Battlestar Evangelion:

Fleeing from Angel tyranny, the last surviving Battlestar, Pacifica, leads a ragtag fugitive fleet on a lonely quest for the distant planet Malkhut, and salvation from the genocidal Angels.

Running from Angel attacks for seventeen years, a boy, born and bred only aboard the Great ships of the fleet, is burdened with the task of defending humanities last, great hope from the Angels' latest, most devastating weapon.

Battlestar Galactica and Neon Genesis Evangelion are copyrighted works.
Other stuff might be mentioned that’s copyrighted.
I don’t own anything.
It’s just a bit of fun anyway.

I………………………………………………………………………I

And so, on the shores of the Red sea of Malkhut, the first two humans were born.

From there, the tree of human life took root and branched throughout the stars, becoming the Ten Tribes.

-Origin Ch 21: Vs 13

I………………………………………………………………………I

The year is 4217: Colonial Century

“Where is everybody?” The brown haired boy known as Shinji Ikari asked.

His small voice was lost in the vastness of the arrivals deck of Cloud Nine. It made little difference; there was nobody there to answer him anyway. The last time he’d been there, it had been a physical struggle to get through the crowds. He could barely hear his teacher yelling beside him, such was the commotion.

Now though, he could hear the distant rattle of the ship’s ventilation hanging from the glass ceiling above him. He peered through the glass at the blackness of space beyond, and a metallic grey section of the ships superstructure, lit up like some great Saturnalia tree.

Nothing seemed to be wrong with the ship, no alarms or anything.

A yellow backlit sign served only to deepen the mystery.

ALL DEPARTURES CANCELLED DUE TO SITUATION BEYOND OUR CONTROL

ALL ARRIVALS DIVERTED DUE TO SITUATION BEYOND OUR CONTROL

We apologise for any inconvenience caused.

“What’s going on around here?”

He could remember the Pilot of his shuttle mentioning something about a state of emergency being called before they’d docked, maybe that had something to do with it.

“Now here this,” a woman’s voice announced over the ships tannoy. “Now here this. As of 20:13 Fleet Standard Time a state of emergency has been declared by fleet command. All hands are advised to report to emergency stations.”

“I guess I should find a shelter then.”

‘But then, what about that woman?’

She was supposed to be picking him up somewhere near here.

He fumbled in his white shirt pocket for a piece of paper, and a photograph of the woman he was supposed to meet. Found it. Her smiling face was framed by long, purple hair.

He’d long since come to the conclusion though, that the picture hadn’t been meant for him. She was wearing nothing but an unzipped green leather flight jacket and a pink thong, with a small arrow pointing to her chest. ‘Attention here’ a handwritten caption read.

Definitely must’ve been a mistake or something.

It couldn’t have been meant for him.

Looking up from the not exactly unattractive picture he thought he saw some strange girl, standing opposite him, beneath the staircase to the upper level. For a moment, he thought she’d had blue hair.

Maybe she knew what was going on?

“Hey! he called out to her, “Hey there!”

He was interrupted by a dull rolling thunder reverberation through the deck plates, shaking and rattling the glass panels above him.

‘What was that?’ he questioned mentally.

Instantly apprehensive, he swallowed a lump building in his throat as some strange orange flash lit the hall around him. A lightning streak shot overhead, slamming into the superstructure far above him, a burning red fireball billowing out into the black void, silver confetti twinkling like burning stars. The structure of the ship groaned and shrieked as if it was a wounded animal.

Pieces began to patter and rattle against the glass ceiling above him. Instinctively, he braced himself, burying his head in his arms, expecting the glass to come crashing down on him. Of course, that’s forgetting the small fact that the moment anything failed, all the air in the compartment would blow out into the vacuum of outer space.

From the lifetime of classroom drills, he knew then he’d only have fifteen seconds to do anything about it, before he lost consciousness. Even then, that’s only if he didn’t hold his breath.

Finding a shelter area suddenly seemed like a very good idea. But what about that girl he’d seen just beforehand? He quickly scanned the terminal, searching for any sign of her.

‘Probably just found a shelter,’ He thought.

“Now hear this,” The same voice as before cut in. “Now here this. All hands in glazed areas must evacuate immediately to shelter sections. Decompression danger.”

Far be it for him to argue with that. A klaxon alarm and a flashing red arrow hanging above him led the way.

“Hey!” a nearby voice barked.

“What?”

“Hey kid! Over here!”

Someone in a green flight suit, standing in an open airlock was calling for him.

“Hey! Move it before the section blows.”

Shinji blinked, looking at the olive suited person, then at the picture in his hand. Their voice muffled somewhat by the pressure helmet, he couldn’t even tell if they were a man or woman. He peered through the transparent faceplate, trying to find some feature that he could match between this person beckoning him, and the printed image in his hand.

It could be.

For an instant he thought he could hear a gentle hissing whistle, like a leaking seal nearby, and what might have been the crackling of tinfoil, crunched in some ones hand.

