Switching to working graveyard shifts has messed up my writing processes a lot, and I lingered over marking it down as finished for like two weeks. I hope it's up to scratch.

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Chapter 35

In The Shadow Of An Angel's Wingspan (Reprise)

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Back in the '90s, when Gendo had worked for the Gehirn Institute, he'd garnered a reputation for being old-fashioned. He didn't much care for computers, even advanced marvels of bioengineering like the then-unfinished MAGI, let alone the clunky steel-boxed desktops and their accompanying cathode ray tube screens.

To this day, he still kept all his notes in paper. What had once been mere skepticism about the reliability of electronic storage, had grown into a healthy paranoia of digital surveillance. Gendo's work was far too sensitive to risk being leaked.

Ishtar confirmed unviable; graft rejection over threshold. Primary objective severely jeopardized…

The pen stopped scratching for a moment. If Gendo were the expressive type, he might have looked contemplative.

Secondary objective unaffected, perhaps even expedited. Due to their highly specific scenario, the enemy is dependent on a lilithian vessel, while my proxy can theoretically unify with any god-construct.

The rustle of a turning page.

On the topic of the enemy, their own proxy recently arrived. Ahead of schedule, like the second child was. Hopefully he proves less of a compulsive overachiever in other respects.

Remains to be seen if he can be manipulated; yet if he forms attachments within the pilot corps, he will not be beyond my grasp.

Without lifting the pen from the paper, he reached over to the lonesome tablet computer on the other side of his desk, tapping out two quick messages. Then he turned another page on the notebook.

Ryoji confirmed to be working against me. By extension, so too the fifth child and the second. The fifth is relatively marginal in acute threat, but the second is too much of the corps' effective force to risk casually damaging her; and Ryoji is more dangerous than either.

Major Katsuragi is established as untrustworthy. Her acute threat is minimal alone, but she commands great respect from the pilots… and with half the standing force independently disloyal, that represents more danger than it did before.

At least my Section 3 staff are still isolated from this sedition.

Ultimately none of NERV-J's most sensitive secrets have been leaked to UN High Command. This little conspiracy seems as unfriendly of my truest enemy as they are of me. Therefore, no need to tip my hand with hasty action at this time.

Another turn of a page.

The slow progress on restarting the dummy system is frustrating. Nevertheless, the windfall case study of Unit 03 (must file to have her callsign altered appropriately) has allowed great strides towards realizing Elohim and S2, and the potential force multiplication of such advances would be vast. The additional progress on the replica spear is also promising. R&D satisfactory at this time.

Finally, he turned back to the first page.

Despite greatly diminished odds, abandoning the primary is not an option until all recourse is exhausted.

The real core remains must be diverted. Even were Matsushiro not infested with the enemy's spies, its obsolete tooling is too crude to risk with this. Old fragments from the zero-generation graveyard should serve as an effective decoy.

The new North American Facility will have ideal capabilities. The difficulty will be finding a staffer both trustworthy and competent enough to accompany such a sensitive special project.

At the same time, I must remain realistic about this endeavor's chance of success, even under the best case scenario.

There was a soft beep from the tablet. Gendo looked over, then flipped the pages on the notebook until he located the next blank one.

The door to his office slid open.

"Ah, Rei."

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This body is 10.70 years old and its heart has beat 449,406,226 times.

He doesn't usually call me here without several days' notice…

"Ah, Rei."

"Commander."

"How are your studies going?"

"I have achieved passing grades in all recent examinations."

Why does he do this? My life does not matter to him, save for how it can serve his objective.

"And your training?"

"No anomalies. My synchronicity is unchanged, averaging just over fifty per cent. My AT field integrity is unchanged."

The lie rolled off her tongue more easily than she'd thought. After all, he has already read Dr. Akagi's falsified reports. I tire of this needless performance…

"Have you noticed any unusual behavior from the rest of the pilot corps?"

Ah, there it was.

This body is 10.70 years old and its heart has beat 449,406,317 times.

"No."

Gendo looked up at her oddly. Rei didn't twitch or blink.

"I should clarify. Have you observed suspicious behavior on the part of the other pilots? Seeking unauthorized access, using NERV equipment improperly…"

"The Second Child frequently seeks unauthorized access to Unit Two's cage. The Fifth child sometimes intentionally damages NERV-issue cell phones."

"I see. Thank you."

But he is not grateful, Rei thought, watching the movements of his hand as he penned a few more lines in his notepad. My answers were not useful, and this frustrates him.

Rei focused inward, opening the eyes that only existed in the intangible aether of Lilith's soul, and watched an ugly blue ulcer appear in the phantom overlay of Gendo's right hand.

I see you, Adam…

"That will be all. Dismissed."

Rei nodded, and wordlessly turned to leave.

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Early in his mortal life, Kaworu had learned that the spirit-magic that flowed so easily from his heart was best used with a subtle touch.

One of his favorite techniques was to wrap himself in a suggestion that he wasn't really there, or at least, wasn't really important enough to note or remember. It was too soft to be picked up by the ever-watchful AT arrays that encrusted every NERV base, and only slightly more magical than what a baseline human with shy tendencies might project - although, then again, quiet body language alone wouldn't reach through wires to occlude the attention of distant watchmen or recording machines.

Now, for perhaps the first time ever, Kaworu felt that his powers lacking.

Breaking into D wing's intensive care unit had been beyond easy. Some of it was already within his clearance anyway. Breaking into the experimental ICU sub-unit had been slightly harder, but not truly significant. And finally, breaking into the observation booth of a specific room had actually taken hand-tool lockpicking, for the machine was so close now he could hear the ethereal hum of its workings, and he dared not make any move that might interfere.

That was as far as he could go. Accessing the interior of the room would certainly disturb the intense AT field within; and for all his spiritual might, Kaworu's own magic was worthless. What the patient needed - what Shinji needed - was the precision and consistency that only a machine could provide.

The nurse on night observation duty shifted in his seat, oblivious to the presence of the half-angel beside him.

The life support chamber itself looked very much like a coffin; black as onyx and clearly proportioned to encase a human body. A thousand wires and hoses snaked out of the walls and across the floor to link into its underbelly, supplying it with arcane signals and cocktails of chemicals and whatever it was that kept its artificial AT bubble working.

To Kaworu's eyes, the vortex of orange looked horrifyingly unnatural. He didn't know if it was generated through some manner of angelic bio-engineering, or purely a product of rare metals and silicon - but either way it was unsettling to see the force of a soul being projected from an artificial construct.

But then again, what makes a construct unnatural? Am I not myself a lilin construct, conceived by lilin minds, wrought by lilin hands?

With some effort, Kaworu focused on the outline of the human within the life support chamber. The painfully weak AT field flickered in time to the slow, sedated heartbeat.

I hope to see you again soon, Shinji. For all our sakes.

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