StarDestroyer.Net BBS

I've had the idea for this piece of fanfiction for a very long time. Unlike the other "40k changes Eva" storylines, this one doesn't start before the series. It tries to answer the question "What if the pilots had better leadership?" This is the thing with Evangelion: the world doesn't suck because the world itself is bad, it sucks because the people within suck. Which is utterly different than 40k, where the greatest of humans are dimmed by vast cosmic evils. So the question is "what happens when you give heroes to losers?" How can you change a person from a loser to something better? This fanfic is going to be divided in about 26 chapters, one per episode.

+++++++
This was not the Larmitus system.

Larmitus was a six-planet system, with a Forge World and a supplying agri-world. It had been hassled by Red Corsairs since the end of the Chaos offensive that had gripped the system some decades ago. This was an eight-planet system, with only the third planet habitable, and it was doing fine.

“Can someone contact the Navigators to explain why we're not at our destination?” Jean-Éric Picard, the rubicund captain hollered. “Helmsman, get the navi-cogitator to divine some sense from the star patterns. I want to know where we are, and I want to know five minutes ago!”

“Sir!” One of the monitor servant interjected. “We have three other imperial ships on sensors, all orbiting the class-M planet. Shall I contact them?”

“Who are they?” asked the captain.

“The closest to us is an Imperial Fist Battle Barge, the Dorn's Hand. The second vessel is a freighter, non-military. The third, behind the planet, identifies as a Mechanicum ship, but they won't give us more details until we identify ourselves.”

“All right, send that the Grand Cruiser Rebel Crusher has arrived, and ask them for astrographic location. Has anyone contacted the blasted Navigators?”

++++++++

Boy Spaceman Bart was terrified. No one had dared disturb the Navigators in living memory (or at least as much living as Bart could remember) and it had fallen on him to go ask them what was going on. No one told him how go about it, Bart thought, and it wasn't fair that he was the only one awake at the time. He remembered his mother's bedtime stories; mostly those revolving around psykers and how you should never ever deal with one, or get close to one. Bart started to suspect it might be a prank, but if it was, his deck supervisor was in on it, and that was a thought too unpleasant to have.

As he approached the Navigators' quarters, a monstrous, three-eyed humanoid emerged from the doorway. Bart was on the spot too paralysed with fear and duty to run away, and before he could coax his limbs to move, the beast was on him with his hands around what he thought was his neck.

“Hmm, yes... a blue planet...”, it seemed to mutter. “The captain summons me... hmm... oh, am I hurting you?” It released its hold on him.

Bart dashed as far back as he could. “Stay away”, he screamed, “or the God-Emperor will smite you, demon!”

The creature laughed. “I don't look like a demon, I don't think! I am a Navigator, and I have received the captain's message. You tell him”, he paused, seeming, for an instant, weary, “you tell him that I will be there shortly, and we are still... adjusting.”

Bart, who knew better than to ask questions, particularly of a psyker, dashed off towards the helm.

++++++++
“Four ships; that's portentous,” said his Number One, commander Bill Hopenhauer. The captain noticed it too. It had always been their little play, to say what the other was thinking. Not psykery, obviously, but a guessing game aided by the long years in service together.

“Astrographic reports from the other ships, sir,” an ensign presented. He then lowered his head and whispered, “the comm officer suggests you start with the Metal's Scalpel's;” he said, referring to the Mechanicus ship, “the other ships only make reference to it.” He then handed over a dataslate

The captain read it over. And over. In front of his increasingly incredulous face, the second-in-command had to make a query.

“Yes! Something is bloody well wrong! This says we're orbiting a Terra from thirty-five thousand years ago! Not only that, but a Terra that's misaligned! Incongruent with Holy Terra! That's why they used a profane appellation! What the hells!”

“Let's talk to the other ships,” the Number One said tactfully. “They might know more about what's going on.”

“They bloody well should! Hail the Dorn's Hand. I want to know what Astartes think of all this.”

“Captain, report from the Navigator's Chambers. They'll be here soon. Says they're still adjusting.”

“Adjusting to what?” the captain exclaimed.

“The lack of the Warp as we know it,” a deep, booming voice came over the speakers.

“Dorn's Hand, did you just announced there was no Warp over the vox?” the captain replied.

“Yes, that was us. But you'll have to make this short, captain; your arrival seems to have sparked something on Terra. Look to your warp sensors! There's something big off the coast of Jipan.”

++++++++++

First Captain Tyrano Helschaff continued talking into the vox. “Also, please do not bombard the planet unless you have my express permission. I'm sending men down there. I wouldn't want them lanced by our own guns.”

“Fine,” came the reply.

“Good. We'll update you on the situation as it develops. Dorn's Hand out.”

Tyrano turned to a senior serf.

“Relay these orders: The Lens of Macladus is to launch, make a visual confirmation of the warp anomaly, and stay in observation range to evaluate whatever resistance the locals can organize.” The Lens of Macladus was a speciality Thunderhawk flyer, modified by the Techmarine Macladus with a host of sensors that could detect the chemical composition of a fly from a hundred kilometers away.
A minute later, a serf confirmed the launch of the craft. Tyrano held his jaw with an gauntleted hand, pondering the mystery of the blue planet. Were they in the past? Or another universe? If this was the past, shouldn't the Emperor be active? What was the deal with the lack of warp currents?

“Get the Librarian up here”, he asked no one in particular. An eager serf relayed the message on the internal vox.

++++++++

“The Librarian” was, in this case, heading precisely for the bridge. He was trying to recall exactly what kind of vision he had before the shock to realspace disturbed his trance. From what he could recall, there was a humanoid in black and gold armour (probably the Chaplain), there were three eggs, and the person transformed into a bird and sat on them. Very odd, especially how the trance cut off, like a holopict on a defective vidcaster.

Then he had realized the warp was dead. Well, he had corrected himself, not dead, as he still sensed the crew's spiritual vibrations and the whorls his own psychic self produced, but the warp was definitely stagnant, like a puddle or a pond, devoid of the ripples of the uncountable beings that had a warp presence. Which just made the Librarian all the more curious to know where the ship was.

“Librarian Dexius, report to the bridge,” the vox chimed as the neoman crossed the third quarter of the distance between his room and the bridge. Three and four, he thought, what did these numbers mean, if anything?

He entered the bridge with many questions.

“Ah! Dex! You're late,” said the captain.

“Did you know the warp has gone stagnant? Where are we?”

“Over Terra, thirty-five thousand years before we left. Well, a Terra. The Mechanicus claim that our Terra has never been at this particular orbital inclination.”

“The Mechanicus? What?”

“Oh, there are three other Imperial vessels here. A Mechanicus ship, the Metal's Scalpel, the Grand Cruiser Rebel Crusher, and a civilian freighter, the Hand of Virgo.”

“Four ships...”

