The calendar was almost reaching its end, the year marking '746 A.G.S.' crossed out, and replaced with 747, also crossed out, and replaced all the way up to 750 A.G.S. - the current year. December's days were scribbled with various notes, having been meticulously re-used for multiple years. The paper was worn and full of creases, starting to show some discolouration. The person behind the notes was staring at the calendar pensively in deep thought, before letting out a deep sigh. A finger traced around today's date, December 29, as the notes of the day read 'potential raid?'.
The owner of the calendar then stepped back, sitting back down on a chair behind the desk of the office, rubbing her face. The nameplate on the desk read 'Commandant Claire Sophie DeFrance d'Orléans', and the rest of the desk was littered with various documents and notebooks. The messy, lived-in theme followed the rest of the room, and the ship it resided in.
Some good news was desperately needed was the thought that echoed in the woman's head, a sentiment that was likely shared across those that were left on the ship's crew. The RNS Belisama, once a prestigious Paixhans-class Gallic destroyer, was a shadow of its former self as its engines remained still and quiet for a number of years, the hull panels scraped and faded from fly-by asteroids adding their own mark to the hull. The ship had been hooked onto a stable asteroid within the Westray asteroid field in Orkney, the few escort fighters of the crew rotating returning to dock on the ship to return any goods the pilots could find.
In truth, the crew of the ship could no longer be called military. Years of desperation, insurmountable odds, and lack of resources had driven both the noble and the ship's commanders and crew to become nothing more than pirates - seeking any opportunity to prolong their own survival. At first, they raided for parts to repair their own ships and the Belisama itself. Then, their goals and targets turned to those carrying food rations, oxygen, and water, and everything else became a luxury. The rest of the royalists fared not much better, and contact with them became more sporadic as more had given up arms in response to the pardon offered by the new government of Gallia. Like some within the royalists, the message was suppressed, and many were none the wiser of the pardon.
The Belisama was still in an operational state, but the limited reserves of fuel, risk of leaving the asteroid field, and damage accrued over the years made it a very risky aspect - one that would not be capitalised on, instead opting on the few fighters still left in its docking bays to do the scouting and raiding for much-needed supplies. Years of grating lack of progress and just pure survival has drained the morale of everyone on the ship, and the only things to look forward to were the occasional bounties from raids that the few Lynxes that could fly provided - sometimes they returned empty-handed, or worse, damaged, but at times they returned with cargo holds full of ill-gotten goods that offered some escape from normalcy.
It was clear to Claire that this would be unsustainable, even to herself, as the years dragged on. Holidays weren't celebrated anymore, and the turning of the year was no longer something to look forward to, but dread as the number increased, yet nothing changed. Something had to change, or something else was going to give. She was once a royal advisor and honourary Commandant within the Navy, an advisor function to the commander of the ship. The commander had tried to keep the ship in a tidy state and within chain of command, but it was a fool's errand as, eventually, the culture of the ship shifted and ranks mattered less - all in an effort to placate any potential mutinies as moods soured and conflicts brewed.
Letting out another sigh, the woman turned on the microphone connected to the ship's intercomm, leaning in. A screen flickered to life, spinning the Royal Navy's logo.
"Crew, this is Claire DeFrance." a Gallic voice rung out, echoing across the ship's intercomms systems. "This month marks the fourth year the Belisama, our home, has entered this asteroid field. We have all felt the difficulties of our environment and situation tax us, and ask for sacrifices none of us were comfortable with. The current situation is no longer sustainable. We will be changing our mode of operation after the New Year. Once the Lynx squadron returns, I will authorise time for all crew to unwind, and rations to be doubled while we work on a plan to return us back onto our path - getting much needed repairs, supplies, and credits and taking action towards returning us to Gallia, and exacting punishment to those who became traitors and thrust us into this situation. We have grown too complacent, and we cannot keep going on like this forever."
A pause followed as the woman mulled over her thoughts.
"The commander will release further updates during the New Year announcement. Remember your families and good times past, as with the turn of the year we will finally be moving away from this unmovable status quo and forging a path forward. It will not be easy, and our odds will look slim. But this is the only way we can move on and make change happen."
