A Life Lost, Lives Returned

Nearly a month ago, two weeks worth of memories had been robbed of me. The cause of it all, a deadly poisonous concoction, meant to steal my immortal breath away. As if either of those facts alone was not bad enough, occasionally I find myself unable to remember some things, though I know they are things I should recall. Such as the name of the one I loved, whom went missing on me. I just cannot recall, for the life of me, what his name was, and that alone brings about a flood of frustration and sadness to me. It really is true what they say, that time is a precious thing ... how bothersome it was to know I had time itself stolen from me.

When it seems as things cannot get any worse for myself, I get proven wrong. Two weeks ago, when I enquired to my closest friend on what had happened, he revealed to me something that brought nothing but utter shock and pain to me. My brother ... my precious younger brother ... gone. The very night I nearly died myself, he ...

I never stopped caring about him, despite his anger at my lack of conformity, and turning his back on his only sister. We had just barely started to talk to each other again, rekindle our sibling relationship ... and then, he was gone. Just, gone ... and the pain of losing my family again burned inside of me. Once more, I never got a chance to say good bye, and now, I am the last of my small family ... the lone survivor ... the last one standing, though I feel as if I am on my knees.

Feeling the pain in my heart from the loss, I left the war zone, fleeing the systems in my Jaguar. My small crew on board asked me not the reason why, just did as I instructed. In my wanderings, I went back to the region which spawned my first flights as a capsuleer, and it is there I started the meaningless tasks of running tasks for an agent. As much eradicating the cluster of terrorists and raiders, it felt so empty to me ...

For three days after hearing of my brother's death, my meaningless pitifully easy taskings occurred, occasionally returning home to find comfort in my friend. My last mission for a particular agent ended, however, when I found myself in a particular situation. A building in space, located near my intended target and the mercenaries he had hired ... it was a slave breeding facility. I lingered around that place, pondering what to do. I could feel the stir in my heart now, the lives those people inside must live, it was a terrible thought.Enough in the end to make the choice I did. Targeting the building, and as soon as the lock was heard, I gave the order to fire upon it ...

Perhaps it was God's will for this to happen, I do not really know. Though from the ashes of that small building, in a floating cargo container, I found them. Survivors, all slaves. It took many trips to bring them all in with the Jaguar, but I did. A rushed head count gave to eighty-eight survivors once they were all safe in my temporary station hanger. Much to Develin and Camelin's annoyance, I gave orders to buy what they could find bedding, food, and water wise on board the station. It was a snap out of my mournful state, back to the reality of things. These frightened people were here, under my care ... they needed help. I put in a call to help to my friend, my own master.

He came a few hours later. Though not exactly pleased with how I acquired them, the choice was made to help them. It was all I could really ask for these people...

Only a week and a half of time had passed since that night. Though I mourn still, keeping myself as busy as I can to prevent moping about the quarters. I do remember them, though. The lives of whom I rescued, and possibly gave a better life to. They are in my thoughts, as well as within my tearful, silent prayers these days. Those poor souls ...

My poor soul...

Why can I save so many, and yet unable to save someone I care for...