Status: Returned

Arzad. Infamous site of turmoil. I am back. The war rages on. As always, I am in the middle of it. The ranks of the Matari have swelled. Seems they have a better propaganda campaign than we do.

Still, it is good to be back on the front. Our time in Otosela was not wasted, but treachery seized some of the fruits of that labor. Still, we are better for our time spent there. Now, we are back on the front lines again, where we should be.

Leela and I have grown closer. I don't know what she sees in an old merc like me, but with luck, her vision will stay blurry. On the other hand, considering her shitty life until now, I probably do seem a saint.

Transferrance

Garta Yttria was a stern, tall, cruel looking man in his sixties. His clothing was stylish, in a minmatar way, and he wore a neatly trimmed beard that served to enhance the lines of his face. It seemed he was a man whose life had always been a source of much frowning. It was difficult to imagine him with a smile. His eyes studied his daughter and the large Civire before him. The Civire was around six feet tall and built for battle, his muscles all toned. He was bald with a face of scruff and a pair of dark shades over his eyes. The Caldari's face was expressionless and the voice that came from his lips echoed years of war. It was spoken softly, but the threat of violent force underlied it. He was a capsuleer, and he seemed to know the cards were on his side. Garta was seething.

Ryven spoke in a deliberate manner, each word standing on its own. "Leela is no longer under your care.". He seemed to ooze venom on the word 'care.' "She is coming with me."

Garta exploded. "Who do you--what the fuck?! She's my daughter! She is MINE. You can't just barge in here and steal her out from my home."

Ryven seemed amused. "First, yes, I can. Second, she is an adult. You keep her locked up here to service your security forces like a damn brood mare. I have seen the injuries left by your 'care.' You will be lucky if all I take from you is Leela."

Garta turned crimson with rage. Ryven's shades, a set of ocular biometric scanners and tactical overlays, read the rise in the man's blood pressure and increasing rage. A fight was imminent.

Garta launched into a haymaker punch, swinging a long slow powerful strike toward Ryven's face. Ryven, sped up by his implants, dodged deftly to the side and delivered a rapid punch to his opponents temple. Garta gasped and stumpled to the side as Ryven kicked a booted foot into his kneecap, shattering it. Garta screamed and collapsed. Ryven placed his boot on Garta's throat and pushed his shades onto his forehead. His blue eyes were ice, freezing Garta's blood in his veins.

"You no longer have a daughter. If we ever see you again, I will burn this world to the ground. Do you understand?"

Garta could only nod, gasp for breath, and watch the devil walk away, arm in arm with his daughter.

Outlaw Again

The past few months have been tumultuous. Imperial Outlaws seems a more fitting name than it used to. We all acknowledged that the war could not be fought with lily white gloves, so, we took them off. TEST arrived, and now CONCORD will destroy any ship I pilot into empire space. This is the cost of defending Amarr, albeit in Caldari lowsec space.

I have grown closer to my comrades here on the fringe. There is a unity of purpose, a convergence of ideals. Not zealotry, but patriotic fervor, and willing sacrifice to the idea of our home. Amarr is my home. I wasn't born there, but it is, as they say, where my heart is. That and Leela, a matari, oddly enough. She too has left her birth behind and embraced a new world: me.

Leela

Ryven glanced across the table to the younger woman, her hair short and dyed red and black.  Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses similar to his own.  She was a Sebiestor woman of about 30.  He had known her for well over a decade.  She was one of his favorite informants.  Things were now different, however.  This was the first time he had ever seen her in person, and he found himself suddenly very attracted to her.  She had a certain vibrance about her, and a no-nonsense look in her eyes.  He found himself wanting nothing more than to keep the conversation going as long as possible. 
"So, Leela, what you're saying is, you need my help?"
Her eye line softened. "Yes.  That's what I've been getting at for the past ten minutes."
She had a problem.  Her father was a rather wealthy man, by Republic standards.  He had placed his daughter on house arrest for the past month or so, but she finally managed to escape.  However, she couldn't stay away for long, since she knew he would come looking for her and had far more resources than she did.
"So, what do you need me to do?"
She sat there silently for a few moments before finally responding. "I need you to kick my father's ass.  I need you to beat the shit out of him so bad he figures out he can't control me anymore."
Ryven responded. "I think I know a few ways we can accomplish this." He took a drag of his cigarette. "First, I'll handle your father."
She looked at him curiously. "Secondly?"
"Secondly, I know a way to keep him off your shit forever."
"Anything else?"
"We need to talk payment."
"Okay, what's it going to cost me?"
He grinned widely. "How about a date?"

