TotHB: Seelah

"Kalus Haijikioten was always the more hot-tempered of us two brothers. We were consummate Civire children. There was never a task we couldn't rise up to meet, and to be honest, we were very close for the majority of our lives, until he met Seelah" -Titus to Ryven


Bridge of the Battlecruiser, Lyssa

Titus stood gazing at his tactical display.  Out there in the cold and black of space was his brother, Kalus.  Titus sighed, accepting the inevitable, knowing his brother as he did.  Immediately he knew they were both there for the same thing, but Titus had arrived first and had already completed his mission.  Ynnas' escape pod had been retrieved.  She was already on board, her new identity assumed.  Seelah she would be called from now on.  Kalus, Titus knew, was here to kill her, his clients would naturally be the Guristas pirates.  Titus shook his head.  Kalus would take a contract from anyone with no thought or question.  He had no scruples.  Titus had been hired by Seelah to fake her death, and he had succeeded in doing so.  Kalus, he knew, would assume that Titus had just stolen his contract.  Titus waited for the alarm to alert him to incoming fire.  He had already attempted to contact Kalus, but received no answer.

Titus didn't have to wait long.  Alarms blared as the first rounds struck his ship's shields.  He waited a few moments, railing within against the insanity of having to destroy his brother's ship.  Finally, sighing deeply, his eyes closed, he gave the order he had been dreading for the eternity of the past five minutes.  "Open fire."

Kalus's cruiser was outmatched.  Rounds from the Lyssa's batteries of blasters ate through the cruiser's shields quickly and Caldari ships were not heavily armored.  Titus hated to do what he was about to, knowing full well that it was probable his brother would not survive it, but he watched as the cruiser exploded, debris twirling off into the cold vacuum of space.  He shut his eyes and felt a tear streak salty warmth down his cheek.  He swore loudly.

He finally regained his composure and ordered the bridge crew to take the Lyssa in and search for any escape pods.  He held out one last hope.

***********************************

Several days had passed since he had been forced to destroy his brother's ship.  He had been a mess right up until one of his junior officers knocked on his cabin door and informed him that they had retrieved his brother's escape pod.  Titus had never known such relief.

As an added bonus, the woman Seelah had been comforting him.  He was quite taken with her, had been ever since he had accepted her contract in a backwater station cantina.  She apparently felt she should supplement her payment of credits with payment of a more intimate nature.  Every night he had returned to his cabin to find her waiting there.  He had lost a lot of sleep, but he considered that a fair trade.

Further, she had agreed to stay on as part of his crew for the time being, which made Titus quite happy.  She was an extremely skilled pilot and knew her way around a ship.  He had already agreed to pay her a cut on their next contract if she stayed on.

Kalus had stayed in his quarters.  Titus refused to let him leave the ship, even if they docked up.  He wanted to keep an eye on his brother and he hadn't quite forgiven him for trying to kill him, or for running out on him to start his own business, a competing firm no less.  

Little did Titus know that the recipe for disaster was already completed and that in a few weeks time, he would speak to his brother for the last time.

Melody

The Rowdy Stray

7-13 YC115 1350

Ryven sat on the piano bench, his fingers  finding thier long forgotten home on the keys of a glistening black piano.  He pressed the keys, delicately at first, finding the melody slowly in tentative steps.  His mind was furiosly racing through a cornucopia of thoughts and recollections, his heart a tempest of emotions.  Thee music came out in sombre notes, a composition in a minor key, probably E.

The bar was empty, as it always was.  Zhou had abandoned it when he moved in with Leela.  Still, it looked exactly as it had the last time he had been here, with Shalee. It seemed so long ago, now, as though he were looking back at another life.  In a sense, he was.  There was a line of demarcation, bisecting his time before and after her.  He was convinced now that there was no return to that time.  She was no longer his, nor he hers.  This had finally become clear with the arrival of feelings for another.

Ryven was still surprised at himself.  He had not intended for it to happen, and he was still completely vexed as to the actual nature of the emotions he felt.  All he could say for certain was that he wanted to be around her, to know her, and most alarmingly, to have her know him.  When he was with her, he didn't feel he had to hide himself behind the usual mask.  He could simply be himself. This was both exhilirating and terrifying.  Yet, he wanted it still.

But, what did it all mean?  How did it even happen?  When he returned from his binge, his breakdown, he had sworn off romantic relationships, and he could sense he had hurt Shalee.  But, then this new presence swooped in, and despite himself, he could feel the tugging, the tightness and warmth in his chest.  His feet only barely touched the ground these days.

Ryven realized his melody had changed.  Without meaning to, his playing had become a song, not of sombreness or mourning, but one of light and warmth, a happy song. 

"What has happened to me?" He asked the empty bar.

Only silence answered, but his eyes found his face in the mirror behind the bar, and in his reflection, he was smiling.

An Afternoon Chat

06-31 YC 115
Huola VII
Cerra Manor

Leela stepped through the door to Ryven's suite at Cerra Manor, followed by Zhou.  Leela had recieved a message from Ryven that morning asking them both to come by.  She was worried.  The last time she had seen or heard from Ryven was the day she informed him of the behavioral modification experiment which had radically altered his personality so much that he had found God, sworn service to the Amarr Empire, and gone as far as marrying her.  The marriage hadn't lasted, but everything else had.  To be honest, she liked this version of Ryven far more than she ever had the old version.  She had never questioned his conversion, though.  She'd simply assumed he had finally grown up and taken stock of his life.  Still, this version was her preferred version, even if it were artificially created. 

Ryven stood next to a coffee table and sofa and beckoned both of them to have a seat.  A carafe of freshly brewed coffee awaited, three cups already poured.  Steam wafted over the rim of each of the mugs.  Sunlight streamed through the window, the dimmers in the glass turned off to allow the natural lighting (a feature Ryven seldom utilized).  He smiled as they sat down on the sofa, and Ryven took a seat in a nearby chair, coffee in hand, his posture relaxed.

Ryven spoke first. "So, I invited you two here to apologize for not being in touch sooner and to share my thoughts and decisions regarding the information you gave me, as well as to thank you for it."

Leela relaxed visibly, the tension flowing out of her.  This was off to a good start. "The apology is unnecessary, Ryven.  You had a lot to think about and it was a lot to absorb, really."

Zhou's expression remained blank, but he nodded his agreement.  He did not know Ryven all that well, truly.  He had never known the old Ryven.  The new Ryven had saved his life at considerable risk.  From what Leela had told him, the old Ryven would never have considered such a thing, much less done it. 

Ryven nodded gratefully.  "I appreciate your understanding.  I also appreciate you telling me about Dr. Tobit, even knowing what it would do to me."

Leela's expression showed her concern for him. "I didn't enjoy it, but I never really considered not telling you.  You needed to know."  She didn't voice the contradictory emotions she had felt after she had told him.  She knew she had done the right thing, but her nights brought nothing but worry over him.  She had been doing her best for her relationship with Zhou, but Ryven was always going to be important to her.  He was her first love, and likely she would always love him.

Zhou was oblivious to Leela's current thoughts, but had been acutely aware of the strain it had put on her.  Still, he recognized that Leela had made the right choice and he felt deep sympathy for Ryven's position.  It is no small burden to learn that one's existence may very well be a fabrication.  No one likes to discover that what he believes most deeply to be true is a well-constructed lie.  "We both believe it was the right thing to do, Ryven."

Ryven nodded.  "I want you to know that I came by Dr. Tobit's research notes.  I had already made my decision regarding how to move forward beforehand, but even after receiving the notes, I have decided to make no attempts to reverse the changes."  He gestured toward a datapad on the coffee table. "I want you to hold onto those, Leela."

"Why?  Why not destroy them?" She couldn't think of any reason not to.

Ryven shrugged. "If you wish to do so, then that's fine.  I would recommend you read them first, though.  It could be very illuminating." He let the faintest of smiles play at the corner of his lips. "I read them and found it fascinating."

Leela's face showed her confusion, not knowing how to feel about this gift.  Still, she would honor his wishes.  How could she not?  Besides, her curiosity had been piqued, and that was a force to be reckoned with.  "Okay."

Ryven's face broke into a full smile, his eyes gleaming.  "Excellent."  He leaned forward, seeming lighter than he had in a very long time, a burden of sorts lifted. "So, that business taken care of, what's been going on with you two?"

Meeting, Continued

Ryven looked at the mysterious man, amused. "You realize that was extremely cheesy, right?  You do realize that.  You have to."

The man sat silently for a moment before speaking. "Okay, perhaps that is cliche, but it is also sincere.  What is good for the State is good for the cluster and vice versa."

Ryven frowned. "Not necessarily.  If the State posed a real threat to the entire cluster, then, I would argue that what is good for the State is most certainly not good for the cluster.  Even moreso, I am not terribly interested in what is good for the State, seeing as the State has made a habit of trying to have me killed, jailed, and a host of other unpleasantries."

