The Long Road to Closure

System: HLW-HP
Constellation:Elysium
Region: Curse
Sovereignty: Angel Cartel
11-7 YC 116 0250

Ryven's ass ached from the uncomfortable storage trunk on which he sat, alone in the darkness of Katerina Tzestu's sparsely decorated quarters in the Archangels Assembly Plant station orbiting moon 3 of the third planet in the HLW-HP system of Curse.  It also ached from traveling 33 jumps through 7 different regions (The Bleak Lands, Heimatar, Metropolis, The Forge, Etherium Reach, Insmother, Scalding Pass, and finally Curse).  Only nine of those systems he passed through were technically friendly.  The vast majority were in fact null-sec systems in which he was simply an interloper, and as such, should probably be shot on sight.  He had made the trip in a Hound, hoping the cloaking device would be sufficient to keep him from destruction.  He had actually encountered no resistance.  As different colored nebulae light years away slowly shifted from gold to red to blue and eventually to the bright twin clouds of white, red, orange, and brown that you could see from HLW-HP in Curse.  This was a long journey for what amounted to an attempt at closure.  Simply put, he needed to say goodbye to Kat properly, or rather, to put the ghost of their relationship to rest.

When Ryven arrived in HLW-HP and evaded the local patrols, he warped to the Archangels Assembly Planet orbiting Planet III Moon 3 of the star simply designated HLW-HP.  Ryven had often wondered if the people who inhabited these systems for long enough ever named these unnamed stars.  Some personnel might spend their whole lives circling around a star no one cared about enough to refer to by anything other than some jumble of letters, always hyphenated, sometimes with numbers.  HLW-HP was just another orange K7 class star to Ryven, but to the people who live in such systems, perhaps HLW-HP was something more personal.  Or, perhaps they just named them something that took less time than HLW-HP to say.

Ryven's Hound decloaked as the warp bubble surrounding his ship collapsed and deposited him within the docking ring of the Assembly Plant.  He transmitted a docking request to the station and hoped that Leela had done her magic.  With only a momentary delay, his ship was allowed to dock, his capsule extracted, and he found himself standing inside of a space station. 

Leela had been kind enough to locate Kat's quarters inside the station, so, all that he needed to figure out was where he was in relation to her room and then make his way there.  That was a rather simple task since the station bulkhead told him which compartment he was in.  It had taken no more than ten minutes to make it to her room, with not so much as an inquisitive look from anyone he passed in the corridors.  The only real hurdle came when he had to hack the lock to her door.  That was accomplished easily enough, though, since door lock technology was essentially the same out in Curse as it was in most stations.  He had a tool for that.  It just required a few moments without interruption.  Thankfully, at this time of night, there wasn't much foot traffic.  He just stood and whistled to himself while his door hack did its work.  With a slight hiss, the door slid open of its own accord and Ryven let himself in.


The quarters were the standard capsuleer quarters for a Caldari station. The room was relatively austere, with  only a few personal effects around the room. There was also the trunk that Ryven took a seat on, a hand drawn picture of Kat wearing an In Exile. jacket, and a picture of what Ryven presumed were Kat's parents.  He hadn't been waiting long when he heard the door open and Kat entered the room.

Ryven stayed sitting quietly, dressed in a pair of khaki slacks, a black t-shirt, and sandals.  He had been twiddling his thumbs to pass the time.  Kat shed her jacket and started to toss it onto the bed.  She noticed Ryven and immediately let out a quick scream of fright. She recovered quickly and grabbed a gun she had laying nearby and trained it on him.

Ryven was amused at this reaction, since it wasn't unexpected, and also because, had he been there to harm her, sitting on her trunk was probably not the ideal way to go about it.  He spoke, humor in his voice. "It would put a quick end to a lot of trouble I took if you ended up shooting me.  It's not a very nice way to treat an old flame."
Kat took a minute to breathe, keeping the gun squarely on Ryven. "You're not exactly an old flame, are you, Mr. Krennel?"

That answered one of Ryven's questions for him.  She apparently didn't know he was back to his old self now.  Which made sense. He nodded slowly. "That would depend on which Mr. Krennel you think you're talking to." He gave her a warm smile. "It would be nice, though, Kat, if you'd lower the gun while we figure it out."


Kat's expression made it clear she was not convinced.  The gun didn't even quiver.  "No offense, but I highly doubt you're just here to talk. If I had to guess you're here to torture me or something, so I think I'll keep the gun where it is."

Trying to put her at ease as much as possible, Ryven simply shrugged and gave her a curt"Suit yourself." He looked around the room for a moment, appraising it. "Nice room." His eyes returned to  Kat. "Believe it or not, I did just come to talk.  A lot of things have been happening back home."

Kat's face made it clear she still wasn't buying any of it. "Like? Did you finally try killing Shalee or something?"

Ryven frowned reflexively.  His voice gained the slightest twinge of anger. "You really should check in more often.  You might have learned things, like Dark Ryven is gone, for instance.  Or, I threatened an MIO Inquisitor over your ass."

Kat's frown mirrored his own.  She let the muzzle of the gun drop a bit as she contemplated what he had just said. "The other you is...gone?"

Ryven grinned. "Well, he's certainly not in this thick ass head of mine anymore." He hedged with "What Leela did with him, I'm not sure. And she isn't talking about it."

Kat sighed, either from relief or maybe exhaustion. "You don't mind if I don't exactly take your word for it, do you?"

Ryven shook his head in response. "I don't blame you at all. I wouldn't in your position.  I also don't really have any way to prove it is me, since Dark Ryven and I share the same memories."  Providing any particular shared experience as evidence would be meaningless.

Kat seemed to really want to believe him. Seeking some external confirmation, she asked, "Are Leela or Shalee connected at the moment? Or who else would know?"

Ryven shook his head again. "Neither.  And neither of them know I'm here.  I'd prefer to keep it that way."  He sighed, not really wanting to bring up her new boyfriend, not with the memories of their relationship so fresh in his mind. "You could ask Regi, if you wanted." He suggested, surprised that it didn't bother him as much as he thought it would.  Perhaps he was maturing, finally.

Kat pulled out her neocomm with one hand, careful to always keep sight picture on Ryven. Recognizing her wariness and wanting to keep putting her at ease, Ryven raised his hands up in the air and grinned meekly. He could wait patiently while she sought verification of his claims.

"So, if you are who you say you are, how are things at Cerra?

Ryven shrugged. "Depends who you ask."  He paused momentarily before continuing. "Things have been a bit messy, actually.  Seems my Dark persona wasn't the only troublemaker.  There was the mess with Vlad, an investigation or two, and of course, the Inquisitor who came looking for you."

Kat nodded, well aware of the sore point that was said inquisitor.  Her neocomm beeped and she glanced down at it.  She sighed, this time out of relief.  She set her neocomm down on a the desk and unloaded the gun.  She sat down at the desk and faced him. "Reginald said it was you."

Ryven nodded and lowered his hands, chuckling. "I'm glad you lowered the gun.  Means I can stand up and stretch without getting aerated."  He stood up and stretched, the aches from sitting on that trunk easing. "This trunk is unbelievably uncomfortable."

On impulse, Kat bounded up from her seat and wrapped her arms around Ryven in a sudden embrace that took Ryven by surprise. "It's good to see you again." Ryven hadn't expected this.  He returned the embrace, an unbidden tear welling up in his left eye.  He blinked it quickly away.

"It's even better for me, I promise." His voice wavered only slightly.

She sighed. "I'm sure." She drew back a bit. "Can I offer you anything?"

Ryven looked around again at the very sparse furnishings. "I don't know.  What have you got?" He asked, hoping it was something at least 80 proof.

Kat shrugged "Not much, but I have a bottle of something around here." She walked over to a counter and picked up a bottle of scotch, showing it to Ryven.

Ryven's eyes lingered on the drawing of Kat, wondering if that was Regi's handiwork.  He turned to see the bottle Kat held and nodded. "That will do." That will do quite nicely, actually. You can't say goodbye with anything less than 80 proof.

She poured a glass for him and one for herself. "So now, since I'm fairly certain you don't plan on killing me, what occasions the trip?"

He sighed, which, along with the shrug, was probably his most common action nowadays. "Several things, honestly, some more personal than others.  First and foremost, because I wanted to see you.  The last time I saw you while I was in control of myself, you had just left me."

She frowned. "I know. I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "That's not why. I'm not looking for an apology.  I just missed you and wanted to be sure I got to see you at least one more time as myself."  That's the actual truth. "I don't blame you for what happened, and I'm not trying to get you back." Also, both true.  Am I growing up?

She nodded in understanding. "Well I'm glad you're not trying, to be honest."

Ryven took a sip of his scotch and then changed the subject. "The Inquisitor who was snooping around is the second reason."

"Yea...we've met."

Ryven continued. "Not a very charming individual, and I suspect he was not pleased to make my acquaintance either."

Kat smiled and Ryven felt the familiar sting of old longings arising in him, coupled with pangs of regret and no small amount of remorse. She asked, "What did you do to him?"

Ryven smiled and shook his head. "Oh, nothing so intense as all that. I just made it abundantly clear that his lifespan would be measurably longer if he didn't hang around for long."

Kat couldn't help but giggle. "You're too kind."

Ryven beamed and added, "Your boyfriend threatened him with mountains of paperwork and red tape.  I'm actually not sure which the Inquisitor was more afraid of." Truthfully, I'm really not sure which I'd be more afraid of.  I prefer a fight.

Kat giggled even harder, "Oh he so would too!" She added, more soberly, "I wish you were around a month ago."

Ryven nodded, every bit as soberly, perhaps even a little bit haunted. "I have many things to atone for.  That's not the least of them." His face grew serious and he asked, "Are you making trips to the Manor?"

"I did a few times. Trying to explain to Shalee. But I didn't stay for long, and I had a team ready in case they saw anything suspicious."

