Spare the Rod...

Titus winced as the whip cracked sharply against Ryven's bare back. The young man's flesh parted under the repeated strokes of the long whip, now reddened by blood. Ryven grunted from the pain, and Titus swelled with pride at the man he had begun to view as a son. Truthfully, Ryven may have actually been his son, but the subject would probably never come up. It pained Titus to order this brutal display of punishment, but such was the price of insubordination.
Lieutenant Krennel had spoken his mind and questioned an order. That simply could not be allowed. The outcome was favorable, but the act still required answering. Still, Titus hated doing it. He had resigned himself to its necessity. Then, after giving the order, he opened up a line of communication to his personal attorney, a young Achura named Li Kora. He informed Mr. Kora to draft up a last will and testament naming Mr. Ryven Krennel his sole beneficiary, to inherit his amassed wealth, which was quite substantial, and his mercenary corporation, HSG. He truly loved the boy, but the realities of life as a soldier of fortune were not kind, and Titus figured this was the best way he had to express his paternal feelings. He sighed in relief when the final lashing sounded out its sharp note, and Ryven was unbound. Titus had to look away from the hatred in the young man's eyes.
Ryven's promotion to Lieutenant Commander a month later only slightly reduced the rift between them.

Romance

A lot of people around me have found love. I envy them to a degree. I have never known this feeling. I have known women. I even had a few I got close to. Others I only used to fulfill a need. Truth is, romance is alien to me. I just don't know how to behave or how to feel. I am totally unfamiliar with how to get a woman, and even more at a loss as to how to keep one. Hats off to those who have.

Reflections

I have come a long way from the angry child in the orphanage to here. I finally know peace. This new home I have found, the refuge of my faith, and a divinely appointed purpose have redirected my rage, and replaced it with fervor. I am not a zealot. I do not hate my enemy. I do not hold him in disdain. I do feel it is my God-given purpose to vanquish him, for the protection of God's chosen, even though I am not among them. I can only hope God will smile upon me and the work I do in His name.
Yesterday I encountered a pirate and we battled in single combat. We flew the same model ship, and it was a close match. I managed to defeat him, my ship trailing smoke and flame behind me. I felt exhilirated. I also felt myself at complete peace with the world around me. This is where I belong: at the razor's edge, where flesh meets its end.

Striking at the Source

The supplier, Mr. Troucan, had set up a small fortress in a pocket of deadspace in the Balle system. There were a scattered set of habitation modules outlying a warehouse, a bunker, and a series of sentry guns when the HSG fleet and a squadron of a few other mercenary companies as well. Titus was commanding a fleet of 3 battleships, 4 battlecruisers, and about twenty cruisers and frigates. The sentries opened fire, raking the shields of 3 of the battlecruisers, but without focused fire, the shields held, and the other ships were able to silence them. The battleships opened fire on the habitation modules, which fell quickly. The warehouse's hull was nearly breached when the smugglers' defense fleet showed up. Ryven commanded a Merlin class frigate, which he banked toward the closest enemy, an Incursus. The two ships orbited each other at 10 km, trading fire. The Incursus' drone was eating away at Ryven's shields, but he was rescued by a fellow pilot helping to blow the Incursus apart. It exploded in a flash of white, and the drone, without orders, sat idle in space.
One by one, the smugglers were defeated, until only a Dominix-class battleship remained, it's ugly bulk silhouetted against the system's star. Titus's fleet was down to ten ships, having lost half it's battlecruisers during the opening stages, and about fifteen frigates in the last ten minutes. Titus ordered the fleet to fire everything at the defiant battleship, which had ordered it's heavy drones to attack the nearby Raven class battleship piloted by HSG's rival, Matthias Tijoli. The Raven's shields dissipated the same time the Dominix's did, but with little armor, the Raven was in it's death throes.
"Titus, I think we both know I'm not getting out of this alive." Matthias's voice was strained. "I just wanna say, you're a rotten bastard, and I always hated you."
The Raven exploded in a white flash just before the Dominix did. The fleet swung to face the bunker where Mr. Troucan waited for his death, hope lost with the destruction of the smuggler fleet.
"Rot in hell Matthias." Titus laughed to himself. Then he keyed the fleet comms channel. "Direct all fire onto the bunker, fire at will."
Ryven's merlin swooped toward the bunker, guns blazing.

