?" Kensuke said. "We both know there's no girl in school who'd go with me. And that's fine, I understand, that's their right, and I'm okay with that. I'm a military nut, and most girls aren't interested in that, and that's fair enough; I'm not interested in girly stuff, either. I'm not complaining or anything. But an Angel could wipe Tokyo-3 off the map any day. And before I die, just once, I'd like to not be the loser moping around off to one side by himself at a party like this. It might not seem like such a big deal to you, but it matters to me. Is it really so much to ask for?"

Hikari glared.

"No. But that doesn't mean you have a blank pass to slack off during class."

Kensuke threw up his hands. "Fine, I'll leave it for my own time. I won't let it bother you any more."

There was a ding from his computer. He checked. Technically, recess counted as his own time.

"A match?" Toji said, incredulously. Kensuke shot him a look. "I mean, a match that fast? I thought people usually took days to get responses." He looked back at Hikari. "What?"

"I didn't say anything."

"I meant, why are you still here? You've finished lecturing us, and it's lunchtime. Speaking of which," he added to Kensuke, "mind if we head out? I'm starving."

"Just let me send a reply; it'll only take a minute." Toji nodded and turned back to Hikari.

"Well," said Hikari, oddly drawn to Kensuke's computer, still reading over his shoulder. "I just, you know."

Kensuke raised his eyebrows.

"You're curious?" he asked.

"Well. A little."

He shrugged and followed the link to the girl's profile. "Murakami Yuki." There was a photo; a cute girl in a school uniform, grinning toothily and making V signs with both hands. "See? She looks normal enough."

"She looks like she's going to go for the throat," Hikari said.

"Well, then it's a good thing no-one's asking you to date her," Kensuke said. "What should I say … 'Let's meet after school on Friday at Mitsui Mall'? No, I don't want to sound bossy. 'Do you want to meet up, maybe Friday at Mitsui Mall'? Too wussy. What sort of honorifics do you use on girls? I don't want to sound too formal, especially if I'm going to see her more than once, but I don't want to be disrespectful or too forward …"

"I'll get you something from the cafeteria," Toji said, as he and Hikari left the classroom.

…

Sirens blared in Nerv HQ. Ritsuko gave a huff of exasperation, minimised her program, and headed out to the bridge. Angels took precedence over even the Commander's pet projects. The techs were already assembled, along with Misato and Fuyutsuki.

"Blue pattern detected! Confirmed ninety-three percent chromatographic match!"

"Summoning pilots; rerouting mass transit; readying plugs for insertion."

"Alerting the local and national governments and UN forces."

"Uh … the pattern is a little unusual this time. It's more like … azure? It's outside of established chromatic bounds, but sonometry confirms it's too big and too fast to be a whale. We thought it was irregular seismic activity at first, but …"

"It's an Angel," Ritsuko said, impatient. "What else could it possibly be?"

"Conventional defence capacity at 58% of nominal. Magi's computing its optimised deployment. Major, this is two attacks in two days. We're not ready for it."

"We'll deal with it," Misato said. "One way or another."

"Time to launch estimated at eight minutes. Target will make landfall in twelve."

"Unit-00 is too damaged for priority combat. Units -01 and -02 are at 92 and 73% of operational maxima. Finalising nerve configuration for Unit-02 in six minutes."

"Supplying prog knives and Unit-02's shoulder spikes. Interrupting software patches and rebooting OS for Unit-01 in fifteen seconds. Fourteen, thirteen …"

"Give me a visual," said Misato. Makoto hit a button, and a satellite image was projected against the wall. The target was a dark blur in the Sagami-nada Sea, heading almost due north toward the coast. A handful of fishing boats sped away; for whatever reason, most Angels attacked from that direction, so the local sailors had been thoroughly drilled in evacuation procedures. Writing skittered across the screen, showing estimates of the target's size, speed, time to landfall, and a host of other data that the techs usually kept to themselves, such as that it wasn't gamma radioactive and had no magnetic field.

"Pilots prepped to launch. Transport planes on standby."

"Launch!"

The Evas landed on the beach and inserted their power cables. Asuka opened a channel to Shinji and grinned. "This is totally just like the seventh, right? A beach party for two?"

"Yes. Maybe try not to be overconfident this time?"

"Shinji, have I ever told you you're a whiner? By the way, what are you making for dinner?"