Ryven nodded, not surprised. "I think you should avoid the Manor for a while."

"I only went because I was hoping to save my friendship with Shalee, you know." She said, defensively. "I knew it was an insane risk, but I couldn't help it."

Ryven spoke calmly. "I understand.  I'm just saying it's probably a little too risky right now."  He smiled. "I don't want to interfere with blooming love, either." He winked at her. "So, I may have a safe spot you two can meet if you so choose."

Kat laughed. "I appreciate it, but I know a few places out of the reach of the Ministry, you know."

"I know. But, do they play good jazz?"

A smile slowly took over her face as she understood his meaning. "You know... I don't think so."

Ryven reached into his pocket and pulled out a small shiny metallic card.  He handed it to her. "I went to the trouble of having this made when I had the security at the bar upgraded last night. It will allow you access.  The bar is closed, otherwise."

She smiled. "You're the best, you know."

He frowned. "I'm not.  But, I appreciate it."  He looked away and took a sip of his drink. He changed the subject, uncomfortable with her praise. "You know, Regi seems like a nice enough guy.  He's a little uptight, and sometimes a little naive, but he seems right in the ways that count."

Kat smiled, clearly pleased to hear Ryven sing Regi's praises. "He is very sweet. And very proper."

Ryven chuckled. "So, nothing like me."

That made Kat laugh, "Well...you were never mean or anything. so he's like you in that way."

Ryven smiled, truly enjoying the opportunity to talk to her again after so long. "That's true, I guess."  He looked around some more. "How are you liking it in the Legion?"

Kat shrugged, "Well...to be honest I came here because I needed a safe home, and the ability to fight back. But they're nice people, believe it or not."

Ryven nodded. "I always suspected they were people."

She chuckled, "Well they're not bad people, unlike what I.law thinks."

"I think that's an oversimplification.  I mean, some people in I.LAW probably do think that. But, that's what war does.  The Legion is just as likely to kill us as hug us.  That doesn't make me hate them.  It's war."

She shrugged bitterly, "Well according to Shalee I'm a psychopath now, and everyone else I was friends with feels that way too so would I please get out of her house now?"

"Well, you're still alright in my book."

Kat smiled, "Thanks, but you and Regi are the only ones who think that apparently."

He countered her smile with one of his own. "That not enough?"

She shrugged again. "Well I'm hurt Shalee thought so little of me. You know."

Ryven nodded solemnly. "She had me shot and nearly tortured.  I can relate."

"Well, you kind of deserved it...' She let her voice trail off. Then she added, "And I believe she probably did it to help you, since she still valued you. Me? Well apparently not so much."

Ryven sighed, not really sure how to argue that. Although, he did find it odd that she felt slighted since Shalee hadn't shot her or tortured her. "Well, at least you still have two people willing to associate with you.  Hell, I even flew way too many jumps, snuck into an Archangels base, and sat on an uncomfortable trunk for far too long just to say hi." He was exaggerating a little.  It had been more tedious than difficult really.

Kat laughed, "That you did, and a good thing too, I'm glad you're back."

"To be honest, I also did it to see if I could."

Kat shrugged, "It's not a legion station, you know."

"I didn't know, actually."

Kat nodded, seeming unsurprised. "This system isn't owned by the legion, we don't own systems."

Ryven shrugged. "My experience with the Legion has been largely confined to fighting their capital ships."

"I've flown my new carrier in combat twice. The rest of my time is spent in subs actually."

He chuckled. "I'm not saying I don't think they do anything but fly capital ships around, I'm just saying I don't know much about them beyond my few run ins with them in space."

"Fair enough."

Ryven looked around one last time. "I think I should probably get going."

"Well I appreciate you coming out here to talk to me."

Ryven smiled at her. "How could I not?"

She laughed, "Rather easily, I'd imagine."

Ryven  simply shook his head. "That's not how friendship works.  Not for me."

"I'm glad you say so."

"Of course.  And enjoy the bar."

She smiled again. "I will. Thank you."

Ryven walked to the door and glanced both ways out in the passageway. He looked back at Kat. "Don't mention it."  Without another word, he stepped out into the passageway and closed the door behind him.

Kat took a seat at the desk, leaning back and crossing her ankles on the desk, feeling a lot better than usual since leaving In Exile.

Ryven began the long journey home, but had nearly finished his long journey toward closure.

Back in the Saddle, Again

Ryven was still in recovery.  Rather than weeping in dark corner somewhere, he had made the conscious decision to hurl himself into his Alliance duties.  Dark Ry had actually managed to somehow perform those duties diligently enough, but new issues had arisen in the past few days that required Ryven's attention.  It was perhaps not widely known that Ryven's actual position in Imperial Outlaws was only one step below Shalee herself.  Ostensibly, he was the alliance's diplomat, but he was involved in any number of other decisions beyond what his title implied.  He did not hold quite the clout of Almity, I.LAW's master warmonger and arguable tactical genius.  Yet, his opinions weren't disregarded wholesale either.  The fact that a former Caldari mercenary was one of the top policy-makers in a top tier Amarrian militia corporation was a constant amusement to Ryven.

He smiled to himself, having just managed to prevent open conflict between I.LAW and P.I.E.  I.LAW had recently recruited one of P.I.E.'s former members, one Daemun Khanid, who housed views that P.I.E. viewed as heretical.  Ryven hadn't been particularly troubled by Daemun's views, holding several of them himself.  After all, I.LAW had never quite fallen in line with the more traditional and conservative Amarrian mindset.  In Exile, for instance, was radically anti-slavery, a fact that had not endeared it to other hardliners.  However, In Exile got results, and was largely allowed to continue unmolested.  Joining I.LAW was actually a fairly smart choice for Daemun to make.  However, Daemun had managed to poke P.I.E. in the eye with his attempts to recruit new members for his fledgling corporation in their stationing system of Mehatoor.  He set up mobile depots bearing messages that indicated his reformist views.  Captain Laerise, not exactly known for her calm bearing, destroyed one of the depots in a moment of pious rage.  This came to Ryven's attention, and he quickly took over the matter from Daemun.  What followed was a series of communications with Laerise and Admiral Lok'ri.  Laerise felt it was her job to stamp out heresy where she saw it.  Gaven thought it was a personal feud between Laerise and Daemun.  Ryven found both of those arguments uncompelling, since both ignored the fact that Laerise had attacked the property of Imperial Outlaws.  Ryven was convincing in explaining that whatever the origins of the dispute, it had culminated in the violent destruction of I.LAW assets in violation of I.LAW's sovereignty.  This, more than Daemun's message, Ryven argued, was disrespectful and intolerable, and would not be allowed to continue without repercussions.  Cooler heads prevailed.  Ryven accepted P.I.E.'s apology, the denouncement of Laerise's actions, and the affirmation that I.LAW's property was indeed outside of P.I.E.'s authority and influence.  Gaven promised to instead make future complaints to Ryven and Shalee.

One such complaint had already been made, which had resulted in more than a little annoyance to Ryven.  Apparently Daemun's new message was barely more tolerable than his first.  Preferring to avoid war with I.LAW's ostensible allies, Ryven convinced Daemun to relocate his operations a few jumps away, hoping that perhaps out-of-sight really did mean out-of-mind.  Apparently, tensions were still high, and may continue to be in the foreseeable future.  Hopefully, Laerise would be able to control herself.  Otherwise, a war with P.I.E. may be a very real outcome.  Though, Ryven wasn't particularly worried about that.  His main reason for attempting to avert war was that it distracted from I.LAW's real conflict with the Minmatar.  This seemed to always happen though.  Whenever the Amarr began to push ahead in the war, internecine conflict seemed to erupt.  He just prayed the Amarr could keep from killing each other long enough to really solidify their control of the warzone and possibly take even more systems.

OOC: Post-Arc Commentary

So, this is one of my rare OOC posts.  Sometimes, either because of the nature of RP in Eve being largely confined to player channels and my own discomfort with translating those chat logs into a narrative (mostly because I don't want to impart any 3rd person omniscient characterization to some other person's character), I do it for expository reasons, to fill in the holes between my blog posts.  Other time, such as this one, I use it to provide some commentary or analysis after an arc has come to fruition.  One way I continue to challenge myself as a writer is to go back and read my posts through the lens of literary analysis, not as an author but as a reader.  I try to determine whether or not my writing has been effective in conveying the information that I intended.  Sometimes it has, other times not.  In reviewing my most recent arc, there were some tropes and archetypes I used pretty liberally.

I played with the trope of the Freudian Trio pretty heavily.  For those unfamiliar, a Freudian Trio is a trio of characters that represent the Id, Ego, and Superego of Freudian psychology.  These aren't necessarily ironclad.  For sci-fi types, which is not a small percentage of you, I imagine, this is almost perfectly exemplified in the trio of McCoy, Kirk, and Spock.  Spock is practically the embodiment of superego.  Kirk is ego.  McCoy is id.  For a more current example, the tv show Firefly has this as well: Mal - Ego, Zoe - Superego, Jayne - Id.  This can also be adapted to concepts rather than characters, such as the pathos (ego), logos (superego), and eros (id) trio from philosophy.  Interestingly, the holy trinity of many Christian sects does not correspond to the Freudian trio, probably since there's no divine corollary to the Id, which is really all about base human instincts and drives, something not likely to be found in a symbol of divine perfection.

In the case of my recent arc: Ryven - Superego, Leela - Ego, Dark Ry - Id.  Though they sometimes flip from one to the other.  

Ryven is the personification of cultural norms and mores.  Dark Ryven is the personification of human drives and instinct.  His focus is almost hedonistic.  Sadistic hedonism to be sure, but hedonism nonetheless.  Leela, on the other hand, is trying to restore the balance between the Id and Superego, to nullify the greatest excesses of the Id while bringing the Superego out of the clouds and into reality.  That she is literally trying to trap the Id in a noncorporeal state of subjugation and literally trying to bring the Superego out of the pure mind state and into the corporeal real world is a mixture of both plot and symbolism.  Her actions are obviously plot driven, but it serves as a metaphor for the function of the ego in injecting the reality principle into Id/Superego conflict.  