As January came and passed, the promised progress had been dismayingly slow. With Gallia turning into enemies, and the Sirians remaining such, there was little that could be done. The rest of the royalists had their own struggles and couldn't extend more help than what they could spare - a pittance at best. The raider ships continued their work, bringing in the little supplies they could to keep the cruiser's crew going. Morale, experiencing a short boom previously, had faltered as both the captain and royal realised just how little option they had. There needed to be a breakthrough. A lead. Something that they could pursue instead of stagnating.
One solar night, a raider Lynx had returned, after having been missing for much longer than usual. Not with goods, but information. The noble looked up from her desk as the office's door slid open and she saw him enter. Claire was eager to berate the pilot for wasting fuel, but stopped short of doing so without hearing the oddly chirp lieutenant out.
The man's next words were what Claire had wished for. A lead. A breakthrough. Her expression changed as her mood shifted to determination. The pilot had met an odd GNI patrol - one that did not shoot him. The suspicion was palpable to both Claire and the lieutenant at the time, however he explained:
"The GNI ship was a freighter, however my scans did not properly read through what it was carrying. I suspect my Lynx's scanners were starting to malfunction, or it could have been something less identifiable that they were carrying. The freighter captain opened a comms channel with me as I was charging my weapons as a threat to steal the cargo, however his next words caught me off-guard." the Lynx officer explained, taking a pause.
"They claimed they were part of a secret royalist detachment deep in enemy lines, masquerading as GNI. Now, I did not trust him at the very least, until his camera displayed an insignia medal that was awarded right before the siege of New London. We had a conversation, and he was indeed part of the attack - there was no way he would have known the information he did, even if he was part of the intelligence. What they do now is quite ingenious - forging GNI IFFs and claiming that their installation is top secret, which means not many would bat an eye and accept it, along with any deliveries that they needed. We discussed our situations, and he claimed they have a secret installation hidden on the edges of Gallia, towards Rheinland. They have a shipyard and would be able to get the cruiser back in an operational state, and more."
Claire nodded, listening intently."And did you think this may be perhaps something that sounds too good to be true?" she asked, still skeptical. While the rest of the royalists were struggling in the Taus and corners of Gallia, starving, these 'secret' agents seemed to be thriving and offering help.
"I did."he replied, holding his hand up."And I made that very clear. The freighter's captain interrupted me, saying he understands the suspicious nature. He offered to raise it up to his leadership to meet with our representatives in a neutral location to discuss what the two groups can cooperate with each other on."
A lull in the conversation came, and silence enveloped the small office. Contemplating on the words, the former duchess rubbed her forehead. The ship would either starve or mutiny before that happens if they didn't start clutching at straws - anything - to get things moving.
"Merci, lieutenant. I expect you to provide a detailed report as soon as possible, with the contact details and descriptions of your freighter pilot." the woman eventually muttered, watching the pilot salute, and make his way out of the room.
Time marched on. Behind closed doors numerous discussions were held, what was left of the ship's commanding structure debated the options before them. Doing something with this new-found contact would be silly not to attempt in their situation, but suspicions remained high. After being used to barely scraping by for years, any bit of good news seemed too good to be true - much more so when there was a promise of a new dawn.
Captain Berengar, the main commanding officer of the ship, was the main critic. A rugged man who kept a tight grip on the ship's crew and prevented it from collapsing, he was used to their current situation of raiding for resources and existing as-is. But with Claire's sudden promises of renewed movement and rebirth, the crew were now expecting a change - something that the noble capitalised on in every discussion. It took weeks of convincing Berengar, but eventually even he was swayed to at least meeting the supposed GNI-masquerading royalist detachment - in a neutral location as proposed.
The plan was swung in motion. Claire, withholding some cards, asked the captain to arrange the meeting - much to his dissatisfaction. A location - Lodeve Space Port - was agreed as a neutral ground whose inhabitants wouldn't bat an eye to neither old royalist or naval intelligence ships docking. The biggest obstacle ahead of them was reaching it, no feat that the fuel-starved Belisama could manage. Thus, they improvised. Leveraging contacts with the other remnants of the royalists within Orkney, they arranged to borrow an Aurochs freighter for a 'high value mission'. Days passed before it arrived as the departing crew were getting geared, quietly dreading the upcoming meeting and the many ways it could go wrong - even if this was a time of pulling straws.
