Michael slowly opened his eyes. Light poured through a crack in the curtains, and he winced as pain spiked through his head. Every part of him seemed to hurt; he'd even managed to sleep with his left arm still attached. Part of him wanted to wake up, but it was shouted down by the rest of him. He closed his eyes again, and turned over on the sofa.
Wait, the paranoid part of him said, sofa? We don't even have a sofa. We were going buy one in after the Angel was dealt with...
He sat up, gasping in pain. The room was filled with sleeping bodies, all about his age and all thankfully fully-clothed. On the other hand, he didn't recognise anyone.
Vague memories of the previous night started to trickle in. He was pretty sure there'd been a ship at some point, and a traffic cone. For some reason, he'd had an irresistible urge for a kebab as well. He shook his head – bad idea. More pain surged through his brain.
Gingerly stepping over the still-sleeping bodies, he made his way out the door as quietly as he could.
I don't think I'm in Tokyo-three any more, he thought.
After all, Tokyo-3 wasn't a floating city.
Rei was having a similar morning. Well, her hangover was similar, but in her case she woke up in a bed. The first thing she was aware of was that there was a weight on her right arm, and she really, really needed the bathroom.
She opened her eyes, and like her brother she winced as the morning sun shone in the cloudless sky. Unlike Michael, she kept her eyes open and scanned the room. This is the house assigned to Shinji for the duration of the school trip.
Her mind was working slower than normal, which was rather annoying. I was not originally supposed to come on the trip. There was a meeting with Commander Ikari and Captain Katsuragi, which I was not a part of, then Michael gave me a plane ticket and told me to come here anyway. There was a party. That established the basic events leading up to her current situation, but she had more pressing matters to deal with than trying to remember the details.
She checked to make sure it was actually Shinji next to her, gave the sleeping boy a quick hug, and rushed to the bathroom.
Squinting in the sadly sobering sunshine of the Sunday morning, Michael staggered down the street. He rifled through his pockets and scanned the street for landmarks. He perked up a little as his hand closed around his phone, and he brought it out of his pocket.
"Of course I don't have any bloody battery," he muttered. "Damned thing barely lasts a day..."
He looked around his pockets a little more, and found his Navy-issue ID card. That would probably come in useful.
He'd emerged into a suburban street after leaving the house, part of the floating city of Okinawa Beach. He'd been unconsciously retracing his past self's footsteps since then, and had ended up in the dockyards after a rather circuitous route.
"Hey, you there!" shouted someone from behind him, in English. "This is a restricted area, didn't you see the sign?"
Michael turned around, clutching his head. Between the shouting and the noise of the dockyards, his headache was just getting worse. He saw a familiar uniform, so he decided to take a chance.
"That would be "This is a restricted area, sir,"" he said, holding up his ID card. The soldier snapped to attention and saluted.
"Okay, better." Michael sighed, and bit the bullet. "That said... I have no idea what happened last night or how I ended up on Okinawa Beach. So... take me to your leader?"
In contrast with pretty much everyone he knew, Shinji Ikari woke up feeling perfectly fine. No headache, no need to vomit... hell, he didn't even feel that grimy.
He sat up, vaguely wondering why he was in a double bed, and looked out the hotel room's window. Flinging it open, he smiled as a fresh breeze wafted into the room. Today was going to be a good day.
He scratched idly at the burn scars on his hands and paced around the room as his mind wandered off on a scientific tangent. So, the train went, we know that the substance making up an Angel's core is a perfect black-body absorber, which somehow does not emit radiation. The only other thing I'm aware of that acts in the same way would be a black hole, but since the world hasn't been destroyed we can assume that Angel cores are not black holes. The geological survey team didn't detect any anomaly whatsoever – the lava flow was completely normal – so we can also assume that the phenomenon's not based on the density of the material. This-
His train of thought skidded to a stop as he noticed a second pair of (female!) shoes by the door. His mind chose that moment to tell him that the room's en-suite shower was running.
If that's not Rei, Rei is going to kill me.