The Imperial Outlaws

So, I am no longer a knight.  I suppose that change of state should be accompanied by some sort of solemnity or mourning, but in truth, I don't feel much differently.  I am still fighting for the Empire, which I am making a bid to gain actual citizenship with.  I am still flying with Shalee and Eran.  Furthermore, I am now a member of something new and vastly more exciting than the Knighthood.

Imperial Outlaws is what we are named.  Essentially, the basic ideal is to fight for the Empire whilst not being restrained by needless sentiments.  We fight by whatever means necessary.  Not only that, but, they have made me the diplomat.  I have always enjoyed diplomacy.  Well, at least my form of it, which is usually akin to simply pissing people off or using my wit to alleviate tension.  Either way, it should be a lot of fun.  I am looking forward to the future and what it may hold.

In other news, I also have focused some efforts and am now producing both tobacco and tea products for use on our planetside manor, Cerra Manor on Huola planet VII.  I do hope these items get use by our guests, which have been somewhat infrequent so far.

Eulogy

Willem Magistratus entered the spacious public hall of Mercy's Keep and looked around, drawing a deep sigh. Desolate, the halls stood empty, the whistling of the frigid wind the only sound. He walked behind the empty bar and poured himself a strong athra ale, then decided to make it a double.
Willem downed his tall glass of ale and gasped. Athra ale is not meant to be drunk like light beer. Willem shook off the drink and looked around, spotting a door to the keep that is usually guarded but for some reason was no longer.
Willem approached the chapel door and laid his hand upon it before pushing through to the chapel.
The hallowed feel of the chapel was amplified by its stark emptiness. The walls echoed his footsteps as he approached the Icon of the Empress and kneeled.
"O lady." He began, prayer like. "Lady."
He solemnly placed his hands together.
"This is our humble house for our fallen knights. Knights who have fallen in battle. Knights who have perished in your great cause."
He gasped loudly before tearfully yelling, "WHERE ARE THEY? Why have they abandoned you?"
Willem choked and wiped his tears away.
"This place of holiness,ABANDONED!" His anger swelled. "By the knights who swore to protect it."
Ryven Krennel entered the Keep, puzzled by the sounds within.
Willem collapsed, grief and ale taking their toll.
Ryven, now alarmed, quickly walked toward the sounds, spying the collapsed form of Willem. Ryven sighed, his expression soft, and kneeled to help Willem up. He felt sympathy for his comrade, a fellow man of the faith.
Ryven spoke softly. "You really shouldn't try to drown sorrow." Ryven frowned "You can't do so without drowning yourself."
"Ahh ryven," Willem spoke from the floor. "This is a challenge to my faith. A challenge i might now survive only if could forget it. This will live with me a long time."
Ryven gave Willem a look of sympathy. "I know this is hard for you."
Willem gasped and choked a silent thanks before trying to stand, but found Athra ale denied him the ability.
Ryven sat down on the floor next to Willem, letting his eyes soak in the majesty of the place.
"This place was pretty special."
Willem replied " I had always envisioned that THIS was the center of our keep. That HERE would be our heart and soul."
Ryven shook his head. "The center of the keep, of the knighthood, has always been its people."
Willem gazes at the icon of the Empress. "And her. How I love her."
Ryven continued. "And beyond that, the dream."
[ 2011.10.10 00:43:45 ] Willem drunkenly looked at the Empress Icon.
"Is she not beautiful? Is she not worth dying for?"
Ryven chuckled a little. "Well, of course she is." He laughed. "Which is why I do it regularly."
"Where are her protectors Ryven?"
"We're still here." He paused as Willem choked out another sob. "We've just changed our location somewhat."
Willem asked. "Who will deconsecrate this place when it is empty? Will we just let this place linger, without protection?"
"I doubt it. I can't really say. That is up to its owners."
Willem gasped, his eyes wide. "And if the minnies come here?"
He sobbed even more.
"Here? At the heart of the Throne Worlds? I imagine, if that happens, I'll have bigger concerns in mind than whether they mess up the artwork." Ryven frowned darkly.
Willem continued. "Without us...without the knights... we are a front line defense!" He crescendoed, "FRONT LINE! With us shattered who will take up our mantle?
"Willem, we are hardly the only ones. And, I'm sure you're aware, a fair number of us are still going to be on the front lines."
"Who, Ryven? Who? You dont mean those self serving capsuleers out there who only care about stats and isk do you? THEY dont care about HER!"
Willem pointed emphatically to the to the Icon.
Ryven responded calmly. "Am I one of those who care only for stats and ISK?"
"No, Ryven, else you wouldnt be here."
"And yet, I am no longer under the auspices of this Order."
Willem stared down at the polished and sighed.
"The truth is, Willem, that the Knighthood is more than this hall." Ryven gestured at the icon. "Just as the Empress is more than that icon. It's an ethos. It's an idea. And ideas don't die when you stop paying the rent."
Willem suddenly looked determined. "Get me out of here, Ryven. You're right."
Willem tried to stand but still could, so Ryven rose and helped him stand.
Ryven asked him, "You going to be okay?"
He replied. "I must take my love for her out there. Out there...to them."
Ryven smiled. "That's the spirit. Now, let's get out of here, and we can both deliver some tough love to the heathen, eh?"
"Agreed. Thanks, my friend."
Willem leaned on Ryven as they exited together, Ryven laughing.
"Don't mention it." He said, and entered the cold Athran night.