The man nodded. "Okay, I'll give you that one.  However, the offer still stands, and you can retain the right to refuse an assignment if it conflicts with your newfound loyalties to the Empire, which we can blame Dr. Tobit for, I presume."

Ryven shrugged. "I can't say, honestly.  This is who I am now.  There's no sense in dredging up all of the reasons.  I like this version of me.  Who I was before is of little importance except as a reminder of why I don't want to go back to that life."

The man nodded again. "Fair enough."  He stood up and stretched, stifling a yawn. "So, what's it gonna be, Mr. Krennel?"

Ryven thought for a moment before answering. "Okay.  Inasmuch as it doesn't conflict with my loyalties to the Empire and the militia."

The man nodded. "Agreed."  He started to walk toward the door out into the hallway.

"Wait." Ryven spoke. "What do I call you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're clearly not going to give me your real name, but I'd like to at least have a name I can call you.  Makes these conversations more, well, friendly."

The man stood there, lost in memories of a different life and a different time.  He finally spoke. "It's Kaden."

Full Circle

Ryven looked at the man sitting in his chair in the corner of his suite in Cerra Manor.  So, this man had exacted revenge on the man who had the man who had Ryven re-wired killed.  Ryven wasn't sure what that should mean for him, but he wasn't sure if he felt gratitude or just simply relief at knowing more of what had happened.  He still had a few questions. "So, you came here to give me these research notes in hopes that it'd clean the slate between the State and me?  That doesn't wash.  If you know what I did on Prime, then you know it was entirely for the purposes of cleaning that slate.  I've been trying to keep you guys off of me, not deliberately attacking you.  You double-crossed me, not the other way around."

The man nodded, his expression veiled by the shadows.  "I know."  His voice had an annoyed quality to it, as though he too were irritated by the way his State sometimes dealt with things.  Ryven could understand.  This man was an operative, an admittedly powerful one, and had to deal with the many missteps and bunglings of bureaucracy.  "Actually, I had one other thing I wanted to approach you about."

Ryven snorted. "Figures.  There always is."

The man's teeth glinted in the low light, a smile suddenly visible.  "Yes.  There is, isn't there?  I'm sorry to be cliche, but, well, things are cliche because they are so common as to be overly banal, are they not?"  He actually laughed, and found himself liking Mr. Krennel, despite himself.  "I had hoped I might persuade you to serve your country in an unofficial capacity and on an ad hoc basis."

Ryven rolled his eyes. "You're kidding me, right?  After what we just talked about?"

"Mr. Krennel, I won't offend you by calling you by your birth name, or appeal to your sense of duty, because you have far surpassed your origins, and frankly, you owe the State nothing.  We have never fulfilled our end of the bargain.  I would not be surprised if you don't even think of yourself as Caldari."  He paused for a moment.  "However, you are Caldari.  The State fathered you, even if it was a deadbeat father.  The fact of the matter is, I'm trying to recruit you to do what I do.  To save the State from itself."

Ryven remained silent.

"I would be your contact.  Your only contact.  I will be the only one who knows what you do for us or even that you do it.  When you have to visit the State for a job, you will be anonymous, but no one will question your authority.  However, I imagine most of your assignments will be here in the Amarr/Minmatar warzone.  This particular conflict is of importance to the State, though it doesn't know it." 

Ryven pondered for a moment. "So, I get to stay here and do what I'm doing, but with the occasional bit of wetwork on the side, and all of it to make the State a better place?"

The man shook his head. "No, Mr. Krennel.  To make New Eden a better place."

Surfacing

6-23  YC 115  19:37
Cerra Manor
Huola VII

Ryven awoke, his head splitting under the internal cacophonous echoes of far too much alcohol the previous night...day... week.  He wasn't sure if it was even day or night.  Come to think of it, he wasn't sure if he was even in his room.  He was lying face down on a bed.  He pulled his face away from the covers enough to recognize them as his covers.  He scanned his eyes around the room, recognizing his rather spartan decor.  Okay, so he was in his suite at Cerra Manor.  He rolled himself over, groaning as he did so.  He closed his eyes, hoping to will away the pain.  It dulled, but didn't manage to evaporate.  He sighed deeply into his empty room.

The revelation that his entire personality, his entire way of life, and even his faith were all the products of a Caldari scientist's wild experiment was too much for him to process at first.  He had thanked Leela and Zhou for telling him and disappeared for a while.  He needed time to gather his thoughts, he had told himself.  Of course, gathering his thoughts meant a whole lot of introspection, which inevitably lead to even more drinking.  The rest was just a blur, really.

However, the problem still remained.  What does one do when they discover that everything they feel or think is artificial?  How does a person deal with that?  Further, knowing this, does he choose to remain as he is, or does he choose to seek a way to reverse it and return to his real self?  Does that real self exist anymore?  Or, is the new self the real self?  Ryven had turned to drinking to escape that twisted philosophical shit. 

Truthfully, Ryven was terrified of going back to his old ways.  For one, he had finally made friends.  He even had managed to get married, fall in love (albeit not with the same person), and even made a few heroic sacrifices.  These are things the old Ryven would not have done.  The new Ryven was a decent human being for the most part.  The old Ryven was barely passable as one.   These thoughts chased about in his mind until he fell back asleep and the hours drifted by.

*****************************

Ryven awoke a few hours later, his room dark except for a single lamp across the room in the corner behind a high-backed chair.  His eyes adjusted quickly and he could barely make out the form of a man in the chair staring at him through dark sunglasses that glinted as he looked at them.  The man sat, fingers touching in a peak in front of him as he spoke in a voice that showed no emotion, but was immediately calming and absolutely captivating.  "I was hoping you'd wake up soon, Mr. Krennel."

Ryven rose calmly and sat on the edge of the bed.  He quickly analyzed the situation.  They were alone.  Ryven was unarmed, but couldn't be certain about this man with his rather theatrical, although practical, methods.  Further, since he clearly wanted to talk, Ryven stood to gain from listening, at least for the moment. "Everyone keeps telling me I'm a terrible host." He gave a sly grin.

The man's voice remained the same.  "I am here of my own volition.  I chose to come here because, well, after a decade of doing so, I still do what is best for the Caldari State."

Ryven laughed. "I pegged you for megacorp with that suit you're wearing."

The man raised a hand to correct him. "Not quite.  I owe allegiance to no megacorp.  I am something else entirely.  Most people make the same mistake as you, assuming that megacorps are the entirety of the State.  However, I think you most likely know differently, do you not?"

Ryven remained silent, wondering what he was getting at.

"No?  Well, I won't go into all the sordid details, but suffice to say that the State would be nothing but piss and ashes if everything were left to the megacorps' directors.  No, sometimes things have to be dealt with in such a way as to steer the State where it needs to go."

Ryven frowned. "Sabotage.  Assassination.  Blackmail.  The usual."

"Something like that, yes.  However, I'm not here for any of those reasons.  I must say that this is actually something of a first for me.  You see, in my career I have managed to make very few mistakes.  In fact, in a decade of service, I have only failed once.  I am here to try to make things right, you see."

Ryven shook his head. "No, not really."

"Dr. Tobit.  A younger and, might I say, more reckless director headed up the department of Kalaakiota that employed and financed Dr. Tobit.  This director, probably from watching far too many holos, got the idea that having Tobit killed was the best way to handle what he saw as an investment with little fruition, namely, you."

Ryven raised an eyebrow.  "Go on."

"Dr. Tobit should not have been killed.  I tried to stop it from happening but I miscalculated and arrived too late.  However, I did manage to salvage something that I am going to give to you as a means of correcting this mistake.  I recovered his research notes."

Ryven was skeptical. "And why give them to me?  How does that help the State?"

"I have a theory, Mr. Krennel.  You see, I theorize that you are a dangerous man.  I know the stunt you pulled on Caldari Prime.  You have the potential to be a very dangerous enemy to the State.  Honestly, the State probably deserves it after all they've done to you.  However, I am prepared to give you these notes in hopes of perhaps closing the divide somewhat.  Additionally, I am human and am inclined every so often to simply do things because they are the right thing to do.  Much like the night I killed that director."

Oops

Kalaakiota Office of Applied Psychomanipulation
Caldari Prime
11/20 YC 114

The director was seething.  He hadn't risen to the position of director only to be questioned and ridiculed by some no-name asshole who he'd never even seen before.  He had had Dr. Tobit killed because he was an embarassment and because he had threatened his employer, Kalaakiota.  What was so hard to understand about his decision?  Why was he being questioned and insulted in his own office?  Who was this man questioning him?

The man was slight of build, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses.  He wore a dark suit, nondescript in every way.  His hair was short and dark, and he was clearly a Deteis, mid-thirties, and his mouth seemed to have a perpetual sly grin, almost a smirk.  He seemed smug, self-assured, and there was something about his demeanor that implied a casual attitude toward extreme violence; a tiger poised to strike at all times.

The man spoke. "Who gave you the authority to kill Dr. Tobit?"

"I did.  I'm a goddamn director.  I can make those decisions in my department." He tried to sound authoritative.  Somehow, his voice seemed to ooze uncertainty.  This man was unnerving.

