Carlos awoke. He was in the cockpit of his Titan, outside the Crete docking ring.
"How did I get here?" he wondered.
He tried to remember the dream he'd been having, but it was long gone.
Back to business...
A few days passed, and Carlos continued his duties, but remained ill-at-ease. After patrolling Gamma, Carlos caught sight of an unidentified vessel. He pursued the ship and forced it to stop.
It was a badly beaten Titan, possibly modified by some wannabe engineer. It had nomad weapons, and it's perfect hull appeared to have been mutilated under the preface of "customisation".
For some reason, Carlos felt furious. Mutilation of our technology, splicing it with alien equipment. It was all Carlos could do not to open fire on the ship, an affront his people.
Still, Carlos let it pass.
Carlos ended his patrol and setting his ship down at the Villa Hangar, he made his way to his office. It seemed there where a mountain of administrative issues that needed to be seen to, and that only added to his state of mental fatigue.
A knock came from the door.
"Who the hell is it!" he barked.
The pale face of Alandra appeared at the door.
"It's me dad..." she said, cautiously. Carlos' harsh and agressive tone and expression diddn't change.
"What the hell do you want?" he barked at her.
"I wanted to see if you where ok, dad. You've been acting strangely..."
It was as if Carlos was not even aware of her presence, mistaking her for some messenger boy.
"So...that fool has screwed up again has he? He will not get in the way of our plans..." the delusional commander shouted.
"Dad...you're scaring me..." Alandra walked up to Carlos' desk, and touched his face as he sat, staring rigid at the door.
Suddenly, he snapped out of his hallucination.
"A.A! I wasn't expecting a visit. How are you?" Carlos said, trying to hide his exhaustion.
"Worried dad." she said "What's up with you?"
Carlos looked at her, puzzled. "I don't know what you mean" he answered.
"You've been having weird turns dad. Senor Gentle contacted me and asked me to check up on you."
Carlos' eyes filled with fury again. "Gentle is no friend of ours..." he barked.
"Friend enough to care about your well-being, clearly" she retaliated.
Carlos diddn't like the idea of having to accept Gentle was anything more than a backstabbing opportunist with no concern for anyone other than himself. He shifted the subject away from old friends and his mental health.
"How's your mother?" he asked.
"Annoyed that she never sees you" she snapped.
"I don't know what she expects from me, AA." he said. "I hope she doesn't expect a relationship. We never where together, and we never will be."
A.A cut in to avoid the uncomfortable subject of the circumstances of her birth being brought into the conversation.
"Dad...see a doctor. Please."
She turned, and made her way out of the room, her eyes a little red.
Carlos sat back in his chair, and once again he cleared his mind.
The voice...was still there, still whispering.
Carlos began the conversation.
"What are you?" he snapped.
"We are you" the voice replied. Carlos diddn't believe it.
"You are not part of me." he said firmly. "You don't belong here"
"Perhaps you don't know yourself as well as you'd like to think..." the voice retorted. "We are the part of you that lusts for power, the part of you that drives you towards leadership. We are the drive behind your achievements, and we have come forth to help you during this dark time".
The voice was soothing, comforting. Carlos felt his hostility towards it melt away. The voice continued to speak.
"The Council of Elders will be re-opened. This is not what we had hoped for, but we can bend this to our advantage."
Carlos felt himself agreeing.
"We will use our seat on the Council as a platform from which our influence can spread. They may have turned their back on us, but we are strong enough to bring them all to see our point of view".
Carlos agreed again.
"We will look after you, but for the moment you must rest."
For the first time in what seemed like weeks, Carlos fell into a deep sleep.
Carlos awoke. He was still in his office, his desk covered in papers. Carlos stretched, and then looked out of his window. It was daybreak.
He sat down at the desk again, and began looking at the papers infront of him. He only recognised a third. How long had he been asleep?
He looked at his computer. The date had advanced by three days. Had he been asleep that long?
He looked at his desk. Some of the papers had...his signature on.
Carlos put two and two together, and immediately plunged himself into a meditative state.
"What did you do!?" he asked himself.