Dreams Too Lofty

The Knighthood was founded on a dream, a lofty one. The goal was a chivalrous order of knightly warriors serving the Empire by defending its holdings. It was a noble dream, and like all such dreams, it begins to erode in the hands of people. Ideas are perfect. People are not. People corrupt ideas. Further, ideas are simply ideas. The harsh world of reality illuminates the failings of these ideas. When these raisons d'etre fail to accept reality as it is, they must either adapt or break.

I don't know what doomed the Knighthood. I only know that those hallowed halls are now closed and Aldrith is silent and absent. But, I have followed several of my brethren to a new organization, one not founded solely on ideals, but upon goals firmly based in the real.

Reflections

As the years have passed, I have had time to reflect. One of the issues that troubled me was why I was so intent on murdering Titus's only offspring. The truth is, I hated who and what I was whilst simultaneously reveling in it. I blamed the Haijikioten blood for my ruthless savagery and saw the Haijikioten line in need of eradication. Self-preservation was a strong instinct, so I decided not to have any children of my own, and sought to ensure Titus and I were the last of our line. With Titus gone, I became the last scion of a lineage of thieves, killers, and renegades; a prince of evil seed.
Then one day I decided to end the pointless killing and give myself to a higher purpose. I recognize that while my talents lay in the field of bloody violence, those talents can serve something greater. The Haijikioten curse can be lifted and has. Now I am a Krennel, founder of a lineage. Now, I wonder if perhaps I do want a child.
Haijikiotens were often orphans. I am a capsuleer. Surely any child of mine wouldn't need to fear orphanhood. Haijikiotens are savages. Krennels are warriors. Surely I could teach my child the difference.

The J.D. Gaffa Days - Blood Moon Legion

Ryven joined J.D. Gaffa, Inc. in hopes of increasing his financial stability. He became CEO after an extremely short period of time, but had trouble adjusting to the humdrum of life in Empire Space. He engineered entry into the New Eden Commonwealth Alliance, which brought some action, due to a short war against End of the Line, where he gained his first real experience commanding a fleet, and the war was won quickly. The alliance fell apart, however, and Ryven searched for a new one, which he found, in Night's Dawn. He established two starbases in Geminate and gained Sovereignty in a small system. This was only temporary. Mostly Harmless and Wildly Innapropriate invaded, and JDGI suffered some heavy losses. Ryven grew despondent after leaving ND. He resorted to frequent piracy, and after moving to Balle, simply gave up his role as CEO and went into seclusion for eight months, his own demons eating at him. He finally emerged from his seclusion and wandered about until a fellow from Blood Moon Legion passed through the area looking for recruits to help fight Pandemic Legion and IT Alliance in the north.

BML was a component of Tactical Narcotics Team Alliance, a subsidiary of the Deklein Coalition of Alliances. He was revived and fell into a frenzy of violent activity. The massive fleet engagements stimulated him, and he found destroying PL's capital assets to be exhilirating. Eventually IT fell, and BML had a crisis of identity. A change came over Ryven. He felt the need for absolution, and he didn't know why. Nonetheless, he left the north and journeyed down to Amarr to seek entry into the Knighthood of the Merciful Crown.