Some Wounds Heal

Ryven, now a Lieutenant Junior Grade, winced. The wound in his shoulder from the attack on the Dusk Vigil still ached from time to time, even though only a circular scar remained. He struggled to hide his pain as he began to interrogate the last of the prisoners snatched from their homes during a raid of suspected smugglers in Torrinos. Titus tasked him with gaining actionable intel on an upcoming transaction, or even better, the location of a supplier. Ryven was given permission to do whatever with the prisoners. The State had already written off these low-lifes. They would never make it off the Tovil-Toba.
"I want information, Mr. Tovas. Ryven spoke without emotion. "Information you are going to give me."
Mr. Tovas whimpered. He was pale from days of starvation, and twitching from psychosis from the sensory deprivation of an isolation machine, a sinister device that completely deprived a captive of any external stimuli.
"You are going to tell me, because there is no reason not to." Ryven continued. "You are already dead. Your wife, Scylla, is being watched right now. Truthfully, non-cooperation at this point will cause you only more pain."
Mr. Tovas was crying now. Ryven never understood that in prisoners. Why cry?
"Do you want to watch your wife murdered? Do you want to go back to the tank?"
"No! Leave my wife alone!" Mr. Tovas's voiced dripped with desparation. "What do you want to know?"
"Give me a supplier, and your wife lives."
"Travela Troucan. In Balle. He's our biggest supplier. It's a deadspace pocket. The coordinates are here." He typed on the supplied datapad.
Ryven smiled and drew a pistol from his hip holster. He fired one shot into Mr. Tovas's face and smiled at the splattered brains on the bulkhead. He keyed his comms device.
"We have the supplier."

Eden of Evil

New Eden is a wicked garden. Everywhere evidence is found. We are all scrabbling about to kill and maim and gain for our own selves. I was a murdere for hire. I raided and pillaged all along the fringes, but sometimes sponsored by the State and well within its borders. That blood is no less on my hands. The question then, is why do I continue to fight? If I recognize that there is no net difference in the death being meted out by my hand, then how might I absolve myself? Can I say it is blessed by God, and therefore not sin. Yes. More honestly, it is simply all I know how to do. The fact that God has blessed it makes it easier to bear.

The Dusk Vigil

Ensign Krennel stepped through the breach in the hull of Dusk Vigil, an Atron class frigate piloted by a group of gun runners the State hired HSG to eliminate. The ambush had gone perfectly, and now Ryven was leading the team to confiscate the ship as a bit of a reward for their services rendered. His team was small, only twelve men, but the Atron only had a crew of about thirty, and the boarding party was well armed and moving rapidly.
Ryven ordered Gunner 2nd Class Arkanen to take point as the team swept down the ship's main corridor. They gave every compartment along the way a cursory glance for Gallente crewman, and then shut the hatches if clear. The team's weapons were all fitted with noise suppressors, and every crewman they discovered was accompanied by a short burst of suppressed gunfire. Ryven thought it sounded kind of like a zipper slowly being pulled.
The team met little resistance until they reached the ship's bridge, which had been hastily barricaded and reinforced with men from other sections of the ship. Ryven could see about ten men, one of them obviously in charge. Ryven raised his assault rifle and lined the sights up on the Gallente captain's head. The captain's head exploded in a puff of pink mist and fragments of his face and skull splattered the crew nearest him. Ryven smiled and adjusted his aim to pop the next two targets. He felt a sharp jolt in his shoulder but kept firing until only his team remained. The frigate was his. He felt something moist and began to feel dizzy. He slumped against the nearest bulkhead and only then realized he had been hit. He drifted off into a swirling sea of blackness, to be haunted by the bloody god of his inner night.

Templar Lieutenant

I received a promotion today. It means little really, but I am pleased anyway. I am only a squire in the Knighthood, but a Templar Lieutenant in the militia, which really matters little. Still, it is a small positive in a week that has been less than successful. I hope to improve over the coming days.
I have been studying the Scriptures still and know that this fight is just. I will continue to serve the Empire and Empress Jamyl Sarum.
My funds are dwindling. I hope to change that very soon. I have a partnership with a Khanid that may send more ISK my way soon, but he has experienced setbacks. Apparently trouble is everywhere in New Eden, not just on my heels.