"You mean...what did WE do?" a voice replied.
"I'm tired of your games. You put me to sleep and took over for 3 days. I need to know what you did." Carlos felt himself getting angry. Was it possible to be enemies with your own subconcious?
"We did what you always tried to do, what you where unable to do, and what you where afraid to do..."
"What did you do!?" Carlos repeated.
"We made you swallow your pride, and insodoing managed to guarantee the creation of the Senate we have always dreamed of."
Carlos couldn't believe his ears. After it had seemed like all hope was lost, he had somehow managed to have the Brotherhood and OPG sign up to the creation of a Senate with equal representation and indipendant delegates.
The news was bittersweet, however. What the voice had said...disturbed him.
"What did you say to them?" Carlos asked.
His subconcious replied. "We apologised for your actions over the past months, your obsession with power, and your mistrust of fellow Corsairs".
Carlos was furious. Apologising for his righteous struggle for democracy, his commitment to achieving that goal, and his only reasonble mistrust of those who had betrayed him in the past...the thought sickened him.
It took a lifetime to build a reputation, and it seemed that Carlos had underminded what little integrity he had.
This wasn't natural. This wasn't right. Carlos knew he had to get rid of the voice; push it back into the recesses of his mind where it belonged, never to rear it's face again.
He lifted a screen in his desk, and tapped a code into the interface.
"Contacting Lloyd Johnson..."
After five minutes, a face appeared on the screen.
"What is it..!? Who the hell is this?"
Carlos replied. "This is Commandante, Don Carlos Benitez of the Corsairs".
The man before him was in his early forties, wearing a cryer uniform.
"****..." he shouted, preparing to slam down the lid of the communicator.
"Relax senor. We have no grudge with you. I need your help senor."
The man did not seem to relax much, but sat down and listened to what Carlos had to say.
"I had heared from senora Chavez that you tried to help Maniaco..." said Carlos.
"I did what I could for the poor man..." the doctor interjected, "though I am a Professor of Psychiatry rather than clinical medcine. I tried to help him..deal with the psycological aspects of his addiction..."
Carlos nodded. "I know, senor. That's why I need your help. I need a consultation."
Johnson frowned. "You people have doctors of your own. I got involved with the Corsairs once, I don't intend to make a habit of it."
Carlos replied. "I need to keep...any condition I might have entirely confidential, which is hard to achieve in a society in which dishonesty is a means of survival."
The doctor nodded, but then stared into his screen again.
"What might I gain from this?" he asked. Carlos tapped some buttons on his console, and wired 2 million credits to the doctor's account.
He looked into the doctors eyes. "Please senor. I need help".
Over the next two hours, Carlos explained to Senor Johnson all the details of his history that pertained to his mental health, from his incarceration on Newgate in his mid twenties, to the incident in Kappa 6 months ago, and the subsiquent coma.
He then explained about the voice during his meditations, and how it would argue back at him. He explained how he thought the voice had taken control of him, due to his loss of the memory of the past 3 days.
"Very odd indeed" the doctor added.
"I've been under allot of stress lately senor, and I think it's taking it's toll."
The doctor nodded. "I agree...but I believe the seed of the problem may have been planted before that, perhaps during the incident that lead to your coma. You're symptoms are indicative of some kind of post-traumatic stress."
Carlos listened. Understanding science such as this was not his strong point, and he felt very vulnerable opening himself up to an aquantance whom he had never met in person.
"How does the presence of the other voice make you feel?" he asked.
"Angry" Carlos replied. "it makes me furious to know that even in my own head I have voices second-guessing my decisions and pressuring me to make decisions against my own judgement. When it took control, that was the last straw."
The doctor raised an eyebrow. "You diddn't answer my question. You told me how the actions of the 'other' made you feel. How does it's presence make you feel?"
Carlos was about to retort. "Think deeper" ordered the doctor.
Carlos did as he was told. He shut his eyes, and drifted to the place where he and his subconcious would meet. Words began to float into his mind, intense feelings inspiring speech.
"Safe" said Carlos. "Secure.... warm."
The doctor interrupted. "Cared for?"