"Isn't it someone else's turn to cook? For once?"

"Whose, Misato's? Don't you care about me, Shin-chan? Don't you care about Pen-Pen? Imagine poor, dear, sweet Pen-Pen, projectile vomiting into the toilet again …"

"There is an Angel attacking," said Misato, wishing for the hundredth time that adults could pilot.

The Angel chose that moment to surface and begin lumbering up the coastal shelf to dry land. It was bright yellow and brought to mind a sculpture of a dog made by a toddler from wet sand; it had no head, and its body and four limbs quivered with each step, as though it might fall apart under its own weight. Its paws were long and shovel-like, and covered in angular grey material, like armoured boots. It was smaller than the last Angel, being maybe four fifths as tall and two thirds as long.

"Doesn't look like much," said Asuka, rotating her wrist. It kept playing up since being sliced off and reattached; she made a note to bring it up with Akagi again.

"Do they ever?" Shinji asked.

"You're whining again, Third."

"Listen up," Misato interrupted. "Asuka, engage the target, but be ready to fall back on my command. Shinji, stay in reserve until my command."

"What am I even going for?" Asuka asked. "I don't see a core."

"If it attacks, that will probably expose the core; it usually does," Misato said. "If it doesn't, well, feel free to tear it apart."

"See, Shinji? Show some optimism."

Shinji frowned but said nothing.

Asuka dashed forward to meet the Angel. It shivered as though seeing her despite its lack of eyes, and reared up for a one-two swipe with its grey claws; she danced backwards and swung her glaive to parry. The blade strained against an AT Field for a moment, before punching through. It sliced clean through one leg where the Angel's knee might have been if it had had an apparent skeleton; the foot flew off and LCL spurted out of the wound. Asuka jinked to the side, taking advantage as the Angel scrambled for balance, then leapt over it, bringing her weapon around an elegant arc, and slicing it neatly in half. LCL sprayed out of it; it collapsed like a punctured balloon and was still. She swivelled and pointed her glaive at it, ready in case this one turned out to be as hard to kill as the seventh.

There was ten seconds' silence.

"Was that it?" Asuka asked, disappointed and suspicious.

"Target is … silent," Maya said, sounding puzzled. "No AT Field detected."

"Yeah, but – seriously?" Asuka asked. "Two hits and it's dead? I mean, I guess the second-last one was that easy, sort of, but … I didn't even get a core or anything."

The LCL streamed out into the ocean, staining it orange; the yellow skin and grey material were disintegrating into LCL, too, and in a few minutes, all would be gone. "I'm deploying a team to test the residue," Ritsuko said. "It looks like it's just Adamite LCL, in which case there's no further threat. That's inert without a core binding it together."

"I … am I really just that awesome?" Asuka wondered aloud, not even believing it herself.

"Well, that's that," said Ritsuko, rising and striding out. "Maya, deal with the post-mortem."

"Yes, Senpai," Maya said, a moment before the door hissed shut behind her boss.

…

Fuyutsuki knocked at the office door. "Do you have a moment, Doctor?"

"No," Rituko said curtly, not pausing her rapid touch-typing. "Not with the post-battle analysis, the synchronisation test on Thursday, and all the paperwork I need to get out of the way before then because I sure as hell won't have time after."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," said Fuyutsuki.

Ritsuko sighed and waved him in. "Will you at least promise to talk to the Commander and try to get him to cancel?"

"That depends," said Fuyutsuki, walking in and taking a seat. "Why do you think it's a bad idea?"

"Well, the fact that it'll be an expensive flop is a part of it."

"So, your objection is entirely on technical grounds."

Ritsuko laughed without humour. "You could put it that way, why not."

"The Commander has other considerations. I don't necessarily agree with them, but …"

"The old men," Ritsuko guessed. She couldn't exactly see how this sort of failure could possibly help his cause, but politics never interested her much.

"Something like that."

Ritsuko lit a cigarette. Fuyutsuki noted that her ash tray was full. "Look. I realise that he has to play politics to keep Nerv financed. That doesn't mean I have to be his cat's paw. I'm in charge of Project E, maintaining the Magi, monitoring Rei's development, and guarding Adam. I don't have time to waste on his power games. He's the head of Nerv; it's his responsibility to get the resources we need, not mine. That's leaving aside that it's just a plain bad idea."