"This way, sir," the Royal Marine gestured into the wardroom, the plate above the door proclaiming it as the HMS Bristol. Michael walked inside, and slumped into the closest chair. The ship was gearing up to leave port, and the sudden quiet when the marine closed the door was a welcome relief.
A voice boomed from the other side of the room, in a strong Scottish accent. "Captain Michael Ayanami. I'm so glad you finally turned up."
Michael sighed, and looked for the teapot. It had been the custom on the Lancaster to keep one in the room. Which, he internally sighed, means there wouldn't be one here.
"You have me at a disadvantage," he said, finally. "I have to apologise if we've already been introduced. My memory of the past few days is... sketchy." He looked up as he spoke, and saw the white-haired man sitting at a desk at the other end of the room.
"That it would be," the other man said. "I'm Captain Peter Greene, and I have the "honour" of commanding this bucket of bolts and giving support to a fourteen-year-old."
Ah. One of these. Michael decided to crush this quickly, for once. "Captain Greene, this posting is not a punishment, and I am not some entitled brat. I am an officer of the Royal Navy, just like you, and I have earned my position."
"Aye, you English bastard," Captain Greene said with just enough respect in his voice to make it clear it wasn't just an insult, "but what's this poor old ship going to do against one of those Angels, huh?"
"Point of order, and ignoring the rhetorical question," Michael interjected, "technically speaking, I'm Welsh."
"You've got a bloody English accent, so you're a bloody English bastard," Greene said, shaking his head. "It's moot anyway," he continued. "Orders are orders."
The old man reached below the desk and pulled out a package of letters.
"There's a bunch of stuff here," he said, throwing the bundle in Michael's general direction. Michael scrambled to snatch it out of the air. "Oh yeah. The old Admiral's will and testament just got cleared by MI5, there's a copy of it in there."
"Thanks," Michael said. He left without another word.
"Evangelion Patrol Two has reported back," Fuyutsuki droned from behind Gendo. "Nothing to report."
"It's times like this I consider just letting them know about the Scrolls already," Gendo said, wearily. "Continue."
"Our little hunting party thinks they've found something," Fuyutsuki said. "Thanks to your son's little toys, they found it ahead of schedule."
"Good. Make preparations for our departure," Gendo ordered. "We leave on the Seventh."
"You want to pay your respects this year?" asked the professor, surprised. "You've missed it the past few years."
"I did not need the annoyance of Pilot Ikari whining at me every time I went," Gendo rebuked. "But I should not miss this year."
"Ακριβώς να είστε βέβαιος να μην κοιτάμε πίσω." sang Fuyutsuki, softly.
"I think we're far enough out of the cavern that we can, old friend," Gendo replied. "You always did like the classics, didn't you?"
"They're classics for a reason," Fuyutsuki said. "One more thing. We've both been invited to a day-long "strategy and scientific briefing", chaired by your son and the good Captain."
"I think we'll pass on that one. Find an excuse." Gendo paused, shuffling some papers on his desk. "How goes their little excursion, anyway?"
"Our agent managed to carry out the job you gave him," Fuyutsuki replied. "It didn't seem to have the desired effect, although I'm told the footage from last weekend is highly amusing."
Gendo turned to stare at the old man, sternly. "If I had any interest in amusement," he said, "I would let you speak more often."
Michael collapsed into the chair in his new quarters, leafing through the various letters he'd been handed. Most of it was just paperwork, but there was one bulky package that was far more interesting.
The door to the room opened, and Rose stepped through carrying two mugs of tea.
"I was beginning to wonder where you'd gotten to," Michael commented, dryly.
"Someone had to stay sober last weekend, sir," replied Rose with a hint of acid. "Captain Greene says we'll be leaving port within the hour."
"Good, good." Michael turned his attention back to the letters as Rose sat on the room's other chair. "I take it the other two are alright?"
"No word from them, but they've got a platoon from the Scots Guards watching over them," the girl said.
Michael let out a low whistle. "Two teenagers with a mechanised infantry platoon watching over them," he remarked. "What a world..."