Looking up, great shining cracks were branching across the glass above him, silver stars of metal still pattering against it, spraying from the orange glowing wound in the ships structure above.

In an instant the teenage boy knew what was going to happen. He knew that whoever this person was, going with them was infinitely better than getting blown out into open space.

He took off running towards the pilot, his footfalls clattering on the loose deckplates beneath his feet

“Hurry up!” the Pilot called. “It’s going to go any second.”

He saw the suited person look up, immediately followed by the sound of shattering glass and the roar of a great gale blowing past him. His ears popped painfully as his footsteps faded, muffled as if through thick cotton. Every instinct screamed at him to hold his breath, his lungs about to burst as some great hand reached down his throat and ripped the air away out of him.

Perfect vacuum silence closed in as he ran forward, saliva on his tongue bubbling and vaporising in his mouth, his entire body tingling from the cold void that had enveloped him. His vision swam as he staggered forward, his oxygen starved mind finally realising that perhaps it might be the end. His legs already buckling beneath him he was dimly aware of something scoop him up and pull him away.

A sudden rush of air and he gasped for breath, his head throbbing, his chest on fire. Awareness filtered back and he felt himself lying on his back, on cold metal.

“Are you alright?” A distant voice asked, his ears ringing painfully.

Shinji could only groan and mumble as he pushed himself upright

“Don’t sit up too quickly,” The voice held him steady.

A woman’s voice.

“Mother,” The boy slurred, blinking as he tried to focus on the figure standing over him.

“Nope.”

A woman, the pilot who’d been calling him. She was standing, her back towards an airlock door, smiling at him. The woman from he picture? he wondered. Shinji searched for the small photograph, checking in his pockets for the missing paper square.

He’d been still holding it when the deck depressurised, he realised. It was drifting somewhere out in space by now.

And the girl!

He jumped to his feet, swaying on jelly legs for a moment.

“Hey!” the woman grabbed him, keeping him from falling back on the deck.

“There was someone on the deck, a girl!” He tried to push past her. “We have to rescue her.”

“What?” stunned, the woman loosened her grip, Shinji darting to the sealed airlock door, pressing himself against the quartz glass porthole as he peered through, scanning what little of the evacuated deck he could see for any sign of her. His breath misted the cooling glass as he was gently pulled back by a warm hand on his shoulder.

“I didn’t see anyone else there but you,” the woman said, giving a quick look.

“But I saw here, right before the glass blew.” Shinji explained. He was so sure he’d seen her, just standing under a staircase, staring at him, the image almost burned onto his memory. Blue hair, red eyes and a pale, ghost like complexion.

“If she was there,” The pilot placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, her grip firm and warm. “I’m sure she made it to a shelter in time. I didn’t see anyone else on the deck, so she must have.”

Shinji swallowed his words.

If she had been out there, she’d be dead by now anyway.

“You’re Shinji Ikari right?” The woman questioned, in an incongruously cheery tone of voice.

“Um…yes ma’am,” he nodded meekly.

“Thank the Gods,” The pilot leant back against the bulkhead, exhaling a welcome sigh of relief. The nagging fear that perhaps the object of her search was now either hidden in some shelter in the bowels of the ship, or floating around somewhere between the ship and the Antares maelstrom, dissolved with the knowledge that he was standing beside her.

And why was he looking at her? She wasn’t exactly wearing anything inappropriate now was she?

‘Oh right.’ The penny finally dropped.

“Flight Captain Misato Katsuragi, of the Battlestar Pacifica,” she introduced herself with a slight bow.

“Pacifica.”

Shinji looked at the smiling Captain, then at his feet. Of course he knew the name, every citizen in the fleet did, but the connection his mind had to that name twisted his stomach into a sickening knot.

“My father’s ship.”

“You have the ID card and papers he sent you?” she enquired, gentling ushering him towards the opposite end of the chamber.

“Um, yes Miss Katsuragi,” he answered politely.

“Please, call me Misato.” she corrected, with a dismissive wave. “You make me feel so old calling me ‘Miss’”

“Sorry…em….” he shuffled in his pockets, reaching deep into his black trousers, trying to find the missing paper. Had it blown out into space as well? Was it drifting past the ticket control desk?

It was a quick relief to feel his hands close on the crumpled paper.

“Here it is!”

Torn into pieces and having been hastily taped together, the stationary was impassively printed:

Commander Gendou Ikari.

Battlestar Pacifica

BSG NERV-01

Come. Your presence is required aboard this ship immediately.

A single plastic ID card gave his full name, attached to a recent school photograph and an ID number.

“Good,” she spoke as she pushed open the airlock door. “Security Section 2 hates it when people forget their I.D.”

“We’re not going to a shelter?”

“I’ve got orders to bring you to Pacifica, besides; it’s the safest place to be right now anyway.”

Shinji wondered to himself if perhaps he didn’t want to go with her, not too his father’s ship.

“Well, let’s get going then.”

“Yes ma’am,” he answered compliantly. It wasn’t as if he had a choice.