Null-Sec, Entrepreneurship, Betrayal

YC110-Early 111
Ryven was adrift, listless, bruised and weary. Capsuleerdom meant he got to experience death frequently, and it was always moderately unpleasant. He had been free of the Academy for only a few weeks when he suffered his first death. A pirate destroyed his Ibis and subsequently podded him. He felt a sharp pain as his pod vaporized, and the sensation of being stretched across an inconceivable distance before reawakening in his new clone, groggy and pissed off. Then came his first corporation, an abortion of a merc venture that saw him running lots of missions for Home Guard and Spacelane. The frenzy of murder for profit. Then his business partners, Katurn and Red Kai, gallente and Jin-Mei respectively, convinced him to join Xercore with them. This was a short period culminating in an expensive and poorly outfitted loss of Red's Hyperion and the trio's ejection from the corp.
They then joined FCUK, a subdivision of Liberty Alliance, which had just made a hegemonic pushed into the Pure Blind Region. Ryven got a taste for capsuleer combat sitting in ambush on the EC-P8R/Torrinos stargate in a Crow or a Drake. He enjoyed living in P2-TTL and the mentorship of his friend, Shock Ryder. All good things come to an end.
IRON attacked, an act of betrayal. Ryven undocked his Drake from the P2 station and was quickly destroyed. Starbase gunners manned their turrets as hundreds of ships poured into the system. Ryven contracted all of his goods to another capsuleer, Baron Nerus, to be carried out of the Region. Liberty was evacuating. Ryven hopped in his Crow and headed out of Pure Blind through the long route to Nonni.
Ryven left Liberty a few days later to follow Shock Ryder to the Arrow Project, a member of Morsus Mihi. His combat record from this period is empty. He focused on gaining capital by killing pirates in lonely dead end systems in Tribute. His life was quieter and he was slowly growing tired of his Morsus comrades. So, they left to fight Band of Brothers in the South, and Ryven left to join some capsuleers in J. D. Gaffa, where he would supposedly make a lot of money.

Scorched Earth

Can a scarred heart ever really heal? For years, I have carried the oppressive burden of my past sins, the guilt of which slashed at my heart and bound me in a tailspin toward greater and greater acts of depravity. I tried to numb myself through my bloodlust. Then, for reasons I don't understand, I sought absolution through a faith alien to my blood, fighting for a cause far removed from my upbringing. And yet, I feel my wounds closing. I feel the black rage lifting. Now, where once there was rage and hatred and insatiable desire for violence, now I feel the calm wash of acceptance, peace, and the certainty of fighting for something other than the reward of another mark on my record. Now I serve something other than my own demons.

Sometimes I long to return to the State, but my newfound faith would make me an oddity, and my past would garner me few friends. There is a coldness to being cut off from your people. I wonder if this is a general rule applicable to all humans or if it is uniquely Caldari. Maybe this is the catalyst that drives the Matari. Perhaps.

Old Foes

Pandemic Legion have set up shop in Amamake. I don't know why. Still, my pulse quickened upon hearing the news. My old foes from my time fighting them and IT are here and shootable. My pleasure only grew in the past few days. We enlisted the help of the Caldari to deliver a blow. We used a covert jump bridge to land a sneak attack on a carrier at their starbase in Amamake. We took a fair number of losses, my Manticore among them, but we destroyed thier Archon not 50 km away from one of thier titans and inside the envelope of their base's guns. Amarr victor, bitches!

Changes

Ryven deliberated for a few days before he enrolled. The deciding factor in his decision was the promise of both freedom from natural death and the promise of commanding his own ships. The State apparently had overlooked his parentage, and he spent his first year at the Academy adjusting to the rigid set of rules enforced there. He was not trusted by his peers, nor especially liked. He made a few friends, however, but they were not particularly strong or binding. He managed to scrape by in the upper half of his class. His second and third years, his instructors praised his tactical caution, but derided his chaotic impulsiveness and willingness to try reckless tactics. Ryven would always shrug and say, "It's not like I'll be dead for long, anyway."
His fourth and final year was pretty much a blur of small fleet training exercises, which he excelled at. Paradoxically, even though he was a very impulsive and egocentric individual, he flew well with a group. Ryven didn't find this odd, since he'd been doing that shit for twenty-four years.