Carlos nodded, and cracked a weak smile, his eyes still closed.
The doctor tapped his microphone, and the sound snapped Carlos back out of his trance. "Well, sir... I believe you are a sufferer of Dissociative Identity Disorder caused by post traumatic stress and high levels of stress within your life."
Carlos stayed silent.
"Where you my patient, I would almost certainly have you institutionalised for further study and treatment, but that's not an option"
The doctor continued.
"The voice represents your subconcious mind, your most basic desires. By the sound of things, you spend your life looking after your organisation with little regard for yourself, and clearly your subconcious is demanding to be heard, rather than continue being ignored."
Carlos interrupted.
"I can't carry on like this senor. It's disturbing."
The doctor shook his head. "I disagree. I think, whilst un-natural, the manifestation of your sub-concious could do you some good. You need to learn to look after yourself. Your description of how the voice makes you feel said it all; you know deep down that it has your best interests at heart, and you know that it won't let you come to harm. You enjoyed being able to let go and allow it to look after you."
Carlos was confused.
"What do you think I should do, senor?" he asked.
"As I see it, you have 3 options. You can retire, thus reducing the stress and allowing you to focus more on appeasing your subconcious, removing the need for it to come forth.
Alternatively, you can go about your daily life deliberately allowing time for yourself and satisfying 'the voice' without it needing to take over."
Carlos only heared two options. "The third?" he asked.
The doctor took a deep breath. "You can let go completely. I don't know what it will do to your personality, but you could enjoy the security the voice offers while letting go of your responsibilities. The voice's role is almost like that of a parent, doing what's best for you even in spite of your own opinions. That's why you find it comforting."
Carlos looked gravely at Senor Johnson.
"So...I can't fight it?" he asked.
"You've tried, and it exhausted you to a point where it could take over."
Carlos tried to search for another option. "What about treatment?"
The doctor shook his head.
"No medication would be able to deal with this, as essentially your brain is fighting itself. Short of barbaric lobotomy or whiping your mind clean using Electro-convulsive therapy, there is nothing we can do. You have to make peace with this voice."
Not the answer Carlos wanted to hear. He thanked the doctor for his time, and shut down the comm link.
Powerful engines hummed overhead, as the battle scarred Gunboat Tartarus landed on the emergency pad on the roof of Myrtos Villa, Benitez headquarters.
Alandra was in a hangar below, working on her new Titan, when she heard the audible thud as the heavy ship touched down on the roof of the building.
The roof pad was never used; it was kept clear for emergencies. Alandra new this, and immediately dropped her tools, before heading up the long staircase to the top of the building.
She stepped out onto the roof, and her eyes where met by the dark jagged hull of her father's gunboat.
A bald man in his late twenties stormed towards her. "Out of my way, girl" he barked as she stumbled to one side.
She recognised the man, of course. Cezar Moreno, the hot-headed tactical officer of the Tartarus, and Carlos' co-pilot when he used his bomber. She'd only met him a few times, not out of choice, given the disdainful look the man normally gave her.
She shouted after him; "Where's my dad?". Cezar made no effort to reply.
She stood, staring up at the bridge of the warship, but she couldn't see her father up there. She knew he'd gone with the crew to meet with and escort a Light-Arms convoy that was headed to Crete. Trade ships matching the description of that convoy had landed at the outside docking area a few minutes before. Still; why was Moreno in such a hurry, and where was Carlos?
Soon, her questions where answered. The rest of the crew of her father's mighty warship emerged. First, she saw the young face of the communications technician; Julio Tovar, but she saw behind him something she did not expect.
He was followed by two muscular engineers; Adan and Quinto Benitez, at either side of a struggling middle-aged man, eyes darting round in their sockets, face dripping with sweat. Her father was being restrained by his engineers, struggling to break free. He looked quite mad.
"What the hell is going on? Let go of him!" she shouted.
Julio took her to one side.
"Alandra, we know you care about your dad, but they're not harming him. He's having some kind of episode. We need to get him somewhere secure until he calms down." Julio looked sincere. "Go to the Don's office. Cezar will be in there. He'll explain everything."