He paused. “Brother-Captain, I do not think we are here by chance. I have had a trance...”, he relayed the details of his vision to the Captain. “I think we are meant to do something, cooperate with the locals about something... Has the Lens reported back?”

++++++++

“Lens of Macladus, what is your situation?”

“We're a few clicks from the manifestation. It looks like a giant humanoid... ah, a bit like those xenos we fought on Verdanis Sigma? Only with no head. It is also about the size of a Warlord Titan. It is currently preoccupied.”

“Preoccupied? By what?” The captain asked.

“Flyers, missiles... I think I see some tanks, too. They're not doing so hot. From what the sensors are telling me, all projectiles are intercepted by some kind of psychic barrier. The giant is definitely the source of the manifestation we detected.”

“Thank you. Return to the ship, you've done all you could.”

“Yes, sir.”

+++++++

Minutes passed. Aboard the Rebel Crusher, captain Picard fretted. Then, as he rose up from his chair to peer more closely at the FOB projector, he saw it. They all did. A little flare on the side of the planet.

“Sir, explosion of 33 megathules detected at the manifestation point.”

“Did that stop it?” enquired Picard.

“Warp sensors report no change”, came the reply.

“Pity. Comms, tell Captain Tyrano that we are preparing to fire a lance at that thing. Tell him we'll fire once his people are no longer on site.”

The time for the message to go and come back passed.

“He says we're clear.”

++++++

Gunman Clive was having a strange day. It was near the end of her shift, and the sudden transition back to realspace had unsettled her more than a frightened Astarte. Then the order came through. She had a singular shot to make, which was very unusual, at a target covered with a cloud of dust, which was stranger still, and which radiated an energy field which meant the cogitators could only guess at its physical location. This was going to be tough.

“Okay, activate the targeting reticule. I'm doing this one manual.”

“Acknowledged.” said the tech-priest assigned to maintain the gun's aiming mechanisms. “True; cogitators are throwing fits.”

She fired. A lance of pure, concentrated energy, meant for piercing through ships and levelling shielded kilometre-high cities to the ground, shot out from far beneath her deck.

++++++

“Did we hit it?” asked his second-in-command.

“Warp telemetry reports no change.” said a lieutenant.

“I think we missed”, the captain said. “Prepare another shot, and this time, wait for the smoke to clear!”

++++++

Panic in NERV HQ.

“What was that?!”

“Earthquakes reported in five different measure stations!”

“Why did they hit the ground?”

“How did they miss? They have spaceships!”

The Commander raised a finger. Silence descended among the assembled JSDF brass.

“Tell them to stop.”

++++++

The techpriest in charge of signals processing aboard the Metal's Scalpel was in a stump. First two ships with Imperial codes three and four centuries out-of-date, and what appeared to be a code that was future-dated were quite enough for one day. Then his radio receiver exploded into noise. Very quickly he brought the cogitator to bear on the noise, and something leapt out at him very poignantly.

He rushed for the nearest comms unit.

++++++

“Uh, captain, message from the Metal's Scalpel. They say they're in communication with the locals, and they have a message to relay.”

“Finally, some good news. So what's the message?”

“'No/bad/wrong'”, the reporting officer said. “Well, that's what it meant.”

“Ha! Yeah, I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of my guns either. Well, lieutenant, tell those cogheads they'd better explain the situation to whoever's down there, and give them my sincerest apologies for gouging their planet.”

++++++

As the Third Child was being prepped for his first sortie, and as Sachiel moved ever closer to its destiny, finally, a passenger aboard the Hand of Virgo took a decision.

“This is Inquisitor Alexis Procoeur. By the authority of the Holy Inquistion, I demand that all communication with this planet go through me. I will handle the civilian situation.”

++++++

To Be Continued

What is the title supposed to mean?

"Prayer for Salvation"

Ok, it's not proper latin, but considering the source material, I thought it appropriate.

As the Third Child was getting a forearm-full right in the eye socket, a shuttle was departing for Europe. Aboard was the Inquisitor, his savant, and a squad of Sisters of Battle that Procoeur had thought particularly intimidating. Some might say it was lucky that a company of the Adeptas Sororitas had chosen to accompany the Inquisitor, but between the Inquisitor and the Canoness, it was clear that this was the God-Emperor's will at work.

“Why are we heading for the light side of the planet? Shouldn't we be rendezvous-ing with the forces fighting the xeno?”, their Sister Superior asked after a few minutes.

“We wouldn't be understood,” explained the savant Cornerius. “The Inquisitor has in his possession a device that can learn and translate any language.” He realized something. “Sir, if we're in the past, I don't think the Great Archives of the Imperial Palace have been built yet.”

“I know,” answered Procoeur. “I'm going towards the point farthest away from that thing, contacting the locals, then to a library, learning the language, and offering our most deep excuses and condolences for the loss of the population of Jipan, if that is required.” He fiddled with a dial of the intership communication array. “Brother-Captain, what is their situation?”

“Well, after a second giant psychic anomaly appeared on our scopes”, the Inquisitor's left eyebrow twitched, “we dispatched a lookout and we've been watching from the sky ever since.”

“And?”

“Well, the second anomaly is centered around an obviously engineered frame, but whoever's controlling that thing isn't doing a- hrm- a very good job. It took a step and fell over! So the xeno picked it up and- wait- no, I mean- ouch! Well, we know the engineered one can bleed...”

+

He was standing in front of what his device had called a “United Nations Office” in a town called “Geneva”. The inquisitor took a deep breath and, flanked on either side by two Battle Sisters, strode through the front doors.

The look of shock, befuddlement, surprise and a whole host of other emotions were played across the room by the throngs of dignitaries, translators and other menials. Alexis Procoeur lived for these moments. The dramatic accusation, the secret exposed at the proper moment, these were the things Procoeur liked about being Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus the most. In those moments, he held the destinies of cities, planets, sometimes even sub-sectors in his hand. In those instants, he felt, he was given the honour of sharing a fraction of the God-Emperor's burden.

The next words that he would say would be momentous. He had spent all trip working on them.

“Gentlemen”, his device exclaimed, “the hour of destiny is now! We have emerged upon the planet of our species' birth, and we have found it in it's time of greatest need. For off the coast of Japan, we noticed a great beast, alien to this good Earth, ravaging the countryside and the valiant defenders of that land. And so, being of pious heart and virtuous in intent, we trained our weapons on it, in the hopes of defeating that monster before it could do more harm. We apologize for having missed.”

All eyes looked to the Japanese delegates.
“Eto, we have had an emergency situation... but, eto...” the bookish diplomat looked at the cameras nervously.

The Inquisitor thought he caught on instantly. “Do not worry. Another of our ships has reported to me that the monster is no more.”

He looked around. The faces were still embarrassed, still evasive. Then the truth hit him.

“Please tell me,” he started, “that the highest organ of government on the planet is aware of the danger facing humanity?”