"I see.  And why did you feel it was justified?"

"He promised results and didn't deliver.  I told him we were going to shut his program down, and he became irrational.  He threatened to go public." Damn Silas.

"No results?" The man stood, passive, but his voice dripped with contempt.

"No results.  Mr. Krennel continued to be just as he always was.  Dr. Tobit's experiment was a total failure. There's no denying that." The director didn't understand why that was hard to understand.

The man laughed. "Oh, but there is denying that." He shook his head. "You're not in the habit of actually reading reports, are you?  Particularly the initial project proposal and Dr. Tobit's many reports stating that the changes would take time, for instance."

The director gave a dismissive wave with his hand. "Every idiot scientist says that nonsense when they fail.  They always say it's a matter of time and you end up waiting and waiting and then, guess what, nothing."

The man shook his head. "Then what do you make of Mr. Krennel's newfound religion?  Or perhaps you think his recently obtained Knighthood in the service of the Amarr Empire as something totally within the bounds of his personality?"

The director was shocked. Could it be true?  Could Silas have been right? "I... I hadn't heard about--"

"Yes.  I'm sure you'd have missed it in your complete dismissal of Dr. Tobit's research offhand.  I'm also sure that when you had the majority of his research materials destroyed, you didn't actually bother to read any of it."  He shook his head again. "People like you are the reason the State has been reduced to the point it has.  People like you, Mr. Director, are a plague, a weakness, a cancer on our Nation."

"How DARE YOU!"

"How dare I?" The man actually laughed.  "Do you know who I am?  Of course not.  Allow me to explain.  You see, I am society's retribution against itself.  I'm the violent solution to the failings of our State.  My purpose is to eradicate those elements that hold us back.  Are you beginning to understand why I am here?"

A cold shiver ran down the director's spine.  "Kalaakiota wouldn't dare allow this!"

The man smiled and removed his shades. "Kalaakiota wouldn't dare stop it." 

The director barely saw the movement.  The man was unbelievably fast.  His death was not quick.  It was not painless, but he was paralyzed, incapable of screaming.  Still, as his insides burned, he could hear his screaming inside his mind.  The last thing he saw was the strange man smiling at him as he succumbed.

The man watched until the director had finally died.  He wondered at what such pain must feel like, only vaguely understanding that it defied explanation.  He smiled to himself as he stepped out of the director's office, straightening his suit as he did so.  

Methodology

"Test Subject has been subjected to a complete neural restructuring via a mixture of drugs, trauma, subconscious implantation of ideas, and an induced fugue state.  Initial tests show promising results, though it is likely that it will take time for these thoughts to come into full fruition.  Kalaakiota's bureaucrats are threatening to shut me down if I can't show results soon.  I keep informing them that affecting an immediate change will inevitably result in a psychotic break and absolute loss of attachment to anything resembling reality.  These implanted ideas must be given time to develop an internal monologue such that they cannot but seem innate to the individual, rather than the product of an alien intervention."
Research log of Dr. Silas Tobit, YC 113

Dr. Tobit's Office
Kalaakiota Department of Applied Psychomanipulation

Silas pored over his notes.  Mr. Krennel's psychotransformation was going much slower than Kalaakiota was willing to accept.  Over the previous 8 months, he had managed a massive program of thought implantation.  His plan was nothing if not ambitious, and so far, it had had no hiccups other than corporate interference, which now would spell the doom of his project.

He had begun his research by managing to do what most would consider impossible.  He kidnapped a capsuleer.  Mr. Krennel had made an error in stationing his clones in a Caldari station.  Dr. Tobit simply had his clone moved to a secure facility, and rather than allowing the clone reanimation process to reach full fruition, he stalled it, keeping Mr. Krennel in a state of half-awareness, akin to dreaming.  In this state, the subconscious is quite open to external input.  Mr. Krennel was kept in this state for months, every moment of every day bombarded by input designed to redefine his own conceptions of the world.  Simultaneously, false memories were inserted, the purpose being to create an alibi for his disappearance such that he would never notice his own absence from his life. 

He had then been released back into New Eden, unaware of his ordeal.  His every move was being watched, his choices catalogued and dissected.  So far, the experiment seemed to be a half-failure.  He had signed on with the Deklein null-sec hegemony, which showed an increased desire for some sort of authority structure, as well as a search for some meaningful pursuit beyond simple personal pleasure/gain.  However, it still wasn't a huge change from his previous lifestyle.  His private communications were not entirely revealing, either, since he had few if any.

Kalaakiota had determined this to be signs of Dr. Tobit's failure.  He was convinced that the changes would take time to develop, but that they would happen soon.  He kept urging for patience, but, none was forthcoming.  Clearly, Kalaakiota had already decided he was to be shut down.  Worse than that, Silas had threatened to go public with his research, which was clearly illegal by any stretch of the imagination, specifically to CONCORD, who likely would see this as a violation of any number of agreements regarding the established sanctity of Empyreans.  Surely, Kalaakiota would recognize his bluff.  If he went to CONCORD, he'd be in more trouble than anyone.  They knew that was a bluff right?  Right?

He never saw his killer, only felt the knife as it erupted through the front of his chest, and the last trickle of warmth, realizing as his life left him that he had urinated on himself.  His last thought was shame at this uncontrollable reflex and how strange it was that he should even give a damn.

The Experiment

"Morality is always spoken of in black and white, as though clear delineations existed.  Surely this can't be true.  Whitest snow bears stains of tar, and blackest night cannot ever remove the existence of stars.  In all acts of good or evil, their opposite can be found.  No man commits evil believing he is evil.  No man pursues good without simultaneously causing evil.  This is the nature of morality.  It is not a Manichean dichotomy.  A man's moral character is a pixellated image, dots of black and white that when viewed together and with the distance of objectivity, form a coherent picture."
                Dr. Mikhail Vartor, The Image of Man: Pixel Theory of Morality, YC 103

Caldari Prime
Kalaakiota Corporate R&D office
Office of the Director of Applied Psychomanipulation

Dr. Silas Tobit was apprehensive.  Today was the day he was to present his research proposal for final approval.  It was unbelievably exciting, but also terrifying.  He was proposing total reformation, not of behavior, but of actual motivation and the interpretive framework of the mind of a human being.  This was an important distinction, as behavior had been manipulated for millenia, largely by accessing and manipulating the basic human drives and desires in subtle ways, usually through cleverly tailored stimuli.  This was entirely the province of advertising and religion, and politics as well, though, to Dr. Tobit, politics was largely the mixture of the other two.

He stepped into the office of the director.  Silas knew that the key to gaining project approval was to emphasize its profitability and the ability to use it to gain advantage over the other megacorporations.  Essentially, he must appeal to both greed and vanity and the drive to power.  What could fit better into this than the ability to radically alter the very core of individuality and free will?  Controlling man's behavior is all well and good, but what if you could control man's essence?
That was a question that Dr. Tobit hoped to answer, or more precisely, to prove possible.

At forty-one years old, Dr. Tobit was a reasonably seasoned scientist.  He was an Achura, raised in Perimeter, schooled at all the best institutions and personally mentored by several key figures in psychomanipulation, which was a somewhat obscure field, largely due to the rather common knowledge nature of the manner in which human desire can be manipulated in order to effect behavior.  Tobit was out to change that by changing the game entirely.  He had already picked the test subject, an ultra-violent mercenary turned capsuleer pirate. 

The director gave Dr. Tobit a nod.  The director's disdain for Dr. Tobit was no secret, and his eyes, gratefully hidden by his dark glasses, were filled with his enmity.  He felt Silas was a waste of ISK, a charlatan, a snake oil merchant.  However, there were some Provists breathing down his neck for this research, and thus, his hands were tied.  As much as he hated this diminuitive little Achura, he must give him what he wished.  "You've been greenlighted.  Do you have a subject in mind?"

Silas could barely contain his excitement.  Finally! His voice, amazingly, came out unwavering, no hint of his vast tumult of emotions. "I have."  He pressed a button on his datapad and a holoemitter came to life, the three dimensional image of a man, a Civire, was displayed. As the model rotated, the input jacks of a capsuleer became visible.

"A capsuleer?  Are you out of your damn mind, Silas?" The director shouted, the vein in his forehead taking on a life of its own and threatening to leap out of his head and strangle Silas of its own accord. 

Silas nodded. "Of course.  The better to prove the viability of my theory.  If I can radically alter the thought patterns of an Empyrean, then my theory will be irrefutable." 

The director smiled inwardly.  This fool would fail, and the Provists would get off his back, and he'd finally be rid of this fruitcake.  "Why this one?"

Silas smiled. "He's a pirate, an orphan, a violent product of a violent childhood.  His parents were war criminals killed by the state.  He distrusts all authority, and is the CEO of a corporation.  He's absolutely perfect for it.  I intend to radically subvert his currently excessively violent drives and replace them with a need for authority, morality, and perhaps, just for fun, religion."

