New Year, New Opportunities

[Ramke]

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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."