Julio turned to the engineers. "Take him to his quarters and tie him down. We don't want him to hurt himself. And for god's sake, try not to let anyone see you. The last thing we need is the Brotherhood finding out about his condition."
Alandra glanced back at her struggling father, and then returned to the building.
She approached the door to her father's office, and swung it open. Cezar Moreno was sitting at Carlos' desk, on her father's computer.
"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded.
Moreno rose from his seat, leaned forward and glared at the girl in front of him.
"Carlos is very ill, as you will have seen."
Alandra interrupted. "Who the hell do you think you are, going through his personal files?"
Cezar seemed to rise further, as if trying to intimidate the young woman.
"His condition could be the death of him, or at the very least the death of his reputation, if word of it gets out. I need to find out exactly who knows about this, and weather he is under the care of any doctors.
In short, girl, I'm too busy to deal with you."
Alandra felt fury surge. "You have no right to be in this office. This is a family matter. If Carlos had wanted you to be involved in his care he would have told you about his condition weeks ago, and you'd have no need to go searching on his computer."
Cezar barked back. "You are not the only one who cares about Carlos, girl. If you give a damn about him, you'll tell me what you know."
Alandra backed down. "I've known about his condition for about a month now. I told him to see a doctor. The only other person who suspects he may have an illness is Gentle, leader of the Omega Pirates Guild."
Cezar's expression barely softened, and his tone of voice diddn't change. "By all accounts, Gentle even more unstable than Carlos."
Alandra continued. "My father finally agreed to see a doctor a few weeks ago, and contacted someone working for Cryer on Atka. Contact detains will be on the computer.
Cezar glanced down at the display, then back at Alandra. He stared at her, in the eye, as if beaconing her to leave. She stood her ground.
After a few long seconds, Cezar sat down again and hit afew buttons on the keypad. He tilted the screen to allow Alandra to see the display. "Let's see if this doctor of his picks up..."
A new window appeared on the computer screen, of three pilots each dressed in unfamiliar but identical uniforms. One spoke.
"Hey! We're not happy about this. We come here all the way from Liberty with supplies for senor Carlos and find he's been mutinied upon and locked up in his own cargo hold!? What the hell are you people playing at?"
Alandra glanced at Cezar, who tried to make a reply, before being interrupted.
"...You better listen to me closely, Moreno. Carlos is a very good friend of mine. We where an inch from blasting your ship out of the sky earlier when we first found out. I'm beginning to regret having my men hold their fire."
Cezar finally managed to break through. "Don Carlos is ill, senor. If we hadn't have done what we did, we'd all be dead."
An older man in the background with a picture of a bluish bird embroidered on his uniform shook his head, and muttered something under his breath. The man at the front glanced back, and nodded, before speaking again.
"If any of this is true, then you won't mind us going to see Senor Carlos. Where is he?"
Cezar glared at the screen. "He is in no fit state for visitors, least of all from you mercenaries. Come back in afew days."
The man muffled the microphone, and said something to the others behind him. More conversation followed, before the man un-muffled the microphone.
"We will return in two days. If we are not allowed to see Senor Carlos at that time, we will contact another Benitez commander and have them over-rule you."
The comm-window closed, revealing one behind, still connecting. After a couple of minutes a man appeared in the window wearing a Cryer uniform.
"What is it? I'm very busy, you know...."
Cezar was about to speak, but Alandra cut across.
"Dr Lloyd Johnson? this is Alandra Alba Benitez, Senor Carlos' daughter...."
The man nodded. "I see. How is the don doing?"
"Not well" Alandra replied, and recounted the day's events.
"Not good at all" said the doctor. "Clearly his condition is worse than I originally thought. Is he still confused?"
Alandra nodded.
"Well, unfortunately I have patients here, and can't come to Crete to see him. From what Mr. Carlos told me when I spoke to him, treatment by Cretian doctors is also out of the question. My advise would be to make sure that he can't hurt himself. I'm sure he'll snap out of it sooner or later. Keep me posted."
With that, the transmission terminated.
Alandra glanced back at Cezar, and then left the room.