"I notice you omitted some of your duties."

"Those are … longer-term objectives," Ritsuko said carefully. "Not urgent, which the others are. I postpone them whenever I'm too busy trying to stop Third Impact."

Fuyutsuki double-checked the door was closed, and that her computer fan was whirring too loudly for electronic eavesdroppers. "The Commander needs the synchronisation experiment to go ahead, but he doesn't strictly need you to be the one who oversees it. What if I volunteered to run the test myself?"

"Are you able? With all due respect, a first synchronisation is a non-trivial technical task, and you're an administrator."

"I seem to recall being a professor of metaphysical biology, once upon a time," Fuyutsuki smiled. "I'm familiar with the theory and the practical procedures."

"Would you also be willing to pick up whatever paperwork ensued?"

He gave her a look which told her he understood that she knew there would be paperwork aplenty after it was all over. "Of course."

Ritsuko surveyed him. "It would still be a bad idea, but I personally would have a little more free time. I could spare a few moments for research. Hoping for Instrumentality, Subcommander?"

He chuckled. "I think you and I have more in common on that count than you think."

"Is that so?"

"Gendo's Scenario is better than the Committee's, or than Third Impact, certainly," said Fuyutsuki, "but I still have unanswered questions. There are so many ways it could go wrong. He's willing to take those risks – well, of course he is – but for the rest of us …"

"… merely defeating the Angels and calling it a day would be better," Ritsuko nodded. "But if the Commander's plan doesn't succeed, then nothing will be able to pre-empt the Committee. Well, other than the Angels."

"Why don't you focus on them, and I'll deal with the Committee."

She raised an eyebrow. "You think you can?"

He gave a little smile. "I think I'll have to. Somehow."

…

Misato, Shinji, and Asuka sat around their dining table. They bowed in gratitude for the meal, and set about demolishing it. There was a period of relative silence, where the only sounds were the slurping of noodles and the clink of chopsticks.

Shinji tolerated it for a while, then fidgeted, then broke. "So, uh, Misato," he tried, "how was work?"

Asuka frowned. Normally she loved to boast after her battles and relive them blow-by-blow, but not this time, even though it was her cleanest win yet. It felt empty, pointless, even though she loved winning, and she'd thought that it was one of her sole driving forces. An easy win wasn't enough to satisfy her sense of pride.

"It was … pretty dull after the battle," said Misato, picking up on Asuka's mood. "The tests came back positive. It was just LCL. I guess there's no rule saying the Angels all have to be so strong? Maybe there'll be even weaker ones later on, maybe we're over the hump?"

None of them believed that, so none of them said anything for a moment. Shinji again broke first. "Well, um. Is there anything happening later this week?"

"No, it'll be incredibly boring, guaranteed, unless there's a third Angel in a week," Asuka supplied. "Seriously, what did you expect her to say?"

Shinji smiled. Her invective was much nicer than an awkward silence. It was familiar and comforting, like an old blanket.

"Honestly, for one of the most important people at Nerv who isn't a pilot, you have a ridiculously dull job," she added. "I'll bet you say it's classified at parties just so you can pretend it's more interesting."

"I do no such thing," Misato lied.

"Oh yeah? What do you tell them? 'Today, the vending machine ran out of salted peanuts, so I had to buy them from the cafeteria, and one of the disgusting sweaty maintenance guys brushed up against me and fondled my shoulder because I don't wear real clothes'?"

Shinji's eyes raked both girls' outfits. Neither covered more than a third of their skin.

"As a matter of fact, today I found out that the Fourth Child has been found."

That stopped both Children cold, but only for a moment.

"Whaaat?" said Asuka. "Why do we need another stupid rookie coming in and messing up our strategy? We only have three Evas. What's he going to do, shoot spitballs at the Angel? Who is it, anyway?"

"No-one you know," Misato lied, not wanting to go into the details over dinner. "And he's being synched to Unit-00 on Thursday." Asuka had used an ungendered form of 'he'; Misato did not.

Asuka let out a snort. "You mean you're finally bumping the honours student?" She paused. "Less than a week after she killed the eleventh Angel? What gives?"

Shinji blinked at the doublethink. Did Asuka think she was the one who killed it, or Rei?

