River stared through the bridge viewports at Renao, the smaller of Persephone’s two tiny moons, a silver sliver in the blackness. Her attention was not on the moon, though, but inside. She was trying to be calm and persuade herself that it was going to work. She knew it was futile to pretend she was not afraid, but she could not give in to the fear. Just beneath the surface, Ariel stirred. River learned very quickly that if she was afraid, if she hesitated, she would lose control. Ariel was incredibly strong. Only a determined resistance had saved her when she called Ariel up in her room. Her assassin alter-ego was surprised by it, having never been challenged before. Built without the inhibitions and mores of normal human beings, she was not bound by the limits that kept most people in check. Only one thing concerned her- the mission. Fortunately, she was also programmed to take orders. So, for a few hours when she should have been sleeping, River stood in front of her mirror, calling up Ariel and training her to obey. She accustomed herself to the cold eyes and affectless expression of Ariel’s persona on her face. Then she would command Ariel to stand down, though never without some resistance. It was like a master teaching his dog to heel. River hated that analogy, but she saw it was apropos. And, just like a dog, if Ariel sensed fear or weakness, she would not respond.

Over those brief few hours she gained confidence that she could control Ariel, but the sensation at transition never grew less unsettling. When Ariel took the foreground, she fell backwards out of herself. Everything became more distant as it filtered through Ariel’s consciousness, which was as stark and sterile a place as the Academy that created her. Ariel felt emotions, but they were of little consequence. She ignored them or turned them to her advantage as necessary. Although ashamed of it, River actually envied her for that. When River took control again, there was that not-quite-physical sensation of pushing forw