She stormed down the stairs, passing the hangar bay and meeting rooms, descending below the war-room into the vaults. She glanced around. Most where empty, but a select few of the cells contained the quivering remains of what where once Bounty Hunter pilots. Only the most strategicly valuable prisoners where held here.
At the end of the corridor, she saw the other members of the Tartarus' crew. She stepped over to them, and looked into the cell infront. Inside, Carlos lay on the bed, muttering.
"He's been like that for half-an-hour now." said Julio. "Though at least he's not hurting himself".
Meanwhile, Jose was returning from a mission in the Maldava Cloud. His Titan landed at the main docking bay. Jose climbed out of the cockpit, and headed for Carlos' office. He had some news and was eager to tell the don in person.
He stepped in to find someone else in the Don's chair.
"What the...?" he began.
Cezar quickly got up from the chair.
"Where's Carlos?" Jose asked.
Cezar paused. "He's on a covert mission at the moment. He'll be unreachable for afew days."
Jose raised an eyebrow. "I have the highest security clearance, and I wasn't told about such a mission. Where is he?"
Cezar replied. "You are not a member of Carlos' personal staff, High Elder Jose."
Jose frowned. "What do you mean by that?"
"You can't expect Senor Carlos to involve the familia in every operation. The one he is currently working on is the business of his personal staff only".
Jose couldn't believe his ears. Since when did Carlos' band of co-pilots plan operations? Since when had Carlos been doing missions without the familia being informed or involved?
"I see. Well, Cezar, you ought not be in senor Carlos' office. Please leave."
Reluctantly, Cezar stepped out of the room. Jose picked up the keys on Carlos' desk and left, locking the door.
Alandra stepped out of her room, walked down the corridor, and headed for Carlos office. Ever so often, she stopped and glanced around nervously, ready to run at the first sound of footsteps.
Outside, she heard the sound of a speed bike and a few seconds later, another vehicle.
A shuffling noise, and the battle scarred face of Ferono Benitez appears, with Jose behind.
"Alandra. Where now?"
Alandra burst into fast whispered speech. "I just had to tell someone, he's not getting any better, You understand?"
Jose nodded. "You're doing Carlos a favour. Now, do you need his office opening?"
Alandra nodded, and the three of them entered the room. Alandra opened up Carlos' data screen.
"Here's the feed from the cameras in the vaults. No-one's down there, which is good. We won't be interrupted. Cezar Moreno is in Bretonia at the moment."
She hit a button under the desk, and the speakers brought to the room the sound of a bulkhead opening.
"Now we can go."
The three left the room and headed down the corridor. Alandra quickly descended the stairs, followed by Jose.
"Wait up!" half-whispered Ferono. He tried to manoeuvre is wheelchair down the steps.
"Need me to carry you?" asked Jose.
The sound of Ferono's insisting that he was fine was followed by a crash.
"Perhaps we should carry you" said Alandra.
The two picked up the wheelchair, and they descended the many flights of stairs, down to the vaults.
They went down past the hangars and armoury, the temperature falling as they descended into the tunnels below the HQ.
Then, they met a metal door.
Alandra tapped a code into the console on the door's left, and it opened, revealing a long stinking corridor with filthy cells on all sides, most occupied with the shaking bodies of former Bounty Hunter pilots.
"Nice place" joked Ferono.
Alandra tapped a brick on the wall that ended the corridor, and it turned to reveal another console. She typed in another code, and the wall slid back revealing four cleaner cells.
"Dad's over there" she said..
Behind the bars of one of the cells, a man sat staring at the floor.
"Boss!" shouted Ferono as his eyes caught glimpse of Carlos within the dimly lit cell.
Carlos made no reply. He just stared, brow furrowed, at the floor.
"Can anything be done?" asked Jose.
"Cezar and I contacted his doctor on Atka. He said just to give him time." replied Alandra.
"I wish we could open the cell. If only he let me see his eyes." said Ferono. "Then I might be able to do something".
"Monsters in the dark...voices..." muttered the man in the cell.
Alandra whimpered. "He's really confused. Dad, can you hear me?"