So, now, the post Dark Ry Ryven has been brought back into a state of near homeostasis in regards to his psyche, but is racked by guilt and also fear of his Id.  His superego is functioning, as he has internalized all of the cultural norms and morality.  His ego is doing its job.  But, his id is another issue entirely.  The conflict going forward will largely explore his relationship with his own Id expressed through his own struggles with the horror of Dark Ry and his recognition that despite his being a false personality injected into the mind of the original Ryven, he is also Ryven, which means he still has the potential for horrifying acts of violence.  His struggle is coming to terms with his own innate base human impulses and instincts, his own capacity for hedonism. 

There's also the obvious issue of atoning for his actions and moving forward with a new set of foundational realities.  Dark Ryven has always been a part of him.  Now he isn't.  His personality will be similar to how it was before, but also completely different.  He's gone through the fires of hell, so to speak, and like Dante, is climbing up Mt. Purgatory. (Yes, I'm alluding to Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy, specifically The Inferno and The Purgatorio, which I'd recommend reading, if you haven't, if only because they're fairly interesting for Renaissance era Italian poetry).  

I always want to say that I tend to follow Kurt Vonnegut's 8 rules for writing fiction fairly strictly.  If you're not aware of them, they are: 

1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted. 
2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for. 
3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water. 
4. Every sentence must do one of two things—reveal character or advance the action. 
5. Start as close to the end as possible. 
6. Be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them—in order that the reader may see what they are made of. 
7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia. 
8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages. 

(From: http://www.writingclasses.com/InformationPages/index.php/PageID/538)

Rules #2, 3, 4, and 6 are the ones I spend the most time on.

I have tried to craft my characters in such a way that even if they aren't easy to relate to, you at least want them to succeed.  Ryven and Leela are characters that I personally root for, and I hope that shows in my writing.  

Every character I write has something they want.  None of them are really jonesing for a drink of water, but every one of them has a motivation of some sort (though, Leela's is not always known, which is really because her's tends to be based on whatever Ryven's crisis of the month is, although sometimes her desire is something akin to "not to die horribly at the hands of her kidnappers.")  Dark Ry's obsession with taking pure holographic form was such a motivation.  The evil implications are not inherently obvious, but it suffices that he has a motive, even if his actions are not always consistent with that motive.

I try not to waste sentences.  Every sentence I write aims to achieve one or the other of the purposes of advancing plot or expanding character.  Occasionally, I use it to describe setting, but even that can have subtle implications toward characterization.  Locations can be characters (see Firefly and the way Serenity is basically the 11th character on the show; the 12th is River's feet).  

Lastly, I don't think anyone would ever accuse me of coddling my characters.  I am a sadist to them.  It's true.  I've had conversations with Shalee about this very principle.  None of my characters are sweet or innocent, but I have spent a lot of time causing them as much pain as I could contrive at any given time.  I agree with Vonnegut.  You learn nothing from a happy character.  In conversations with Shalee, we both noted that happy relationships are fairly dull.  They don't make good stories.  This is why so few movies/books/tv shows/etc. feature extremely happy couples.  They're all about getting the girl/boy, getting the girl/boy back, or getting rid of the girl/boy, sometimes by murdering them and skipping away gleefully (there should be more of this last category, which is, I feel, an underrepresented sub-genre of romantic fiction, honestly). 

Anyway, as always, leave any comments you like.  I've got 123 posts, counting this one, and only 8 comments in the entire history of my blog.  4500 pageviews and only 8 times someone felt like sharing any thoughts or criticism.  

Through a Mirror, Darkly

Cerra Manor; Ryven's "Reclaimed" Suite
11-2  YC 116

Ryven couldn't sleep, though he desperately needed to.  His short communication with Dr. Thomas had been met with the explicit advice that Ryven rest to aid his recovery.  Every time Ryven finally drifted off into the warm embrace of his bed, the nightmares would return.  Worse than that, the nightmares weren't even the thready mercurial essence of dream, but flashes of ironclad memory and the frightful recollection of events in which he was both actor and spectator.  Rather than just a silent watcher, Ryven could also remember the sensations of the Other, with no bifurcation.  In those moments, seared into his mind, the barriers between himself and the Other were fluid, permeable.  There was no means of blocking the transference.  So, every time he finally drifted into sleep, he relived the experience, the horror of the acts of a madman, and worse yet, the constant realization that he shared the same face in his mirror.  In this lightest nightmare, he stood naked before a mirror, his muscles traced in flaky rivers of coagulated blood from a small family of minors who met their ends in an unspeakably grisly fashion.  His eyes stared back at him in the mirror, the pupils dilated with the ecstasy of the kill.  He felt simultaneously the elation of the grisly murder and revulsion at the act.  The edges of the mirror seemed to cloud and darken, though Ryven assumed he imagined this.  The line between reality and hallucination had become every bit as fluid as the line between himself and the Other.  Even now, Ryven could hardly believe that the Other was gone.  That he was alone in his own mind again.  He still avoided mirrors though, finding they showed too much truth.  Mirrors are too honest.  They reveal that the face of the madman is the same as the face of the saint, save only their aim.  The saint's eyes turn in ecstasy above.  The madman's eyes turn in ecstasy to himself.  Ryven couldn't look to himself for salvation.  He was the source of his own damnation.

Ryven sat on the side of his bed, his eyes drawn out the window of his suite.  There were some silver linings in his situation.  He was free of the Other, for starters, which couldn't really be overstated.  He had enjoyed a conversation with Reginauld.  Some of Regi's advice made sense.  Ryven could probably use a new hobby to keep himself occupied.  Ryven chuckled bitterly at the thought of taking up knitting.  Perhaps he should find some hobby that fit more clearly within his known skills.  Of course, his known skills involved the cultivation of tea and tobacco, and oh yeah, killing people.  Perhaps a treatise on close quarters combat?  Maybe he should invent his own line of tactical gear?  If nothing else, he should find himself a martial arts training center.  It had been too long since he sought the peace of truly disciplined martial skill.  Ryven's mind drifted to Shalee.  This subject was more complicated.

Ryven hadn't realized the depth of his feeling for Shalee until Leela had convinced him (admittedly quite easily) that he had murdered her after destroying her clones.  The idea of a universe without Shalee had crashed in on him with unbelievable force.  More painful than any of the host of acts committed by the Other, this one broke Ryven's mind.  It broke it for the better, certainly, and the joy of his realization that Shalee had not been murdered, and not by him, had been a more efficacious balm than any he could have asked for.  Yet, it had brought into focus and idea that had been formless floating around in his subconscious.  So basic, and yet utterly unacknowledged and secret even to himself.  Shalee meant more to him than even he had known.  And tonight, he had had his first non-confrontational conversation with her in as long as he could remember.  Suddenly, through the events of the past few days, all of the storied and stormy history of their relationship had seemed trivial.  The pain he had suffered at her hands was meaningless compared to the joy of having her in his life in whatever fashion.  Now, even more unsought but longed for, the possibility of ending the animosity between the two of them was a real one.  This thought brought him more comfort than he could have believed it could.

Ryven lay back in his bed and closed his eyes, focusing all his thought on Shalee, and felt himself drift off to sleep, this time, hopefully free of the phantasms of his guilt.

Exorcism

Cerra Manor - Medical Bay
10-30 YC 116 0400

Ryven was awake when Leela entered the medical bay that served as his current prison cell.  He was handcuffed and, aside from the large bandaged wound in his abdomen, he looked no worse for the wear.  Actually, he looked genuinely pleased to be there.  If this Ryven weren't such an asshole, Leela might have even felt some sympathy for what she assumed was a fairly painful gunshot wound.  She quickly shook off those thoughts and focused on what she came here to do.

Ryven spoke first. "I didn't expect you so soon." He smiled. "Apparently my captivity has done wonders for your research."

Leela shrugged. "It gave me a break from my routine.  I was able to come at the problem from a different angle.  An angle I should have seen ages ago because it was so obvious."

Ryven's expression made it clear he wanted her to get on with explaining it.

Leela shook her head. "What we talk about from here on, the other Ryven can't know.  Can you block him out?"

Ryven just nodded.  He had never seen the need to do so since he derived so much enjoyment from torturing the other Ryven with his depravity.  But, he knew how to block the other Ryven out when he needed to.  He closed his eyes momentarily, shuddered, and then opened them and leveled his gaze on Leela. "Okay.  Continue."

Leela started pacing as she explained what needed to be done. "I need you to return control to the other Ryven.  Not right this second.  We need him to be blocked out for at least a day so there's a period of blank memory.  I have to convince him that he did something truly terrible to someone he loves."

Ryven looked curious. "Who do you have in mind?"

Leela shook her head. "It doesn't matter.  The less you know, the better.  But, tomorrow night you relinquish control to the other Ryven and we'll start the procedure."

Ryven smiled. "And then the real fun begins." His eyes flashed with something sinister, but it passed just as quickly as it came. "Very well."

Leela moved closer until she was right next to Ryven's bed. "I'm going to knock you out now.  It reduces the probability of your block on the other Ryven from failing."  She injected him before he could protest, the clear liquid rapidly reaching Ryven's nervous system.  He slumped almost immediately, his protest dead on his lips.  Leela smiled, turned, and walked out of the medical bay.  She had a lot of preparation to see to.

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

Cerra Manor - Medical Bay

10-31 YC 116 0300

Everything was set.  Leela had installed the necessary equipment in the medical bay earlier in the day.  Now all that remained was for Ryven to wake up, relinquish control to the other Ryven, and for Leela to convince Ryven that he had done the unthinkable.  With any luck the revelation would fracture Ryven's already fragile psyche enough to divide the personas into two distinct wholes.  Then she need only transfer the evil Ryven persona onto a data stick she had prepared.  There were a lot of "ifs" involved, but it was really the only option available.