Misato almost corrected her – Rei had in fact killed the twelfth Angel – before remembering that the Commander had placed a thorough gag order around the real eleventh; only she and the bridge technicians knew, not even Rei. Ritsuko had begun referring to it semi-ironically as the ten point fifth Angel. "I don't know why; that's the Marduk Institute's business. I know that Ritz wasn't happy about it. I also know that it's going to be dangerous."

Shinji thought back to what he knew about Unit-00's first activation, when Rei had been put in traction for months. "Is it because it's Unit-00? Wouldn't it be better to have him be a reserve for Unit-01 or -02?"

"No, because if you let the idiot rookie touch my Unit-02, I will unmake both him and whoever ordered it," said Asuka. "But yeah, Unit-01 would make more sense."

Misato shrugged. "Not my decision. Take it up with the Commander." Meaning: don't take it up. "However, that leads into something I was going to tell you anyway. There's still a risk of something going badly. The Subcommander has moved the tests to Matsushiro, and he wants extra security."

"Like, the UN?" Shinji asked. "What could they do against an Eva?"

There was a pause.

"Oh," he said.

"Actually, even a worst-case would only be a one-Eva job. After all, -00 is still pretty much crippled from the second-last battle; even if it went berserk, it shouldn't be too hard to disable. And I want Asuka there, not you."

"You want me to sit in the plug all day, watching some idiot learn to wiggle his little finger? That sounds even more boring than a synch test. Send Shinji. He won't pay any attention in class anyway."

"Hey! Neither would you!"

Misato chose to ignore this. "Ritsuko said the nervous stimulation from being piloted would help Unit-02's wrist recovery. You need to spend the hours in there anyway. Might as well make yourself useful."

Asuka harrumphed.

"How does Rei feel about all this?" Shinji tried.

"I'm sure she's not upset," said Misato.

"That's always a safe bet," Asuka agreed. "You realise that having me, the top pilot, be tied up guarding another, weaker Eva is stupid, right? This entire operation is stupid?"

…

"This is so stupid," Asuka groused the next day, jiggling her plugsuited foot.

"I know," Misato replied. "Do you know how I know? Because you told me less than three minutes ago, and again less than three minutes before that, and again less than three minutes before that …"

Misato was in her office, trying to make sense of the reams of paperwork. The same general who'd wanted to station his tanks in Tokyo-3's main business district had proposed a 'compromise' solution wherein he'd park his artillery there instead and move the tanks to a highway which, she was pretty sure, was a) already prone to traffic jams, because it was one of the main arterial roads connecting the city to the rest of Japan, and b) not rated for that much weight. Meanwhile, she had a radio link open to Unit-02. Asuka had done nothing but complain, and Misato's patience was wearing thin, but she had an inkling the girl would wander off if no-one watched her.

"I never thought I'd hear myself wishing I were taking a synch test. Or one of those battle sims. I'd kill for the opportunity to kill something right now. Is Kaji at HQ? Put him on. I want to talk to him. It's been ages since I talked to him. Is he hiding from me? He can't have left Japan without telling me."

Misato heaved a sigh. "I'll go and look for him." She muted the connection and opened one to Fuyutsuki. "Subcommander, how long do you have to go?"

"Not long," he reported. "He's suited up with no problems; we're inserting the entry plug now. Are you feeling anxious?"

"Asuka's bored, sir. A bored teenager in a divine killing engine is a bad thing. Maybe we could let her talk to the Fourth? I don't think she likes him, but at least she wouldn't be bored."

"You know that would interfere with his synchronisation."

So would a biomechanical red giant who decided to play hacky sack with bits of wall. "I never understood that. Isn't that unrealistic? Wouldn't it be better to have synch tests emulate real combat situations, with noise and so on?"

"Are you asking me for a lecture on synchronisation theory, Major?"

"I might not understand any of it, but it least it wouldn't be another half hour of shrill, pubescent whining."

He chuckled. "Isn't she supposed to be stretching its wrist? Make up a game she can play with her right hand."

Misato's first thought would probably have been considered misuse of military equipment, and quite possibly grounds for her removal as Asuka's legal guardian. "Sir." She switched back to Asuka's channel. "No, God only knows where he's wandered off to now; he's not in his office. Probably chatting up one of the secretaries. Do you have something like a cheerleader's baton handy?"

