Neon Genesis Evangelion Fan Fiction ❯ Battlestar Evangelion ❯ Seraphim ( Chapter 1 )

“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……………………&# 8230;………………………… ……………………I