The director's eyebrow raised of its own accord.  Religion? Interesting. "Very well.  What's his name?"

"Ryven Haijikioten, though he calls himself Ryven Krennel."

Ryven: Lost Time

Cerra Manor
Huola VII
Ryven's Suite
4/2  YC 115  1800

Ryven lay awake on his large, but nondescript bed.  His room was not lavishly decorated, but instead seemed the expected blend of Caldari and Amarrian influences.  There were some references to Caldari bands, including some jazz/electronic fusions.  He was smoking a cigarette, his eyes staring up at the vaulted ceiling.  His eyes peered up through the dark and the haze of cigarette smoke and past the ceiling and into the universe, bending backward and inward onto himself.  From this deep reverie, the chirping of his neocom pulled him crashing back into the present.  He pressed a button, and heard Leela's voice.

"Ry, we need to talk." Her voice was dripping with urgency and something else that he guessed must be trepidation, or even fear.

His curiosity was piqued.  "What's up?"

"No.  In person." 

"That serious?" He wasn't surprised.  Leela's life was secrets.  Strangely, she was also the most honest person he knew.

"It's about your episode.  The lost time." She hesitated. "I think I know what's going on."

Ryven sighed, relieved. His mind had been returning to that constantly.  As an immortal, he was the pinnacle of human power, and even more so, an embodiment of the will to power.  What an immortal wills, he can realize.  If he cannot master himself, however, then he is still a slave.  This is no simple contradiction, but one filled with paralyzing paradox.  It eats away at the belief, and the immortality loses its potency.

"Okay.  I'm on my way."

                                        ***************************************
Undisclosed Location
"Safe House"
4/2 YC115 2300

When he arrived at the safe house, navigating through the maze of safeguards and false corridors, he came upon Leela and Zhou, both seated on a surprisingly comfortable looking sofa in the house's living room.  They both looked concerned, their eyes probing him, but neither speaking.  He sat down on a chair across the coffee table from them, leaning forward, fingers interwoven in a plaintive gesture.   He studied them both, seeing the signs of their closeness.  He allowed himself a moment of happiness at the way they had both found each other.  However, his need, his desperate need for answers overrode his interest in their blooming romance.

Leela broke the silence, her voice seeming both tiny and infinite, booming in the confines of the safe house, but fragile, the crystal ringing of champagne glasses. "I've uncovered what I believe is the answer to your episode."

Ryven nodded, clearly impatient. "Okay, so out with it."

She shook her head. "First, I have a question."  She placed a slender finger on her lips, thinking how best to proceed. "Are there any other periods of your life where your memories are, well... alien to you, or perhaps lost much as this recent episode was?"

Ryven shook his head, but then stopped, his mind reverting back to his time in J.D. Gaffa, Inc.  There was a period of missing time.  He had some memories, but they didn't make sense.  They never really had, honestly.  But, he was a different person then, guided by his every whim, not by purpose.  He had not given it much thought and had chalked it up to stress/drugs/shock/whatever.  He nodded. "Yes.  Seven or eight months of periodic lapses."

Leela nodded. "Two to three years ago, yes?  Before your time up in Deklein, before you left JDGI?"

His eyes widened. "Yes.  Exactly."

She nodded. "Tell me, does the name Dr. Silas Tobit ring any bells?"

Leela and Zhou: Dark Discovery

Undisclosed Location

"Safe House"

4/1 YC 115

Leela was in an unusual state of happiness ever since Zhou had persuaded Ryven to move him here to keep her company.  The first few days required a great deal of adjustment, but they quickly discovered a deep affinity for each other beyond simple compatibility.  Quite simply, they occupied the same world of shadows and obfuscation, the same universe of information waiting to be uncovered, sought, decoded.  Both were in the business of lifting the many layers of obfuscation that hide the various truths and untruths, and even the truths feigning untruth.  He filled the gaps in her personality and vice versa.  Together, there was synergy.  More than that, however, he understood her and vice versa, and there was a love blooming there that was not entangled in guilt and debt as it was with Ryven.  Ryven had saved her life.  Zhou was helping her live it.

Still, Ryven was in both their lives, and unlikely to ever be completely extricated.  In fact, at this very moment, she was following a lead she had found regarding his episode of "lost time."  He had recently experienced a total blackout of memory.  He had still operated normally, but had isolated himself socially.  Further, he simply had no recollection of roughly a month of his life.  He had approached her in the hopes of discovering who was behind it, suspecting a drug or other form of foul play.  Her current search was sifting through Caldari State databases regarding any mention of him, or someone that must be him.  It was the latter that brought her the answer she had been seeking.  She read the series of reports, her eyes widening as she delved deeper into them.  By the time she reached the end, she was trembling.

"Zhou!  We need to talk to Ryven."

Retribution, Part IX: Erasure

Leela's Safehouse
Undisclosed Location

21:10 1-8 YC115

Leela leaned back in her seat down in the familiar confines of her safehouse.  Ryven insisted that she remain here, but, she had finally gotten out for an evening the night before.  He wasn't exactly around to stop her, and frankly, she deserved a little outing every now and then.

Tonight, however, she had more work to do.  In order for Ryven's operation to succeed, it was crucial that his records, tarnished as they were, be replaced with cleaner ones.  She had been busy for roughly six hours building a history, a false history, of Ryven's relationship with the Caldari State.  She wondered why he hadn't just done this in the first place rather than entangle himself in a system of blackmail and extortion.  Probably because Ryven doesn't think that way.

Her fingers flew over her data terminal as she put the finishing touches on his file.  The tricky part, she knew, was coming.  Well, relatively speaking.  It actually wouldn't be that difficult.  After the main network defenses were breached, accessing and overwriting his file would be quite quick and easy. 

As she went about the task of overcoming the network security, she began thinking about the events of the past year.  It had been a long year.  She had lost her first and only love, Ryven, to his unfortunate obsession with Shalee.  She had been kidnapped and tortured by her own brother, and then rescued by Ryven.  She had been shut away in this little hidey hole for months, because of Ryven and his obsession with Shalee.  Seriously, she needed to move on with her life, didn't she?  But, what should she do with herself?  The bar scene seemed like a bad idea, though it could be fun.  Maybe she could go with Shalee?  She scowled in disgust at herself.  Here she was considering hanging out with the woman she lost her husband to. 

She definitely needed to get back out into the world, though.  The only way to do that would be to redefine her relationship with Ryven, and actually get over him for real.  She had always clung to the hope that he would one day come back to her.  She was realizing that this just wasn't going to happen, and honestly, she wasn't sure she wanted it to.  She didn't want to be second place.  She wanted a man who put her first. 

A comms terminal next to her chirped.  She had an incoming call.  This puzzled her.  She identified the caller and smiled.  It was Zhou Liang.  She liked Zhou.  He was a friendly guy for a spook.  Well, she thought so anyway, though it's hard to tell with double agents.  When a person builds two lives of lies it's impossible to really be sure you know anything about them.  Even for a snoop like Leela, sorting fact from bullshit would be nearly impossible.  Still, he had been very friendly the few times she had spoken with him.  Maybe he could be a friend.  She decided to answer the call.

"Hello." She answered. 

"Hey, Leela.  Thought I'd call and check in on the progress." Zhou sounded cheerful, but tired.

"About 90% complete.  New file should be in place in the next thirty minutes." She replied, her voice sounding exhausted, even to her.

"You're doing a good thing, Leela.  Ryven appreciates it, even if he doesn't seem like it."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure he does." She thought for a moment before adding. "How are you holding up?"

Zhou looked surprised on the video display. "Nice of you to ask.  I'm worried about him, a little.  And you.  I'm going to have a talk with him soon about the current arrangement.  I'll ask if I can stay there with you for a while.  It's not good to be shut in like that.  You need some company."

Leela was very surprised by the offer.  Her cheeks flushed a little, but she fought it down. "I'm perfectly alright.  You guys shouldn't worry about me so much."

"Leela, I spent five months locked in a tiny hole in the dark.  I nearly went mad.  I kept myself sane by reliving conversations from my past.  People need other people."

Leela had to agree with the logic. "Okay.  I'll admit I could use some company."  She smiled a little bit. "Do you think Ry will go for it?"

Zhou shrugged. "Can't see why not.  He's supposed to be protecting both of us.  Seems like what's safe for you would be safe for me." 

Leela nodded, suddenly excited by the idea of having a roommate.  An attractive roommate at that.  True, his looks were the result of extensive genetic and surgical modifications, but aesthetics were always manufactured, were they not? "Alright.  Here's hoping."  She looked back at her terminal, seeing that she had broken through the security programs. "I gotta let you go, Zhou.  It's game time."

Zhou nodded. "Take care, Leela.  See you soon."

She nodded and waved and ended the call, turning back to her work, beginning the overwrite process.  From here it was fire and forget, so she leaned back and locked her fingers together behind her head, staring at the ceiling.  Maybe this year will be different... she thought as she drifted off.