Farewell from Beyond the Veil

Letter from Titus Haijikioten to Ryven Krennel:

Ryven,
No man walks eagerly toward death. You are reading this, so we can safely assume I am dead. You probably have also been informed you are a very wealthy man. Despite your denial by taking that garbage Gallente name, you are a Haijikioten, the last scion of a house of murderers, thieves, pirates, and. the like, but a proud one no less. I never was good at emotional shit, but, since I won't be around for this, I can express to you the closeness I had with you. I have gone my entire life without children of my own, and through no one's fault but my own. I felt that void acutely. And then I found you. You filled the position of a son for me, and I loved you as one. As such, I have a gift for you. I sent in an applicstion to the State War Academy for you. Yes, I forged your signature. I applied you for their capsuleer program. Immortality, my boy. Their response arrived already. You're accepted, and have up to one year to enroll. Consider it my last request that you do so. Pull our family out of the dregs and make something of yourself. Find a nice girl, maybe? Hump like rabbits and have some little shithead welps running around. At any rate, this is me saying goodbye. Do me proud.

-Titus

Nail in the Coffin

"Mr. Krennel?" The young woman's voice, questioning, erupted into his ear.
"Sure. Who is this?"
"I am Li Kora. I handled all legal matters for Titus Haijikioten and HSG. We have never met."
Ryven scowled and took a pull from his drink. "Go on."
"Your uncle had me draft his will a while back. You are his sole beneficiary. In addition, he left a message to be given to you upon his death. May I send it to you now?"
Ryven rubbed his eyes and took a drag from a cigarette. "Fine."
The attorney sounded relieved. "Good, sending it through. Also, all of your uncle's possessions have been transferred to you."
Ryven's scowl deepened, another nail driven into his guilt-lined coffin. "Liquidate it all, and transfer the proceeds to my account."
The Achura acknowledged and Ryven ended the call. He then began reading the message from Titus.

The Aftermath

The stars formed a backdrop for the misery. Ryven sat in the captain's chair, the lifeless body of his only family laying propped against his feet, head cradled in his arms. Shiny rivulets of tears streaked his face, and his own self-hatred peaked. He was the agent of his worst pain, the queller of his bloodline, scourge of all that was right. He trembled.
The guristas compound was naught but a glowing red ember, and as far as Ryven could tell, so was his life. His world was shattered, a fractured glass leaking his own stain into the void. This pain was his penance.
***********************
Titus's funeral had been a very private affair. The news of Ryven's selling of HSG and it's assets was met positively. Most of the crews felt he was bad luck anyway. So, Ryven engaged in the oldest form of self-flagellation: he sat in a bar and drank alone, hoping to drown his pain. This carried on for a week or two before his neocom began to buzz, and for some reason, he answered.

Rage is the Downfall

The beam overhead gave way and crashed to the deck of the Tovil-Toba's bridge. Ryven cried out to warn Titus, but was already too late. The jagged end of a large metal beam plunged through Titus's chest, blood spewing in a spray of crimson, and spattered out his mouth. He survived just long enough to pull himself off of it, which sealed his fate. Ryven's vision went red. He could feel the tears welling in his eyes. This was his fault. His plan to kill his cousin succeeded, but in rage, Titus drove the fleet into the Guristas compound, revenge as his goal. Rage was his downfall. No less culpable, Ryven drove his guilt into rage and took command of his shattered fleet, blind to the destruction around him. Ship after ship exploded into fiery chaos until only the Raven and a cormorant remained, the lone victors, battered and burning. Ryven gave the order.
"Destroy their base. All of it."

The Dragon's Rage

Titus's fleet dropped out of warp. They were twelve ships in number, scattered in a loose formation around the Tovil-Toba. The Raven was the largest, with two drake-class battlecruisers, five caracal-class cruisers, three cormorant-class destroyers, and a merlin-class frigate. They were greeted by a larger force of at least twenty-five ships. Four feroxes, three caracals, and the remainder were all frigates of various classes. The two fleets sat still for a few moments, each taking the pause to take a deep breath before the plunge. The Guristas couldn't see the look in Titus's eyes, but Ryven could, and he felt a preternatural chill at the base of his spine. The glow from the bowl of Titus's pipe cast his face in a chilling visage of rage and sharp shadow. He blew bluish smoke from the corner of his mouth before opening comms with the fleet.
"All units engage. Primary is target alpha one, Ferox. Fire at will."
The space around the deadspace compound exploded into fierce combat, missiles streaking toward the targetted ferox, exploding brightly upon impact. Both fleets began maneuvering in the elaborate dance of interstellar combat. The feroxes returned fire, but lacked the discipline to primary just one ship, and Titus's fleet began taking sporadic damage. The Tovil-Toba was rocked by repeated hits. It was taking the brunt of the Guristas' volleys.
The first ferox and then another went down, but so did two of Titus's drakes. The cormorants began to engage the frigates and they began popping as well. The battle raged on for a hellacious ten minutes before tragedy struck.
The last ferox was not going down fast enough, and the Tovil-Toba's shields were depleted. The Raven and Ferox traded blows, but the Tovil-Toba's armor was quickly destroyed. The ferox was already in structure. One more volley would destroy it completely. The cruise missiles fired and streaked their way toward the ferox. Just before impact,the ferox's turrets flashed. The ferox exploded into bluish-white brilliance, but it's final volley breached the Tovil-Toba's hull.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Thoughts