"..is this... safe?" Shinji stammered as Rei pushed him towards the edge of the vertical concrete slab that marked the boundary between land and water. I only agreed to this because she said "swimsuit", I didn't think she'd actually expect me to do THIS! He adjusted his swimming trunks self-consciously, silently cursing the deal the two had made that morning.
"Trust me," Rei said, and pushed Shinji the last meter.
For an infinitely brief moment, the boy windmilled in mid-air. Rei was puzzled by this, and made a note to investigate the phenomenon later, then watched with no small amount of concern as he fell.
A dozen meters later, Shinji hit the water. Momentum pushed him under the surface, and he panicked for a few seconds. Please tell me she got the right pool. Oh god why did I agree to this I'M UNDERWATER PLEASE GET ME THE FUCK OUT-
He took a breath, letting the oxygenated water flow into his lungs. The panic subsided, a little, and he floated to the surface.
Rei let out a sigh of relief as Shinji surfaced. Even though she'd known the pool was as close to safe as it was possible to be, the part of her that really, really didn't want to lose Shinji had been telling her that something was definitely going to go wrong any second now. She unslung her bag, and took cover behind a convenient pipe as she changed.
Shinji stared into the darkness of the water, enjoying the feeling for the first time in his life. He felt Rei – or rather, what he sincerely hoped was Rei – splash into the pool next to him. A pair of arms lifted him up, and he stared into her face. Minutes passed, the two teens just staring at each other, until Shinji realised he was rubbing up against something very soft.
His reaction was rather predictable.
"So, let me get this straight," said Sergeant Harper, "you can breathe that shit?"
"It's perfectly safe," said the platoon's designated know-it-all and nerd, Lance-Corporal Pike, "the water's oxygenated and the human body is naturally buoyant in the substance. Most of the pools here use the stuff."
"So why come all the way out here just for a swim?" Corporal Morel, their so-called "token Frenchie". "Surely if they had... other business... in mind, they could just do it at the hotel, no?"
"Kid jumped higher than the fucking moon when he realised just how close he was to her tits," said Private Walker, cradling his GPMG. "I think he'd faint if he ever-"
"Enough," ordered Harper, "we're here to keep an eye on them, not fuel your sick fantasies. Fucking pedo."
"I am not a pedo!" Walker protested. "I like older women!"
"You were going on about the girl's tits, you sick bastard," Corporal Frazer pointed out. "Back in my day, we'd-"
"This conversation is no longer appropriate. Change it." The platoon's attached intelligence officer said, calmly. The platoon turned as one to stare at the man, who hadn't turned from his radio equipment. "Incidentally, nothing to report."
"You heard the Leftenant! Shut your traps and get back to work!" Harper said. The soldiers complied, a small group setting up a card game to pass the time.
"Fucking spooks," Frazer muttered. "Deal me in."
"So, what've you got?" Rose asked, sitting on the room's bed. "Anything cool?"
An outside observer looking at Michael's quarters would be mildly amazed at how it seemed to be simultaneously organised and disorganised. Two heaps of letters had formed, one made up of "unimportant" things, the other made up of "important" things. The amazing part was that the piles were completely separate – not a single letter had crossed between them.
"Is that really the sort of question you should be asking?" Michael pointed out. "Look, I'll just give you the damned thing if it'll shut you up for a bit."
He threw the small bundle of paper making up Admiral Jones' will at Rose.
"I was just asking!" said Rose, taken aback. She picked up the letter and started scanning it. "Hey, you get his film collection."
Michael glared at her, and picked up the next letter in the pile. Opening it, he began to read.
"For the attention of Michael Ayanami, in the event of my demise:
So, if you're reading this, there's a good chance I'm dead. If not, or if you're not Mike, stop reading this. It's rather personal.
Are they gone? Good.
The first thing I need to tell you is that this isn't actually going to be a personal letter. I'll be honest, I was never that good at the whole "parenting" thing. I suppose the fact that both the kids I've ever looked after are, technically speaking, mass-murderers should be an indication of that.
The second thing you need to know is the following number sequence: 57-65-82. That, when presented to a representative of International Storage and Import Services, should give you access to certain documents and other sundry items which are important. They will match you against a photograph in the system, so whoever else is still reading this won't be able to get in.