Shinji was quaking noticeably as the hatchway buzzed shut behind him, sealing him into the beetle shaped shuttlecraft. Lit by low level green lighting, he could barely pick out the details within the small, cramped passenger compartment. There was seating for maybe six people, on two benches and some battered crates with leaking power cells stowed beneath cargo netting.

“Take the Co-pilot’s seat,” Misato instructed as the machine slowly returned to life around him.

“Yes ma-am.”

The teenager could hear the whine of the engine’s turbopumps, revving up to speed, the low hum of the air recyclers surrounding him. Strapping himself tightly into the right seat, the instruments in front of him lit up, telling him information he couldn’t hope to comprehend.

The Captain didn’t seem to be having too much trouble figuring the different dials out, but of course, she must have been training for years to get that sort of skill

Somehow, as the Scarab shuttle jolted back from the docking port, Shinji knew that staying in the airlock would’ve been the better choice. He would’ve been safe there until someone came to rescue him. Nothing good could come from this, from his father.

“Oh, you should read this by the way.” The smiling captain dropped a grey printed dossier onto his lap. “It’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

“Um…Yes ma’am.”

“Y’know, that’s getting a little annoying,” Misato scowled playfully at him. “Can’t you say anything else?”

“Um……”

The words he wanted to say he knew would just cause more problems, yet there they were, slowly snaking their way up his throat, ready to force their way through his mouth. Either that or he was about to get violently sick.

Better that than offend or annoy the Captain, right?

But still, they came.

“Yes ma’am,” he blurted out.

The purple haired beauty’s eyes glinted as she glared at him. A mischievous, disturbing glare that made Shinji shrink down into his ejection seat. He wanted so desperately to hide from the grinning Captain, knowing that she was planning something...unpleasant.

“Sorry,” he offered meekly.

But still, the grin remained as her hand slowly closed around the plastic throttles.

“Control, Scarab two-one four. Request departure clearance from port Argo-Three-Ten.”

Shinji knew she was planning something. But he didn’t know what. He wished in that instant that he was a telepath, that he could read her mind, so that at least he’d have some sort of warning when she did it.

“Scarab two-one-four Control. Clearance granted.” the response came back. “Docking collar depressurised, all systems…..”

Shinji yelped, surprised by the sudden pressing force on his chest as he was violently ripped back, the Scarabs reverse thrusters flaring a bright blue through the cockpit windows. Accelerating backwards, inertia crushed Shinji painfully against the central strap of his five point harness. Turbines roaring around him, his mind barely had time to acknowledge the wounded Cloud Nine before his stomach was thrown through his mouth as the craft looped dizzyingly over. His head swam as he came face to place with only a black star field, and the acid taste of vomit tingling in his mouth.

Misato was still smiling at him.

“You okay?”

Shinji could only groan, not wanting any more acrobatics from the Captain. He really should’ve stayed on the Cloud, found a nice shelter to wait out the attack in, maybe gone home to his guardian on the Rising Sun and lived a perfectly happy life.

Peering out into the blackness, he thought he could see the other ships in the fleet, bright points of light, thousands of kilometres away. He knew they were heading for one of them, but he couldn’t tell which one was his destination.

And what had damaged Cloud Nine?

He couldn’t see anything that could’ve done it. A meteorite perhaps, a rogue comet? The Rising Sun had been hit before, but not out in deep space. He thought he could see a few dim flashes surrounding one or two of the points. Something was glowing a brilliant white, like a nearby star, but moving.

That definitely wasn’t part of the fleet he knew.

“Miss Misato.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s going on?” the boy asked.

“Well…” she paused. “It’s just…em…you’ll be told on board the Pacifica.”

Something about her answer just unnerved Shinji. Something really was very wrong. Maybe the answer was in the folder she’d given him. On it was printed:

WELCOME TO NERV-01 FLEET OPERATIONS

I………………………………………………………………………I

The ‘bridge’ of Pacifica was in fact, something of a misnomer. It wasn’t that it wasn’t the Command centre of the ship, it was more the fact that, rather than being perched high on the hull like most civilian vessels, it was buried deep within the structure, an armoured citadel protected from all but the most determined of attacks. A viewscreen on the forward bulkhead gave real time holographic views of the space around them, overlaid with a myriad of navigation data and targeting information. The air was hot and heavy, the labouring crew sweating at their stations. The distant rumble of the ships weapons warred with the hum of the ventilation and cooling for the banks of computers behind the grey painted bulkheads.

The ships helmsman and navigator sat back from the glowing display, skilfully guiding the great starship through the void, their faces lit only by the backing lights of their CRT monitors. Behind them were myriad of other systems, from communications, to flight control, to tactical station, each overseen by it’s own dedicated technician. Other video displays lined the walls, showing external feeds, status of the ship’s squadrons, and a view of what had once been four cargo bays.

Overseeing them all, from a raised platform was the stern form of the ship’s Commander, Gendou Ikari, an old man, greying slightly but still intimidating. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of ancient sunglasses. The man rested himself gently against his steepled hands, his arms supported by the ships Master Systems Display table. From the Commanders chair he cold call up the information on nearly any part of his ship.