As the freighter arrived and docked with the Belisama, the few Lynxes left in the detachment were already deployed and waiting - engines killed to conserve fuel as they waited for the go-ahead. Claire, clad in her most official-looking clothing still left, boarded the Aurochs, followed by, unusually, Berengar, who had made his presence a condition of the meeting - clearly not willing to leave the ship's fate to the noble's whim. As the two sat, they waited for a few heavily armed lieutenants to join them. Before long, sirens blared out as the freighter's entry sealed, and the hangar doors slid open.
The Lynxes sprung back to life, re-activating their IFF as they appeared on close-range radar. Activating cruise engines, they thrust ahead to their first and main obstacle. Battlecruiser Sisteron. There was much debate as to how to approach this roadblock at the edge of the Giant's Causeway. As it was a GNI ship, it was not one full of masquerades, so fooling them would be a much more difficult task even with the help of the royalists from Zurich. The alternative was to risk death and navigate through the asteroid field, and use the planet as cover from its long-range radar. Opting not to risk notifying their plan to the wider Gallia, the most experienced Lynx pilor was instead on the Aurochs, intent on navigating the asteroids as he did for numerous flights.
The freighter was quiet inside, with only the hum of engines, and occasional violent turns and burns for background noise. Neither Claire, the captain, or the guard were willing to discuss it - knowing everything was on the line should something get in the way. Following the smuggler's route they mapped throughout the years, the pilot meticulously followed in the Lynxes' trail. What felt like an eternity passed and tension palpable as they navigated - particularly Claire, who had not left the field since the Belisama entered it. She kept a tight grip, fiddling around with a ring on her finger - one that was gifted by her sibling, Charlotte, and has become, to her mind, a good luck charm. Keeping an eye out to the blue clouds and asteroids outside, she watched them intently, before they turned sparser and sparser, and the clouds dissipated to expose the vast stars beyond.
Navigating through the route, Planet Sanday came into view: not only a pretty sight, but an important blocker for the Gallic Intelligence assets that would no doubt be intercepting them otherwise. The biggest hurdle was past, and the flight remained steady until the jump hole that still led to Languedoc.
"I will say, it is good to see stars again." the noble commented, seemingly in an effort to release some tension. Captain Berengar grunted in response, following her gaze out the thick window. It wasn't long until they reached the jump hole, the passengers gripping onto the chairs as the freighter entered it and shook the contents of the ship violently. The barely-maintained freighter managed to keep itself together as they emerged on the other side, the red haze of the system coming into view.
"Not long left." Berengar commented, still maintaining the usual stoic expression on his face. Tensions remained high as the Lynx squadron and the Aurochs trailing behind neared the den of smugglers, but the journey - following a carefully planned course - went through without issue. "We've arrived, monsieurs and madamoiselles." rang through the ship's intercom, as Claire released a sigh of relief. The ship initiated docking, and moments later the detachment found themselves standing up and looking at the Auroch's bay doors opening to reveal a dinky hangar with a single man in GNI uniform waving at them, a welcoming smile on his face.
"Well, Claire. It's your so embellished year of change. I pray you still have the wit to notice a death trap when you see it. Be ready to bail at a moment's notice." Berengar said, switching his gaze back to the man welcoming them at a distance.
"Oui. We have our work cut out for us. But rest assured, I'm not as dumb as you may think." Claire responded, stepping off the Aurochs with escort in tow.
The entourage approached the man waving the group down in greeting, his gentle smile already raising suspicions that they were trying to disarm their guard to the paranoid lot. The captain Berengar was first to come up, offering a curt nod before the rest caught up. Their contact, dressed in less-than-obvious uniform hidden under a leather jacket, spoke:
"May I be the first to welcome you to this lovely dumpster of a station, we will hopefully not be here too long. My name is Gerard Leclerc, a pleasure to make your acquaintance." he paused, gazing at the pair with an analytical look. "But a public hangar will not do for our meeting. I have booked a more secluded location for our gathering, can't be too sure what ears may be listening here. Right this way."
Berengar looked over to their armoured guard, giving a subtle gesture to stay alert, not quite budging from their position just yet. "Mr. Leclerc, would you show us your identification first?" he asked, his stern and tenured voice making it clear that he was still suspicious of the man.
"Ah, of course..." Gerard responded, digging into his jacket before withdrawing a few cards. His voice becoming hushed. "'Officially', intelligence analyst Gerard Leclerc." he said, showing an ID badge with the GNI's logo before sliding another ID card out - a much more worn one. "Realistically, a servant of the late Roi. 57th Royal Support Squadron. I was present in Leeds, as I imagine you would have."
