Misato's breath fogs the triple-layer acrylic porthole as she stares out into the containment chamber. Despite the thick winter coat wrapped tightly around her, a shiver runs through her body. The space beyond the glass is dark and vast. Hard to grasp its true dimensions. The longer she gazes at the metallic sphere in the center, the more alive it seems, pulsing with a slow, rhythmic beat.
Thump.
Tangles of pipes and cables snake from the ceiling, feeding into the sphere like veins. There's something disturbingly organic about it—though maybe that's just her imagination.
Thump.
Even through the many layers of reinforced steel, she can feel it. Dull vibrations reverberate through her bones, stirring the ache in her side. Her skull throbs, pressure building behind her eyes. It's always worse down here. Maybe that's also her imagination. Doesn't matter. Imaginary or not, pain is pain and her skull feels ready to burst from the litany of numbers her old friend is reading from the datapad.
"ATP replication is down to ten to the minus twenty-three," Ritsuko says, her voice clinical. "Delta probes twelve through sixteen record a temperature increase of zero-point-zero-zero-zero-one-four percent."
Thump.
"Are you listening?"
Misato wills her gaze to her former friend. Years of dye have left Ritsuko's hair thin and brittle; the vibrant color Misato always kind of envied has given away to a dull brown, streaked with grey. Misato massages her temples. Her head starts to seriously hurt now as if someone is peering right into her skull. All she wants is a hot bath and a beer—not the fate of the world crushing down on her shoulders.
She exhales sharply, the pressure behind her eyes deepening. It takes effort to speak. "How long can we keep it contained like this?"
"The last surge has put considerable stains on the S2 engines we salvaged from the mass-production units," Ritsuko says. "They're degrading fast. Four years before this all goes critical. At best. More likely three."
"Four years," Misato repeats, voice flat. Regular containment was never an option. Not in Misato's book. She wants it dead, destroyed, purged from the planet—but options are a scarce resource. How long can they keep this from the world? Four more years? Four more years of holding on when she's not sure she'll survive the next four hours?
"Will it be enough to get the Dirac-System operational?"
Ritsuko doesn't even look up from the datapad. "That's highly speculative. The Magi's still trying to make sense of the data from Nevada. But even if we can prevent what happened there from happening to us, there's still a two–point–seven–nine–nine percent chance that embedding an AdS-space into our own could tip the Higgs field into a lower energy state."
Wouldn't that be a mercy? The whole world swallowed by a bubble of absolute nothing moving at lightspeed. She shivers at how comforting the thought sounds to her.
"We've had worse odds." She says.
Ritsuko's brow furrows slightly. "Not really."
Misato knows it's a gamble. It's one of the many things that keep her wide awake. That and the apparitions. Night after night in that terrible office chair.
Ritsuko reaches into her coat. The guards react instantly, pointing their weapons. Misato raises her hand to stop them. Trigger-happy fools. Then she remembers that's exactly why they're here. Never much time to ask questions. Maybe she should slow down. Or stop completely. Just lay down, eyes closed, and let someone else clean up this goddamn mess.
To Misato's surprise, Ritsuko produces a pack of cigarettes, offers one, then lights one herself. A beer would've been better. Way better but her nerves still unwind at the first draw. The headache spikes again, but she barely notices, lost in the small comfort. When this is over, I'll get you all the booze you want, old girl. With a sigh, she exhales. Promises, promises.
"How are you holding up?" Ritsuko asks, casually. Misato recognizes the diversion, and she takes it gladly. Anything to avoid talking about the end of the world for a moment. Four more goddamn years.
"Still breathing," Misato replies. "Still pretending we've got this under control. At least the Senate is still on our side. We'll manage as long as the Magi keep feeding them the right answers. But Leiss is becoming a real pain in the ass and we're a bit past the point of getting away with flimsy excuses. The UN's losing patience."
"Three missing brigades are hard to explain away, I guess," Riskuko says. "What's the current story?"
"KIA and cremated."
Ritsuko blows out smoke. "That's dark."
"Welcome to my life," Misato mutters. Her eyes drift back to the porthole. "I wonder if the old bastard has given them anything."
"Commander Ikari would rather kill himself."
Misato clenches her teeth. Commander. After everything, Ritsuko still calls him that. But she can't bring herself to drop the act just yet. She needs just a bit more of the familiarity, a bit more comfort.
"Will Leiss be a problem?" Ritsuko presses.
"It's already been taken care of," Misato says. "In a few months, the dear Captain Leiss will receive a permanent seat on the UN Defense Council, with a promotion to match. She won't say no. Until then, I have Ibuki bury her in paperwork. German bureaucracy be blessed."
"Amen," Ritsuko says and smirks briefly at the mention of her former student. "What did it cost us?"
"Unit-02. It's not like there's much left to use anyway. Even if they decide to rebuild it and insist on testing Asuka; They will just confirm that she's no longer able to synchronize."
