"Self belief is everything." That's what he'd been telling himself for the last four hours.
He had checked and re-checked the records and found nothing. Nothing that would help anyway. Leon Chevalier was nothing if not a determined man however, or so he told himself... Repeatedly. He'd find something, he was sure of it.
The Normandie had disappeared some time ago, and the trail was annoyingly cold. He would have been on board were it not for the emergency call he had responded to some hours previous to the ship's dramatic exit. Leon cursed to himself and continued looking through the piles of worthless data.
"Without a trace... Why is it always so damned personal?"
He stood up, trying to rub some of the tireness from his eyes as he walked down towards the hangar bays on the Castres. His home on Nevers seemed more and more like an inviting prospect, and without Alice DeFrance in his care, there was little keeping him on the Bretonian front.
His Lynx floated slowly out into the vacuum and circled around the ship slowly. He listened to the quiet beeping of the radiation sensors as he drifted past the mighty engine exhaust ports on the Castres.
One moment can change everything, and this was one of those moments. Leon's eyes opened wide suddenly, as he recalibrated his Lynx's scanners, fixing a lock on the promethene exhaust signature from the Castres' engine.
"Self belief, Leon... Self belief, or a trail of breadcrumbs."
He turned the Lynx around, and waited impatiently for docking clearance with the Castres.
Some hours later, Leon's Lynx arrived in Tau 23. He slowed the ship to a stop and checked the readings. Gallic patrols in the area had been frequent and the readings were muddled.
"Might be too late..."
He made some adjustments and did a wide sweep of the sector, wondering what the hell the Normandie was doing this far from civilisation. This region of Tau 23 wasn't a combat zone, or hadn't been since the initial invasion, so what was she doing out here? Leon pushed the vague confusion to the back of his mind and focused on the task at hand. The trail would be faint, but it should still be there.
"Got to be here somewhere, Leon."
Suddenly his scanner lit up, just as he'd thought. The low levels of traffic through the area had left the trail almost undisturbed, traces of promethene exhaust lighting up a clear path. "Follow the yellow brick road, and damn the lions and tigers and bears" He muttered to himself as he engaged his cruise engines and sped off, letting his autopilot follow the meandering trail through the rocks.
He smiled slightly, awake for the first time in days, feeling that little twinge of excitement that comes with the unknown.
Three days had passed since Leon had set out from Tau 23, although he couldn't decide if it felt like weeks, or minutes. He sat up in bed and ran his hands through his hair, moving his left arm carefully. The doctors had treated him with respect, even if communication was done through a rudimentary sign-language.
"Damn this language barrier" he muttered to himself as he checked the dressing covering the long cut on his leg.
At least Alice was alive and well, and that's what he'd come for. He had no idea where he was any more, or who that woman was.
When he found the Normandie it had been suspiciously quiet. He had never heard of the Sigma 17 system before, but that's where he had found the ship. The blue nebula in the background had reminded him a little of home, but nothing else did.
"Pride is a human construct."
The words rang in his head as he took a sip of water from the glass that had been left next to the bed. The doctors who treated him sounded like Libertonians. It was the same language the Bretonians spoke, but with a different accent. He wondered who it was who was keeping him alive, and why. Sirians hate the Gallics, or so he had assumed. Better to die before they catch you... But there he was, being treated respectfully, if a little coldly, by complete strangers who are supposed to want him dead.
The news of Aubert's death weighed on him heavily. Alice was holding up remarkably well, considering, or so he thought. Her eyes only flickered slightly when Leon had mentioned the name, but the loss wasn't hers alone. Leon had regarded Aubert as a good man, someone with whom he'd trust his life. Lavalle was gone too, and over the two short weeks before the Normandie had disappeared Leon had come to respect the man. Grieving wasn't something Leon was used to doing, and he wasn't sure how. Maybe he was over-thinking it, but there wasn't much else he could do.
He was a prisoner, that much he knew. Alice had gone to speak with the man in charge here... Wherever 'here' was. He sighed and lay back down, attempting to get back to sleep, but he knew that might be a long road.