Claire squinted slightly, investigating the ID card in great detail, before nodding. Berengar seemed partially convinced. "Very well. I am Captain Berengar of the RNS Belisama, and these are my subordinates. Let's head to this meeting place of yours." the aged captain responded after some time, eliciting a glare from Claire.
And so the group moved deeper into the station, navigating through the hallways. The bunch elicited stares from most of the typical denizens of the station, clearly disturbed by the armed guard with royalist armour. Not long after, they reached their destination, as Gerard reached an airlock and entered a fairly long code into the nearby keypad. A heavy mechanical whirr resounded in the hallway as the airlock opened, exposing a typical bar-like lounge. "Make yourselves comfortable." their masquerading contact offered as he reached into the minibar to take out a few pre-mixed drinks, placing them on the table before sitting down himself.
The guards placed themselves close by along the wall, before whispering to each other as one left to guard the entrance from the outside. Berengar and Claire sat down, eager to start the conversation in earnest.
"I assume you understand the concern and security when it comes to dealing with a double-agent. But I am now interested in hearing what your proposal is, and what will be expected in exchange." the captain prompted.
"Of course. I am not sure how much your lieutenant has briefed you when he came across our convoy. Allow me to lay out the situation in full: We have managed to infiltrate the GNI echelon as a 'special division' during the chaos and restructure the years following the end of the war, and the Council's government. It turns out not many people are willing to ask what a secret division is doing when everything is shrouded and data is lost, many thanks to our friends in the old GRI." Gerard explained, pausing to take a sip, before his expression turned more serious. "We took over and established a base of operations in Zurich, on the border to Rheinland. We have a research station, or more accurately, a fortress with shipyard capabilities. Based on what I've heard, the Belisama is a Triumph-class destroyer and has a small squadron of ships in tow."
"Now, don't take me the wrong way, but I suspect that ship hasn't flown properly in years - or else we would have seen or heard about it. The fact that it's still present and active is a miracle by itself, given how few royalist forces are left - let alone the logistics needed to supply and keep it in shape. This is exactly what we have to offer with our shipyard." the shifty contact continued, pausing to give their guests time to process and respond.
"I don't believe this would be out of the kindness of your heart." Claire responded, speaking for the first time. "What is it that you expect for this labour?"
"No, not quite." Leclerc answered. "We need as many people that are still loyal to our cause to all be on the same side. What we expect is co-operation in the effort against the Council and its lackeys. That, and getting the Belisama into our shipyard will be a difficult journey, if you're operating near the Taus. We can smuggle Prometheum to your ship, as well as supplies, but we'll need to coordinate this carefully. Repairing may take months, depending on how well you've upkept it. Once all is said and done, we expect you to be part of our operations to hit the new government where it hurts the most. And apologies, madame, would you be the assistant to the captain?"
The noble frowned, glancing at Berengar. "Duchesse Claire Sophie DeFrance d'Orléans. I am no assistant."
Gerard seemed to pause, processing for a moment before his expression shifted dramatically. "Ah, the DeFrance! A pleasure to meet." he exclaimed, a short bow of his head following. "I had thought most of you were either imprisoned and beheaded, or slain. My, my, what a surprise. That name does ring a bell - Oriflamme, was it? That burnt out as quick as it came, we simply assumed you had died."
Claire clenched her fists as her failed attempt at instigating a revival effort was mentioned. Berengar noticed the rising temper, and interjected: "Let us focus on the task at hand. Let us say you arrange for a Prometheum shipment to Orkney. I assume you have paths that are less frequented that we can take. I will need specific star charts and coordinates, and scouts to get us to the other end of Gallia safely. The Belisama needs work, but she has remained undamaged barring the original damage at the retreat of the final push. We will be able to coordinate our efforts after she is restored."
"Good. We are in agreement. Understand that we have our structure and we expect you to join it - but I'm sure that won't be an issue, particularly with a DeFrance on your side that will improve our legitimacy. But let us talk details...."
And so the meeting on the less-than-legitimate station continued, ironing out the specifics of their new grand plan...