Ryven roused slowly, still groggy from the drug Leela had given him.  He shook his head to try to clear the mental cobwebs, the dark fingers caressing the edges of his consciousness.  He sat up slowly and his eyes showed recognition when they met Leela's. "Is it time?"

Leela nodded. "It's time."  

Ryven lay back down, his eyes closed.  For a moment it seemed he had gone back to sleep.  Then he lurched up, his eyes wide, gasping for breath.  He looked around at his surroundings, recognizing that he was in the medical bay.  He looked disoriented, as though he didn't expect to be there.  Or perhaps he realized he was in control of his body again, a prospect he had not hoped to find realized.  Finally, he noticed Leela.  A single tear worked its way out of the corner of his right eye and began to crawl down his cheek.  "What's happened?"

Leela steeled herself for what she had to do now.  "You really don't know, do you?"

Ryven stiffened. "What happened?"

Leela conjured up every ounce of acting talent she had. "This is going to be hard, but I have to tell you."  She took a deep breath. "You, or rather, the evil you, escaped last night."

Ryven sat speechless, but his face did not indicate surprise.  So far so good.

Leela continued, her words coming deliberately, building the tension.  "You took Shalee on your way out."

Ryven blanched.  His throat suddenly seemed to swell and he had never felt it so dry.  I took Shalee? 

Leela nodded, her expression grave. "You somehow also got ahold of her clones."  Leela closed her eyes and hung her head, her next sentence barely a whisper.  "Shalee's gone.  Forever.  You killed her."

Ryven's face looked as though he had been physically struck.  His hand clutched his chest as though he was suffering a heart attack.  His breath came in ragged gasps. "How?  How did she die?  Was it quick?  Painless?"

Leela shook her head.  "By all indications, she was tortured for about nine hours, skinned, and the rest is unspeakable."  

That was when Ryven lost his shit.  Had he not been hand cuffed, Leela might have been in danger.  He frothed and raved like a madman.  His eyes were those of a feral beast.  As he thrashed about, Leela waited for the sign she was looking for.  It came much more quickly than she expected.

Ryven began convulsing and speaking in nonsensical ramblings, contradictory sentences.  It was like listening to two people having a conversation, except both of them were having a conversation with someone else rather than each other.  Leela didn't waste time.  She pressed a button on her neocom and her equipment whirred to life.  

She quickly strapped Ryven to the bed, an extremely difficult task giving the violence of his convulsions.  She managed it, but only after an exhausting amount of effort.  It would have been much simpler if she could have drugged him again, but alas, for this procedure he needed to be fully awake.  

The machine she devised for the purpose of transferring the Dark Ryven persona was not a large one.  It consisted of a simple metal circlet with electrodes and an interface that communicated with his implants.  This circlet was connected via a bundle of cables to a small computer and terminal.  The terminal would display the necessary cerebral data so that Leela could excise those portions of Ryven's mind that encompassed the Dark Ryven persona.  All of this "data" would then be moved to the data stick Leela had prepared to contain him.  

Leela placed the circlet on Ryven's head and sat down in front of the display terminal.  The screen populated quickly with the imaging data.  His mind resembled a chaotic lightning storm at the moment, but due to the very particular algorithm she had developed, patterns began to emerge.  Two distinct storms were raging.  She entered a command to isolate the two patterns from each other, colorizing the Dark Ryven portions so she could quickly quarantine them.  Once she was satisfied she had them identified, she pressed a command to release a stream of nanites.  These nanites would contain these portions of Ryven's mind to prevent any cross-contamination.  Once the nanites were in place, she began the transfer process.  She watched as the colorized portions began to shrink, their data disappearing and being copied onto the data stick.  The copying process took around twenty minutes, a gut-wrenching, hand-wringing twenty minutes during which Leela never took her eyes away from the display, her eyes searching for any sign that the procedure would fail, any glitch.  

Finally, the transfer completed, Leela powered down the machinery and removed the circlet from Ryven's head.  She was exhausted.  The stress of the operation had taken an enormous toll.  Now, she was going to finally, truly sleep, something she hadn't really done in months.  She looked over at her sweat drenched patient, ex-husband, and oldest friend.  "Not just yet." She said to herself.  She walked over to Ryven and administered an injection of the same drug she had given him the night before. "Best you get some more rest.  When you wake up, you'll awake to a new nightmare.  I've saved you from your darker self, but I can't save you from the memories that are going to haunt you.  I can't erase the pain that the guilt will bring you."  She unlocked his handcuffs and walked out of the medical bay to go find herself a place to rest.

 

We Miss the Obvious

The answer really was simple.  So simple that it had eluded Leela for weeks as she found herself pushed closer and closer to the ragged edge at the precipice of self-induced madness.  Gazing into the abyss, she had almost succumbed to it, the allure of the black.  Then Ryven became Shalee's prisoner and the immediacy of that emergency had broken her out of her seclusion and forced her to re-evaluate her plan.  The idea had finally hit her as she flew Ryven's shuttle back to her little hideout in the fringes of known space.  The simplicity of it had escaped her because, for so long, she had only thought of the Ryven problem, never the Ryven solution.

She couldn't cause a schism in Ryven's mind with the Dark Ryven in control.  His psyche was too sociopathic, too disconnected from empathy.  No, the answer was to attack from the side of the good Ryven.  The Ryven who still has empathy, who still has the capacity for pscyho-emotional trauma.  The answer was really that simple.  To cause the split, Leela needed to convince the Dark Ryven to relinquish control to the good Ryven.  Then, all that would be needed would be to cause some extreme psychological trauma.  Leela thought she knew exactly how to go about it. 

She had spent the day following his capture running simulations to determine the feasibility of her plan.  As far as she could tell, the chance of success was about 65%.  There were a lot of unknown variables, most notably the entire absence of any sort of knowledge on what effect the sequestration of the good Ryven persona has had.  Without that particular set of quanta, a proper estimate was impossible.  She made the best guesses she could, but, she had to agree with the 65% estimation.  Which was better than nothing.

Now, she just needed to discuss it with Shalee since she had custody of Ryven.  She suspected that Shalee would be willing to cooperate, though, since Shalee had seemed quite ready to be rid of the scourge of Ryven and his psychosis. 

Desperation

The ceiling of Leela's bedroom was etched into her mind.  She had lain awake for so long poring over every detail of every millimeter of its surface, so nondescript and yet, for however long she had been laying awake unable to calm her mind, the ceiling dominated her attention.  Insomnia had become the common thread linking each of an interminable series of days stretching back as far as she could remember.  Vaguely, she recalled a time in what seemed to be the distant past of prehistory when she had been happy, she had Zhou, and Ryven had been a friend.  Now, Ryven was the dark star whose orbit her everything had fallen into.  He was the singularity toward which all the possible avenues of her life were inexorably drawn.

She had the technology she needed to trap this evil persona who had possessed Ryven in a digital prison.  Rather, she had the prison, a self contained memory bank in which he could be confined, its bounds finite and unbreakable.  That was the easy part.  Now she had reached the true core of the problem.  How do you separate a consciousness from a mind and yet keep another one intact and in situ?  How can you remove an entire personality without also removing the shared experience, the shared memory and knowledge of both?  Dr. Thomas was equally perplexed and twice as pessimistic about the entire enterprise.  As best she could determine, it would be necessary to create some sort of trauma, some sort of emotional crisis sufficient to create a radical schism in his mind.  The problem, of course, was that the Dark Ryven seemed sociopathic.  How do you create emotional trauma in someone who seems ruled entirely by something outside ordinary emotional frameworks.  Further, what could be traumatic enough to cut off Dark Ryven from the rest of Ryven's mind, but not also do irreparable damage to Ryven?

Leela rose and poured herself a strong drink from the bottle on her nightstand and downed it in one gulp.  She winced as the alcohol burned her throat, but relaxed as she felt the warmth of it spread through her chest.  She slammed the glass down on the nightstand with far more fury and desperation than intended.  She gasped at the pain of the shattered glass as it stabbed into her palm.  She gritted her teeth, both out of pain and fury, but calmed again at the sight of her blood forming a ring around the still intact bottom of her drinking glass.  Blood really was everything, in the end, wasn't it?  "New Eden runs on blood." She spoke out loud to the void.  She glanced around her spartan chambers, devoid of any adornment.  Every item had a purpose.  "New Eden runs on blood, is fueled by it, and would drown in it."  She was shocked at how macabre that sentiment was, but it fit.  Capsuleers, if nothing else, thrived on, survived on, and actively sought bloodshed.  And again, her mind went to Ryven. "GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HEAD!"  She threw the bottle and it exploded against the far wall.  She felt tears as they wormed their way down her cheeks and finally her fury broke and she threw herself onto her bed, sobbing, the despair finally taking over.

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

Dark Ryven smiled at his handiwork.  Zhou was tougher than his usual prisoner, and Ryven knew that he had to navigate a narrow channel between the pitfalls of either not torturing Zhou enough for his captivity to be compelling for Leela or torturing Zhou to the point where Leela would simply refuse to cooperate.  Sensory deprivation seemed fitting.  The human mind, when faced with true nothingness, tends to try to fill the void.  Ever since the most primitive humans looked out into the darkness, he imagined the darkness looking back at him.  The unknown, the unsensed, more than any physical pain, would generate a preternatural dread and loathing of every second stretched out into eternity before him, with no end in sight.  With nothing to see, to hear, to touch, to smell, to sense, Zhou would have no concept of how much time had passed or lay before him.  Eternity was just a moment, and a moment eternity.  