Beneath his laced, white-gloved hands, the Commander was smiling with a strange satisfaction.

“Status of the Angel Base-star?”

“Enemy defence systems below twenty percent Sir,” The tactical officer, Lieutenant Aoba responded, “But the ship’s hull remains intact. Estimate integrity still at eighty five percent.”

“Good,” the Commander smirked slightly, they were all but crippled. “And their fighter cover?”

“Apollo reports it’s as good as annihilated.”

“Then, perhaps we may not need him after all,” Kozuo Fuyutski, the ships executive officer spoke quietly into his former student.

“Perhaps,” the younger of the two men acknowledged. “But after seventeen years, the Angel’s are still attacking, and then, we have this….”

A few quick taps on the keyboard, and the display changed from an overview of the ship, to a live image of the new target. Grainy and somewhat distorted, it showed what looked to be a glowing white ball, in the shadow if the crippled Base-Star.

“Seraphim?”

“Indeed.”

“But, it’s been seventeen years.”

On the display beside the glowing object was a simple text box.

FIELD PATTERN BLUE: CONFIRMED.

And then a brilliant, retina burning flash from the target, and the feed cut to static.

“Hmm,” the elder of the two smiled. “This might just get interesting.”

“It will.” Ikari nodded. “Lieutenant Ibuki, what is the ETA of Starbuck’s shuttle?”

“No transmission from Starbuck, ” the young brunette reported. “Cloud Nine reports shuttlecraft departure ten minutes ago,” she checked the screen over her head. “DRADIS shows one shuttlecraft on an intercept trajectory, transponder signal confirms it…Scarab two one four. ETA, approximately ten more minutes sir. ”

“And the status of the targets?”

“Base Star defences reported neutralised,” Aoba reported. “Squadrons moving to engage secondary target.”

“No!” The commander cut him off with an unnerving abruptness. “Recall all fighter squadrons.”

“But sir…”

“That’s an order.”

“Aye sir.”

“Are you planning something?” Fuyutski questioned discretely.

Gendou only responded with a gentle, devious upturn of his lips. Years of command experience were telling him one, extremely satisfying thing. With the ‘secondary target’ sheltering itself beneath the crippled Base Star, there was no reason a sufficiently large explosion couldn’t take both targets out at the same time. Killing two birds with one stone had always been one of the old man’s greatest pleasures.

“Prepare two nuclear missiles and target the Base Star,” he ordered calmly. “Fire when the last of our fighters is aboard.”

With those words, the fate of the aptly named three pointed Base Star was sealed, and with any luck, the object it had been protecting. Soon, they would be nothing but twinkling silver metal, indistinguishable from the background of space.

“Yes Sir.”

The dark haired Lieutenant, Makoto Hyuga, watched as the indicators for each of the squadrons lit up a safe green in turn, each launched craft returning to it’s base. The dart like Viper fighters landing in turn, snagging cables on the hanger deck with their tailhooks.

“All squadrons aboard,” he reported.

Anticipation, that’s what it was. That sound on everyone’s voice. The ships nuclear arsenal was rarely used, only when absolutely necessary, and even then, only sparingly. Two missiles against a single Base Star was something worth seeing.

“Pacifica calling all fleet vessels. Activate pulse absorbers,” Ibuki spoke into the wireless mike. “Repeat, all fleet vessels must activate their pulse absorbers.”

Two nuclear detonations and an exploding Base Star would throw out an electromagnetic pulse that would destroy any unshielded electronic system, circuits and semiconductors smoking and frying as kiloamp currents arced across delicate transistors.

A distant thump announced to the entire ships company that the missiles had been launched. Lights dimmed and monitors were secured, power to critical systems minimised, protection of battle systems being paramount in combat. Not that it would be necessary of course; the base star was as good as space dust.

“Brace, Brace, Brace,” the warning sounded as the silver cylinders streaked towards their target, closing on inevitability on top of orange trails of smoke and fire.

In a millisecond the star shaped ship was vaporized, it’s existence blotted out by the momentary birth of two new stars deep inside it. Fractions of a second later every video display went static, before cutting blank, overhead lights flickering dangerously as buffer circuits struggled to compensate for the induced charges and surging currents.

“Yes!” Aoba punched the air, a sudden cheer running across the bridge, the crew sure that both targets were now travelling at relativistic speeds in several directions at once.

Both the Commanders just stared at the static screen. They knew better.

The screen shimmered and flashed, surveyors and scanners coming back online. In a microsecond the image became clear and sharp. It took only a moment more for a stunned silence to crush the spirits of those who’d expected a quick victory.

‘It’ was still there.

Scorched and burned, spattered with shrapnel from the destroyed ship it may have been, but otherwise, it seemed almost unaffected by the multi-megaton blast that had enveloped it.

“Target…remains.”

Shigeru Aoba had to force the words out. What was on that screen went against everything his training and experience had told him. Nothing could possibly have survived that. What the hell was that thing?