"Does Asuka know?"
"No."
"I see," Ritsuko says. There's a subtle accusation in her tone, a weight behind the words that Misato doesn't like.
"It's for her own good," Misato mutters, more to herself. "She's off everyone's radar right now, and I intend to keep it that way. She's been through enough."
"I see," Ritsuko repeats, the knowing tone digging deeper. Misato feels the anger rising. It's the right thing to do. She won't force Asuka through the same hell she had to put Shinji through. Not if it can be avoided. She already failed Shinji. She can't fail Asuka too. And if keeping Asuka hidden away happens to solve a few of her own problems—well, so be it.
Still, Ritsuko's words poke at a raw spot. Asuka waking up wasn't convenient. Not at all. The girl always manages to be more trouble than she's worth. Couldn't she have just stayed... the way she was? The thought comes unbidden, leaving Misato startled—and ashamed.
"This is for her own good," Misato repeats, almost defiantly.
"For her own good," Ritsuko echoes.
Misato's fists clench her throat tight. She wants to scream, I'm not like you! The words churn inside her, sharp and searing, but she swallows them, burying the feeling as deep as she can. Her comm vibrates in her pocket. She knows it's Makoto—more bad news. It always is.
"Get the Dirac system running," Misato says and signals the guards. The meeting is over.
Ritsuko's eyes widen. "You have no idea what you're asking of me," she says. "I need more time, more resources. The calculations alone will—"
"I'm not asking. Get it done or I might decide that you are not useful anymore."
Ritsuko stares at her, something unreadable flickering across her face. "Is that why I'm still alive, Misato? Because I'm useful?"
Misato doesn't have an answer to that. For a brief moment, she feels the urge to confess—how desperately she needs someone to talk to, how far over her head she really is, how much she wishes things could go back to the way they used to be. But then she remembers who she's talking to, and what Ritsuko has done. The sentimentality curdles into something cold and sharp.
"I'm not the right person to answer that," Misato says, her voice icy. "But if you want my thoughts—consider it a second chance. Maybe there's still enough humanity in you to want redemption." She shrugs. "And if you don't like our arrangement, there's still room in the tank. You always liked to swim with your creatures, didn't you?" The comm vibrates again. She lets go of the cigarette and this time she answers.
"Go for Katsuragi," she says.
"Commander?" Makoto's voice crackles through. "Ambassador Cixin is waiting."
"I'm on my way." She signals the guards again.
Before she leaves, Misato turns back one last time. "Find a way, Ritsuko. Remember what I can do to you."
Ritsuko's chin rises, defiant. "I'm not afraid of you. There's nothing you could do to me that he hasn't already done."
Misato's jaw clenches. "Try me."
Without looking back, she crushes the cigarette under her boot and strides toward the exit. She feels Ritsuko's gaze burning into her, even as the airlock doors close—too slowly for her taste. Behind her, she hears the guards seize Ritsuko. She resists, thrashing.
"Don't hurt her," Misato says, still not turning around.
"You think there's redemption, Misato?" Ritsuko suddenly screams, her voice shrill now. "You think we can run from it? You don't understand, do you?" Her voice warps, growing frenzied, manic. "It's us. It's always just been us down here and we're all swimming, you hear me? We're all already—"
Finally, the airlock seals shut.
Thump.
Misato exhales, her breath trembling as she leans against the bulkhead. There's movement in her peripheral vision—familiar, haunting. A whisper. She squeezes her eyes shut, willing the apparition to fade, knowing that when she opens her eyes again, it'll just be a smear of LCL.
Her hand instinctively reaches for the cross at her neck only to find it gone—melted away in the fire.
Before the dread consumes her completely, she pushes off the airlock, forcing herself to move down the hall. There's still a world to save, whether it deserves saving or not. It's the only thing that makes sense to her.
It's the only thing left to do.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
File: C/R-4442 Intercepted correspondence (decrypted)
Date: 12/08/2017
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Subject: Status
The S2 plans are USELESS! The goddamn prototype BLEW UP. Took the whole facility with it. That's THREE in a row! Tell me you have the Marduk report, or we're screwed. Canadians are already pushing for their own program, and god knows what the Chinese are up to. It's CHAOS out here, and we have nothing! NOTHING!1!
The council's getting VERY nervous, Marie! Very nervous! So get me that report, ASAP!
Subject: Re: Status
Frank,
Take a breath. I've told you multiple times: the Marduk Institute is a dead end. Shannon Bio, Toha Heavy Industries—none of them ever existed. It's all fabricated. Who knows how they selected the pilots.
We need to refocus on the proxy program. The data from Germany is promising—they've confirmed full replication of synaptic patterns across both hemispheres. We just need a proper baseline now.
I've already found a perfect candidate. Details are attached. Sell it to the council. Tell them to be patient.