At 2am yesterday morning, Commandante Don Carlos Benitez' Titan was destroyed in Omicron-Kappa. At approximately 6am yesterday morning his escape pod was detected by a Zoner transport.
The escape pod was transferred to Yaren Base, and opened. Carlos was found unconscious with weak life-signs.
After cautious attempts to revive him, he was declared in a Comatose state.
The last 24 hours have provided little hope that he will revive, although his condition is being continually monitored by Yaren medical staff.
Emergency plans put in place by the first Commandante of the family forces have in the last hour come into effect. Praetor Zavier Benitez is now in command as long as Carlos remains in a coma. In the event that the Benitez return to Crete, Carlos Benitez is to be moved by medical transport to the Myrtos Villa in Crete.
There was a small party consisting of the senior members of the Benitez familia standing outside the med-unit where Carlos was sleeping, deep in a coma. The Corsair nation had taken heavy casualties, with TBH losing several of it's most trusted pilots, and the Benitez familia losing Ferono one of the familia's highly skilled pilots... Now Carlos, the leader that had taken the familia from obscurity to fortune- helping them find their true cause: Comlete dedication to the Corsair Empire, and their hermano and hermana's had been attacked and fallen into a coma... These were dark times for all involved.
Custo' had noted that the attack report had not specified what or who attacked Carlos. A engine trail had been found, so that cancelled out a Nomad attack. The trails on their 'next generation' organic ships were notoriously hard to find and Custo' doubted the old variety would have been able to bring Carlos down, evn with numbers on their side. Bounty Hunter attack was also unlikely in Kappa... Custo' wondered if a certain party had attempted to assasinate him... These truley were dark times. He was sure there would be no evidence to back up any theories emerging any time soon... He hoped Carlos would recover soon. All of the Benitez did.
Custo' was in Carlos' room, at his bedside. An engineer entered.
"Elder Custo, sir, the Cruiser Cronus has been fully equipped, for Senor Carlos...if he awakens".
Custo turned to the engineer. "Very well. It's a magnificent ship. We only hope he comes back to us soon".
"How bad is it?" the engineer asked.
"Other than the Coma, the Doctors think he has some brain-damage. Not life threatening, but they reacon he wont be the same man we knew."
The engineer placed the hangar-access card on the table, and made his exit.
It had been 3 weeks. Visitors had come and gone, and Zavier had struggled to keep Carlos' family going. They where starting to lose hope, when, one lonely afternoon, monitors began to register brain activity.
It began slowly, but was followed by unmistakable signs of higher brain function; rapid eye movement, twitching, and this continued for several hours.
Puzzled doctors monitored his condition, until, at around 5pm SSUT, his eyes opened, and he spoke.
"Where am I? Who are you people?"
3 weeks had been a very long time, and although Jose had made a number of these trips to Yaren to see Carlos, he had started to lose hope that anything would change. The trips themselves had almost begun to have the feeling of a pilgrimage about them, almost as though the hospital bed had become a shrine.
He had often wondered whether Carlos would return, and if he did, whether he would be the same person.
He decided that a cup of coffee was in order, although it was not particularly good for him, and the stuff from the vending machines was especially vile.
Jose was deep in thought, thinking about what a good job Praetor Zavier had done recently. Running the families affairs and conducting the negotiations with other families and factions was definitely not something Jose wanted to get involved in.
His thoughts were distracted by some movement by the bedside of Carlos. It seemed that one of the nurses who was attending to Carlos was calling for a Doctor, whilst paying careful attention to the readouts on a number of the pieces of equipment.
Jose moved closer, and watched as a Doctor entered the room to also stand by the side of the bed, then as Jose entered the room he heard Carlos speak, "Where am I? Who are you people?"
Carlos had awakened. At last. The wait was over. Jose immediately headed for the Comms room so that he could send a signal to all of the Benitez and give them the news. Their Don had returned to them.
A formal transmission was sent to all of Carlos' close relatives, inviting them to visit him at the medical facility. The transmission included information about his memory-loss.
The hum of engines sounded throughout the facility as ships arrived. Soon, Carlos was surrounded by his closest and most trusted friends.
"I recognise some of your faces... The doctors explained a few things to me. Apparently I'm a commander of a family and military force within the Corsairs"
Concerned faces looked on.
"I feel fine...and I've tried and tried to get my head streight, but I can barely remember who I am"
One of the Corsairs, bald, with his uniform decorated with medals of honor, and a golden crest more elaborate than any of the others spoke.