“Then it is confirmed,” Fuyutski said.

“It is. We may yet need to use it.”

There was, after all, a first time for everything.

I………………………………………………………………………I

“That shouldn’t go there,” Shinji said.

The boys meek voice was the only sound in the darkened Scarab, save for the click clack click of Misato trying to replace a fried circuit board. The pulse had taken it’s toll on the shuttle’s electronics, her exuberant Piloting having taken it’s toll on the shuttle’s wireless.

“I know what I’m doing,” Misato answered. “I’ve been a pilot for nearly ten years; you get to know a few things…oh.”

The relay exploded in a shower of electric blue fireworks, an electric shock running up along her arm, stunning the captain momentarily.

“I told you so.”

“Oh be quiet,” Misato snorted. “It’s not like you did anything to help anyway.”

“I tried to tell you.”

If she didn’t know better, her charge sounded almost smug. There was definitely a familiar ring to the boy’s voice at any rate.

“Such a boring boy, even though you’re cute.”

Shinji swallowed. No, she had to be just teasing, didn’t she?

“You think so?”

He didn’t sound like he believed it.

“Oh sorry, a boy can get angry at such things, right?” she grinned.

“And you’re immature.”

Immediately Misato’s eyes flashed that same mischievous gleam to him.

“Ah, Sorry.”

Again, much too late. Again, he knew she was planning something. Again, he didn’t know what. Again, he braced himself, expecting an assault with a searing solder gun, a spray of engine lubricant, or perhaps even an ‘accidental’ ejection into space.

No, not that last one.

She was obviously crazy, but she couldn’t be crazy enough to do that, could she?

Shinji whimpered in fear as the Captain turned to face him.

And stuck her tongue out playfully.

That was it?! Of all the horrible things she could have done to him, Shinji was almost disappointed that she’d just stuck her tongue out. The woman was clearly insane, or just not right in the head, that had to be it. His guardian had always told him that anyone who willingly joined the NERV fleet had to be nuts. Shinji was standing beside living proof of that.

“Got it!” Misato announced as green light one again flooded the passenger compartment. Pumps and air circulation systems spun up musically, reassuringly, the gaseous whine of the engines building into a dull roar as they reignited.

“Told you I knew a few things.”

I should’ve stayed on the Cloud, Shinji thought, or on the Rising Sun. He should’ve never left his nice, safe cabin. Nothing good could ever come from his father, he was sure of it.

Strapping himself back in to what he guessed was the co-pilot’s seat, being careful to leave the centre strap undone, just in case, he couldn’t help but notice how many of the indicators in front of him were now flashing a dangerous red.

And what was the brilliant glowing object he could see?

Was that what had damaged the Cloud?

““Scarab two-one-four, Pacifica control. Clearance granted to larboard landing bay, manual approach . Squawk 1014 if wireless failure.”

Misato adjusted a few setting on her panel, the systems answering compliantly with a myriad of beeps, electronic alarms and warning messages that just flew over Shinji’s head. He felt the craft yaw right beneath him, a new ship coming into view. Embedded head up displays on the windows in front of him locked onto the grey vessel, green lettering highlighting it as BSG NERV-01 Pacifica.

He swallowed a lump in his throat.

It wasn’t the ship that scared him, or whatever had happened to the Cloud, it was the simple fact that he would be meeting his father again, that he would be in the same room again with that man, breathing the same air. He wasn’t sure what to do.

What could he say?

What would his father say?

Why could he possibly want him? Now of all times?

Could it have something to do with that glowing light?

Shinji just groaned and stared down and the papers in front of him/ Specs and simplified deckplans of Pacifica. Strange, they didn’t seem to match what he could see through the windows.

“It doesn’t look as big as it says here.”

It was only when Misato answered him that the teenager actually realised he’d said anything at all.

“Well, we’re still very far away y’know. She’s about to get a lot bigger.”

That wasn’t quite what Shinji’d meant, but he held back from saying more. He’d already learned the lesson about activating his brain before his mouth two times in the last twenty minutes; he wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.

But still, the Pacifica didn’t look much bigger than the Rising Sun.

I………………………………………………………………………I

Commander Ikari glared at object on the viewscreen, shimmering, slowly growing larger. No, it wasn’t growing larger, it was approaching. A few dim flashes of light flickered across his surface.

“Point defences having negligible effect!” Aoba reported. “Target estimated 98.8 intact and still closing.”

“Bring us around,” The Commander ordered calmly. “Rake it with a full broadside from our larboard guns.”

“Aye sir.”

“Like bows and arrows against a Battlestar?” Fuyutski commented. “If this is the Third Seraphim, then we know our weapons will have little effect.”

“Perhaps, but if this buys us one more second that we would not have had otherwise, then it has been worthwhile,” Gendou said. “What was it you used to say? But for the want of a shoe, the horse was lost. But for the want of a horse, the messenger was stranded. But for the want of a messenger, the orders never reached the battlefield.”