The war is going well. My brothers and sisters in the Knighthood continue to treat me well, though I wonder sometimes what they really think of me. I admire and respect my superiors, an altogether new experience for me. I met "Red" the other day. Strange child, but fiery, and I approve of that. Fearless too, like me at that age. Shalee seems to be my closest associate, and I greatly enjoy her company. I also met her "friend" Tigerfish. We seemed to get along. Eran seems a bit gruff, but I suspect it is mostly stress from the tumultuous combination of his personal and work life. Raphael, well, what can you say about him?

We faced tragedy in the loss of Raze and Victoria Valadeus. They both were very respected voices in the community. I didn't get to know them as well as I should have. I have been too preoccupied with my own search for information regarding the relationship between both of my surrogate fathers, as well as my own sudden need for absolution, the latter being more of a surprise than the former. Regardless, the loss of the Valadei hit me and I felt something I hadn't in a long time: mortal. I drank a lot. Things weren't any clearer the next day.

The Die is Cast

             Months of planning had finally come together in one beautifully executed stroke.  She lay there, his cousin, dying in his uncle's arms.  Her life's blood pooling underneath her, her skin gaining that pallor that signals the end is very near.  Strangely, Ryven felt nothing.  He knew well enough, by now, that he wouldn't feel remorse or guilt.  That's just not how he was wired.  He had, however, expected to feel triumph, victory, the satisfaction that comes with accomplishing a goal, especially a goal as important to him as wiping out the remainder of his family line.  If asked, he likely would not be able to explain why he wished this, but, the most likely explanation is that the Haijikioten blood within him, the blood that coursed through Kalus's veins, was the embodiment of the supposed evil that led his father to piracy, and in the end, to his death, and thus, Ryven's life in an orphanage, the unwanted Haijikioten boy.

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

            Ryven had had almost no trouble arranging the whole thing.  It was a simple matter, really.  He had his contact in her pirate gang send a fake message from Krystal to another ship, which Titus and Ryven attacked shortly after.  This message was discovered in the process of salvaging the pirate ship.   Based on this information, Titus launched immediately into action.  This was not part of Ryven's plan.  It seemed to have worked out rather well, though.  Titus's fleet attacked fiercely and Ryven boarded the ship Krystal was being "held" on.   The fighting was short, but fierce.  He sent his boarding team to the bridge, while he searched the crew quarters, knowing full well that was where Krystal and his contact were going to be, having communicated with his contact prior to the attack.  However, it seemed that life imitated art, and his contact, Jacobus, really was holding her hostage, knife poised to thrust up into her ribs.  Ryven had not communicated to Jacobus why he wanted Krystal, only that he did want her.  So, Ryven smiled, closed the distance between them, and shoved Jacobus's hand, holding the knife, up into Krystal's ribs, piercing her heart.  Jacobus stared at him, shocked, and terrified.  Ryven quickly drew his pistol and fired a round directly into Jacobus's skull.  Word arrived over his comms link that the bridge had been taken.  Ryven quickly raised the "Tovil-Toba."

           "Captain, you're needed, immediately.  Krystal's hurt, badly.  Aft crew quarters."

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

While Ryven was lost in his reverie, a fiery rage began to boil inside Titus Haijikioten.  Without a word, he stood up, and brushed past Ryven on his way back to the Tovil-Toba.  He keyed up his comms link and quickly barked out orders.

"Everyone back to the Tovil-Toba.  We're getting underway right fucking now.  Arm every goddamn weapon we have.  Every goddamn one."