"What, inside the plug?"

"Something Eva-scale. You're supposed to be using your hand to rehabilitate its nerve connections, right? Find something and twirl it around your fingers."

"That's pretty lame, Misato. Even by your standards."

"If you can't do that, you'll get taken apart by the next Angel."

"Pfft. Not likely. That last one was pathetic. Besides, there's nothing like that around here. Well, there are forklifts, but I'm pretty sure those aren't designed to withstand that sort of force. Also the drivers would probably complain."

"Look. You're the top pilot and a university alumnus. Think of something. I'm busy."

She killed the connection and focused on her paperwork. Two minutes later, Fuyutsuki called her.

"Major, is there any reason why our security detachment just dropped a Progressive Knife in the path of one of our maintenance crews?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Because Ritsuko couldn't think of a way to run an Eva which doesn't require a neurotic fourteen-year-old. Excuse me." She reopened the connection to Unit-02. "Asuka, two things. One, don't play with the thing we use to kill Angels. It's not a toy. Second, don't play with anything when there are people forty metres below. Nothing is a toy then."

"There are people everywhere."

"Asuka …"

"Fine! I'll just sit here and do nothing. I'll pretend I'm the First." She lasted all of ten seconds. "Can you at least pipe some music in here?"

Misato rolled her eyes and opened the Nerv media server. The first song listed was too fast and would probably just get her even more agitated. The second was Muzak and would tick her off even more. She scanned down until she found one with a German name and double-clicked it. That should keep her happy.

Asuka stopped fidgeting to listen. The song had a nice, mellow piano-and-drums intro, before what sounded like strings, then a woman singing in English. She let the soothing music wash over her for a minute, before paying attention to the words. It took her a moment to realise because it was so incongruous and she hadn't spoken much English lately, but the lyrics were actually incredibly depressing.

Fuyutsuki had a feed of her entry plug open, and relaxed a little when he saw she had calmed down. "Alright," he said. "Initiate contact in three … two … one … contact."

The diodes flashed green. The pilot was accepted.

His little team of underqualified technicians let out a breath of relief. They weren't out of the woods yet, but it was all downhill from here, or so they were told.

"Start system phase 2," he ordered.

His phone chirped. "Fuyutsuki."

"Good morning, Subcommander." It was Ritsuko. "Is the test going well?"

"We're just about to start, Doctor."

"Were you telling the truth, back in my office?"

"Of course."

"Then I have some advice for you. But you'll need to follow my instructions exactly and quickly."

Fuyutsuki considered this. He knew the doctor could be ruthless and manipulative when the mood took her; it could easily be some sort of a ploy. On the other hand, he had a good idea that one day he would be up against worse enemies than mere Angels, and when that day came, he would need every ally he could get. "Very well."

"Good. Tell your staff that you need to leave for a minute. Tell them to keep following the checklist."

He relayed the orders. One of the technicians looked up at him nervously.

"Who will supervise, sir?" he asked.

"You will," Fuyutsuki said. "Just follow the instructions exactly until I get back."

Ritsuko leafed through schematics and hacked feeds of Matsushiro's security cameras. "Go straight here … take the elevator down to basement five. Reception will be blocked once you're underground. When the door opens, you will see an emergency hatch on your left. You'll have … about twenty-five seconds to open it, go through, and shut it behind you. Make sure the seal is tight. Once the door is shut, you'll know what to do."

"I see. Is there an assassin on the other side?"

"Not today. Good luck, Su–" And the line crackled out.

He pocketed the phone. She was asking for a lot of trust. On the other hand, if she wanted to kill him, realistically she could have managed it much more easily than this. She was the only one who really understood the Magi; if she wanted to kill anyone, she could engineer an accident with the life support at any time.

Asuka heaved a sigh as the song wound up. This must be how Shinji felt all the time. She felt a pang of pity for him.

A hologram of Lt. Aoba appeared in her HUD. "Uh, Pilot Soryu? Is everything all right there?"

"I guess," she said. "Why?"

"I'm remotely monitoring the situation, and I've noticed two things. One, your synch ratio's dropped six points. Two, it looks like there's a high-energy reaction in the test chamber."