“And but for the want of orders, the battle was lost,” The elder of the two men finished. “Still, it does seem a little futile, a waste of scarce ammunition at best.”

“It is the best we can do until he arrives.”

That they could both agree on.

“Energy reading from inside the target,” Aoba cut in. “Particle radiation signature, it’s focusing directly on us, possibly a weapon.”

“Brace for Impact!” The Commander roared.

Three klaxon blasts surrounded the ship, technicians and engineers racing to slam shut blast doors and make systems safe. Fuel lines were flooded with inert gas, flow valves raced shut. Milliseconds later the ship’s oxygen recyclers shut of airflow to each deck, fire suppression systems charging and filling with carbon dioxide and foam. In the hot, cramped machine rooms and engineering spaces, mechanics struggled against decades old equipment to secure the reactors and engines that powered the ship.

Instantly, it was as if the ship had been swatted by some God’s great hand, the decking being pulled like a rug from beneath the feet of the ships crew as the brilliant particle blast slammed home. Strip lights burst into showers of golden sparks, viewscreens burnt out and exploded as megavolts surged through the ships wiring. Klaxon alarms sounded warning of fires raging through the damaged sections, hull breaches and power failures.

“Damage Report!”

“Direct impact to larboard engine number four!” Aoba was first, hanging on tightly to his consol as the megaton ship heeled over. “We’re venting drive plasma.”

Maya Ibuki just tried to listen to the flurry of signals on her earpiece, straining to pick out a single voice among the torrent of desperate demands for aid.

“I’ve got casualty reports coming in from all over the ship. Medical teams overwhelmed.”

Makoto Hyuga picked himself of the deck, struggling to comprehend the sea of red in front of him, system after system failing. Ahead of him, the ships helmsman yelped in stunned terror as his console exploded in face, a retina burning yellow flash knocking him burning to the floor.

“Helm control offline,” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “RCS thrusters at 50 percent, stabiliser controls are failing. We’re falling into a spin.”

“Shut down port number three,” The Commander ordered, his voice still calm. “Even out the thrust using one and two.”

To the Lieutenant struggling to regain control of the great starship couldn’t help but note how strangely calm the Commander was. Hyuga’s heart was racing with a flood of terror and excitement, but the Commander seemed as if he was directing a training exercise, not a losing battle against an invincible enemy.

The helm was still unmanned, the ship still turning towards the mysterious foe.

Only a month earlier and he would’ve been at that console. Regulations demanded that, as the only qualified Pilot left on the bridge, he take over.

Making heads or tails of the smashed helm console was easier said than done, the CRT displays shattered and smoking, and nothing seemed to be left of the RCS controllers.

It didn’t help either, that the previous helmsman was howling and screaming in agony, shattered glass in his eyes and face, blood running onto the deck plating.

Now how could this be done without shredding his fingers on the diamond like glass granules?

“Commander,” Ibuki’s voice rose over the confused reports. “Starbuck’s Scarab has landed safely.”

“Acknowledged, Fuyutski, will you take over here?”

“You’re leaving the bridge during a battle,” Fuyutski said, making damn sure nobody else heard him.

“I must speak with the child in person,” Gendou answered. “You can keep us ahead of this until then, can’t you?”

“I always do.”

“Good, you have the ship, Sub-Commander. Take good care of her.”

“I will.”

Surprise whispers circled the bridge as the Commander slowly stepped up and straightened his blue officer’s uniform, before calmly walking to a hatchway. The commanding officer of a ship didn’t just up and leave the bridge in the middle of a battle, it was unheard of.

“Why is the commander doing this?” Maya Ibuki asked herself.

Was he running to an escape pod and leaving the rest of the crew to die?

He’d never in seventeen years seemed like the type to do it, but anything was possible.

“Alright,” Fuyutski spoke up, silencing the rumours. “Come right ninety degrees; let’s lead this thing away from the rest of the fleet at least.”

“Aye sir!” Hyuga answered.

The tips of his fingers were already getting raw as he struggled to just tell the ship what to do. And there was still the chance that it might decide to fire again, and score a hit on some more vital system.

Could it really blast all the way through to the bridge?

I………………………………………………………………………I

Shinji was still rubbing his head as he followed Misato through another uniform grey corridor. The teenager’s temple throbbed where it had struck the bulkhead, a painful lump already swelling up beneath his skin.

He should’ve staid aboard the Cloud. He should’ve stayed aboard the Rising Sun. He should’ve stayed in his cabin with his guardian. Hell, he shouldn’t even have crawled out of his bed this morning. At least then he wouldn’t have been almost blasted into space, almost been crushed by Captain Katsuragi’s exuberant piloting, almost asphyxiated when their Scarab got fried, or almost have broken his neck when he was thrown hard against a bulkhead.

The last one he wasn’t so sure of.

His head hurt so bad Shinji was sure he had to have brain trauma, perhaps even some sort of potentially terminal brain haemorrhage. A small part of his mind couldn’t help but point out that if it was fatal, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about meeting his father again. Although, following the pattern of the day’s events so far, it’d probably be after they met.