The Ambush

            The Scythe-class cruiser sailed silently against the backdrop of stars, only the yellowish glow of its engines marking its presence.  It seemed to glide between two asteroids as it was recognized by a targetting system 75 kilometers away.  Ensign Ryven Krennel smiled. "It's almost too easy."
             Ryven's merlin-class frigate sat motionless, concealed by it's cloaking device, as the prey, a fugitive from Piak, slowly traversed his field of view.  He eyed the Scythe, and then eyed the storage can that had been dropped not three hours ago as a place marker.  Ryven judged that the Scythe was close enough and keyed his comms channel.
             "Dragon, this is Eagle: target in position." Ryven paused to laugh. "Bring the rain."
             Two AUs away, Titus heard the message and directed his fleet to warp."Eagle, this is Dragon: We're inbound.  Decloak when he's in range and lock him down."
             Ryven checked the range, and nodded to himself as he allowed his ship to decloak.  His ship slowly faded into existence before the eyes of the Scythes's Captain.  Ryven ordered the frigate's small crew to fire up the warp disruptor.  The Scythe was caught in a snare, and began to fight back.  Ryven was quick, though, and managed to create just enough orbital speed that the cruiser had trouble hitting him.  Still, alarms would occasionally sound when a lucky hit got through.  The Scythe had issues of its own, though.  Ryven's frigate was pelting it with hybrid ammo, which hit for a sizeable amount of damage.  So far, the cruiser's sheilds were holding up, but, a few more volleys may very well change that.  The cruiser's captain was about to order the crew to overheat his guns, when he noticed Titus's fleet drop out of warp turn toward him, and begin targetting his now battered and outnumbered cruiser.
            The combined damage of Ryven's 2 blasters, and the missiles of a Raven battleship, and 2 Ferox class battlecruisers was too much for the Scythe, which quickly succumbed and exploded in a bright flash of bluish white.  All that remain was a small ring of debris where there once was a crew of 200-300 men.
           "Eagle, this is Dragon: Good job." Titus radioed Ryven. "They never had a chance."

A Promising Future

Ryven smiled. His fight with the Chief had zero consequences for him. Hakkalo lived, but was off ship for the time being. Ryven had been twice as busy as before, now responsible for twice as many weapons. Titus was not pleased with the loss of his Chief Bay Operator, but generally understood that Hakkalo was a cast-iron prick. So, Chief Bay Operator Ryven Krennel assumed the asshole's position. Titus knew it was only a matter of time before he would have to give the now 18 year old his Officer's test, and move him into the upper echelon of Haijikioten Security Group.
Ryven was unaware of his uncle's plans for him, but it fell in line with his own plan: to command a starfaring vessel. This became his new goal.

Sociopathy

Merdaneth brought it to my attention. I hadn't really noticed it clearly. We keep perpetuating the cycle. We are capsuleers. We lose a ship, get podded, no big deal. We wake up safe in a new body, with almost no pain. But our crews? They trust us with thier lives and are repayed with death: wild, chaotic death. I had grown callous. I had forgotten. We speak of devotion to the cause. What devotion? For me, dying is a momentary inconvenience. My crew: that is true devotion. They die, knowing they will never wake again. I hope that their sacrifices are not in vain. If they are in vain, solely for my profit or amusement, then I truly am a monster, a sociopath, a villain.

Lightning Strikes

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A Storm Approaches

Ryven took to his new duties rather quickly. As Crewman 3rd Class, he worked long hours maintaining the Raven-class battleship, Tovil-Toba, and it's large engines. He was a quick study, and was generally like by the other crew, and before long, he rose in favor and his uncle promoted him to Bay Operator 2nd Class, a position reloading and maintaining the ship's cruise missile bays. He enjoyed his work, but found himself at odds with the launcher deck's Chief, a fat balding sociopath who apparently felt nepotism ranked somewhere in the neighborhood of bestiality and necrophilia on the list of shit you just can't allow. So, he made life as hard as he could for the stout young Civire thrust upon his crew of launcher specialists.
Ryven managed to make a name for himself anyway, applying for and managing to earn his place on the ship's boarding/assault team, a group of well-trained close-quarters combat specialists, as a point man, breaching and clearing ship compartments and fortifications. This only managed to stoke the fires of Chief Tyr Hakkola's hatred, and it was apparent to everyone that they were headed toward a collision of wills, and a betting pool was already circulating. The older crew had money on Hakkola. Those that had seen the fierce young demon, Ryven, in a fight, offered double or nothing on Krennel.

The Dragon's Wing

"So, Ryven, I offer you a choice." Titus said, his eyes focused intensely on Ryven's eyes. You can join my crew, and work and learn the trade of manning and one day commanding a ship. Or you can tell me to fuck off and take your chances in the streets. I won't persuade you with some nonsense about familial duty. Your family failed you. You owe me nothing."
Ryven wanted to tell him to fuck off. He wanted to express his fury at his abandonment and the death of his closest kin and friend. He wanted to. Yet, the chance to command, to lead, and even more, to carve a bloody swath through space, eventually won out.
Ryven calmly spoke, "When do I start?"

The Path of Faith

I have reached the turning point. My studies have convinced me of one thing: there is a God. My life has been a long and harsh journey through the wilderness, but now I emerge fully anew. My new life I dedicate to the service of God. May He illuminate my path. I know, as a Caldari, my blood carries the taint of faithlessness and apostacy, but through faith and service, I still have hope of salvation. My ship's weapons are now the sword of God.