The contents of that storage lot is to be kept from the hands of anyone who isn't you – Michael, that is, not the rude bastard who's still reading this – at all costs. You might recall that month I forced you to go through espionage training. You're going to need it.
I can't put too much in this letter, but I can tell you to be on your guard. The only person you can trust is yourself. I know how close you are to your co-pilot, but when I say "you can only trust yourself", I mean it.
One last thing. I raised you, and I have many regrets about how I did so. Despite all of that, I'm still immensely proud of you. Try not to die.
Regards,
Admiral Oliver Jones."
Michael stared at the letter for a few moments, then carefully folded it up and placed it in the "unimportant" pile. He picked up the next letter, face kept carefully steady.
He scanned through the lines of the next letter, and the mask broke.
"Aw, fuck," he said.
ROYAL FLEET AUXILIARY MEMO
FROM: Captain Stuart, RFA Fort Austin
TO: Captain Ayanami, Unit 07
MEMO RE: SUPPLIES FOR EVANGELION TASK FORCE
Captain Ayanami,
I have been assigned to provide exclusive support for the ETF. In order to facilitate this duty, and at your own direct request, I have taken stock of your supplies. Below is a detailed break-down of all ETF-specific supplies left in stock at Gibraltar. This is not including whatever supplies you have at NERV HQ.
ARMOUR:
Armour plates (4*6*4m): 127
Armour plates (full leg, can fit either leg): 42
Armour plates (full arm, can fit either): 58
Armour plates (shoulder): 31
CONSUMABLES (Fuel, Ammo, Etc):
Fuel rods: 10, 698
Rounds, 7.62mm: 44, 582
Rounds, 30mm: 21, 122
Rounds, 457mm: 98
Missiles (RGM-84/KK): 145
Missiles (ADATS): 129
Missiles (SM-2 Standard family): 23
LCL: 16 standard fluid tanks
WEAPONS:
Spare 457mm cannons (full assembly, exc. barrels): 4
Spare 457mm barrels: 9
Spare 7.62mm emplacements: 78
Spare 30mm emplacements: 26
Spare Missile Emplacements (Omni-type): 2
Melee Weapons (sword): 9
Melee Weapons (knife): 15
Melee Weapons (shield): 4
RADAR/C3/FIRE CONTROL:
Spare AN/SPY-1 RADAR arrays: 1
Spare AEGIS Mk. 101 Fire Control System sets: 0 (one crate was labelled with this but instead turned out to contain 30 novelty inflatable hammers)
Spare "Kasparov" Battlefield Control System sets (complete): 1
Spare Radio Antennas (unknown type): 12
OTHER:
Plug Suits (all marks): 12
Entry Plugs (all marks): 3
Spare parts for Entry Plugs: 83 standard crates
Spare parts (various, miscellaneous): 152 standard crates
Rocket motors (Saturn V S1): 1
Rocket motors (Shuttle SRB): 6
Rocket motors (SPRINT): 8
Spare EV-2 Reactor parts: 0.5 standard crates (crate contains one (1) control assembly)
Novelty Inflatable Hammers: 30
I have also analysed the combat data you have sent back. Current usage rate of these supplies is approximately 20% per engagement, with usage of ammunition running at 50% per engagement.
As common sense should tell you, this won't last long. Production of most of the common stuff – the rifle and 30mm rounds, the 4*6*4 armour plates etc – is stretched, thanks to the Service having to replace most of its fleet, so you won't be seeing any more of those till next month at the earliest. You're probably never going to get any more replacements for the Trebuchet cannon, or the rockets. Things like the Entry Plugs and Plug Suits can, thankfully, be supplied on-site by NERV and the other Evangelion forces.
Yours,
Captain Stuart.
"That could be a problem," Michael sighed. "And I though Unit Zero was going to be the supply hog."
"What about those three-D fabricators NERV's supposed to have?" Rose asked. "If we can get access to those..."
"Let's just hope we get access to them, shall we?" said Michael, simply.