Retribution, Part VIII: Awakening

Unisclosed Location

Zhou Liang's safehouse

09:45 1-8 YC115

Ryven awoke drenched in sweat and blood.  His eyes slowly gained focus and his mind fumbled, struggling to discern where he was.  A face appeared in his field of vision, at first a gray blur.  The face slowly coalesced, gaining more and more detail until he recognized Zhou Liang.  He could tell Zhou was speaking, but his mind was still addled.  The words came as through a murk, each taking what seemed hours for him to decipher.  Then, suddenly, they were coming at him at normal speed.  He shook his head, clearing the remaining cobwebs.  He raised himself up on his elbows and realized he was shirtless, his wounds dressed, but the surrounding skin was bruised and discoloured.  The pain of his movement forced him to wince and suck in a shallow breath between clenched teeth.

Zhou's voice was that of a concerned parent. "You have to take it slow, Ryven.  The damage to this clone was quite severe.  If you'd taken another hit like these..."  He gestured to the massive bandaged region of Ryven's abdomen.

Ryven grunted. "I've taken worse."

"Respectfully, no, sir, you're full of shit." He pointed emphatically to the bandage.  "There was nothing there.  That was just one big missing chunk of you, filled with biofoam.  That's all there was, Ryven.  Just foam."

Ryven searched for his cigarettes.  He glared at Zhou. "Where'd my cigarettes go?"

Zhou pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Ryven. "Here.  Knock yourself out."  He stood up and walked a few paces away, staring at the wall, arms crossed.  He worried about this stubborn man to whom he owed his life.

Ryven lit up a cigarette, the burning smoke agitating his lungs, and he coughed fiercely.  Still, it was just what the doctor ordered.  He looked over to Zhou, wondering what had gotten into him.  "Hey, Zhou?  How soon can I get out of here?  I got a girl to go see." 

Zhou turned around, stroking his chin in thought. "I would say two or three days." 

Ryven laughed. "That's not going to happen."  He sat up and began putting on his boots.

Zhou looked exasperated. "You're an idiot, you know that, right?  You're in no condition to fly."

Ryven gave him an amused look. "I'll be fine." 

Zhou stared at him in angered disbelief before he turned around and walked out, shaking his head.  "One of these days, you're going to find yourself in a situation you can't fight your way out of or bullshit your way through.  I hope I'm wrong, but, I'm fairly certain I'm not." 

Ryven nodded, alone again in the dark. He whispered to no one. "I know.  But, I made a promise that I'd come home.  I've lost enough time."

Retribution, Part VII: Die Walkure

Sky over Caldari Prime

23:15-00:25 1-7/1-8 YC115

He was a meteor.  A streak of light bursting through an atmosphere, utterly tranquil to the billions of inhabitants below but buffeting and scorching at him high above.  His helmet blacked out to protect his eyes from the brilliant flare of the air superheated into a haze of flames around him.  His dropsuit's shields were protecting him valiantly, but he knew that even the slightest variation from his current trajectory could cause the shields to overload and he would burn to a cinder miles above the planet surface.  His mind drifted back to Shalee.  Always Shalee.

"Target update." Leela's voice chimed in his ears.

"Go ahead."

"Target is located second floor from the top, illuminating on your HUD."

"Thank you." He replied, even though his target was still at least a thousand kilometers away.

He was about to enter the night side of the planet, the terminator still visible ahead, a hazy line between dark and light, with the darkness approaching.  He slipped into the planet's shadow, the ground becoming closer, the planet filling the entirety of his view.  Below him, he was greeted by the sight of millions of specks of light on a blanket of deep sable.  The air around him was a cacophany, but still, he held on course.  The lights grew closer, and with it, the ground.

He saw he was nearing the last couple hundred kilometers.  His speed was decreasing, and with it, his lateral angle.  His trajectory was parabolic, and soon, he would begin to descend much more rapidly.  He could already see the spaces between lights growing.  The edge of the Capitol city was nearing ahead.

One hundred kilometers to go.  His speed began to decrease much more rapidly, the air thicker at these lower altitudes.  He could see the tops of buildings below him.  30 km.  20 km.  10 km.

He prepped himself.  He would pass by a tall skyscraper approximately 300 meters before his target.  At that point, he must be ready to react without thought.  This was going to be very razor edge.

He saw the skyscraper ahead, and 300m past it, his target.  As the skyscraper passed, he flipped over and fired a device from each arm, one into the skyscraper behind, and one into the target building.  Between the two stretched a cable, which he quickly looped an ultra-strong piece of nanofilament with handles.  He had just created a zipline while moving over 100km/h.  He fired his thrusters to quickly shed speed while acquiring his target on his HUD.  What happened next took less than three seconds.

Hilen Ashenokka was standing in his parlor, enjoying a drink, watching a newsfeed on the wall.  His penthouse apartment was a large and opulent one.  One of the major features was his parlor, which sported windows floor to ceiling on three sides.  He enjoyed the view of the capitol city's skyline from two thousand feet up.  He never thought they would be his demise.  As he turned, drink in hand, to look out on the night skyline, his death came crashing through the glass at high speed.

Ryven rolled to brake his momentum and shot out his arm to grab hold of Ashenokka's throat.  Without missing a beat, he took five rapid strides at full sprint and dove out the opposite window, tossing Ashenokka as he went hurtling out into the night, two thousand feet above the crowded sleepless streets, shards of glass falling along with him, Ashenokka screaming, arms flailing.  Ryven wasted no time, spinning to fire a second zipline.

This one deposited him ten blocks away in a crowded city street.  He keyed up his ex-fil comms circuit.

"So far so good.  I need an exit, currently set for plan A." He spoke tersely.

"Copy.  Ex-fil inbound to point alfa.  ETA ten minutes."

He sprinted down the crowded thoroughfare, knowing he would be pursued at any moment.  A man running down the street in a combat dropsuit draws attention, and not the kind Ryven needed.  Still, this was expected.  Which is why he managed to dodge the first few gunshots fired by pursuing police drones.  His dropsuit armor would protect him from the majority of small arms fire, but incendiary rounds or armor piercing ones would put a damper in his survival plans for sure.  His best defense was speed.

He ran as though the devil pursued him, pushing aside civilians, leaping over kiosks and personal vehicles.  Ahead, he saw the flash of blue lights, and he knew a roadblock had been set up for him. He swore.  He had hoped to limit casualties as much as possible.  He sighed and drew out a pair of sub machine guns he had stowed in his suit's weapons holds.  He jumped, using his suit's muscle amplification and minute jump thruster maneuvering to evade the security forces' opening salvos, his HUD placing reticles on each of the men.  He fired bursts at each of them, watching as they flickered out.  He felt the impacts of small arms fire on his suit, and he thanked God they weren't armor piercing.  He had promised Shalee he would come home from this, and damnit, he intended to.

An explosion knocked him off balance as he landed from his jump on the other side of the roadblock.  A Caldari main battle tank stood a hundred meters off, smoke trailing from the barrel of its rail gun turret.  Ryven rolled to dampen the blast, his sensors flaring from the superheated and ionized air.

"Damn. That shit showed up fast." He bounded toward the tank, zigging and zagging, using vehicles as cover.  He prepped a satchel charge, one of three he had stowed in his suit's backpack.  Running as fast as his suit would allow, he charged the tank, closing the last fifty meters in mere seconds.  The tank's gun fired, but he slid on his back, the 155mm round skimming a mere inches from his helmet's visor as he ducked under it.  He placed the charge as he slid past the tank's left side and leapt to his feet, running down the street away from the blast that demolished the Caldari armor.

He had five minutes to make it to extraction a mere eight blocks away.  He had chosen this spot because it was a cliff that overlooked a subterranean section of the city. 

He closed the distance as quickly as he could, knowing he was bound to encounter more resistance, and soon.  He keyed his comms.

"1 klick from ex-fil point Alfa.  Status of ex-fil?"

"En route, ETA three minutes."

"Roger, proceed.  Extraction is green."

He could see the extraction point ahead.  He was nearly free and clear.  That's when he felt a searing pain in his back as the first large bore incendiary round burned through his dropsuit's armor and into his flesh, cauterizing, thankfully, but causing massive trauma in the surrounding tissue.  The dropsuit responded by injecting biofoam and painkillers, along with nanites to control the damage.  Still, the painkillers didn't do a damn thing for the initial trauma, and Ryven's vision flared into bright white.  His instincts kicked in and he quickly spun and dropped, drawing his large caliber assault rifle.  Two aerial intercept craft were approaching at high speed, firing their blasters.  He felt another impact in his lower torso, and he buckled under the force, but still, he maintained his aim, opening fire on the lead intercept.  His rounds were aimed at the pilot, and he was gratified by the craft's sudden loss of control.  It careened into one of the many high-rise buildings along the busy street.  He was thankful most of the civilian traffic had cleared out.  These were his countrymen once, after all.  They shared the same blood, even if he no longer followed their flag.