More consternation. As Procoeur was continuing his impassioned rebuke of the assembly, Cornerius was noticing a movement among what he assumed were the pictographers. A menial would go up to them, whisper something in their ear, and they would press a button on their machine. He thought the lack of ritual curious.

Eventually, all the pictcaptors had this done to them, and then someone approached the Inquisitor and told him frankly:

“We are aware of the situation in Japan and have put a committee together to resolve the problem. We do not need your help. However, it is not every day we welcome extraterrestrials. Please, tell us who you are and where you came from.”

+

“Before this meeting concludes”, said Keele, “We must discuss the matter of the interlopers.”

“The four ships.”

“Yes. Their technology is powerful. We may be able to use them.”

“One of their numbers has made contact with the U.N. and almost broke information containment, but the situation was dealt with.”

“It is our desire that you coordinate with these elements. Perhaps their resources will help us achieve our goal?”

“Project E is more than sufficient for repelling the Angels, and it would be preferable to not involve strangers into our affairs,” Gendo stated. It was a protest.

“Do not argue, Ikari. Now that alternatives are being presented to us, it would be foolish not to investigate further.”

“Very well.”

+

The senior command staff aboard the Dorn's Hand were pondering the pict of the battle of the previous night. The Captain, the Chaplain, the Librarian, the Apothecary and the Techmarine
were staring in grim silence as the video showed the metal (metal-clad? Who knew?) Titan take a step, stutter, and fall. The Captain paused the screen.

“So you're ruling out mechanical failure.”

“Look, maybe the machine spirit was angry?” the Techmarine answered. “I'm pretty sure these people have not applied the proper ointments and prayers to placate it.”

“How do you know that?” The Apothecary chimed in.

“No decorations, no chanting, at least according to the Lens' audio pickup, no characteristic smell of incense... Yup, pretty sure that was the machine spirit protesting.”

“Are you sure all of that was necessary?”

“What are you implying?”

“Well, I don't rub oils onto my patients when I heal them. Maybe it was a living thing? It sure bled like one.”

“Then why did it wait to have its eye poked in before acting?”

The captain interrupted the two. They loved to argue like this, it was very enlightening, but a little hard on the atmosphere. “I think... we're dealing with two minds here, one that doesn't know what it's doing, up to and including how to walk, and a more primeval one.”

“I noticed its associated Warp phenomenon seemed to increase by a significant amount after it went berserk”, said the librarian, feeling left out.

The others looked at him.

“What?”

“Berserk, Dexius? Strange choice of words,” said the Chaplain.

“Did it look composed to you?” said Dex, exasperated.

“Alright, alright,” said the captain, seeing another spat coming. He paused. “Sarko, do you have an update on the language infodex the inquisitor was supposed to send to us?”

Techmarine Sarko voxed the question to his subordinates. “Yes”, he replied. “Our main cogitator is learning their language as we speak.”

Much later, after several power outages, a quick dinner and a comically misconstrued order, the staff were finally ready to understand the vox chatter going on during the battle. They did not like what they heard.

“See, Salaz, it has a pilot. It's a machine. Ha.”

“Doesn't even know how to walk a Titan, and they made him princeps?”

“You know, I don't quite think this boy has seen combat before...”

“Why in the warp is it called an “Evangelion”? That name has no martial virtue at all!”

“Are they really calling soul manifestations something as mundane as “AT-Fields”? Have they no respect?”

As the pict showed a bird's eye view of the “evangelion” regrowing its eye, the whole room erupted in disgust.

“A Bio-Titan? They're having a kid pilot a BIO-TITAN? Through nerves?”

“Heretech! The poor souls don't know what they're doing!”

“Hey, it's not just biological, it's psychic, too!”

“By Dorn...”

“That's enough!” The captain shouted. “Commsman, try to establish contact with the leader of this... farce! Contact the Metal's Scalpel. Tell them to prepare their ablutions, because they're about to get knee-deep in heretech! Communicate with the inquisitor, get him to get us more information about the running of that facility!”

He paused. “This smells of incompetence.”

“Corruption, even”, said the chaplain.

They looked at each other.

“Heresy,” they both agreed.

+

To Be Continued

Initiate Muntz was preparing his gear.

“Pull, turn, pull- dip, wait, wipe-” he intoned the canto of cleansing for his bolter.

The scout sergeant had briefed them all on the importance of stealth for this next mission. They were to infiltrate the countryside of Tokyo-3 and reconnoitre the area: supply lines, static defenses, the works. It was nothing he hadn't done before, but Muntz was thinking about the entrance of the inquisitor to the UN assembly. Oh, how he wished he had been there! He had always suspected that the projection of force was an art form, and Muntz dearly wanted to see the locals' reaction to the Imperium's elite. One day he would parade in the full space marine armour. But you've got to wear the carapace before you can wear the pauldrons, he thought, and concentrated once more on the task at hand.

In another section of the hall, the pilots were going over the plan one more time.

“So we fly low under cover of dusk, we take this approach around that mountain there... We fly low, drop our first cargo here, then nose up and fly casual the rest of the way to the landing pad, where we land and disembark with the Brother-Captain.”

“Acknowledged.”

The scout sergeant waddled over, all kinds of equipment strapped to all parts of his body.

“Please do not refer to my squad as “cargo”, Brother-Pilot”, he said loudly. “They are delicate flowers and their skulls have not yet thickened to the point they can be referred to so dismissively.”

“Oh, my mistake, Brother-Sergeant Guntrig,” said the pilot. “It's just that I had not seen that there were our initiates underneath all that gear.” He grinned.

The sergeant let out a brief “heh” of amusement, before snapping to attention as he noticed who emerged from the corridor.

“Captain in presence!”

“At ease”, Captain Tyrano replied. He was dressed with all the decorations he had accumulated during his service, which made him look impossibly baroque, like somebody had started drawing him and never stopped.

“Do you think you are impressive enough, Captain, or would you need the Helm of the Eagle as well?” asked Guntrig.

“Brother-Sergeant Guntrig, stop being the jester and gather your men. We leave in 5 minutes.”

“Awful early.” Guntrig replied. “The old “catch them unawares” trick?”

“Well, it worked on Sagacitus VII. I was hoping to show them what proper military discipline looked like.”

“Aye, Captain.” He turned towards his men and yelled “Alright, Azure squad, time to go!”

+

It had been two weeks since what the locals referred to as the “Angel” attacked, and the Imperium ships had stood proudly by, waiting for something to happen. The inquisitor had relented his ban on communication between the ships and Earth, and the Mechanicus was making the most of this. They weren't allowed anywhere near the Evas (or Japan, for that matter), but they found they had other electoos to charge, if you'll forgive the expression.

“They publish their findings? For anyone to read?”

“No central noosphere? No strong design-checking authority? How do you even... I mean, how?”

“Meteorite my foot. If something that fast had hit Terra- sorry, “Earth”, in the manner described, the extinction event would have been world ending! They've probably never heard of the Assok-Geralt-Al-Khzemini effect, that's why everybody went along with such white noise.”

