Francisco de Orellana

[Francisco_de_Orellana]

The Rebirth of Francisco de Orellana

The gravely injured Orellana had been tractored in by Puertollano Observation Post who were most displeased that not only was there a Corsair floating around in their most guarded system, but that he was also too badly injured to beat to death outright with any kind of honour. Stabilised and bundled onto a ship bound for Malta, Orellana spent the next ten years enduring daily sessions with the Marina Militare's most brutal inquisitors. Orellana told them nothing and the inquisitor's visits became more infrequent, eventually forgetting about him all together, leaving him to rot in a damp prison cell.

Nearly two decades later, with a war on two fronts looming, slave transports thinning and every Outcast called to the front, the prisoners were taken out of their cells and set to work harvesting the cardamine grass that funded the war. Francisco's work gang was soon moved to the space port and entrusted with unloading cargo vessels. Heavy manual work. They were unchained as the commandante spoke to the assembled prisoners.

"You have all been on Malta for many years. You are by now a part of this planet, you cannot live without it. If you try to escape, a painful death awaits. If you succeed in leaving the planet, we will hunt you down and you will suffer a painful death at our hands. If you are not so lucky as to be caught, you will suffer the agony of Cardamine withdrawal and die slowly. Your choice. Live and work here. Die out there."


Orellana was forty years old, but his dedication to returning home had kept him strong. The heavy work had made him stronger still. Strong enough to see an opportunity when it arose. An opportunity like unloading a Zoner supply ship. The guards would be too busy helping themselves to goods to really keep an eye on an old man.

The vast ZBT-100 full of food and luxury goods was unpacked. The meagre skeleton crew would not find him until he wanted to be found. Orellana secreted himself behind an access panel and waited.

Twelve hours later the ship took off. Orellana smelled the air change from atmospheric to ship's own. He waited an hour, then pushed the panel door aside.
Meanwhile, on the deck of the OSI-Thetis, Captain Frost gave the order to approach the Omicron Beta jumphole and jump when ready and set course for Nagano, then retired to his cabin.

As Orellana crept through the maze like corridors of the ship, he heard footsteps on the deck plates. He squeezed himself against a wall and held his breath.
Around the corner, Frost entered his cabin, closed the door behind him and prepared to get some sleep.
Seeing the man in the Captain's uniform entering the cabin and the door shutting, Orellana marched up to the door and smashed the door padd with his fist. "Not getting out of there in a hurry amigo"

Orellana made his way towards the bridge, passing briefly through the ready-room. He paused for a moment as a blinding pain cut through his head, for a moment he thought he'd be sick. Steadying himself, he grabbed a carelessly placed rifle from a desk and marched in.

"Gentlemen, I'm Francisco de Orellana, and I'll be hijacking your ship this evening."

Herding the the two bridge crew and two engineers into the ship's small brig, Orellana was feeling increasingly unwell. Drenched in a cold sweat he set course for Omicron Gamma. Crete. Home.