The second intercept jinked out of his line of fire, sending another wildly aimed shots his way.  He knew the slender gunmetal blue craft, designed to resemble a mantis, would return shortly, and Ryven resumed his sprint to the extraction point.  The dropsuit's damage control measures were helping, but he had lost a good deal of speed.  His abdomen was stiff, and he could tell there was a monstrous amount of damage.  He had to take care to limit any more incoming.

One hundred meters to go and that's when things got nasty.  Five more intercept craft, two tanks, and a host of ground security forces were closing in.  Fire was incoming from everywhere.  He put on all the speed he could manage, a trickle of blood running from his lips, hidden behind his visor.  He ran, though every fiber in his being was being torn apart by pain that had outstripped the ability of painkillers to control.  His lungs ached.  His vision tunneled into a black corridor, and all he could see was the approaching cliff.  Everywhere projectiles careened and impacted the road and vehicles around him.  The world seemed to move in slow motion, every step an eternity.

10 meters.  Where's the damn dropship?  Had they left him?  Was he going to break his promise to Shalee and face capture, torture, and the failure of all his planning?  The distance closed rapidly.

"Jump." A voice echoed in his headset. 

Why not?

Ryven hurled himself over the edge of the cliff, city lights below, above, and all around him.  Most importantly, though, was the dropship, tilted so its side doors were open to him as he dropped through.   

Ryven screamed into his helmet's comms. "Get us the hell out of here, Zhou."

The voice of Zhou Liang chuckled to him over his helmet's comms. "Like I want to die here, either, man."

The dropship's nose pointed upward at a steep incline as the side door came closed.  Ryven was thrown violently into the aft end of the craft as Zhou ignited the ship's rockets.  The air around the ship exploded violently under the explosive force of thrusters that weren't meant to be used at such low altitudes, the atmosphere's denser oxygen ignited by it.  The security forces within 100 meters were instantly vaporized, the tanks melting under the heat, the intercept craft thrown violently to the street, rendered useless.  The dropship accelerated rapidly into the upper atmosphere, carrying them away from pursuit.

The last thing Ryven remembered seeing was the dwindling speck of Caldari Prime from the viewports of Zhou Liang's stealth bomber. 

Retribution, Part VI: Prelude

Caldari Prime
Orbit

22:37 1-7 YC115

Ryven waited. The airlock was depressurized, utter silence broken only by the sound of his breathing in his sealed dropsuit. A red flashing warning light indicated the impending opening of the external doors. Each flash was reflected in the slick black of his helmet's faceplate, and he was crouched, poised to propel himself toward the target.

His mind drifted to the past few days of preparation. He had awoken on the 9th and made his departure as Huola's star was rising over the manor. He had glanced back mournfully, reluctant to leave Shalee behind, but knowing he had to see this through. Even Tiger had agreed with him on that. Although, that was likely because Tiger wanted Ryven gone, and the possibility of Ryven suffering extreme bodily harm was not something Tiger was likely averse to.

He had made the trip to Leela's safehouse, careful to cover his tracks. With her assistance, the code was extracted from the nanochip he had retrieved rather messily from General Ikaren's neck. Leela had fabricated a transponder for his dropsuit and programmed the defense codes into it. Ryven wondered if this operation would have even been possible without her assistance. He decided it would have, but the risk would have been multiplied to a ludicrous degree. He would have to get her a thank you gift.

The rest of the preparations had been largely moving assets into place. Leela would be his source of intel. She was patched into a fluid router comms channel routed through a series of nearby comms satellites, automated orbital installations, and into his helmet. His ex-fil was set to pick him up at one of a series of sites that could be chosen on the fly. He had the comms for that set up on a seperate circuit.

He was carrying only a small arsenal of weaponry and equipment. The dropsuit had built in stealth technology, motorized joints and muscle amplification tech, and combat optics and mapping that interfaced with his capsuleer implants. Considering all that, he was remarkably lightweight at only 450 lbs and 6'7" tall.

His reverie was broken by the sudden opening of the external doors. The space between the doors widened and the bustling surface of Caldari Prime loomed ahead of him. However, his target, a Charon class freighter, the [i]Lysander[/i] loomed even closer, a mere 10 km away. The tiny shuttle was on a parallel course and speed with the freighter, thankfully.

Ryven pushed off the airlock wall with a powerful kick, firing a set of twin thrusters in his suit's backpack to accelerate. As he hurtled through the space between the two vessels, he considered how tiny he was. Just a speck, black against black, traversing the gulf in absolute silence. He was utterly alone, isolated from the universe and yet at once an integral piece of it. Everywhere he looked silent behemoths went gliding through the void. He wondered if this is what it was like to be lost overboard at sea with dark shapes circling and gliding above and beneath. He shivered involuntarily, thankful the distance was closing.

At the last hundred meters, he flipped so his feet were facing the Charon and fired his thrusters to decelerate. His feet touched the blue gunmetal hull of the freighter and Ryven activated electromagnets in the soles of his boots.

The walk to the external maintenance hatch was a short one, only 50 meters or so. Freighters are largely unmanned, and as such, he was unhindered in his efforts to open the hatch and float, weightless, into the shaft that went the length of the cargo bay. Ryven glided half the length of the bay before he reached his target.

Ryven had chosen this freighter due to its highly explosive cargo of rocket fuel and munitions, namely 100,000 torpedoes. He intended to use an explosive to set off the fuel, which would detonate the massive cargo of missiles. This would provide a very effective diversion.

"Leela."

Her voice replied crisp and clear in his helmet. "Target is in the building. His family is not present. Mission is green."

Ryven nodded, then rolled his eyes at the pointlessness of such a gesture. "Thank you, Leela. Apprise of any changes."

"Good luck."

Ryven placed the explosive, a small device less than half a meter square. He pushed off and glided back out of the shaft, again magnetizing to the hull of the ship. He began the long silent trek to the other side of the freighter.

When making reentry into a planet's atmosphere, care must be taken to do so at the proper angle. Too steep and the dropsuit's thermal shields flare out and the wearer burns up into ash miles above the planet surface. Too shallow and the poor bastard goes skipping like a rock off into space. Thankfully Ryven's suit was able to display the correct glide path on his helmet's HUD.

Ryven reached his drop point. His target coordinates were entered in to his glide path navigation program. A countdown to drop was ticking in the corner of his HUD. He crouched, deactivating the magnets as the timer reached one. He pushed off at an angle, firing his thrusters to line up with the markers on his HUD. He watched his velocity indicator, and checked the distance to the freighter. 22km. He pulled out the detonator. 24 km. He flipped off the safety. 26 km. He pressed the button.

The sky above Caldari's capitol erupted into brilliant bluish white and an assassin sailed unobserved toward his target.

Retribution, Part V: Recovery

Ibura System
Undisclosed Location
11:23 1-3 YC 115

Ryven awoke disoriented.  His last memory was a dark alley in the Perimeter system and immense pain.  He had flashes of an image of Shalee, and immediately was filled with a sense of despair.  He shook his head to clear the cobwebs, his vision becoming focused, his surroundings emerging from the haze. 

He was in a bed.  It was the sort of bed found in a hospital.  Okay, so he was in a hospital.  That explained why he was in a white gown.  He wasn't strapped down, so he rose up off the bed, and quickly became dizzy.  He calmed himself, forcing his breathing to slow, his pulse to ease.  He pulled his legs off the bed and set his feet on the floor.  The cool metal was painfully chill, and an involuntary shiver ran down his spine.  He swore.  He heard a door slide open behind him.

"Ah, so, you've decided to finally return to the land of the living." A rather jovial voice greeted him from behind. 

Ryven turned his head to see a woman of medium height and athletic build with dark brown hair and a touch of gray.  She appeared to be late forties and was of obvious Caldari blood, most likely Deteis.  He managed a halfass grin. "I try to die as little as possible these days."  He glanced about. "Where am I?"

The doctor smiled. "You're back in the loving arms of your new best friends." She laughed. "The Falcon Brotherhood are big fans of your work." 

Ryven barely kept from making a face.  He hated the name those terrorist jackasses had chosen for themselves. Falcon Brotherhood.  Still, he had to assume they were the reason he wasn't captured/cloned.  "They were the ones who came in all commando deus ex machina style to save me, huh?"

She laughed. "Pretty much.  You apparently succeeded in a manner beyond their expectations.  So much so, they've decided to make you an honorary member.  They gave you their tattoo."  She gestured toward his right shoulder.

He looked down and winced.  There it was, the stupid falcon with its angry looking eyes, tearing its talons into who knows what.  He rolled his eyes. "It was only a matter of time till I got a tattoo, I guess."  He shook his head. "So, when can I get out of here?"

The doctor shrugged. "I imagine whenever you wish.  You immortals can take a hell of a beating.  I'm actually surprised you didn't wake up sooner."

Ryven blinked. "How long have I been out?"

"Well, today is the third." 

Ryven swore.  He stood up from the bed, still a little woozy. "Where are my things?"

The doctor gestured to a bag by the doorway.  "You'll find all of your personal effects in there.  Your ship is docked where you left it, and all of the items you requested are loaded onboard."  She paused for a moment. "I'm actually a little sad to see you go.  You've done great things for our cause."

