Doctor Who: The Evangelion Error (Book One)

Deleted Scene: heavy boots of lead

NERV Headquarters - Conference Room Broca.
T-21 Hours, 31 Minutes

Could this day get any worse? Not only was her Japan debut ruined -- why couldn't she have gotten a nice, simple Angel for her first time, like the other pilots? -- but, once again, that idiot Third Child and his rustbucket had stolen the spotlight. It wasn't fair. Hadn't he hogged enough of the glory already? Didn't he have an ounce of compassion or common courtesy?! How could he be so damned selfish?!

Stupid Shinji. Stupid time travel. It just wasn't fair...

"Asuka?" Misato asked.

She looked up. "Yeah? What?"

The meeting had dwindled down to just the essentials -- just Misato, some of her senior staff, Asuka and the First Child. (Where were the commander and vice-commander, anyway? Asuka had only seen them once since she'd arrived. Jeez. Looked like the father was just as lazy and irresponsible as the son...) Everyone else was off running the big evacuation. Appearently, there were a lot of problems. Something about a fallout zone already to the north... honestly, Asuka hadn't really been listening.

Misato folded her hands. "So... we need to be prepared for the worst case scenario. I want to make sure you and your Eva are prepared to survive, no matter what."

"Technically, the video never shows Unit Two's full destruction," What's-her-name, Polite Lab Assistant Woman, said. "You might be able to pull through without the head, provided that the neural link between you and the Eva is cut before the feedback can reach you. Normally, we could handle that remotely from command. But if Headquarters is compromised before that point..."

"Asuka -- do you know how to terminate the link yourself if you need to?" Misato asked.

"Of course!" Asuka smirked. Didn't they know she'd built her own interfaces from scratch? "Who do you think you're talking to?"

"What about automating that process? In case you get distracted in combat."

"I don't get distracted," Asuka snapped.

"I'm not saying you do," Misato said quietly. "I'm just trying to cover every possibility. Is there anything in Unit Two that could automatically cut the link in response to damage?"

"Who knows?" Asuka folded her arms and shrugged. "What does it matter? It's not going to happen anyway."

Misato sighed. "Rei?"

"In addition to the HT/HP Portal System for external management," the First Child said, "Unit Two is equipped with the VM/AR-812 Hyporegulator Array. Theoretically, the component will cut off sensory input to the pilot in response to damage to the Eva. However, the system has not been combat-tested, and there is some concern that its use in the field might interfere with synchronization."

Asuka's jaw dropped. What the hell -- even she hadn't bothered to memorize the freaking part numbers in the manual!

"Great," Misato said. "Let's use it. Maya, make a note -- we'll need that up and running on Unit Two before morning."

"Yes, ma'am."

Her face red, Asuka got up from her chair and rushed down the aisle to the space behind where the First Child sat. "How did you know all that?" she hissed.

The girl looked at her with those freaky red eyes. "I was ordered to memorize the technical specifications for all Evangelions on base."

"Why?"

"I was told it was so I could serve as a replacement pilot for Units One and Two, in case either you or pilot Ikari are unavailable or incapacitated."

Asuka stood there, completely speechless. The First Child looked at her for another moment, devoid of expression, then turned back to the meeting.

Asuka collapsed in the chair behind her, stunned. She -- she could be replaced? No, wait, scratch that -- they thought that she could be replaced with some pale-skinned robotic freak?!

Unbelievable! This -- this doll piloting her Unit Two?! Who did these people think they were?! And incapacitated -- she wasn't going to be incapacitated! What the hell did they think --

A voice from the past: "she's still incapacitated." Soft, in German. One of the nurses, maybe. She's lying there in the hospital bed, only a few strands on red hair left, the rest burned off. Hideous blisters all over her head and neck. Just... staring at the ceiling. There's nothing in her eyes, no reason, no emotion, just a blank, a complete void. Mouth open and drooling, where once there had been words, so many words, brilliant and shining and lovely beyond all else in the world...

Oh, God.

Why did she have to think of that?

Why today of all days? Why her?...