“Five thrones that they did this to themselves. An experiment gone wrong.”

“No bet. Tch, primitives. And they want to be let near one of our engines!”

“They'd mess up, create a warp storm the size of Sol.”

“Have you heard about the Hedgehog's Dilemma? It's the problem by which small thorny animals must gather close together for warmth, but their thorns hurt each other if they get too close.”

“I can't imagine such creatures surviving long in cold climates, but what's the joke?”

“They think it applies to humans, too!”

“D'oh ho ho ho ho!”

And so on.

+

The mission had gone perfectly. If the inhabitants of Tokyo-3 knew a scout squad had been dispatched to their countryside, they showed no sign of it. Tyrano, however, had always meant to dissect in repartee the base commander. In this, he was disappointed.

“You are second-in-command?” The discussion had gone.

“Yes,” had replied Fuyutsuki.

“And the commander?”

“Is busy.”

The conversation went on like this: pointed questions, terse replies. He learned that the pilot was the commander's son; he learned that there was another pilot, another “Evangelion”; where; in repairs; and the pilot; the same. After about a half-hour of this Tyrano left, leaving behind a ground-to-orbit voxcaster so that they could communicate should another “Angel” arrive.

“He was very impressive,” said Fuyutsuki to Gendo.

“Mm,” he replied.

“Very polished.”

Another non-committal grunt.

“Are you sure about refusing their help?”

“They have no place in our scenario. It would be best to keep them away.”

+

It was Rebel Crusher who detected it first. From them the warning was sent; the Lens of Macladus was dispatched; the NERV HQ vox, used. Luckily, Misato was there to receive the call. She had no problem getting patched through to the observational Thunderhawk.

“It's floating, it's long, it has markings on the top of its head...” the pilot dived. “Ah, it's got legs like a fly or a wasp. They look vestigial.”

“Any weapons?”

“I don't see any, although if you want to goad it with one of your easily replaceable paper fliers, that would tell us more.”

“Malthadus!” the Captain reproached.

“My apologies, Madam.”

+

Then the Evangelion deployed, fired, was tossed around, saved the classmates, disobeyed, killed. All the while Captain Tyrano did not say a thing. He just watched. When the fight was over, he called a command staff meeting.

“Lack of discipline”, said Sarko.

“Lack of experience”, said the Chaplain. “And lack of trust in the chain of command.”

“I think the Captain said they lived in the same house”, volunteered the Librarian.

“'Not a model citizen', then? Who gave her command? Who trained the boy?”

“It doesn't matter.” Said Tyrano. “We gave her a bullet and she shot herself in the foot. Sarko, please gather enough evidence to convince the U.N. to give us direct command over the Evangelions and all associated assets. Their “committee” has failed.”

“We don't know how to turn children into princeps”, cautioned the Apothecary.

“No, but we do know how to turn boys into soldiers,” replied the captain. Then he remembered something. “Chaplain Karnak, I place this child and the other pilot under your care. Prepare them, care for them, fix them if you can. Somebody get me the Metal's Scalpel. They are a Titanicus repair vessel, yes? Hopefully they have some expertise on how we should proceed.”

Initiate Muntz was not happy. Iron will, steel discipline, rigorous training and all that, but he wished he was somewhere else. For one thing, it was raining; for another, while they did discover several entrances to some kind of underground facility, they otherwise discovered nothing that the aerial survey didn't already know. They hadn't been allowed to hunt, either.

Still, Muntz was an Imperial Fist, and he wasn't going to let errant deer distract him from his mission. He had a job to do, and by Dorn he would do it. What that job was, however... One scout squad for the entire area? He felt the eyes of his sergeant on him, and turned.

“It's a lot, isn't it, initiate?” The sergeant asked.

“Well, we could split up... Do you think they can intercept vox chatter?” Muntz answered.

“I meant being here, on Terra herself, in her youth.”

“It's not Terra without the Emperor, sir.”

“True. Yes, I was thinking we should split up. Tell Pertwee and Ornstein to split the south between them, I'll take north, you go east, Stern can take west.”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

+

Shinji was on the edge of the Owakudani area, feeling miserable, weak, helpless and alone. Well, technically he was frightened and in despair, but self-honesty was not a strong suit in him. From the outside, though, it looked as though he was hesitating to kill himself. Muntz, who had been observing him from afar out of a hunch, felt conflicted between his instinct to reach out to the boy and his orders to be unseen. So instead he reached for his vox.

“Sergeant, I found someone in distress. I think they're contemplating suicide. Permission to engage?”

The vox chattered back.

“I have a hunch that he's important. He carries himself as though he has the weight of the world on his shoulders... I can't say.”

Shinji got up and moved away from the cliff. Muntz decided to follow him.

He followed him for hours, until finally he heard the sound of another boy, someone playing soldier. He looked like he recognized Shinji. Muntz stayed out of sight, until he noticed something peculiar. A man, dressed in a suit and tie, hiding poorly in the underbrush, observing the two kids. He didn't recognize the importance of the suit, nor the sunglasses, but he did recognize the earpiece and the look on his face. He was a bodyguard of sorts.

“Sergeant, confirmation that the one I've been following is VIP. He's being tailed. Recommend immediate extraction on my position. I'll be extracting two children. I might also need my knuckle treated. Over.”

+

Shinji and Kensuke were having the discussion they had about piloting the Eva when a stranger appeared in front of them. He was very tall, tanned skin, with a very square head. He had a huge gun slung on a leather strap over his shoulder. He smiled quickly.

“Domo... arigato”, he said in the thickest germanic accent possible. Then the man pointed to himself, then the sky, then mimicked a flier landing, and then he pointed to himself again, and made a walk with his fingers, then pointed to them.

“I think he's a foreign soldier!” Kensuke whispered to Shinji. “I think his plane crashed and he's lost somehow.” He raised his voice. “Cool gun, mister!” When the stranger looked confused, Kensuke tapped his own replica. The stranger seemed to understand. At least, he was making a thumbs up sign.

It was strange. To Shinji, the soldier seemed more alive, more jovial than any other person he had met before. Jovial, yes, for despite having stopped smiling, there was a self-assuredness to his demeanour, a contentment of being that emanated from him like someone who knows their purpose. Shinji basked in this man's presence for a bit.

Then a bright light appeared out of nowhere, illuminating the scene. The soldier made appeasing motions to the two boys, and then a giant appeared. He was yellow, with red eyes... until he removed his helmet.

“Shinji Ikari,” he said in perfect Japanese, “would you like to see our spaceship?”

Shinji was absolutely dumbfounded. He turned to Kensuke, whose face was shining with excitement, then to the first soldier, who nodded.

“Can my friend come with me?” he asked meekly.

“The more the merrier”, said Captain Tyrano, the word “merrier” seeming to escape his lips with a scrape of metal on metal.