Ryven just shook his head.  He pulled his clothes from the bag and quickly donned them. He turned to the doctor. "What's your name?"

She seemed surprised. "Elizabeth Garuda." 

He nodded. "Well, Doctor Garuda, thanks for everything, but, believe me when I say, you want me gone as soon as I can be."

She frowned. "Why do you say that?"

He sighed deeply and turned as he was walking out the door. "Where I go, death seems to follow after."

Retribution, Part IV: A Messier Exit

General Soren Ikaren's Residence

Perimeter II
19:36 12-29 YC 114

 

Ryven spun in a crouch, his eyes scanning the small courtyard, the main entrance to General Ikaren's private home lay some ten meters away.  Though dwarfed by some other skyscrapers in the vicinity, the building was not unimpressive.  Ryven knew the General's actual home would be the top three floors, some hundred meters above him.  He also knew that he had roughly three minutes to get there before the commotion in the courtyard would be reported, assessed, and a lockdown of the building's lifts would be in effect.  With that in mind, Ryven sprinted across to the entrance.

 

He vaguely knew that he was bleeding.  He knew he had been hit, more than once, and he felt his right side beginning to grow stiff.  His vision hadn't begun to blur yet, but he knew it would soon.  He reckoned he had around five minutes until his effectiveness was absolutely shot unless he could get some nanos.  Not friggin likely. 

 

The door slid open and Ryven slid through, his eyes and his rifle barrel sweeping the lobby.  There was a man stationed at a desk, and Ryven placed two rounds through his forehead before the man could even rise from his chair.  Without stopping, he spun the barrel to face the door to the building's main lift.  With his left hand, he pressed the call button on the control panel and waited, his ears pricked for approaching footsteps.  The lift seemed to take forever, and he was acutely aware of every pulse of his heart.  He could feel it in his ears, his fingers, and running down his right side.  He shivered slightly.  His body heat was dropping.  Blood loss.  He didn't have time to check the damage, but he could tell it was worse than he had expected.  He may have as little as three minutes.  DING. The lift doors opened.

 

Ryven instinctively dove backward, the black outlines of weapon muzzles visible as the doors parted.  He saw the flash of light, but no sound, and he felt the familiar pressure of an assault rifle buttstock recoiling tightly into his shoulder as he returned fire.  He felt a searing heat in his left shoulder as a round tore through the muscle and out his back.  Another impacted in his left thigh, tearing a gouge through the outer muscle.  He heard a man screaming, and the sound echoed in his own head, seeming as though it were coming to him from both inside and far away.  He had crashed onto the floor before he realized it was his own voice.  He lay there, realizing, largely due to the silence, aside from the ringing in his ears, and the mess of crimson carnage in the lift in front of him, that he was alone again.  Smoke hung low in the air, and the floor around him was pocked with holes from gunshots.  His eyes stung from sweat and blood from a knick in his forehead from a slug fragment.  The three security personnel in the main lift were dead, their corpses riddled with holes.  Ryven lay there, his eyes closed, desperately willing the room to stop spinning.  He slowly pulled himself up, using his rifle as a prop.  He limped over to the lift and slumped against the wall in the corner after using the control panel to send it to the suite at the top of the building.

 

Floors flashed by quickly, covering the height in only about thirty seconds.  Ryven willed himself to stand erect, rifle at the ready, as the lift came to a stop and the doors slowly opened.  He stepped out into the hallway. 

 

Opulence is not the Caldari aesthetic.  The General's residence was barely decorated at all, consisting of the most utilitarian of furnishings, a few austere portraits of family members, and marble busts of self-same.  There was a large portrait of Tibus Heth located over a faux fireplace.  Ryven stalked through the rooms, his rifle shouldered, looking for Ikaren.  The suite was empty, no sign of life to be found.  Ryven was beginning to grow faint, the corners of his vision darkening.  He needed those defense codes. He knew, though, without even having to search, that they were literally on Ikaren's person, or rather, in his person.  Those codes would be surgically implanted, likely at the base of his skull, in a nanochip, likely shielded to prevent detection.  A special device would be necessary in order to read the data.  A device Leela would have.  Ryven managed a smile.  He could go visit Shalee. His leg buckled under him.  He swore.  Okay, he could visit Shalee, if he found the General, if he killed him, and if the chip happened to be where he thought it would be.  That was a big if.

 

Sometimes, God looks out for those who fight for Him.  Ryven heard the DING of the lift and quickly dashed to a position with line of sight to the entryway.  He saw that there were three men, and one was wearing a very impressive looking blue uniform.  The other two were at the ready, rifles sweeping the room.  Ryven knew he had little time to waste.  Wincing, he aimed as best he could, his arms trembling, his vision blurred.  He squeezed the trigger and cringed with each impact of the buttstock against his wounded shoulder.  His rounds were sloppy, peppering the walls, the floor, and the ceiling, but still, he managed to take out the two guards, and wound the General.

 

He slowly limped his way to the lift, the General's form slumped against the wall of the lift, his eyes glassy, two large holes in his chest, a pink bubble forming at one.  The bullet had punctured the man's lung, and bubbles oozed out with every breath.  A trickle of blood formed at the corner of the man's mouth, his speech labored. "Who are you?"

 

Ryven sighed.  "Someone your government should have just forgotten."

 

The General seemed to accept that. He glanced down at his wounds, realizing his fate. He looked Ryven in the eyes. "Why?"

 

Ryven's eyes softened.  This man had done nothing to deserve this.  He simply happened to be in Ryven's path. "The codes.  Where are they?"

 

The General sighed, seeming to understand the look in Ryven's eyes.  Nodding, he tilted his head to the side. "Left side, a quarter inch behind the jaw."  His eyes showed a quiet resolve. "Make it quick."

 

Ryven nodded and grabbed a combat knife from one of the dead guards laying nearby.  He raised his rifle and fired a round into the General's forehead, killing him instantly.  He stood there silently for a moment, a measure of respect for his former countryman.  It saddened him, this whole business.  Still, it had to be done.  He knelt down and quickly dug the chip out of the General's skull with the knife, pocketing it.  He glanced around, and wordlessly walked into the lift and rode it back to ground level.

 

He knew there would be a force waiting for him.  What he encountered, however, was beyond anything he ever could have prepared himself for. 

 

As the doors to the lift slid open, his eyes took in no less than thirty armed men, three mechanized combat powersuits, and an armored vehicle.  The officer in charge of the Home Guard defense personnel, a young Captain, shouted to him.

 

"Drop your weapons and come out, hands above your head."

 

Ryven, his strength waning, leaning against the wall of the lift just to remain upright, managed a laugh.  He let his rifle hang by the sling and dug into his coat pocket for a cigarette, quickly lighting it and coughing as he took a drag. He shouted back. "I'm afraid I can't do that, kid."

 

The Captain, somewhat surprised, called back. "We have you outnumbered, outgunned, and surrounded.  If you do not come quietly, we will be forced to kill you."

 

Ryven wondered about that possibility.  He had an updated clone nearby.  If he died, he would simply wake up, brand new.  This seemed appealing.  However, part of his deal with those nasty bastards in Ibura was to make it seem like one of their operations.  If his corpse were collected, he could hardly pass off as a crap freedom fighter.  He was obviously an immortal, and that just wouldn't do.  However, no reason to rush.  He took another drag of his cigarette before replying. "I can't really roll with that option either."

 

The Captain seemed puzzled. His orders  weren't terribly clear on what to do.  Home Guard command had made it clear he was to take prisoners if possible.  While the man in the lift hadn't really made that impossible, he wasn't really coming quietly either.  He was just smoking, really.  The gall of this man was staggering, actually.  The Captain saw the four bodies in the courtyard, and he knew there were other men stationed here as well.  The man in the lift was obviously wounded, but he was still standing, and that meant he was not to be underestimated.  This moment of indecision proved to be the Captain's undoing.  He turned to issue a command and his head simply evaporated. 

 

Ryven blinked, surprised.  He hadn't fired.  He quickly raised his rifle in defense as all hell broke loose.

 

Shots rang out from every direction.  Everywhere, men ducked, scrambled, and returned fire.  The courtyard turned into a killing field as men took hits and spun or dropped where they were standing.  Ryven watched as a dozen satchels flew into the mass of men near the armored and mechanized units.  Knowing them for what they were, Ryven was still blown backward into the back wall of the lift by the force of the blast as they detonated, spattering the ground and walls with gore and mechanical pieces.  Smoking wreckage lay where the mechs had been, and the front end of the armored vehicle was smashed in, smoke roiling from cracks in its plating.  Ryven knew it was his only chance.

 

He bolted across the courtyard, firing shots at whatever targets presented themselves.  He leapt over the wreckage of one of the mechs as rounds whizzed by him.  A few landed nearby, throwing up plumes of dust or careening off of metal plate.  His vision narrowed, the effects of multiple gunshot wounds, massive blood loss, and shock having taken their toll.  He ran out into the street, and without thought or plan, weaved and hurled himself through traffic and past onlookers, running at his best speed, until the sounds of gunfire and sirens were far behind him.  He found an empty alley, ran down into it, and behind the shelter of a garbage bin, he finally crashed to the ground, the darkness sweeping over him.