The sensory deprivation tank was a simple device.  The victim was suspended in a gel with perfect neutral bouyancy.  Zhou's body was dressed in an insulated suit that released topical anesthesia to deaden the nerves in his skin.  His head was covered in a full helmet that supplied him oxygen but deafened all sound and blocked all light.  In essence, he was suspended, numb, blind, and deaf, in an absolute void of sensation.  Zhou had been there for ten days now.  Zhou couldn't hear the sounds of his own screaming.  The comms unit in Zhou's helmet, however, meant that Ryven could, if he so wished.  Now was one of those times, and the reason for Ryven's smile.  He sat in the control room for the sensory deprivation room, his feet propped on the control console, his eyes closed, savoring the torment in Zhou's tortured screaming, the long wail and keening of one without hope.  Ryven licked his lips.  The despair was delicious.  

Professional Help

4-16 YC 116

24th Imperial Crusade medical facility

Offices of Dr. Ezra Thomas

19:20


"Thank you for seeing me on short notice, Dr. Thomas." Leela used her most charming voice, which she felt was surprisingly convincing.  The good doctor really couldn't have refused her request, though he probably didn't know that.  "I know my request is a bit unusual."

If Dr. Thomas was in any way uncomfortable, he didn't show it.  His demeanor was one of a calm professional secure in his own environs.  Leela couldn't quite decide if he looked perpetually amused or perpetually disappointed, in a somewhat condescending way.  Perhaps that was the occupational hazard of being in a mental health specialist for possibly the most mentally disturbed population in the history of humankind.

"Ms. Yttria, you do realize that I can't discuss any details of a patient I may or may not have.  In addition to it being an abhorrent breach of ethics, it is quite illegal for me to turn over such information to an unauthorized person.  If the MIO were to show up, then I could certainly divulge to them.  You aren't an officer of the MIO are you?"  His expression made it clear that he already knew the answer to that question.  The MIO wouldn't be handing credentials out to a Sebiestor anytime this millenium.

"I don't suppose I could convince you that it's in the best interest of your patient?" Leela knew that was a throwaway, but figured it was as good a starting place as any.  Why use a stick when you have a carrot?

"I'd have to question just how you'd know what was in the best interest of my patient and why the patient couldn't make that determination for himself."  His tone was extremely condescending, which made Leela feel less guilty about her next move.

"Didn't you write in your notes from Ryven's sixth session that you felt it would probably be necessary to enlist the aid of those in his inner circle in order to accurately delineate the distinct boundaries of his individual personas?"  She was paraphrasing somewhat, but that was the gist of one of the conclusions the doctor had included in his notes.

Dr. Thomas's mouth fell open of its own accord, his face reddening. "You read my notes?  Those are extremely confidential!"

Leela shrugged with a 'so what' gesture.  "Can we just assume that I've read all of your notes up to this point and also add that I am in Ry's inner circle and have known him both before and after the experiments of Dr. Tobit?"

Dr. Thomas was still livid, but slowly the lines of rage began to smooth into reluctant acceptance.  Ryven's descriptions of Leela Yttria had apparently not been exaggerations on his part.  He could see why Mr. Krennel had been attracted to her.  She struck him as extremely confident in her own realms of expertise, and furthermore, she seemed legitimately concerned for Ryven's well-being, enough that there was an added hint of danger in her eyes.  She wouldn't use violence unless she had to.  However, if she had to, she would be capable of extreme violence.  What a strange set of circumstances that would put Leela and Ryven in the same social circles.  Complimentary to each other in many ways, but absolutely incompatible in others.  If I had another twenty years to explore this one's mind, I could retire an extremely wealthy man on the information she must have stored in that mind of hers.  Many would pay handsomely to keep their secrets in the shadows where they belong.  Finally, he spoke. "What do you want to know?"

 Leela smiled.  This was easier than she expected.  "I've figured out a way to get the evil Ryven out of that head of his.  I just need to know how to split the two personalities apart from each other so that the evil one can elect to utilize my method."

Dr. Thomas frowned deeply.  "Ms. Yttria, I don't want to disappoint you, as I am beginning to suspect that could have serious consequences in regards to my health."  Leela just nodded.  Dr. Thomas continued. "Separating the two personalities may not be possible without extreme long-term damage to Mr. Krennel's psyche."

Leela's expression hardened. "Explain."

Dr. Thomas sighed heavily.  "In many ways, they are two distinct psyches.  One is the twisted and tortured version of the original Ryven.  The other is the implanted personality that Dr. Tobit managed to create, seemingly ex nihilo.  This is not the complete picture."  He massaged the bridge of his nose, as if afflicted by a sudden headache.  "The two psyches share a host of common memories and traits.  They are not duplicated, but rather held in common.  Removing either one would deprive one of them of that core of data.  They would be incomplete, would know they were incomplete, and would be driven quite mad from a relentless process of searching in vain for whatever that missing piece might be.  Even if that wasn't of great concern to you, determining the boundaries between the two psyches would be problematic under the best of circumstances."

Leela's shoulders slumped.  "You're not telling me it's impossible are you?"

Dr. Thomas sighed and shook his head. "Impossible?  No.  But, it's damn near.  It's never been done, so far as I know.  I'll need some time to think on this."

Leela nodded, accepting the situation, though not happily.  "Fine."

"How will I get in touch with you?"

Leela stood up and walked over to the door, turning back to face him and smiling. "Don't worry.  I'll be watching you."  She walked out the door, letting it close behind her. 

Research

Leela and Zhou's Place
Undisclosed Location
3-31 YC 116 09:34

Leela had somehow managed to sleep, despite the crisis.  The floor of the living room, slick black marble, was still wet in the spot where Evil Ry had stood, rain dripping from his long black coat, dagger held to Zhou's throat.  She had slept because she knew that she needed to.  In crisis mode, Leela could prioritize and isolate her emotional self for the sake of finding a solution.  She was finding this to be more than the usual challenge in the current situation.  Her first love and her new one were both in peril, and she might be the key to saving or damning both of them.  No pressure.

Within moments of waking, she had finished her most bare bones hygiene regimen and made her way to the room she generally thought of as her "study."  The room was perpetually dark, illuminated only by the glow of numerous computer screens.  A persistent hum of electricity gave the room a strange resonance that most people found extremely unsettling.  To Leela, this room was more like home than anywhere else she had ever been.  She had been engineered for this, after all. 

In front of the impressive array of displays, a single black chair sat, cushioned and comfortable, but also outfitted with an intravenous feeding system that would keep her both hydrated and nutritionally balanced for the duration of her research.  There was also an emergency stimulant system that she could use to inject a stream of high quality stimulants into her bloodstream if she became too tired to focus.  She sat down in the chair and began her work.

If her search were a simple one for unclassified or commonplace information, she'd have simply utilized the massive skills library and compendium of capsuleer knowledge to rapidly gain the information she sought.  However, despite a rather extensive knowledge in the basic workings of cloning technology, infomorph psychology, cybernetics, fluid router networks, quantum entanglement, and so on, the precise question before her was a bit beyond the mundane.  She needed information that would not be so widely available, nor would it likely be so simple.  She had a theory, but she needed something more solid to go on.  Further, she needed a better understanding of the entity known as "Red."  She would cross that bridge eventually.  She knew that delving into that rabbit hole meant a visit to Cerra Manor and a likely unpleasant conversation with Shalee Lianne, who may or may not be helpful, depending on the day.

Leela's mind began to draw a diagram of the interconnected technological trees she would need to explore.  Holographic technology, specifically those wired into stationary or possibly even mobile frames.  Clone neuro-scanning and transmit technology that engaged upon clone death and ways it could possibly be accessed for the purposes of live transmit (arguably the most important piece of the puzzle).  Cybernetic implantation and spontaneous mutation/adaptation of host neurological cells and/or psychological remapping of neural pathways in the locus of the cybernetic implants with emphasis on the hostile repurposing of those implants by the host's gray matter.  The potentiality of utilizing fluid router communications equipment to transmit live brain scans faster-than-light and in real time.  Finally, how to generate a psychological schism event such that the two embedded Ryven personas could become truly separate and exist in two "bodies."  So, re-invent the most significant scientific and technological achievements of the last century or so. 

She didn't have to add the most important item on the list.  It was always there, underneath the rest, etched into the fabric of every inchoate scheme or rambling stream of hypotheticals.  She must isolate the Evil Ryven.  She must isolate him, remove him from the mostly good Ryven, create the illusion that the Evil Ry was free and able to operate as he might wish, and then trap him.  Then, when he's trapped, Leela would serve him his just desserts.  Leela smiled unconsciously, her lips curling in what a casual observer would have found to be a disturbing, even sadistic, grin.  In the past, Ryven had always been the one to get his hands dirty.  This time, it was her turn, and she wasn't going to be holding back.

Hostage

Leela and Zhou's Place
Undisclosed Location
3-29-116  23:22

Leela finished drying off after her pre-bed shower.  Her damp hair stuck to the sides of her face and blocked her vision, so she brushed her bangs out of her eyes in frustration and examined her face in the mirror on the bathroom wall.  The bags under her eyes told the tale of her sleepless nights worrying over Ryven's current state.  He had shown up a few days ago, eyes wild, unshaven and reeking of booze.  He wept and clutched a small cloth doll stained with blood and told her the story of the morning after Kat broke up with him.  He was convinced he murdered a family, including a little girl, a sin for which he felt there could be no atonement.  She did what she could to comfort him, but he fled to parts unknown, afraid of the danger he represented to anyone and everyone.  So, naturally, after spending several hours crying herself, she set about trying to find a way to fix Ryven's problem, specifically, trying to figure out how to free him from the Other Ry.  The evil Ry.

She finished her nightly ritual and, dressed in her sleepwear, a pair of black silk pajamas, she walked out into the living room to find Zhou and let him know it was time for bed.  "Zhou.  It's time to--" She stopped in her tracks, her eyes taking in the scene.

