She asked me to leave last night.
I can’t say that I blame her. Being married to a pod pilot is stressful. Some just take to it better than others.
I’ve never told Kat this, but when she disappeared I immediately assumed she was dead. The 24th Imperial Crusade had taken my Sebestior beauty and so I acted in anger. What I did wasn’t intended as a rescue; I was meting out punishment en masse. I murdered dozens of innocent people, not to find Kathyayini, but to soak my anger in Amarrian blood. And soak my anger I did. I publicly executed Holder Zanjoahir’s only child, and I felt good about it. I slaughtered the egger he sent after me and I relished it. It wasn’t until the TLF squad informed us that they had recovered survivors – Kat among them – that the enormity of my sins hit me. I had meant to die for my love; now instead I had to live with the blood on my hands.
I should have turned myself in, I know. At the very least perpetuating these acts against allies of the State would be considered egregious war crimes. In the end selfishness and pride kept me from doing it – I didn’t want to lose the woman for whom I had given up what was left of my humanity. I didn’t want this one act to eclipse what should have been my academic legacy. And I didn’t want my kids to know what sort of monster their father really is.
I’ve liquidated most of my assets and set up a trust fund for them. I know a couple billion isn’t a lot to some folks, but to me it’s everything I’ve ever earned. Everything I’ve ever had. Everything I’ve ever been worth. And it’s enough to maintain their standard of living pretty much indefinitely. All that’s left is a handful of frigates and the transport that will take them into Anoikis with me.
I love you, Kat. I’ll miss you.