+

Once aboard the Dorn's Hand, it was easy to separate the excitable Kensuke from the timid Shinji. He and Tyrano were alone on an observation deck. The great neo-human turned to the boy, and started a conversation.

“Walk with me,” he said. Shinji followed.

“How are you holding up?” the captain asked.

“I'm... alright.” Shinji said, finally. “I'll continue piloting the Eva.”

“If that is the case, what were you doing in that field? If another xeno attacked, how would you have gotten back in time to save the city?”

Shinji gave no answer.

“Your actions do not indicate a mind ready for combat. Are you comfortable with piloting the Titan?” Tyrano continued.

“No... I don't want to pilot Eva. I don't know why I do it.”

“You... don't know? And yet you still do it?”

“Yes! I'm sorry!” the boy looked distressed.

“I meant no disrespect. Adherence to duty is a great virtue, one to be commended.”

“It is?” Shinji looked surprised.

“Yes. Now, tell me... How did you become a princeps?”

Shinji told him everything. He told him about the meeting with Misato, about her flirting, about his father (he went into particular detail about that), about Rei and how she was used to make him pilot. He told him about the terror of piloting the Evangelion, and the beast within it, and the horror of fighting and killing. He told him about the fight at school, running away from the apartment, and not killing himself. He told him... everything.

Captain Tyrano Helschaff looked at the boy with new eyes.

“All this pain, and you still cling to your duty. Shinji Ikari, you do not have a warrior's heart. But when the time came to help someone in need, you did not hesitate. That speaks to me of a noble soul. A little frightened, perhaps, but the summum of bravery is not the absence of fear, but its overcoming. And that, we can help with. Stay with us, princeps Ikari, and we can teach you such techniques and strategies that no foe could best you. We can arm you with the best weapons that humanity can muster. You need not feel alone, small lord, for you have the Imperial Fists with you.”

Shinji seemed mollified upon hearing this. The tears that had threatened to well up were brushed aside.

“Thank you!” He said gratefully.

“It's but our duty. The Emperor protects those who serve Him, remember that.”

“I will!”

+

The head of section 2 was not having a good day. Half his agents hadn't reported in yet, and no one else had seen hide nor hair of Shinji Ikari in almost a day. They knew he was out in the countryside somewhere, but they lost him around Owakudani. In fact, none of the agents assigned to the surrounding area had made a peep since they lost him. Could an enemy have infiltrated the area? If so, what were their intentions? If this was a kidnapping, where had the kidnappers gone?

+

“So let me get this straight... You kidnapped the princeps of the only machine proven to destroy this enemy of Man and now you want to hold him hostage until they surrender control of these machines over to you?” The inquisitor sounded incredulous. “Am I hearing that correctly, Broth-Captain?”

The captain saw his point. “Have they made any complaints on your end?”

“I'm not sure this lot even knows on which continent the Titans are located. Have you heard anything from NERV headquarters?”

“No... Do they even know we have him? Shinji said he was roving for days before we caught up with him.”

“Maybe they don't care. You reported the sub-commander said he was not their first choice, yes? Maybe the others are combat-ready now. Anyway, Captain, I'm going to give you a chance to fix this dreadful error.”

“Well then,” Tyrano started, an expression on his face like he was annoyed by an overly friendly dog, “perhaps it would be a great opportunity to show our hand. I will send down Shinji and his friend along with an escort. Once down there, I will chastise the commander vehemently for letting such valuable assets loose and without protection. Let's make it as public as possible. Shame them into taking him and whoever I can find that will be his honour guard.”

“And I will inform my lot that we have repatriated their missing pilot. Maybe that will clue them in as to the incompetence of their leadership. And thank you, captain, for taking my advice so readily. It's good to know the Inquisition still inspires respect among the Astartes.”

“It's good to know that the Inquisition isn't staffed only by theatrical madmen, Inquisitor.”

+

And so they departed in the Captain's own Thunderhawk; the boys, the scout sergeant Guntrig, two battle-brothers named Terrius and Constantin, the Chaplain Karnak and the Brother-Captain all rode down from the celestial skies to Tokyo-3. Communications had been made; NERV knew they were bringing down two of their own. The commander arranged for a landing zone to be erected in the countryside. To avoid unnecessary attention, Tyrano guessed. A lone figure waited for them.

“Is that Captain Katsuragi?”

“Yes.”

The captain and the chaplain started an urgent conversation in their battle cant. Shinji didn't understand a thing, but surprisingly didn't feel that put out by it. He liked these giant men in their yellow armour. They made him feel less burdened, like fighting for humanity was not some horrible curse that was bestowed on him and him alone.

They touched down lightly.

“Shinji-kun.” Misato's tone was distant.

Shinji started to say something, but the chaplain put his gauntleted hand on his shoulder.

“So... this is the illustrious captain Misato Katsuragi.” The Brother-Captain started. “A “captain” so undisciplined, so uninspiring, that her men would rather throw themselves at the enemy rather than obey her commands.”

Misato was shocked. Shinji was taken aback.

“I'm sorry?” She said, fury stilled in her voice.

“Yes, you should be. Where I come from, officers are expected to behave in a manner inspiring respect among their troops. We have the dignity to hide our deficiencies from the people whose lives depend on the trust of our command.”

Terrius and Constantin looked upon him with greater attention. They were learning something.

“You have no right to judge us.” Misato answered. “I am trying to do what's best for him.”

“Yes, and a lovely job you've done at that. Did you know he was attacked at school for being a pilot? What are you doing, anyway, wasting his time on scholarly matters when he should be learning how to fight?”

“I want him to have as much of a normal life as he can get!”

“Why?”

“So he knows what he should be fighting for!”

Tyrano paused. Then he said “Chaplain, do we lead normal lives?”

“I wouldn't say so, sir.”

“And despite this, do we not fight on?”

“We do, sir.”

“And why do we fight, chaplain?”

“Because there is no one else who can do it as well, sir.”

“Well”, Tyrano said, “I think we are more qualified to take care of him than you are, captain.”

“But he's suffering!”

“He'll suffer less if he knows how to fight and if he can trust the people above him.”

Misato began to suspect something.

“What do you want, captain?” She asked.

“I want this base to be put in competent hands. And we have the most competent ones.”

“You want command of the Evas?” she suppressed a laugh. “Only that?” she added sarcastically.

“I will settle for being an advisor for now. But,” he leaned in closer and whispered, “you might not be aware of it, but there is something sinister going on. Too many secrets. Too much incompetence. Too many coincidences. I cannot trust your people.”

Misato narrowed her eyes. This was something that had begun to dawn on her, too.

She sighed. “Fine, you can be my advisor. But Shinji-kun stays with me.”

“While we make more permanent lodgings at the base. And these four will be with him at all times.”

“Could you not?” she finally said.

“No.”

+

To Be Continued

This is really getting interesting. Keep it up!