As it was, he’d long since come to the decision that replying to his father’s summons was the worst mistake of his life.

“Just up ahead Shinji.”

She kept saying that.

At every junction, intersection, turbolift and crosspassage she’d said the same thing. And he’d be damned if some of those corridors hadn’t been the same.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?” he said.

“No,” Misato answered. “We’ll not exactly. I’m just not sure where we are.”

“That’s ‘lost’ then.”

“Fine,” she pouted “You’re such a grouch for a boy your age, you know that?”

“And you’re still childish,” Shinji countered

“And you’re still a child.”

“Fine,” he sighed, relenting to the Captain.

Another corner, past some working engineers who took the chance to study the attractive pilots figure as she passed. Shinji couldn’t help but notice that, as she walked, she favoured her left leg, limping slightly, but noticeably. It was something he found curious, another piece of information about this mysterious, possibly insane woman.

“Misato Katsuragi,” Another woman’s voice said. “Somehow, I knew you’d be down here. Did you get lost again?”

A blonde woman, tall, wearing a white lab coat over what looked like an orange boiler suit

“Ah, Ritsuko,” she sweatdropped. “I just…em…”

The bottle blonde doctor savoured her old friends embarrassment for a moment, enjoying it’s sweetness as she watched her struggle to find an explanation.

“Got lost,” Shinji chimed in.

Misato stuck her tongue out at the boy again.

“You’re no fun.”

“Is this the boy?” the Doctor asked

“Yeah Rits, According to the Espers he is the Third Children.”

“We’ll, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Ritsuko smiled at him. “I’m Doctor Ritsuko Akagi.”

“Um, Ikari Shinji ma’am,”

“Well, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you why you were brought here.”

“My Father,” Shinji spoke, suddenly feeling sick again

“Not quite,” the Doctor said mysteriously.

Already, this new doctor seemed more tolerable that the Captain who’d escorted this far. She seemed more mature, more rational, more ‘safe’. She wouldn’t try and kill him anyway. But still, there was something odd about her as well. He wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but it was enough to draw his attention. For some reason se kept glancing at something down beside her, scowling at it.

To Shinji, it almost looked as if she was reacting to free space.

What was it his guardian hold told him?

Yes that was it. Anybody who’d willingly join the NERV fleet had to be nuts.

And there he was following an attractive crackpot and a slightly strange scientist into the belly of the beast itself.

“Keep up, it’s just ahead.”

Somehow, when Doctor Akagi said it, it didn’t seem so false. At least, she seemed to know where she was going.

Another series of uniform corridors, the occasional blown light fitting showering sparks to the deck, the doctor being reassuringly definite with her directions he found himself in a darkened room.

He couldn’t see his hand in front of his face, but he knew whatever room he was in was larger than anything he’d seen yet, except for the mile long hangar bays. As he shakily stepped forward he could hear the ring of his footsteps on the metal deck echo from the bulkheads surrounding him.

Wherever he was, sounded large enough to park a small Starliner.

Instantly, the metal cavern was flooded with sharp white light, stabbing at his eyes. Blinking, rubbing his sore eyes, he staggered for a moment before he came face to face with something he couldn’t quite believe.

He blinked again.

No, that couldn’t be real.

It was something from one of those pre-evacuation movies.

“It’s a face,” he stuttered. “A giant robot.”

Dark eyes, taller than he was, stared back at him, framed by scratched, scorched and worn purple armour. He knew he could stand in the shadowy eye socket with little discomfort, at least, physical discomfort. There was something about the machine that just terrified him, that mad him feel as if the monster mech was staring right through into his soul, reading it like a data disk.

Perhaps, it was the way the ‘face’ staring back at him looked like it belonged on some great demon. It was almost like some great stylised purple skull, with a unicorn horn rising to a point from its forehead, towering over him and pushing him into the ground

“This is why you were called here,” Ritsuko said. “This is the Evangelion.”

“Is this, is this my fathers work?”

“It is,” A new voice, gruff and husky as if it was being spoken through grit and gravel, answered him.

Shinji swallowed, the disturbingly familiar sound crushing his spirit. The airlock, the memorial service, the commemorations and the arrival deck of the Rising Sun.

That voice stirred memories that made him sick, made him want to cry, made him want to scream bloody fury at the man he could see standing on a high catwalk above, staring down at him.

“It has been some time.”

Not long enough.

“It has,” Shinji said meekly, forcing himself down.

“Prepare Unit One for immediate activation,” he ordered.

“What?” Misato questioned, stunned. “The Pilot’s in the infirmary. She’s in no condition to even start it, unless…”

No, it couldn’t be that. Not yet anyway. He may have been the selected Child, but he had no training. They didn’t even know if the mech would even start for him. They couldn’t send a nugget out into open space and straight into battle. They’d never even dared do that with viper pilots, even when times had been hard.

“You’re not using him are you?”

‘Using me for what?’ Shinji wondered

“We have no other choice,” The Doctor answered. “According to the Espers, he remains our best chance for success.”