"Don, Commandante Carlos Benitez, perhaps you would remember more at the controls of your ship?"
He brought out a ring of chip-keys, 10 of them, and flung them to Carlos.
I hope he will convalesce! He is respectability enemy, and really good pilot..
This is the -=HUN|TER=- Clan.
I introduce ourselves in short:
About our Clan: We are Assasins.
We not harm others just for fun, or sport. So, if any of our members kill You, think about it, who are Your enemies. We trully not. We just doing our job.
If You kill any of us (expect the selfdefense), we kill You anywhere & anytime, when we spot You.
We not tolerated the hobby killers, e.g. the rouges. (If You want some PvP, be nice, and CALL!
If You are interested in some businnes of us: contact any -=HUN|TER=- in private channel. For your safety: do not use the system channel...
We never give out our client's name. So, don't ask the names, if you killed. You have to know Your enemies.
Recruiting: Our members are only Hungarians. We are not able to join players from other nations, becouse some of us cannot speak in english. I wish, You understand this. Sorry.
there was a dull bang a sound of some protests from one of the medical staff and then Custo' burst through the door to see Don Carlos sitting in his bed looking bemused and holding a key card just given to him my Zavier. Custo' smiled. Looks like the familia's luck was finaly turning.
'It is good to see you my Don'
Months passed. Gradually Carlos' memory had returned. He remembered the SCRA-Cretian Embargo that first pushed the Benitez family into submissiveness to the Brotherhood. He remembered the Omicron-94 Conference in which the Brotherhood again refused to allow the familia an ounce of respect or equality. He remembered the chaos that followed, and defended his own actions, following the path that the familia had chosen.
Some details escaped him, and some events in his life seemed to be lost forever.
Carlos sat back in his chair, the light of the hot Cretan sun blazing through his office window. Occupied by diplomatic crises and and other administrative matters, Carlos had been at Myrtos Villa for many consecutive days.
His eyes shut, and he searched his memory once more, just has he had done every day since awakening, looking to regain the memories he'd lost.
Sunset.
The orange orb illuminating the sky fell beneath the dark ash mountains, and the colour of the sky chnged gradually from orange and green, to a deep brown.
A purple vein pulsed in Carlos' neck. Stress.
He found himself sitting at his desk, once again, in his office at Myrtos Villa. He poured over a coded transmission his brothers had intercepted.
Sent from the leader of the OPG to the Brotherhood, it contained specific details of a plan to betray him.
For months, Carlos' closest brothers, Zavier, Jose and Chico had worked tirelessly towards creation of a new ruling body for Planet Crete. Dedicated to the freedom and equality of honourable Corsair warriors, the new Senate would have been a testament to the Corsair's might and dedication to justice and freedom for their people.
For months, his hermanos had laboured and negotiated in attempts to make a number of stubborn warlords subscribe to the doctrine that would have allowed all Corsair peoples to stand together united under a fair democracy.
However, the transmission on Carlos' display had crushed all hope for such an achievement. The warlords who had had control previous to the negotiations had made a pact with the Benitez' supposed allies. The pact described that the two parties would band together their military power and use it to supress all who might oppose the government they would create.
The battle had been lost.
Carlos sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. The hum of the ships arriving and leaving the base melted away as Carlos retreated into his mind.
Since shortly after he awoke from the coma, Carlos had been using this technique, suggested by one of the doctors, to clear his mind and help him recapture lost memories.
But, in the deepest recesses of his mind, Carlos sensed something. A whispering, a quiet voice.
Carlos dismissed it as just a part of his subconscious, but as he fell deeper into his meditative state, the voice became louder.
"You have failed, Carlos."
Carlos ignored the voice, and concentrated on his meditation. "Failed to make the senate. Failed to be the voice of the silent masses"
It was distracting. Carlos addressed the voice with his concious mind. "I'm down, but I'm not out. They will listen to reason."
The voice argued back. "You're mission is over. Your credibility and dignity destroyed. You feel this."
Was this part of the process? Carlos replied. "I'm not beaten yet, and neither are the familia. They'll never give up. "You're fighting a losing battle. Why don't you go to Montoya's house now, and give yourself up." "Why would I do that?" Carlos asked. The voice answered. "They'll have you executed. Surrender to them and you may be allowed to live. "This isn't civil war, and they're not savages. Anyway, no part of me would ever submit to that. Why would I?"
The voice replied; louder, colder. "It would please US."
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