Suddenly, the man broke his concentration and his eyes began darting round the cell.
"Almost through. Conquest..."
"So...basicly, that doctor was no help whatsoever?" said Jose.
Carlos seemed to reply.
"Lloyd Johnson helped us...break through."
Alandra disagreed. "He's worse since he spoke to that doctor." she said.
Ferono repeated. "I need to look at his eyes".
Alandra took notice. "Dad, look at me."
Carlos stared at the floor again, and his brow furrowed, concentrating hard. Suddenly, his head shot back, and he stared at Alandra.
Ferono wheeled in front of her, and stared into his leader's eyes.
Ferono wheeled slowly towards the cell's bars, his eyes looking constantly into the eyes of the only man he held respected more than his own self. Once the wheelchair hit the bars, Ferono concentrated even more on Carlos' face. A small purple vein appeared on Carlos' forehead. Both men eyes stood completely still, their irises contracting and expanding continuously. Suddenly Ferono's face took a terrified look, and despite leaning towards the bars he fell back on his wheelchair.
Alandra and Jose rushed towards Ferono, but did not get close, since his body was spasming violently. Eventually, the spasms stopped. Ferono's face looked pale and still had that terrified look. Jose leaned over him, and spoke to him: "Ferono, are you all right? Talk to me!" Alandra kept a distance.
"Ferono, what is happening! Wake up!" Ferono's face started twitching, the words "No" "I am you" "Trust me" "Broken..." echoing from within him, like voices from people buried in a deep cave.
Suddenly, he turned around. "Right, guys. I believe everything is done here. Time to go", his face having a calm, collected look. Alandra asked him "Ferono, is everything ok?" and he replied calmly, with a slightly ironic expression. "Yes, my dear. Everything is fine. Actually, things were never better for me. Now, let's go."
Ferono began wheeling calmly towards the stairs, while the others looked at Carlos, worried. As Ferono reached the stairs, his voice echoed from around the corridor "Will anyone help me with those stairs, please?". Jose replied "Yes, I'm coming, hang on hermano!" and turning to Alandra "It's time to go. There nothing more we can do right now." Alandra followed him down the corridor, looking at her father as the vault gate closed. Jose grabbed Ferono by the armpits and carried him up the stairs. Alandra followed with the wheelchair.
Ferono got on his wheelchair after they reached the ground level. "So, hermanos, it's time for me to go. I wouldn't want to miss my dinner, would I? I suggest you do the same". The others look at him puzzled as he wheeled away towards the garage, where his speedbike was parked. Ferono slowly climbed on the bike, secured a seatbelt, folds the wheelchair, attaches it to the side and fires up the turbines. He rides off, following all traffic signs, his turbine revving at economical output. That was very unlike him. He was a known adrenaline-junkie on Crete, and he usually disregarded all traffic laws, speeding like mad even in urban streets.
Slowly, his bike disappeared in the horizon, heading to the main Spaceport were his Titan was waiting. Jose and Alandra, after watching him vanish away, decided that everyone should head home and rest after all those events. Jose drove away, while Alandra clambered up the stairs towards her room, both unaware of what had really come to pass.
Jupiter Guild pilot Dalilama stood at the door to the vaults, Roadrunner at his side.
Alandra tapped the pass code into the door's console, and it slid by.
"Nice place, you got here" remarked Dali as they walked down the hallway to Carlos' cell.
He was sitting on the bed, muttering incoherently, eyes fixed on the floor.
"And he's been like this since he got back from Sigma-17?" Dali asked.
Alandra nodded.
"Barbaric, if you ask me..." muttered Roadrunner. "You got any ideas Dali?"
Dali frowned for a moment, and then nodded. "He needs a shock to snap him out of it.
Dali leaned towards the bars, and spoke.
"Senor Carlos...I know now might not be the best time, but I'd like to ask for your permission to marry your daugter."
Alandra gasped. Roadrunner smiled.
"So you're my sisters fianc?e!" laughed Alandra. Dali nodded.
Meanwhile, Carlos gaze had shifted, and he was now staring blankly at the Jupiter Guild pilots.
