I am officially convinced that my luck is no more. Run out. Kaput. My good ship Unnamed Vessel had an unlucky run in with the frogs.
I was returning medical supplies from Cambridge when our intel network reported that frogs were on the prowl in Leeds. We can't monitor every jumphole, but if your ship is on an official manifest coming through a gate or docking ring, we'll know when you enter and leave the system. A French vessel called La Vigilance was making its rounds, but Leeds is a big system and I had no idea where the ship was or what its capabilities were. As I sat in the debris field near Trafalgar, staring at the jump hole to Leeds, I considered my options. If the ship was making a patrol, I was ok. A freighter can outrun a gunboat if they see it coming. If the ship was standing vigil, well, Leeds has five jump holes leading into it, any one of which they could be observing. What are the chances that the ship was on guard duty AND was protecting the one hole I was about to jump in through.
Pretty high, apparently.
I jumped in to the familiar smog of my beloved Leeds along with a very unfamiliar light show. The Vigilance was right behind me, doing its best impression of an aurora. For a ship affiliated with Gallic intelligence, it wasn't terribly subtle. Then again, the Charlie Wilson was dressed up gaudy as a circus in patriotic red, white, and blue, so what do I know about how to win a war. I started flying casually, hoping nothing would come of things. Alas, it was not to be a quiet day. A woman named Emeline Coste hailed me, asking about what I was doing and where I was going. Fortunately, I was honoring my parole with Mounier, my hold was full of medical supplies and nothing else. I said I was bringing bandages to the far side of Leeds aka the part that has trouble pronouncing Agincourt. She was not terribly thrilled with me, but at least we were talking. And I might not be able to fight or run, but I can still talk.
So I played the Mounier card. Let me live and if I was lying, then you've denied a hold full of bandages to the resistance. Kill me and if I'm telling the truth, and you've silenced your government's in with the resistance. That gave her pause. I don't think she believed me entirely, but she was willing to escort me to Leeds. And we flew home together in one of the oddest flotillas I've ever been a part of. She transferred her communication codes to me so that I could keep her informed about the resistance. I think it will be best to forward her requests to Mounier in the navy and let the spirit of Gallic cooperation and unity sort it all out.
That was sarcasm, future historian reading this. The Navy and GRI are bitter rivals, as branches in any military are rivals, and I hope to use that to my advantage for once. You want intel on the resistance? Go to your brothers in arms for it, Emeline. This puppet can only dance on one set of strings at a time.
In any event, I got to Leeds safely. The bandages got offloaded and maybe I've stumbled upon a bit of grit I can throw into the gears of the Gallic war machine. The new ship hit a snag, but she manged to fly away from the encounter, unlike the last sortie of the Charlie Wilson, so I guess fortune smiles ever so slightly upon her.