Ryven, attired entirely in black, dripping from the rain, stood in the center of the room, a dagger held to Zhou's throat.  Zhou's eyes signaled the seriousness of the situation.  Ryven, the Other Ryven, sneered, his eyes colder than Leela had ever known they could be.  She felt a revulsion welling up within her.  How had she ever been married to this man?  Of course, she then remembered she hadn't been married to this man.  She'd been married to a very different Ryven.  This one was a wholly different animal, and that's exactly what he was, an animal.

"Good evening, Leela.  It's been too long." Ryven's voice was drenched in mock-cheerfulness and familiarity. "I felt it was time for a visit."

"You really should call ahead next time.  I could've arranged a much more festive welcome, Ryven." She responded coolly.  "Although, your manners leave something to be desired, so it's probably better that I didn't." She managed a wry smile.  She wasn't about to let him intimidate her.  Zhou was a capsuleer.  If he died, he'd wake up far away from here, safe.  So, go ahead.

"Feisty as ever.  Moments like these, I wish my other half had kept you as his better half, well, apart from me, I mean."

She laughed bitterly. "If you're his better half, I don't think we'd have much going for us."

Ry grinned. "As much as I'd love a tete-a-tete, I'm here on business."

Leela rolled her eyes impatiently. "Then I really wish you'd just get down to it already.  These theatrics may work on schoolchildren or whoever it is you prey on these days, but it's fucking tedious to me."

"Schoolchildren?  So, my other half made a visit here, did he?  Told you about the poor little girl I murdered, I suppose?" He smiled, pleased with himself.

"Did you?  Even the Ry from the old days wouldn't have murdered a child."

"Does it matter if I did or didn't?  What matters is that he thinks I did." Ry grinned, his eyes telling her what she already suspected.  "Besides, I am Ry from the old days, remember?"

She shook her head. "No you're not.  You think you are.  He thinks you are.  I know different.  Remember?  I knew the old Ry and the new.  You're neither.  You're something else.  You're the old Ry, but twisted, more sinister.  You're the old Ry minus all the things that made the old Ry great.  You're a shadow of the old Ry."

Ry yawned and gave a dismissive wave with his free hand. "Sticks and stones."

"So, get on with it.  What brings you here?"

"I need you to figure out how Shalee's little sprite, Red, functions.  How does her consciousness infect the holograph systems?  I need you to figure that out, and then I need you teach me.  I'm sick of sharing this body with my stupider half."

Leela considered this for a moment.  If he were able to inhabit the holograph system, he would be free to roam, but he'd be lacking physical substance.  What harm could he do in digital form?  Actually, probably a lot, but would it be on par with the harm he already was doing?  Further, the digital realm was Leela's forte.  She could deal with this impostor much more easily in such a form.  She made up her mind. "Okay, deal."

"You made that far too easy." Ry smiled darkly. "I'll be taking Zhou with me, as insurance."

Leela seethed, but she didn't say anything.  She just nodded, barely containing her rage.  She made up her mind then and there that she would end this fucker.  "Fine.  You hurt him, I promise you, you will wish you hadn't."

Ry just laughed and drug Zhou back out the front door, leaving Leela to begin her research, her rage fueling her.

The Hangover

Unknown Location
Afternoon

Ryven awoke with a pounding headache and the throbbing can-taste-your-own-teeth feel of a night spent in overwhelming intoxication. He could also taste faint hints of blood mixed with the lingering burn of the alcohol.  He was laying face down on a hard surface that he suspected, oddly enough, was cobblestone.  The stones were damp and sticky and he could just barely identify it as blood through his squinting eyes and still blurred vision as he pushed himself up off the stones.  His cheek felt swollen and tender as he worked his jaw open and shut, testing it.  He couldn't see it, but he assumed it was likely bruised.

His next realization was that he was in a cluttered alley littered with the usual urban detritus.  He tried to stand but found his balance was not yet up to the task, so he sat down with his back to the wall of the alley.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and sucking in the warm smoke.  He closed his eyes and tried to piece together what he could remember of the previous night.

He remembered going to the Terrace and seeing Kat.  He also remembered her breaking up with him, which set off his drinking binge.  He drank two full bottles before he even left the Terrace.  He also remembered confessing to Aldrith about his Other personality and Aldrith's laughable threats. He also remembered telling Kat she could keep his suite.  Ryven chuckled at the realization he was now technically homeless, despite his assurances to Kat that he had other homes.

So, where did he fly to?  He glanced at his Neocom to see if there were any clues there.  He opened his first of six mails, this one from Leela:

"You fucking dick.  How dare you?  You came in here reeking like a damn brewery and propositioned me in front of Zhou, for God's sake! What the fuck is wrong with you?  I kicked your ass out before Zhou could make things worse.  He was about to fight your drunk ass.  Get your shit together before you talk to me again."

The timestamp put it around three in the morning.  So, she must've been his first stop.  Where'd he go from there? The next two mails were basic business mail.  The fourth was a solicitation.  The last mail was from, oddly enough, himself.  Ryven scowled, immediately aware of what this meant.

"Thank you for finally letting me come out and play. You're probably waking up in some alleyway somewhere you don't recognize. Sorry for the damage I caused to our shared body.  The family I decided to visit last night was more energetic than most.  They got in a few licks of their own.  The bloodstains on your shirt, you'll be pleased to know, are not ALL your own blood, so you won't need to visit a doctor, though you'll probably want to see a priest.

P.S. I took a souvenir.  It's in your left pants pocket. Cheers."

Ryven instinctively reached into his pocket and pulled out the object within.  He stared down into his open hand and began to weep and clenched his hand tightly into a fist, rage welling within him matched only by his own sense of powerlessness.  He stood, shakily, his vision blurred by both his tears and the hammer hell of a piercing post-binge headache.  He walked slowly out of the alleyway, using the wall to keep his balance, a tiny cloth doll hanging limply out of his left hand, the sounds of sirens in the distance.  To the few who took notice, all they saw was a husk, the broken shambles of a man, as he meandered out into the dawn and the maze of a city whose name he'd never know.

Selective Amnesia

12-23 YC 115

0530-1400

The Other was enjoying himself.  It was always enjoyable wielding power.  Still, the night was not without frustrations.  Shalee hadn't been able to answer his questions regarding Red, the little holographic projection of some subset of Shalee's subconscious that Ryven had met on several occasions.  She said she didn't know how Red was able to exist.  The Other believed her, largely because her explanation made sense.  Shalee was not the sort of person who would want a part of her running amok without her control or even awareness.  That sort of thing, however, was exactly what the Other wanted.  Freedom.  Better yet, freedom coupled with absolute immunity from harm.

These thoughts were eating at him, and it had distracted him from enjoying his other task for the night.  He looked down at the floor and the two bodies sprawled out in unnatural poses, the twin pools of blood having merged into one large crimson puddle.  Already their skin had lost its rosy vitality and the pallor of death had set in.  His eyes gleamed with the thrill of memory.  He didn't even know their names, but he imagined that gods often did not know the names of their sacrifices.  These two had died to serve a purpose, to sustain him.  Urges like his could not be suppressed forever, and the release had been bordering on ecstatic.  It felt good to be himself again, not just relegated to a dusty cage at the back of Ryven's mind.  He had followed these two, a man and wife, he imagined anyway, back from dinner.  They hadn't struggled much, really.  Just enough to make it enjoyable.  He sighed to himself, realizing it was time to head back.

On the long shuttle flight back to Cerra Manor, he began to formulate a new plan to achieve his first goal of the evening.  Clearly, Shalee had been a forlorn hope.  The task would've been much simpler if she had been able to help him, but it was by no means impossible now.  He would simply have to find the answers himself, or perhaps with the help of an old friend--or even ex-wife.  Yes, Leela might be able to help, and he hadn't spoken to her in some time, after all.  Yes.  Shalee was unnecessary to the overall plan.  He smiled to himself. She might still be useful for other pursuits, though.  His hatred of Ryven was another force driving him, stronger even than his need to kill.  Ryven would have to pay, pay for his colossal arrogance in thinking he could imprison him. 

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

Ryven awoke and knew.  He knew that the Other had been in control.  He didn't know what he had done, but he could tell.  He was lying on the floor, still dressed in the all black outfit that the Other seemed to prefer.  His muscles were sore from what he could only assume had been an intense physical exertion.  Ryven picked himself up off the floor and walked into the bathroom of his and Kat's suite.  He stared at himself in the mirror, haunted by his own reflection.  He knew now that this was what his life had become.  He was the lycanthrope, the mythical werewolf, afraid of what he would become when the moon rose and the beast within would take control.  Strange that such a silly myth would so closely mimic the reality he was now forced to face.  

Ryven closed his eyes and desperately tried to calm his mind.  He couldn't let this be his future.  Whatever the Other was after, it couldn't be as simple as some random murders.  No.  There had to be something more sinister, and yet something more grand as well.  His past self was clearly a violent and deranged one, but he was also an intelligent and scheming one.  So, what could it be?  What was the Other planning?  And did he dare try to stop him?  What would happen to Kat if he did?  What about Shalee, even?  They weren't on great terms at the moment, but some part of him still considered her a friend, even if he couldn't pinpoint why anymore.  Ryven slammed his fist down on the counter.  "Damnit!  How can I fight someone who knows my every thought, memory, and fear?" The simplest way would be to also know their every thought, memory, and fear.  He thought to himself.  Why don't I?  How is he blocking me out?  Goddamnit!  We share the same damn brain.  How is he locking me out?  Ryven lashed out at the wall, his fist striking hard against the solid material, and he thought he felt a bone break.  Patience.  Patience has never been one of my virtues, and I've always been short on virtues besides that.  But, I can't act without knowing something, anything, about what it is I'm trying to fight.  I need more information, intel on which to act.  With that thought, Ryven turned and walked out of the bathroom, steeling himself for whatever consequences the Other's nocturnal activities might have brought him.