“But, he’s never even sat in cockpit, or even a simulator. Fracking hell Ritsuko, the machine’s never even been started with a Pilot!”

“Oh no.” The penny finally dropped for Shinji. “You don’t want me at all do you? You just called me here because I’m useful to you, is that it?”

“Correct, now get in the cockpit.”

Two stray tears ran down his cheeks, leaving wet trails that glistened in the harsh light.

I hate you, you old bastard! I wish you were dead!

“I’m just a tool. I’m not even wanted here at all.”

I want her to see what you have become. I want her to tell you she hates you for it you old prick.

He looked through tear stained eyes at the Captain, standing with her arms folded.

“Get in the cockpit.”

“You have to Pilot it, there is no-one else who can,” Akagi said

“But, why me? Why do I have to be the only one who can Pilot it? Why isn’t there anyone else who’s trained to do this?”

“You will Pilot it, or you will go home and we shall never speak again,” the commander directed.

Shinji sniffed and sobbed, whimpering as he tried to collect his thoughts. His gaze darted bird-like between the mech staring him down, the two women waiting for his answer, and the old man glaring at him through his blood coloured glasses.

“I…” he swallowed. “I can’t.”

Calmly, almost as if he’d expected it the commander pulled down a small black microphone.

“Fuyutski, what is Rei’s status?”

Judging by the smirk that crawled across his lips, the answer was most pleasing. Or perhaps, it was the plan that found itself forming somewhere deep in his mind.

“Patch surveillance footage into the monitors down here.”

Shinji just looked at his feet. He wasn’t wanted, he wasn’t even needed. They had someone else who could Pilot it, probably someone trained as well.

“What was the point of even bringing me here?”

“Look up,” the old man directed.

Shinji’s heart stopped as he saw the bandaged face on the monitor.

“The Girl!”

It had to be her, the girl from the arrivals deck on the Cloud. He could see her blue hair, her wraith like skin and her single red eye staring almost at him. She was bloodied and bandaged, not moving, not even blinking, just staring up with her one eye.

She’d been hurt, while he’d been saved. He’d known she was there. If he’d tried to rescue her, maybe if he’d been more forceful with Misato, more decisive, she’d have been standing there beside him instead of lying catatonic on some infirmary bed.

“This is your fault Shinji,” the elder Ikari spoke.

It is?

“What?” Katsuragi blinked. “But how could….”

“Misato,” Ritsuko cut her off.

“Shinji, she was injured because of you.”

“How?”

“If you refuse to Pilot, more people will be hurt. People will be killed if you do not sit in that cockpit.”

Shinji swallowed.

“It will be your fault Shinji. If they are harmed it will be because you refused to protect them. Forty seven thousand men, women and children live aboard the ships of this fleet, families Shinji. Do you want their deaths on your conscience?”

Death, he thought. It would be my fault. It would be all my fault. Everyone would die and it would be my fault.

The knowledge that he would be responsible for thousands of deaths, that anyone would be harmed because of his cowardice turned his stomach with self revulsion and hatred. It would be just like him to let others take the fall, wouldn’t it?

“If you think you can live with that, then you may choose to leave. No one will stop you from running away. But you must live with the consequences of your actions, as all must. If you can accept them, then make your decision like a man and stop wasting my time.”

A stunned silence fell on the cavernous chamber, save for Shinji’s sniffed sobbings and the distant whirr of the ships machinery.

Everybody was waiting for him, waiting for his answer. Everyone would die if he said no, everyone. The deaths of forty seven thousand people would be his fault and his alone, each voice screaming and haunting his dreams, cursing his name to the Gods as they were blasted, burned or blown into space.

“I mustn’t run away,” he squeaked. “I mustn’t run away. I mustn’t run away. I mustn’t run away!”

His voice rang off the battleship grey walls of the steel cavern as again, he looked to the captain, the doctor and his Father staring down at him.

“I’ll do it,” he whispered, about to be sick.

“I’ll Pilot it!”

To be continued….

I………………………………………………………………………I

Okay, a bit of A/N before we leave.

I’m still trying to do something that isn’t New Perspective Evangelion based, and isn’t an SI or in first person. Resurrection while not dead, just ain’t working. It’s fast becoming another one of the 2500 post Third Impact clones out there. The plot was cheesy and derivative, and my upcoming ACC’s either had nothing to do, or were overly Sue-ish. Asuka Saga, while I wanted to continue it, is best left as a one off.

So here we are, I’m trying something I haven’t seen/read before. There will be fused elements from BSG and NGE, some interesting twists, and maybe a few things yous wouldn’t expect. It may look like it now, but this won’t just be some retelling of NGE in space.

Right now, it’s looking like this, and the rewritten version of NPE are going to be my fics for the next year or so, depending on things and stuff. I do have some idea of a plan for this, some twists and turns and more than a few liberal thefts from both series, so stick around

Either that, or I’ll just die and disappear from the fandom entirely, like some authors I can mention but wont.

Slán Libh
Dartz IRL