Captain Berengar seemed to be acting odd as of late, Claire thought. He seemed more determined. Less talkative. Truly set on the goal of moving forward. It was a breath of fresh air as the tone had shifted, it seems he had finally come around to the only good opportunity that the royalist remnants had in a long time - even if his usual paranoid and tactical personality had taken a shift after the meeting with their contact following a private meeting. Whatever qualms he had seemed to be alleviated.
The operation was set in motion. The Belisama's contacts provided the necessary fuel smuggled in, and the repair materials needed to return the ship's engine to working order - along with some spare parts should anything fail mid-flight. The preparations took weeks, and finally reached a condition close enough to resemble 'capable'. The mood on the ship was hopeful, if not thick with concern. After so many years of sitting idle and acting as nothing more than a pirate base barely scraping by, it was time to stand back up on one's own feet.
Navigational data was inputted, and the Belisama's engines roared to life. The ship's interior echoed the subtle hum of the song it was once proud to display - a warship power, first and foremost. Just as it once accepted it, out of the Westray asteroid field darted out a ship - the RNS Belisama - bent on revenge and action. But before any action could be taken, it had to be restored. The years have worn on the armour plates, the electrics malfunctioning, and the lack of a shipyard's capabilities to maintain the ship have shown their mark. The ship's destination was Zurich, one of the last major bastions of the Royalist movement, or so was thought.
With deep coordination of the Royal Intelligence contacts and scouts, the ship began its journey to sneak through the Gallic systems, all the way to Zurich, a journey hardly considered insignificant. The course was meticulous: through asteroid fields, nebulae, behind derelict moons, Through jump holes risking to explode their ship or send them to a place of no return. The scouts, both the Belisama's escort and royal intelligence operatives, carved the path, scouted exclusion zones, and checked for activity if it was safe to fly. Some small skirmishes ensued, damaging the ships through the days they ventured.
Getting through Orkney was a difficult, particularly for such a large ship, avoiding detection from the naval intelligence through the use of the orbiting moon obfuscating radar. Both Planet Sanday and Shapinsai proved to be invaluable in this regard as the group curved very wide, and straight into the Eynhallow asteroid field. Languedoc was easier - from nebulae to nebulae. The group had to time a particular moment that lacked patrols or pirates to jump from one to the other, a meticulous move. Provence was much the same, using the moons and less frequented paths within the nebulae as cover. The ship's hull groaned under the stresses of jump hole travel, a grim reminder that all of their lives could be snuffed at any one point.
Then came Ile-de-France. A system that the crew looked upon with anger, and nostalgia. A view of what should have been their welcoming committee and place of retirement, instead taken from their clutches by the Council and their pawns. The capital system proved to be significantly more difficult to navigate, with many more patrols snaking through. It did not help that tourism was booming between Gallia and Rheinland at the time of their venture, and it seemed most of the eyes were concentrated on the path they had to cross. The Belisama had remained on the edge of the Saint-Cloud asteroid field for some days, biding its next step, looking for any opportunity. Luck eventually struck as a particularly large skirmish between liners and brigands caused the system to go into alert, and while the fight was raging on, the coast seemed clear. With thrusters and cruise engines on maximum, the ship squeezed any bit of speed it had to throw itself across to the other side of the trade lanes, eventually reaching their next objective: another jump hole.
Taking a break on the entrance on Champagne to repair and refuel after the expensive maneuver, it was clear that the old warship needed repairs. The numerous asteroid impacts and occasional shield failures meant that every single dent could have been a structural vulnerability, and every vulnerability could mean their end when going through their last checkpoint - the unstable jump hole to their destination, Zurich. Hours turned to days as the engineers worked meticulously with what they had to reinforce the hull with makeshift modifications, and tensions continued to rise. The former Council stronghold was not a place they wanted to sit idle, Launching for the final push, the group had encountered a bunch of pirates - not quite daring to fight what they thought was a 'Navy battlegroup' from a distance, the worries of where their news and word went caused more concern than the concept of encountering anything more.
The arduous journey to Zurich finally came to an end as the jump hole spit out the worn and battered Belisama and its wary remaining crew. A comparably short cruise later, jumping from stormy nebulae to stormy nebulae, each causing new electrical issues, the scouts led the ship to its place to rest. The IFF system turned on, as well as comms system once again broadcasting on signal, before a comms channel opened and the words were heard:"RNS-Belisama, your arrival is expected. Please proceed to shipyard moor four. Welcome to the Lausanne Complex."
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