"He seem any better to you?" said Roadrunner.
"Give him time" replied Dali, and motioned for Alandra to leave.
She left them at the vaults, and returned to her fathers office, sinking into his chair in despair. For what seemed like hours, she sat there hoping for a miracle, when a window opened on her father's comm pad. Dali's face appeared in it.
"He's back." laughed Dali. "A bit confused, and with a hell of a headache, but it looks like that shock snapped him out of it."
Alandra couldn't believe her ears.
"So, what now?" she finally asked, after the news had sunk in.
It seemed the Jupiter Guild captain had had it all planned out.
"I have tickets for you and your dad for a quiet holiday on Gran Canaria. I think he could do with it. The ship leaves tomorrow, and until then he should probably rest. We're bringing him up to his chambers, then we'll be on our way."
Alandra still couldn't believe her dad was back to normal.
"I can't thank you enough senor" she laughed.
"Carlos is an old friend. We're glad to help."
The window shut, and Alandra sat back in the chair, marvelling at the change in events.
The sound of the traffic over Crete's docking port roared, as Carlos and Alandra stepped off their transport ship into the busy streets of Heraklion.
"Nice to be home, eh Alandra?" laughed Carlos.
"Yeah dad. We had a good time though, diddn't we?"
"Yeah...you did. I can't ski for heck".
They strolled past the Council Chamber, and Carlos slowed, gazing at the cold stone building. He stared at the empty eastern wall, once covered in the poster-sized portraits of Crete's greatest pilots, now empty.
He stopped, and looked closer, at the lighter patch where the picture of his friend Zavier had once lay proudly, and a little way along, where the portrait of Captain Adrian 'Ares' Jovem used to sit.
It seemed that the Corsairs no longer celebrated their heroes.
"Don't worry about it dad" comforted Alandra. "The Council doesn't deserve your dedication. You have enough to worry about. I bet they've removed your seat..."
Carlos cut in. "I don't know, Alandra. I received no invite to the latest assembly, but my seat was never revoked. I'm waiting for one of my friends inside to raise the issue."
Carlos and his daughter where interrupted by the sound of fast footsteps; the sound of someone running. Carlos glimpsed a bald head rising over the crouds, and then felt the wind knocked out of him as he was attacked from all sides by a bear-hug. It took afew seconds for Carlos to realise what was happening.
Alandra raised her eyebrows, unimpressed by a familiar cold character's sudden change of manner.
"I'm touched Cezar" coughed Carlos, "I really am, but please get off me..."
As if realising what he was doing for the first time, Cezar immediately released Carlos and stepped back.
"What was all that about?" coughed Carlos.
Cezar shifted around. "Sorry senor, I'm just really glad to see you're yourself again."
Alandra's expression haddn't changed. She remained to one side, arms folded, eyebrows raised.
"...right..."murmured Carlos. "How have things been while I've been away?"
"Everything's fine" replied Cezar, before his expression suddenly changed. "...Senor! I almost forgot! Today is the day you scheduled for us to raid Newgate Prison and rescue Pepe Benitez! Everyone's at Myrtos prepping their ships!"
"Whoa, can I come?" shouted Alandra.
Carlos ignored her, and continued his conversation with Cezar. "What ship am I supposed to by flying?" he asked.
"The Tartarus, senor" replied Cezar, much to Carlos' relief.
"Good. I don't think I'm ready to fly solo just yet. I'll meet you in the hangar bay."
Cezar ran back to the Villa to ready the crew of Carlos' gunboat, while Alandra and Carlos made their leisurely way back, with their luggage.
"Who the hell does that guy think he is, dad?" growled Alandra. "First he paraded around like he was the new boss, then that!? If it where anyone else, you'd have had them shot!"
Carlos made no reply. A short silence came, which Alandra broke again.
"Dad...can I come with you to help rescue Pepe? Come on dad...please!!!?"
Carlos' head turned and Alandra caught a harsh glare that was all the answer she needed, and expected.
![[Image: H1mZW7e.md.png]](https://iili.io/H1mZW7e.md.png)