 

 

Retribution, Part III: A Messy Entrance

Abandoned alleyway
Perimeter II
20:05 12-29 YC 114

Ryven lay, gasping, clutching the gaping wound in his right side.  The bleeding had slowed, and he hoped this was because he had applied steady pressure, rather than because of a lack of remaining supply.  His eyes took in the narrow strip of night sky he could observe between the two skyscrapers he lay between.  He was lying in something wet and warm, and he vaguely wondered if it were his own blood.  As he drifted out of consciousness, he thought only of Shalee, her eyes full of rage and his lips mouthing a silent apology.  "I'm sorry, Shalee."

********************

 

General Soren Ikaren's Residence

Perimeter II

19:30 12-29 YC 114

 

General Ikaren, a mid-level commander at the Home Guard's atmospheric defense department, lived in a small compound in the middle of a large metropolis.  Perimeter, as part of the Caldari State's core systems, was a bustling place.  Ryven's main concern was that, as part of the Caldari State's home systems, it was a higher presence of security than he was used to.  He only managed entry by hitching a ride under a falsified identity, courtesy of Leela.  He said a quiet prayer of thanks for her willingness to assist him in his current operation.  Her understanding of security systems was far superior to his own, and frankly, this operation required that understanding. 

 

Ryven stood across the main thoroughfare from the main entrance to General Ikaren's compound.  He leaned casually against the smooth wall of an office building, smoking his own personal brand of cigarettes, dressed in a long coat and generic street clothes.  He was unarmed, aside from his decades of hand to hand combat training, capsuleer implant technology, and a short ceramic knife hidden in his coat sleeve.  The ceramic wouldn't appear on any scan technology, and thus, was preferable to most other weapons options available.  Ryven had considered a stealthy entrance, but, honestly, there wasn't much chance of success on that front.  The walls were considerably higher than he would like to climb, there were guards posted at all times, and the frontal approach would make it look like an attack by his terrorist friends, which was what they wanted anyway.  With this in mind, he flicked away his cigarette and strode across the street.

 

He stepped up to the gate and pressed the buzzer.  A screen popped open, the display showing a uniformed guard's face.  The guard spoke tersely, "State your business."

 

Ryven looked about shiftily, as though he were in extreme fear. "I've got intel.  Terrorists, man.  They've got some serious shit planned.  I mean, fuckin Rouvenor big, man!  I need to talk to the General, right fuckin now."

 

The guard looked extremely skeptical but the gate slid open anyway.  Ryven stepped through into a security checkpoint.  As he expected, there was the usual security scan, which he passed easily.  He continued the act, though, his eyes darting about, his shoulders hunched, his hood drawn.  He was nearly through security, though, and he was hopeful he could drop the act soon enough.  That's when the plan started to fall apart.

 

A guard stood in front of him, his slate blue uniform starched and impeccable.  His voice was gruff, but utilitarian. "Spread your arms and legs for a pat down, sir."

 

Ryven blinked, playing dumb. "Huh?" 

 

The guard's voice became more firm. "Spread your arms and legs for a pat down, sir."

 

Ryven rolled his eyes and swore to himself, but complied.  The guards hands patted down his waist, and legs, and Ryven's mind kicked into survival mode. 

 

He scanned his surroundings quickly, using his peripheral vision, he identified four guards in the immediate vicinity: the one patting him down, one directly behind him watching the pat down, and the two manning the scanner equipment roughly five meters behind him and to his left.  He took a deep breath, his heart rate quickly amping up, but time seemingly slowing as his adrenaline increased to fight or flight levels.  He sprung into action.

 

The guard performing the pat down never knew what hit him.  He simply felt a sharp sting in his neck and a warm splash.  Bright red blood spurted through his fingers as he tried desperately to stop the outpour from his neck, but he was doomed.  Ryven had slit his throat in a ragged line with his ceramic knife and thrown the blade into the eye socket of the man behind him before the first guard had hit the ground.  The two guards by the security scanner were stunned, but reacted as quickly as they were able, raising their weapons as Ryven closed the distance.  He rammed his fist into the first man's throat.   Using his momentum, he grabbed hold of the man's rifle, breaking the guard's nose with the rifle butt and quickly looping the rifle's sling over his head, threw him to the ground, breaking his neck in the process.  The last guard, now with a clear line of fire, opened fire, the assault rifle deafeningly loud in the confines of the security checkpoint.  Ryven winced as he felt the first rounds tear through him, but he gritted his teeth and rolled quickly forward and to the left, lining up a shot to the guard's head as he came up and rapidly squeezing off three shots in quick succession.  He didn't need to assess.  The smacking sound of brain matter on metal walls was highly distinctive.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

 

 

 

 

Retribution, Part II: Preparations

Ibura System - Hidden location

19:24 12-26  YC 114

These men were terrorists, or perhaps freedom fighters, or even bloodthirsty murderers.  It depended on who you were asking.  In Ryven's experience, this was always the case with such men, driven as they were by their whatever causes they held as just.  When adamant will met with rigid ideology, ultra-violence often followed.  Luckily for Ryven, ultra-violence was his agenda.  He watched closely as a small gaggle of these men prepared his "care package."  He had been held here, virtually a prisoner, for the past two days after arriving on this orbital installation.  It felt like it had been far longer than that since he had said goodbye and hopped onto his shuttle away from the Manor and Shalee and all of his friends.  He had been sitting in his dark cell when one of the men had delivered the message that his corporation was no more, and of the birth of the new corporation, In Exile.  While this news was troubling, and certainly fanned the flames of old hatreds between him and his former comrade Sab0tag3, it was secondary to his current mission.  With that in mind, he filed the news of his corp's demise in the back of his brain and instead focused on running the mission over and over mentally until it was flawless.

Step One: Meet with terrorists and get supplies.  Check.  He would be leaving in the next day or so, God willing.

Step Two:  Gain atmospheric entry defense codes in order to fool the defense patrols and automated defenses on Caldari Prime.  This would likely require him to kill someone.  Or torture.  He was leaning toward kill.  In fact, it was part of his bargain with the terrorists.   They had a particular member of the Caldari State's Home Guard's boardroom in mind.  Ryven saw no reason not to acquiesce to these demands.

Step Three: Create a diversion.  This would be most easily achieved by detonating an explosive on a ship in orbit around Caldari Prime.  With the defense forces reacting to that action, it would grant Ryven a window of opportunity to perform an exoatmospheric re-entry using a stealth combat dropsuit.

Step Four: Do an exoatmospheric re-entry using a stealth combat dropsuit.

Step Five: Enter Hilen Ashenokka's penthouse apartment.

Step Six: Kill Hilen Ashenokka.

Step Seven: Escape.

Step Eight: Rendezvous with Leela and erase his records.

Step Nine: Return to Shalee and the Manor.

Step Ten: Drink copiously.

It was an easy enough plan. 

Retribution, Part I: Dawn Exit

Ryven piloted the atmospheric shuttle up and away from Cerra Manor and toward the awaiting Manticore-class Stealth Bomber in low orbit.  The ocean below was a white capped sheet of black below him, the dawn still an hour away.  His heart ached, having left Shalee behind again, but, his will was iron.  This was necessary for them to ever know peace.  Of course, until this mission was completed, his heart would not know peace.  She had promised to answer him when he was finished, and his chest was tight with the anxiety of not knowing.  Then there was the danger presented by Tiger.  But, he couldn't worry about that right now.  He shook his head to clear the thoughts as he finished the final approach to couple with his bomber. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

He set his navigation computer's destination to the Ibura system, knowing this would be a long and dangerous journey.  After all, Ibura was a high-security system, and his security status had bottomed out a long time ago.  Worse yet, it was Caldari space, and the Caldari were not his best friends, despite what their official standings might say.  Specifically, in his attempts to patch things up with his nation of birth, certain elements of the Caldari State had decided to blackmail him into doing jobs that were even more unsavory than Ryven was accustomed to.  Ryven tried to appease them at first, but, he had finally had enough, largely because his attempts to keep Shalee safe from harm also cost him his relationship with her.  Ryven was pissed, and when Ryven was pissed, people tended to die.

 

Ryven had a plan, but he needed to get certain preparations in place.  And to do that, he needed to visit a few anti-State revolutionary types hanging out in the Ibura system.  With some assistance from these terrorists, he would be able to hopefully accomplish the most daring, dangerous, and arguably impossible mission of his entire life.  He was going to pull off an assassination in the Caldari State's capitol city, and then infiltrate and destroy a government records archive, while enlisting Leela's help to rewrite his file.  If he pulled it off, he would have little to worry about from the State ever again.  If he failed, then he'd likely never see the outside of a padded room again. 

 

His thoughts drifted to Shalee and he knew it was worth the risk.