Thank you! The reason for the delay is that now we get into the politics of how to get the Imperium in charge of NERV. I know that I want to do it, but how? I have several ideas, I just need to make a choice...

Elaro wrote:Thank you! The reason for the delay is that now we get into the politics of how to get the Imperium in charge of NERV. I know that I want to do it, but how? I have several ideas, I just need to make a choice...

Well Alexis Procoer has shown some sense of restraint (uncommon amongst Inquisitors) so smash and grab overt action (family and friends of the movers and shakers are probably not known to him for hostages while taking over NERV HQ and the Evas and pilots forcefully could get messy and damage too much stuff) is unlikely while diplomacy (ie we have a LOT of experience in destruction (both mass and limited) and can bring in more firepower then the Evas and the Angels combined) is probably going to bring in better results. Now the Ad-Mech may have other ideas and it is possible that there might be a Chaos cult presence aboard one of the ships with plans of their own (not very unlikely on the battlebarge but quite possible on the other three ships).....

Good job so far.

Elaro wrote:It tries to answer the question "What if the pilots had better leadership?" This is the thing with Evangelion: the world doesn't suck because the world itself is bad, it sucks because the people within suck. Which is utterly different than 40k, where the greatest of humans are dimmed by vast cosmic evils.

Sad, but so very, very true.

So the question is "what happens when you give heroes to losers?" How can you change a person from a loser to something better?

I wrote a story with a similar premise here. The core argument is that, to allow Shinji to grow a backbone, we must replace Ikari Gendo with a RESPONSIBLE GUARDIAN who can serve as a role model. My story utterly marginalizes every single authority figure in 'Neon Genesis Evangelion', because none of them know how to do their fucking jobs.

I foresee the same damn thing happening in your story. Good choice on authority figures so far. Will Shinji be getting Imperial Fists gene-seed implanted?

I dunno, Kaji and Fuyutski (can never remember how his name is spelled) seemed like reasonable enough fellows. Fuyukusi just didn't have the nads to really realize what was going on, and Kaji seemed like a decent fellow, which spelled about the same for him as it does in 40K actually...

Misato was also decent enough, she just had too many crippling issues. But then, that's about par for Eva. Half the point of that show was "everybody's got issues."

I have plans for Kaji. The thing is, SEELE will still try to guide things along, and Gendo is their most loyal man (heh) so he'll try to counter the meddling of the Astartes, then meddle once the Imperium controls NERV Japan. Because I want for Instrumentality to still be on the table, so the changes can't be too outrageous.

I'd like to run a parallel plot where the Inquisitor does what he does best with his faithful retinue. Kaji may get involved! That should start in Chapter 9... with maybe a taster during Jet Alone.

Constantin was getting bored. Well, he wasn't going to complain, with the Chaplain right besides him, but he had been hoping (“hope is the first step on the road to disappointment”, he thought quickly) that guarding the princeps would be more interesting than this. Having to stand outside Misato's hab-block with Terrius had been something of an annoyance; having to stand just outside Shinji's classroom for everyone to ogle him had been... well, alright, it had been fun the first few minutes, but then their teacher started talking, and Constantin recognized the old man's teachings for meaningless propaganda. Luckily they exited the schola early. Misato wanted to show Shinji the cleanup process. Hopefully that would be more interesting.

They walked up to where a group of lab-coated people were excoriating a sample. The stink was horrible.

“This is our enemy, is it?” Shinji said.

“Not anymore,” answered Karnak. He turned to look at his young charge. “Do you hate them, Shinji?”

“A little,” he replied timidly.

“Well, either hate completely or hate not at all. Whichever is less exhausting to you.” The Chaplain leaned in closer. “Between you and me, these creatures are too stupid to deserve our hate. Sometimes the gauntlet of the armour of contempt is sufficient to kill pests.”

“Wait,” said Terrius to the Chaplain in their battle-cant, “aren't you always saying we should use our hate as a weapon?”

“Yes,” Karnak replied, “but do you think the boy is strong enough to wield hatred purposefully?”

“No, I suspect not.” That settled the matter.

All pairs of eyes then turned to one of the people in white, who was saying something to Misato.

“This is an ideal sample. I really appreciate it.”

It was Constantin's turn to speak out of turn.

“What does it taste like?”

Misato and Ritsuko did a double-take.

“Why don't you carve out a piece?” said the Chaplain. “If that's alright with you, doctor.”

“I... uh...”, she stammered, taken aback. “No!” she finally said, “that cadaver contains many exotic particles, not to mention inorganic elements... You'd get poisoned or... have your intestines fatally irradiated! Why would you even think such a thing?!”

“Oh, right, no offence meant,” said Constantin. “I only asked because xeno meat has been some of the most interesting meals I've ever had, and I was wondering if... oh, never mind.”

The chaplain looked at Constantin. Constantin looked back.

“All right, I'll add an extra hour,” the marine told Karnak in battle-cant, referring to the time spent in the Pain Glove, the punishment favoured by the Imperial Fists.

Karnak then turned to Ritsuko and shouted: “I suppose this means we can't have a bone or something to practice scrimshaw on, yes?”

Again, Dr Akagi was taken aback. Again, she stammered. Again, she answered negatively and with revulsion.

“Oh well”, Karnak answered politely, grinning slightly.

“Regardless,” he continued, “we should leave the scientists to their work. I'm sure they'll tell us when they've found some weakness we can use.”

“No,” Misato said about that, “I think it's important Shinji-kun learns about all the aspects of our efforts to combat the Angels.”

The chaplain leaned in uncomfortably close and hissed a whisper: “The boy has competence issues. The faster we get him learning practical things, things he can use, the better off we'll be, and the safer he'll feel. Is that not what we want?”

The captain leaned away, made uncomfortable by the closeness of the neoman's mouth.

“Umm...” she said and smiled evasively. When she could not find any objection to Karnak's words, she sighed, defeated. “Fine...”

“But have him back before the sun's down!” she added.

Thus Shinji did not go to Ritsuko's lab, did not see the burn on his father's hands, and thus did not learn of the special care he had given Rei. He remained blissfully ignorant of this injustice... well, as blissful as one can be while training with the Imperial Fists.

+

Constantin wondered how the brother-sergeant was going to train the boy.

“Alright, boy. This is an exercise we practice with those who aspire to be in our ranks. I'm going to try and kick you...” he paused a moment, expecting a response. Shinji only looked a little frightened. “And you're going to try and run away. Every minute you spend out of my reach is a point for you, every time I hit you is a point for me. Any questions?”

Ah, the 'best' training, realized Constantin.

“But... I mustn't run away...” said Shinji quietly.

The chaplain intervened then. “Why not? You shouldn't be worried about running away. You're too brave for that.”

“What? No, I'm a coward and... and timid, and a weakling...” the boy almost cried.

“A coward, eh? Well, this changes things.”