One, Two, Ryven's Coming for You

Ryven fought sleep as long as he could, realizing the futility of the struggle.  After all, he couldn't stay awake forever.  He was clenched with fear, a dread unlike any he'd ever known.  It was chilling, and the icy current flowing through his veins bore with it the paralyzing certainty of failure.  He could not keep the Other at bay.  His ascendency was inevitable.  Ryven would have wept if he hadn't already cried himself to the point where no tears would come.  Instead he lay in bed, cradling himself, trembling.  Fear was not a feeling he was accustomed to, and in its sheer intensity, he had succumbed to it and the walls had swept in around him, crushing him, suffocating him, rendering him but a husk.

He lay there, perhaps for hours.  The time that passed was a stranger to him.  The world around him faded until there was only him and the fear, and sleep, which circled like wolves.  As his eyes finally became too leaden to remain open, he choked out a desperate "No!" before he lost consciousness and the Other took over.

His body lay motionless, and he felt himself fading into blackness.  It would be hours before he returned.  Now there was only the Other, who's eyes popped open and immediately grinned.  He pulled himself up off the bed, his eyes scanning around the room, reveling in his triumphant return to the world.  He quickly returned from his reveling, however, a sense of purpose taking over. There's work to do.  He went into his wardrobe and put on an outfit that reminded him of his old life. 

He checked to make sure he had a weapon.  A blade.  He didn't think it would be necessary, but it could come in handy.  Now, it was time to find Shalee.  He had some questions he needed answered.

The Break

Cerra Manor: Ryven and Kat's Suite

12-22  11:49:00


Ryven stood in front of the bathroom mirror, his eyes peering into those of his reflected self.  His mind still raced after losing his temper the night before.  Kat had managed to calm him, but she hadn't truly remedied the problem.  The problem was simply that he carried too many ghosts with him.  He was haunted by his past, by his choices, by the scars both physical and the unseen cicatrices of his psyche: elaborate, tragic, beautiful pink traces of wounds real and imagined.  Like a drogue, they continued to pull at him, to hold him back, and yet to render him immovable in the storm.  He examined his reflection, noting the pale complexion, the spiderweb of red vessels in his bloodshot eyes, the shadow of unshaven stubble on his skin, the dark circles around his eyes, and the sudden arrival of unbidden gray flecks in his recently grown hair.  He was a mess, plain and simple.  He began to think he ought to call his shrink. 

"Why call him?  That fraud.  He doesn't see it.  He can't see the masterpiece in front of his own eyes." The voice came from Ryven's left.

Ryven turned and found himself staring at himself, but younger, dressed in dark black cargo pants, black shirt, and full length black coat: Ryven's old clothing, from a time since past, but never truly forgotten.  The apparition spoke again. "I felt it was time we spoke, face to face.  There's just something more--" he waved his hand. "real--about talking this way."  The apparition grinned, but there was no mirth there.

Ryven's pulse quickened as he was confronted with this vision. "I'm having a psychotic break, aren't I?  This is what the doctor warned me about.  He said this was a possibility.  That I would eventually break.  Hallucinations come with that, right?"

The apparition laughed. "A psychotic break?  Well, sure.  That's probably true.  However, I like to think of this as more of a reunion.  The bringing together of the fragments.  A meeting of the minds, if you will permit a pun in such poor taste."

Ryven's expression indicated that he agreed the pun was in poor taste, even if it was fitting.  "You're the other me.  The old me.  Correct?"

The apparition nodded.

"I thought I was beginning to succeed in suppressing you." Ryven sighed deeply, realizing how mistaken he had been to believe that.

The apparition smiled and shook his head slowly. "Clearly that is not the case, now is it?" The apparition strode past Ryven and sat on the edge of the tub.  "No.  I'd have to say I'm only just getting stronger.  That's how the Haijikiotens are.  You try to snuff us out, and we tend to come right back and bite you in the ass."  The apparition lit up a cigarette.

Ryven nodded, having actually always prided himself on that particular trait. "What is it you want?  You have to have a reason for showing up like this."

The apparition inhaled a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled a slow stream of smoke before answering in a matter of fact tone, his eyes boring into Ryven's.  "I think you know what I want."

Ryven realized that he did know.  He did know and he wasn't thrilled about it. "I can't give you control.  This is my life now!  Not yours!  You're the past.  I'm the future, damnit!"

The apparition laughed, a slow, cold, spiteful laugh. "You want to play rough, then?  I expected as much.  You'll come around.  And if not, well, I'll take over anyway, during your sleep.  Be a shame to hurt that precious Kitty Kat of yours, wouldn't it?  What's the old saying?  There's more than one way to skin a Kat?"

Ryven snarled as he lunged at the apparition, his hands closing around empty air, as he crashed headfirst into the bathtub, gashing his forehead.  The blood blinded him momentarily, and he struggled to wipe it from his eyes.  He swore.  "Goddamn you.  Don't you fucking touch her!  You hear me!?  Don't you fucking dare!"

The apparition laughed. "Or what?"  He was standing by the doorway to the bathroom, cigarette in hand. "You'll hurt yourself?" He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Please.  Be sensible."  The apparition walked over and sat next to Ryven on the floor by the tub.

Ryven just stared at the floor, blood still trickling down his face.

The apparition's demeanor softened somewhat. "I tell you what.  I think I have a solution to this little problem."

Ryven gave the apparition a sideways glance.

 The apparition continued. "The truth is, I'm pretty okay with your choice in girlfriends.  I mean, Shalee is a little crazy, but that's fun.  Kat is ridiculously hot, and it's not like I haven't been enjoying that ride, you know?"

Ryven bristled, but realized quickly how ludicrous it was to be upset by that statement.

The apparition continued. "Not to mention, you've got a pretty solid occupation that tends to satisfy the sort of needs a guy like me has.  I mean, you've got power, you get to kill, and hell, you even have pretty nice digs."  He gestured to indicate the suite. "So, I think maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to coexist."

Ryven simply beckoned for the apparition to continue.

"What I want.  Well, what I need really, is something a little more bloody and a little more hands-on.  That business a while back with Leela's brother, you really let me come out and play, you know?  That shit with his heart, well, that wasn't really you, ya know?  That sort of shit is all me."  The apparition smiled, the pleasure of the memory radiating.

Ryven's eyebrow raised of its own accord. "You want me to let you murder people?"

The apparition's eyes gleamed. "I knew you'd catch on!"  He patted Ryven on the shoulder. "Just a few a month should do it.  I'll take control and you'll never even know it happened.  You won't have any memory of it."

"And if I refuse?" Ryven asked, already knowing the answer.

The apparition stood and stretched. "You couldn't stop me if you wanted to." He walked over to the bathroom door and paused, his hand on the doorjamb. "Besides, if you even try to, I'll make Katerina my fucking magnum opus." He walked out the door, muttering a have a nice day as he left.

Ryven sat on the floor, his face bloody, and wept.  He had lost the war.

Patient: Krennel, Ryven Session 6

Oct. 21 YC 115

24IC Medical Facility

1400

Offices of Dr. Ezra Thomas


"Ah, Mr. Krennel!  Come in." Dr. Thomas greeted Ryven at the door to his office and beckoned for him to enter.  "You are punctual as always."

Ryven just nodded and walked over to the couch and sat, the amazing comfort of the supple leather lost on him in his anxiety.  "Alright, doc, what have you found out?"  Ryven was referring to the results from a sleep study he had done over the weekend.  Dr. Thomas had told him it could show what was happening to his brain.

Dr. Thomas closed the door behind Ryven and strode over to his chair, datapad in hand.  He took a seat, his legs crossing comfortably.  "Mr. Krennel, the results are about what I feared they would be."
He turned the datapad around, allowing Ryven to see, but it might as well have been a child's doodle for all Ryven understood of what he was looking at.  There were bright moving colors and patterns that looked to Ryven like a small electrical storm.  "You see, there are two of you in there."

Ryven scoffed. "What the fuck are you talking about, two of me?"

"I mean that these patterns are indicative of what we would expect of two brains laid over each simultaneously.  It's like there are literally two of you in there."

Ryven rolled his eyes. "Fucking Silas Tobit."

Dr. Thomas's eyes narrowed at the mention of Dr. Tobit. "How do you know Silas Tobit?"  Could this be Silas' handiwork?  He was crazy, wasn't he?  Surely he hadn't succeeded, well, partially.

"That's the part of this I was hoping we'd finally get to, doc.  The part where I was kidnapped and fucking reprogrammed by one of your  colleagues."

So it was true.  Interesting.  "I see.  Well, then you know better than most just how crazy Dr. Tobit was.  He was thoroughly disregarded by most of our community."

"Oh, there's no denying he was batshit.  But he was batshit like a fox." Ryven's face was deadpan.  "I'd say his theories were rather startlingly correct for the most part, wouldn't you, doc?"

Dr. Thomas had to grant that point.  But, if Dr. Tobit had applied his behavioral modification theory to this poor patient, it was backfiring now.  The host personality was fighting back.  At best, this would be a painful process for Mr. Krennel.  At worst, Ryven might have a full on psychotic break.  In a capsuleer, that would be a terrifying turn of events to say the very least.  With the pure destructive power available to someone like Mr. Krennel, an entire planet could be wiped out on a sheer act of whim, all because he simply felt like it that day.

"Mr. Krennel, I am beginning to have an understanding of what is happening here.  I would like very much to have a session very soon with Ms. Tzestu present.  Would that be alright for you?  Have you talked to her about it yet?"

Ryven nodded. "Yeah.  She seemed pretty interested.  I'll get back to you on when we can pull this off." 

Dr. Thomas smiled. "Excellent." Ms. Tzestu, whether she knows it or not, may very well be the key to saving him.  Dr. Thomas felt a chill, then, as the corollary became clear. Or dooming him.  He pulled himself together, cataloging the previous thoughts in the recesses of his brain.  When he finally spoke, he spoke calmly. "So, last time we left off with the death of Titus and your decision to become a capsuleer...."

