Disclaimer:
The same disclaimers apply as with Sic Semper Morituri, and in addition Sic Semper Morituri is the responsibility of Daniel Gibson (dan_s.comments@worldnet.att.net). Daniel Gibson gave very considerable assistance in the writing of this story, but the final blame falls on Rory McLean (rory@romsys.demon.co.uk).
United we stand, Divided we fall.
- The Four Oxen and the Lion, Aesop
"Incoming!", came a mental shout from Ear, and Poll wrenched her mind away from the increasingly difficult search through the mental patterns she had stolen. The thought 'Needle in a haystack' sprung out at her, as she forcibly turned her attention to the outside world.
As it was, she was juggling three mental links. Face was the most visibly presentable of them, so she had the front end of the stretcher. But Face, being deaf and blind, needed hearing from Ear's position, at the other end of the stretcher, and sight from Poll. Unfortunately Poll's sight was restricted, her jar being in the middle of the stretcher. And, Main, as she lay senseless and helpless on the stretcher, had to be kept informed, in case something combat-oriented happened.
Poll's mind reached around the corner of the corridor. They were approaching a T-junction. Ear heard human breathing. Ah! Two more NERV security, the third checkpoint so far. Obviously jumpy from the recent troubles, but not expecting problems. Poll concentrated, clearly fixing in the guard's minds what they should see as the stretcher party rounded the corner.
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Kumo looked up, as he heard steps approaching the corner, and snapped his fingers. Hachi looked down from his constant scanning of the ceiling, as he puffed nervously on his cigarette. "Could be an officer", Kumo said in a low voice, and Hachi made the cigarette disappear, "Doesn't sound like a Security officer". Both guards waved frantically to disperse the cloud of smoke.
A stretcher party came around the corner and Kumo relaxed. A technician in dark blue overalls at each end, and his eyes swam for a moment as he focused on the light glinting off the metal fittings on the doctor's bag, resting on the body on the stretcher. He recalled Doctor Akagi saying just what she would do to the next person who caused an internal security problem. Even though she was Technical Division, and he couldn't believe she could rip out the spine of a tiger, he didn't want to risk an upset.
The party came up to them, and stood with the stretcher at a slight angle. Kumo looked over the pretty girl technician appreciatively, one of the perks of working at NERV, then his brain juddered, as his eyes were drawn to her NERV SAR armband, and he realised they were probably carrying a corpse. "Oh, sorry. Carry on."
As they moved off, was there something wrong about the face of the technician at the rear? He looked again, she was walking with her head down, hair shadowing her face. Obviously just tired.
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"A strangely slippery mind", Poll sent to the other three. "Twice he nearly saw us. All the others were easy in comparison." She thought back to the knowledge stolen from Dr Akagi. The distraction had somehow shaken loose the final few elements they needed from it. "We are getting close now. Dr Akagi will be in the control room. We should have enough time to get what we want, to survive, and give us the skills needed to further the aims of our `sponsors`."
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Poll kept her eyes down, the closest a head confined to a jar could manage as a genuflection. To one side she could see the two Reis she had been told to refer to as Ear and Face, doing a full kow-tow, and the limbless body, Main, lying face down doing as best she could.
After the usual shock of being born as Rei, she had quickly realised there was a demon and a goddess here, and a third Power that she did not recognise. The aura of mutual hostility was almost over-powering, and they were being _polite_ to her.
"It is good that you show respect to us", came the slightly sibilant male voice, "But I will make it clear that we wish you to freely vote, if there cannot be an agreement between our representatives."
"Just to make it clearer", came the cool voice that somehow hinted of roses, "Face works for the Earth Assistance Center, Ear allows ... _him_ to fulfil the wish your pilot counterpart made, and Main is a dagger aimed by ... _her_ at the heart of Nyarlathotep."
She continued, "I am sure you will be able to balance their purposes?"
Poll tried to convey complete certainly, even though she dare not move or attempt to speak.
"And, unless the filters on your jar get clogged with rose petals, or snake skin, you have at most two hours to prove to us you can co-ordinate and work effectively together", whispered the cruel voice, that spoke of blades, only temporarily delayed. "We have already given you far more help than you deserve. Now, prove yourselves. Or there will be rats in your future."
And the three faded away, as a worried-looking Dr Akagi bustled through the doorway, and Poll fought with all her mental strength to stop any of them from being seen by the harried NERV scientist.
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The figure watched from the shadows, curious as to whether another player was entering the game. The four misshapen girls worked briskly together. Two gathered and prepared materials from the freezer cabinets. One produced increasingly complex shapings, twisting parts of her AT field into dimensions outside our own. The head in the jar, with it's minute, vestigial body, looked on. All the others used her eyesight.
The girl's thoughts revealed themselves slowly to the spy, as it shivered from the effort needed to avoid counter-detection.
"We have just enough mass for convergence", sent the head, "Main, have you got all Asuka's maths straight? Are you ready, Ear and Face?"
"Yes." "Yes." "Yes."
He watched the two girls with arms and legs position the head, then the limb-less torso, balanced upright, across from the head. The geometric figure, drawn on the largest of the stainless steel tables, brightened. The two climbed up, and sat down, opposite each other, completing the square. A faint singing came from both of them, and a blur of mental images and AT field shapings began to fill the place between the four, as their bodies slowly faded away.
The spy, sure they were too busy for the moment to spot him, relaxed, resolved itself as the ghostly figure of a Captain of the Italian Air Force, who stroked the plain gold ring on a chain around his neck, and waited to see what they would do next.
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Ritsuko looked down at the steel table with a frown. She was certain that someone had been in here without her permission. If nothing else, she hadn't left this table that clean.
Sighing, she considered the prospect of doing another full inventory, while still having to prepare for the 'fishing expedition'. Would she get a straight answer, if she asked `Raccoon` what was going on?
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"Search and Rescue Inventory Clerk, Warrant Officer Janice Berkley, reporting for duty, sir!"
Captain Kuroda looked up at the girl reporting, and up, and up, and up, his gaze finally reaching her pretty face and blonde hair. "Where does NERV find them?", Kuroda thought as she towered over him, "What is with this place and tall women?"
He thought he detected a British accent. At least she seemed to have some enthusiasm, not to mention considerable physical presence.
"The work here, Warrant Officer Berkley, will be hard, with long and irregular hours, and on occasion will require a considerable amount of physical strength and endurance. Not to mention some danger, even for support staff."
He paused uneasily, and looked at her more closely. "Are you certain... ?"
She sobered a little, "Yes sir. I am not afraid of hard work, or danger, in a good cause."
"Our main job is to look after the pilots, and while some people greatly ... respect them, others find them ... difficult to work with. Will you have any problems there?"
"No sir. I was told that two were members of SAR. Do we keep an eye on them off-duty as well?"
Kuroda looked at her carefully for a moment, "That is the job of Security, and their personal guards." He paused while she nodded her understanding. "We don't let it interfere with our main duties."
She nodded firmly.
"Good, carry on", and he shook his head as the girl saluted, and left his office.
"That seemed to go alright", thought Poll to the other three.
(c) Rory O. McLean, Sep. 2004
Permission granted to use for non-profit making purposes