“Brother-Chaplain?” Constantin questioned.

“Shinji Ikari, where I come from, cowards are shot on the spot. But you do not really want to die, else you would have done it already. No! You want to live, whether you admit it to yourself or not!”

“But I tried to kill myself! I didn't even have the strength to go through with that!”

The chaplain knelt to face Shinji, eye to eye.

“Ha! Strength. Of course you lack strength, you were not trained, and were pushed too hard and too fast. Strength of will takes practice, which is something even the brother-sergeant forgets sometimes, and it can be damaged. The Techmarines heal machines, and the Apothecaries heal the body, but I heal the mind. That is why I am here. We know you are weak. We will make you strong.”

Shinji wiped away a stray tear. “But I don't know if I can...”

“Do not worry about becoming strong. Only worry about doing what we say, and, in time, you will become strong. Have faith in us, little princeps, and be righteous.”

“But... what does it mean, to “have faith”?”, Shinji asked.

The chaplain almost laughed. “Faith is a choice, Shinji. Faith is choosing to believe that the world can be a more righteous place. Faith is an act, and faith is our shield against the daemon Cowardice. I will help you practice your faith, Shinji. First, forget that silly phrase. A negative sentence? No, to have faith is to do something good, not avoid something evil. Here, I will teach you a part of one of our litanies. It is a phrase we say to strengthen our resolve, remind us of our duty, and give us the determination to wipe out the enemies of the Emperor.”

“Who's the Emperor?”

“The Emperor of Mankind, the Better Man, the Unifier of Terra, the Savior of Humanity,” the chaplain said. “It is by His will that we be the defenders of Humanity, and it is probably by His will that we are here. Here, repeat after me: 'Take the Emperor's Will as your torch'; 'with it, destroy the shadows.' ”

“So the Emperor's will is... protect mankind?”

“Yes. The next time you find yourself lost or confused, ask yourself, “what should I do to serve the Emperor?” that is to say “how shall I serve Mankind?” That is your torch, your guide through difficult times. Serve Mankind, and you will never do wrong. Now, let's start the exercise.”

+

And so a few days passed, Misato trying harder and harder to make Shinji go to school, much to the lament of the chaplain, and to keep from the four Astartes that a room at the base was prepared for Shinji. Little did she know, the Astartes expected communal arrangements for Shinji and themselves in the manner they were accustomed to, and would've balked at the lonely room NERV had prepared for him. It would be some time yet before Shinji left Misato's apartment for good.

In truth, Captain Tyrano's plan for the honour guard was not only to keep the boy in the presence of warriors, but also to evaluate the defences of NERV, their reaction time, and so on. In this task the captain was stymied. Well, either NERV had purposefully stopped doing drills ever since Shinji's honour guard showed up, or they had never started in the first place. The chaplain's report about Shinji's previous routine seemed to indicate the latter. Oh, there had been training sessions, but no kind of warrior-forming, esprit-de-corps-building, initiative exercise. The captain shook his head. How do you expect a human being to be a soldier when you haven't even made them know they're part of an army? Then he remembered that the boy was no ordinary soldier, that he was a princeps, and so decided to consult a more learned individual on the matter.

“Magos Deuterimos, may I bother you with a few questions about the training of princeps?”

The vox chattered.

“This is about the boy? I have analyzed the reports your men have gathered. He does not have what it takes to conduct one of our Titans. They must thus be using some kind of tech to ease the burden. Until we can analyze that tech, no advice we can give will be applicable. In fact, I suggest that you cease training the boy in your ways. These primitives may not be wise, but they know something we do not. And we are guessing that he has undergone some kind of treatment. The inquisitor-”

“Treatment? Are you referring to his abandonment by his father?”

“Perhaps. To link back from interrupt, the inquisitor has investigated the other princeps, the girl. She has been treated with a library of chemicals that together dampen her emotional response. This is the source of our speculation regarding what is necessary to pilot these psy-bio-Titans.”

“How did the inquisitor find out about this? Do we have to worry about another relations incident?” Which was a subtle way of asking “did he kidnap her?”

The vox was silent for a moment. Then...

“I didn't ask. Perhaps you should take up the matter with the inquisitor himself?”

“Thank you, Magos.”

“Yes, yes, returning that. Goodbye.”

+

It was one of those days where Ritsuko had come to eat at her best friend's place. Thankfully, since the day the chaplain sampled some of Misato's cooking, she had been forbidden from feeding anyone anything, and so Terrius took up cooking duty. He made the astute observation that perhaps the princeps should learn to feed himself, which was sadly misunderstood as an attempt at shirking his duty, for which the chaplain assigned him a half-hour in the pain glove.

Terrius was thus forced to learn of Earth's cooking. Being from the ice world of Inwit, he had a little culinary experience, but it mostly involved creatures native to his home planet, and he had never cooked with proper vegetables. Needless to say his first attempts had been simple, but as he studied his craft as assiduously as only an Astartes could, his meals soon took on a marvellous quality.

“Hmm, this is very good!” said Ritsuko through mouthfuls of beef and eggplant sautée. “But I can't help but think that you're trying to fatten us.”

“I'm just trying to put some meat on your bones... Besides, don't you know a big child turns into a tall adult?”

Misato toyed with her food. “I don't like eggplant...” she said quietly. She had already drank several cans of beer, much to Terrius's puzzlement.

“Ah, well, we all have our thrones to sit on”, replied Terrius. When he was met with blank stares, he explained, “it means 'we all have our burdens'.” He turned to Shinji. “What did you think of your lessons?”

Shinji and his entourage continued the conversation on like this for several minutes when, eventually, organically, the subject turned to Rei.

“I wonder why she's alone all the time...”

Terrius thought for a moment, then noticed the look on Misato's face, and decided to preempt whatever sly comment she was going to say.

“Perhaps none of them share her warrior's burden? How long has she been groomed for piloting?”

“That's classified”, answered Ritsuko.

Terrius snorted and as he did so, realized that probing deeper might reveal the Astartes officers' intent to take on Rei's training, as well. So he adjusted the course of the conversation.

“Still, it might be a good idea for Shinji and Rei to be on speaking terms. Let us visit her tomorrow.”

“Well, if you must...” Ritsuko said with a half-smile. “Actually, I have the new security card I wanted to give her, but I forgot. Could you give it to her, Shinji-kun?”

She leaned over and gave him the card. He couldn't help but stare at the picture. It was vaguely familiar...

“Hey, she looks like she could be your sister!”, the yellow-robed trooper exclaimed, interrupting Shinji's intense staring.

“Oh...” Shinji said in his usual soft-spoken manner, “you think so?”

“Well, she's obviously got some inconsequential mutations going on, but look at that chin! And...”, he went on like this, listing all the similarities between Shinji's face and Rei's. Interrupting him, Ritsuko rose.

“Well, I've taken enough of your time.”