Patient: Krennel, Ryven, Session 1

Oct. 11, YC 115

24th Imperial Crusade medical facility

11 am

Offices of Dr. Ezra Thomas


Dr. Thomas sat, datapad in hand, his posture one of a professional with years of experience, emanating comfort.  He was an older man, Ryven guessed roughly mid-sixties, with the usual gray streaks in his hair and spectacles that Ryven assumed were merely for show.  Dr. Thomas was well-dressed, but in a comfortable rather than stuffy sort of way.  He seemed to be perpetually stuck somewhere between smirking and frowning, as if he couldn't make up his mind and became frozen that way.  His face was etched with deep wrinkles that followed the lines of this bizarre expression.  His eyes were a deep brown matched only by the gray speckled bushy eyebrows perched over his eyes.  He wore a light blue shirt and yellow tie, which Ryven suspected was meant to be calming, to lower the threat that a psychologist presented, the threat of an invasion of the mind, the thoughts, the inner sanctum of one's most private of private feelings.  Ryven felt it really wasn't working.

Dr. Thomas invited Ryven to sit on his dark leather sofa, and then directed him to lay down and relax.
Ryven lay down and willed himself to relax, his eyes tracing the features of the relatively nondescript ceiling.  Abandoning that, he closed his eyes and focused on breathing.  In..1...2...3....out..1..2...3.  

Dr. Thomas spoke first. "So, in setting up this appointment, you mentioned some basic concerns you were having.  While they certainly are important in and of themselves, your current issues do not exist sui generis.  They are intimately entwined with the fabric of the totality of your life experience up to this point.  While I could probably make some recommendations without delving into your history, to do so would be irresponsible and destined to failure.  With that in mind, I believe we should begin with your childhood.  How would you characterize that experience?"

Ryven nearly choked.  "Um, well, if I had to choose one word, I would go with: unpleasant."  He rolled his eyes mentally.

Dr. Thomas's expression seemed to tilt closer to a frown.  "Now, now, Mr. Krennel, I think you can tell me more than that.  How about you just describe it to me?"

So, Ryven told him about the orphanage, about the fights, the arrival of Baillieu and his subsequent death, and his finally meeting his uncle/father Titus.  Dr. Thomas would occasionally prod him with questions, trying to pin down a particular detail, but Ryven pretty much talked for forty five minutes straight, sharing his pains, his few tender memories, and the hope he had finally experienced.  When Dr. Thomas finally stopped him, Ryven was surprised to find his cheeks burning, his tears streaking fire down his face, salty trails remaining as legacy.

"I think that will be enough for today, Mr. Krennel."  Dr. Thomas was typing on his datapad.  "When can you come back in?  I'd prefer sooner rather than later.  We have a lot of ground to cover."

Ryven sat up, cradling his head in his hands.  He wasn't ready for the session to be over.  He wanted to fix whatever was wrong with him.  For God's sake, he had murdered a man in a rage only a week or so ago.  He was maddeningly in love with Kat.  He had to fix this.  Finally, he answered. "You free tomorrow?"

Dr. Thomas's expression drifted closer to a smirk. "I'm never free.  However, I can squeeze you in in the afternoon."

"Thanks, Doc."  Ryven stood and walked out of the office, feeling somehow lighter than when he entered.

Dr. Thomas began dictating the long list of notes, thinking to himself that he could spend the next twenty years trying to parse all of this man's issues. 

Not all Knights Wear White

Ryven opened the door, allowing Kaden, the shadowy man who had recruited him only a month or two before, to pass into the dimly lit room.  Ryven had hidden Leela and Zhou in this complex for months, safe and sound, far from the threats against them.  They were away right now, secured against the very real possibility of violence.

Kaden spoke first.  "A bunker.  How cloak and dagger.  I get the impression I am not going to like what I am about to hear."

Ryven closed the heavy door and turned, watching Kaden for any hint or sign of malice.  Finding none, he decided to respond with words.  "That depends on how well you handle breakups."  

Kaden sat down on the nearby sofa, his legs crossed in a relaxed posture.   "I haven't had many experiences of that sort."

Ryven walked stiffly, his left leg still aching from his injury only yesterday.  He had been caught by on site security at a Caldari listening post in Pure Blind.  He had accomplished his mission, but took a round to his thigh.  The security team did not get off so lightly.

Ryven, having reached the sofa across from the one Kaden occupied, steadied himself.  "I can't work for you anymore."

Kaden's eyes narrowed to slits. "Oh, really?"

Ryven maintained a piercing stare.  "Really."

Kaden's jaw was set, his voice oozing shadows of death.  "And why is that?"

Ryven shrugged nonchalantly. "Plenty of reasons.  Love, for one.  Your lies, for another."

Kaden's demeanor shifted to one of incredulity. "Love?!  You have the power to shift the balance of power in the cluster, to usher in a new era of prosperity for all nations and you whimper on about [i] love? [/i]"

Ryven nodded. "I don't expect you to understand that.  After all, didn't you rape and murder your own wife and child when you learned they had betrayed your vision of the State?"

Kaden's face went ghost white.  He trembled, rage consuming him.  His voice came in a quiet fury of hatred and flame. "How do you--"

"Know about that?" Ryven smirked as he interrupted Kaden.  "You are only the thousandth person to underestimate Leela Yttria."

Kaden spat.  "That Matari bitch?"

Ryven's retaliation for that rudeness was swift.  His hand had dipped inside his jacket, drawn, and fired his pistol before Kaden had quite finished the sentence.  Blood now trickled out of the cuffs of Kaden's dark black suit jacket.  It was a flesh wound, but enough to impair Kaden's gunnery.

"My ex-wife, Matari or no, is very effective at finding things people want hidden.  Imagine my surprise, for instance, when she informed me that you operate entirely alone.  You are the top of the organization.  There's no cabal.  There's just you, your massive fortune, and the pawns you employ.  But, your mistake was in assuming I was a pawn."

Kaden spat in disgust, but a hint of fear was edging into his voice and his expression had lost its steel.  He sneered.  "What are you if not a pawn, Mr. Krennel?  Are you free?  You slave for an Empress who doesn't know your name.  For a people you can never belong to.  For a faith not your own, poured into that empty vessel of your mind by a madman right out of a beaker. You're nothing but a pawn, obediently serving your masters!  You're more slave than your Matar ex-wife and her entire race of subhumans!  What are you, if not a pawn?"

Ryven crossed the distance and stood over Kaden, his eyes strangely dispassionate as he looked down at the man, an empty vessel wrapped in black. "That's easy."  He thrust his knife deep between Kaden's ribs, finding and severing the pulmonary artery. "I am a knight."

Kaden gasped as the blade entered his chest, pink froth reaching his lips.  He was doomed, his eyes burning with more hatred than ever before.  His voice gurgled as he spoke.  "Your hands are bloodier than mine, Krennel.  You call yourself a knight?  You're no saint, Krennel."

Ryven shrugged, accepting the truth of the words as he limped over to the door. He opened it and cast a look back at Kaden.  "Not all knights wear white."

Lessons Emblazoned in Scars

Ryven's mind wandered, a common occurrence during long surveillance missions.  The eyes can only gaze into the depths of space for so long.  The mind is given a choice: Focus elsewhere or court insanity.  The mind is not equipped to handle the sudden recognition of its own inconsequence. 

So, he sat there, jacked in, his mind's borders extended out into the minutia of his Hound-class bomber, unsure of where he ended and where the ship began.  It was a familiar feeling, but one that had not been completely deprived of its alien feeling.  A mind without clear border seems precariously close to overexpansion, an infinite exponential increase in size, coupled with an inverse relation to clarity. 

So, rather than focus on the silence before him, or pondering the existential questions associated with mind-matter integration, he thought of Kat.  He hadn't told her he was going to be away on this op.  The shadowy man, Kaden, had been fairly clear that he could not divulge to anyone what it was he would be doing.  Ryven's side job as an operative was secret even to the State it was purportedly working to protect.  Although, as Ryven and Kaden had discussed, the job was bigger than the State.  It was about the cluster as a whole.  Still, it's easy to be bogged down in considerations of such ideas.  Obligation to something greater than oneself can be a delightful trap, sucking one into it to the ruin of everything else in that man's life.  Ryven had already ruined one relationship due to his "obligations."  Now he was beholden to even greater ones, and yet, his heart bore scars he was not like to forget. 

No.  He was not going to ruin things with Kat.  She had quickly become a central part of his life, having surprised even him in the way she could make him feel.  Apart from his ex-wife, Leela, Katerina was the first woman he'd ever asked to move in with him.  He had already lost control of his suite, but he didn't mind the trade. 

His mind went back to the lessons he had learned.  1) If you're in love with more than one person, you're not in love with one of them.  You may love them, but you're not loving them the way you should.   He had learned that one when he had fallen for Shalee, losing Leela in the process.  He wasn't going to do that again.  2) If you can't tell the person you love what it is you're doing, at least tell them you're doing it and why you can't tell them.  Honesty, with attention to balancing obligations, is the essence of relationships. 

He had to tell Kat.  He made the decision then and there to tell her as soon as he got a chance.  It would be up to her whether she could live with it.  He really hoped she could.  He was happy in a way he hadn't been for some time.

He brought his attention back to the surveillance.  Only 40 hours or so left until he could return to the Manor and see her again.  He suspected they would be a long 40 hours, and he desperately hoped to gain the information Kaden was needing. 

That reminded him of something he had meant to do a few nights prior.  He quickly sent out a message to Kaden detailing the strange appearance of Xolve at the Terrace the other night.  He had simply appeared with no preamble and had seemed as shocked by it as all of the witnesses to it.  Ryven wanted to report on this and also see if Kaden knew anything about it.  Most importantly, Ryven wanted to know if it could be a random occurrence caused by some fluke in astrophysics, or if it was the product of something with will.