"Huh. Well, the Subcommander hasn't said anything to me, so it can't –"

…

Shinji's phone rang. The teacher broke off, and the class turned to stare at him. He exchanged glances with Rei, who was wreathed in bandages and had been since the eleventh Angel. Her phone was silent. It wasn't as though she had an Eva to pilot. He raised his to his ear. It was the standard automated emergency message.

Kensuke exchanged glances with Toji.

…

Asuka stirred, then checked her HUD. She was on battery power, with four and a half minutes left. That thing must have stunned her when it hit her with that wall. She pushed herself up onto her knees, dislodging a few tons of debris, and then rose to her feet.

Unit-00 stood in what was left of the testing chamber. She noted it still had its entry plug in. It roared defiance at the world; its skin and armour were still damaged from the N2 explosion, but while she watched, both began slowly restoring themselves to normal.

Asuka retrieved her prog knife. "All right, you Eva-shaped piece of plasticine. You want to go?"

Shigeru's face reappeared. "Soryu, it's still one of our Units, not an Angel. Try not to damage it too much. And definitely don't hit the plug; the pilot's still in there."

Her power cable had been blown off, but Unit-00's was still in. "Here's an idea, why don't you turn its power off?"

Shigeru sent some commands. "Its battery was only charged for ten seconds; it should … um … it's not using its battery. There's an independent transmitter for reporting energy reserves, and it's saying it's not draining. That's funny."

Asuka rolled her eyes, activated her knife's resonance function, and lunged. She bounced off Unit-00's AT Field.

"Some actual help would be nice," she remarked, dodging the Eva's retaliatory swipe.

"This is a low-risk day. I'm the only senior tech on duty. I've sent alerts, but most of us will probably take at least ten minutes to get here."

Ritsuko strolled up, a coffee in hand. She was always on duty. "Well, this definitely wasn't expected by anyone," she remarked. The feed from Unit-02 showed Unit-00 landing a glancing blow with a girder; she watched it with the air of one watching a TV show that was only on because it was on after another, more entertaining program that had just finished.

"Dr Akagi! Unit-00's gone berserk. I'm trying to shut it down, but …"

"… but berserk Evas tend to have other ideas about that. Hmm. No draw on the battery reserves, an unusually strong AT Field, it's regenerating, the pilot's synchrograph isn't transmitting, and it's trying to kill Asuka. If I didn't know better, I'd say that was an Angel. Either that, or all my dreams have come true at once; that's everything I could ask for from an Eva."

Shigeru gaped. "What are you saying? That it's been infected somehow?"

"No, don't mind me. I'm just thinking aloud. See the spectrograph; its blood pattern hasn't changed." She sipped her coffee, then made a face and upended it into a nearby potted plant. "Oh, Asuka? Try to get its entry plug clear. That poor boy must be suffering something terrible."

Shigeru gave Ritsuko a look. He wasn't stupid.

"Right," Asuka said. She tore at the rogue Eva's AT Field; it took another swing at her. She twisted to deflect the blow with her shoulder pylon, then tackled it to the ground. It rolled on top of her; she sliced off the armour plate over its entry plug, reached in, and tore it out.

"The target has engaged battery power!" Shigeru reported. "Six seconds!"

It took a spite swing at the entry plug; Asuka twisted her arm around and let the plug roll out of reach, before headbutting Unit-00 and pummelling its stomach. "No you don't, you stupid, weak, useless, overgrown marshmallow!"

It went silent.

"The target's batteries are exhausted," Shigeru reported.

Asuka checked her own: three and a half minutes. "Of course. Is there a power jack around here, or have they all been blown up?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the entry plug open, and a slim, long-limbed figure in a dark plugsuit climb out and lope into the rubble. She ignored him to search for the jack. He would keep.

The Fourth Child nimbly picked his way through the piles of rubble left in the wake of his Eva's rampage. His old masters would be fascinated to hear his perspective on it.

The debris had largely been blown clear; the corridors were littered with dead workers and other detritus, but this presented no real obstacle, not for someone young and slim and agile. He quickly found an elevator shaft and slid down a girder. Basement five was quite sturdy; there was nothing worse than plaster dust down here. He found the hatch to the bomb shelter and rapped on it. The hatch swung open.

"Hello again," Fuyutsuki said, looking around. "How did you know I was here?"

"Call it a lucky guess. Just as it was lucky that you thought to come here before the explosion, Fuyutsuki Kozo," Kaworu said with a smile.