“Eh heh, touched a nerve?” Misato said, in that tone that reminded Terrius of some soldiers who had taken too much drink and who thought everything from their sargeant's farts to tomorrow's battle plan were a hilarious joke, to be said loudly and repeatedly. This was the reason, then, he concluded, why the chaplain let her have all the drink she wanted. He listened intently.

“Misato, I think you've had quite enough to drink.” said Ritsuko, and left.

The woman in question leaned down conspiratorially. “I think she's jealous...”

“But of what?” said Terrius, far too casually for any sober person to answer.

“Well, the Commander...” she said, looking over the baby-faced bodyguard (except for that gash on his forehead, poor thing!), “the Commander is nice to Rei.”

“Yeah, I've only seen her smile when she's with him.” Said Shinji grimly, out of nowhere.

“Really?” the Astarte said, interested.

Misato seemed to realize something.

“Hey, Shin-chan... keep it quiet around Terlius and the other bananas, okay?”, she said, utterly oblivious to who else was in the room. Until... “Oh well, you're okay, you're n-hic- nice, surely you can keep this between us?”

“My lips are sealed”, said Terrius, who, à propos of nothing, was a terrible liar.

“Hmm,” Misato frowned, suspicious only on her own fumes. They did not last long.

+

“Alright, let's go to Rei Ayanami's lodgings,” the chaplain announced to the princeps and his retinue. “Although, the sergeant is still going to try and kick you. So try to avoid him until we get to the objective.”

“Are you going to help him?”, Shinji asked.

“Actually, no.” The Brother-Sergeant answered instead. “Good on you to ask what they're doing. It's important to enquire about every detail, you never know. They're your bodyguards. You tell them where to go, and they'll do it, within reason. Don't worry,” he added after seeing Shinji's overwhelmed expression, “they'll tell you when you're doing things wrong. You aren't our first trainee.”

It actually went pretty smoothly. The three Astartes were more concerned with keeping Shinji safe from actual harm, and so they issued more warnings than were strictly necessary for a training exercise, but Shinji liked it. He found the responsibility of manoeuvring his three companions to be almost like playing, almost like freedom. He had never imagined that someone would actually listen to him, take him seriously, yet here they were, executing his command as though he had won a hundred battles with them.

They were interrupted about three quarters of the way there by a vox call. It was the sergeant. He was at Ayanami's place, and told the Chaplain about the unlocked door and the decrepit look of the place. He had tried listening in, but the clang of the factories were too loud to make out anything. They hurried, the exercise clearly over.

When they were 10 minutes away, the sergeant voxed in again. He said he had a visual on Rei. She was unaccompanied, and he was asking if he should go meet her. The chaplain, thinking over his captain's instructions from the other day, replied in the negative, that he should wait & observe.

When the rest of them arrived, they knew that Rei was inside. And so, almost certain there was nothing wrong inside the apartment, the chaplain bade Shinji go inside.

“What do you see?”, Guntrig asked.

“Umm, there are letters on the floor...” Shinji took a few steps. “There's- uh, blood on the pillow, and bandages...”

At the mention of blood, the sergeant opened the door and stepped through, saying that he was coming in. He was halfway down the hall when they both heard it. The sound of a drape being drawn. Rei had emerged from the shower to investigate the strangers in her home.

“Good afternoon, m'am”, said the sergeant, checking her hands for weapons. He found none.

Shinji was far less composed. “I, umm”, he stammered. In his defence, Rei was only covering, with a towel, the upper half of herself. “I didn't really...”, he seemed to choke on the words.

Luckily he had not taken the glasses off the dresser, and so Rei did not lunge for him. Instead, she asked a question, piercingly.

“Why are you here?”

“Umm, I'm sorry, uhh...” Shinji continued stammering. Guntrig was having none of it.

“My princeps, she poses no threat. Why are you chewing your words like they were your last meal?”

Shinji seemed to regain some composure. He averted his eyes and said: “Umm, Ayanami, I was told to give you your security card! So... uh...”

She got dressed in front of him, seemingly unaware of both their presences. Finally the sergeant snapped.

“Okay, princeps Rei, why are you ignoring us? For Dorn's sake!” (“I heard that!”, the chaplain was heard shouting.)

But Rei continued to get dressed, continued to ignore the both of them. Shinji continued to avert his eyes, but Guntrig was blocking the way out. Finally she was decent, and tried to get past him. She failed.

“Could you move?”

“If I recall the days of my youth correctly, generally young ladies are particularly selective of which young men they show their undergarments to.” He whispered icily. Before he could continue, a black powered gauntlet landed on his shoulder.

“The captain said not to disturb her”, he said in battle-cant.

The sergeant moved. Shinji still wasn't looking at Rei. In fact, she was gone by the time he looked again.

“After you.” Guntrig said curtly, having apparently waited for Shinji to dare looking of his own accord. “I suggest you keep an eye on her, Shinji”, the Sargeant added.

+

Shinji was ten paces behind Rei. Terrius, Karnak, Constantin and Guntrig were five paces behind him, daring anyone else to get close to them. They were attracting stares. This continued all the way to one of the entries to Central Dogma, where Rei was halted in her progression by the invalid security card in her hand.

“Here”, said Shinji kindly, and handed out the card. She snatched it from his hand.

“Well, goodbye,” said the Chaplain.

Shinji turned to them, smiled, and was waving goodbye as the gate closed.

“Well, that was odd”, said the sergeant.

“What, the girl?” said Terrius.

“She seemed upset”, said Constantin.

“No, that's her usual attitude”, said the sergeant. The others looked at him.

“The captain told me to keep an eye on them both!”, he said, preempting the slight that Constantin was close to levying against him. “And it's strange, she didn't mind at all that Shinji and I watched her get dressed. Normally I'd assume she was raised in a culture without a nakedness taboo, but that's not the case, the boy was very perturbed. And she flat-out ignored us when we tried to initiate conversation! Who does that?”

“Yes, she reminded me more of an Eldar than a human”, said the Chaplain. “There's definitely something odd about her, no question that. We'll discuss more at length later.”

+

The alarm aboard the Dorn's Hand was sounding, deep and red. The third Xeno-Psy-Titan had been spotted.

+ To be continued

Elaro wrote:Because I want for Instrumentality to still be on the table, so the changes can't be too outrageous.

Is the Inquisitor a radical? (I had a crossover idea in which the Second Impact causes disruptions in the Warp, drawing the Imperium to "Earth," with First Contact occurring in 2005. A radical Inquisitor learns of Seele's plans, and allows it to occur because he plans to direct the souls that the Third Impact would harvest, to the Emperor Himself, to heal His Immortal Majesty. Other plans include Daemons attacking the home of four-year-old Shinji's guardian, leading to the boy being orphaned again, joining the Space Wolves- mind you, this is before I learned the Chapter restricted recruitment to men from Fenris- and having a personality turned 180 degrees from the canon of 'Neon Genesis Evangelion'.)