It was December 21st, 817 A.S. when the RNS-Paris' hull was laid down... it was one of the newest Valors the Marine Royale Gauloise or more commonly known to Sirians as Gallic Royal Navy were preparing to amass against the Rebels.
One of the commdantes chosen was a Count of Orleanais, Count Charles-Jacques Dupont, a trusted noble and one of the most respected in the system of Orleanais... crime and dissent were not rampant in this relatively peaceful system; thus, it was not affected by the Two Gallic Wars. The Dupont family were known for their strong sense of discipline, but this particular trait was not over-extended.
His father before him was trained in the art of war, as was his father's father. Nobles were atleast required to learn military science and tactics... a tradition dating back to Old Earth times. The people of Orleanais wished him luck... for they knew of the long-standing list of casualties that the Civil War brought. With the support of a whole system, he set out to prove his honor to the people.
Burgundy System, in transit, RNS-Paris, September 14th, 818 A.S.
The Paris along with its escorts, Picardy and Provence, set out to join the reconquest of the rebel-held Languedoc system. It was the first step on the road to revenge, well... atleast for the Gallic people. Count Dupont wasn't so sure about the reason behind this war, this... 'old' war, but his duty was to the Crown and thus found himself unable to break free from his responsibilities. Such was the life of a noble, bound to the chains of vassalage.
As the invasion fleet descended upon Languedoc, the Paris and its escorts were assigned to the left flank of the Gallic axis of advance. Here, the Paris dauntingly met its first challenge. A small Council fleet consisting of 1 Redemption class battleship, 2 cruisers, and a handful of supporting small craft happen to be caught by the Paris... It's fleet consisting of 1 Valor and 2 Obstinate class cruisers seemed to be of no match to the opposing Council fleet who had a wing of fighters and bombers.
The Council commandante, following the rules of war, offered the Count a chance to save his men and surrender. The Count could not offer to surrender a mighty Valor to the Rebel Forces, so he instead mockingly returned the offer to them. As it would happen, this angered the opposing commandante and he prepared to attack the Count's fleet.
Luck would be on their side however, as the opposing Council fleet just came off of a small skirmish with Gallic scout wings. For some reason, the shields of the Council capitals were offline. The Council commandante sent out his support wings first to harass the Count's forces. The Picardy, armed with anti-snubcraft weapons, met the support wings, while the Paris and the Provence went ahead to deal with the enemy capitals.
The first salvo was fired by the Paris, using the two ballistic missile launchers located on the bottom. It met with near-perfect precision hitting the Redemption's main cannons, disabling them. Salvo after salvo was fired by the Paris until they came into cannon range. The Redemption tried to flee... and made a tactical error of exposing the huge bottom of the ship. Seeing thism, the Count charged the Warwolf Particle Cannon... then with all power diverted to the Forward Gun... fired. What happened next was a huge ball of fiery hot metal, the sheer impact of the weapon rippled next to the two cruisers... the ears of the Capitaine of these vessels bled and for the moment they were stunned until their senses awoke to a gruesome scene. Meanwhile, the Picardy had successfully fended off the Council fighters and bombers and had arrived at the horrible scene.
What was once a Council battleship, was now two separate pieces of hull. Still melting pieces of debris scatter for miles around, a component of a cannon battery here and a torn radar tower there... There were of course... bodies... of crewmen. These poor souls did not managed to escape the torn ship. Some were torn in half as well, the blast depressurized the hull. It was one of the horrors of war.
Inside the Paris, the power core was recharging. The enormous quantity of energy that the Warwolf consumed took a beating on the ship's core. They were helpless for a minute but the Council Capitaines could not capitalize on this weakness as they were caught in the blast. The Count, then seeing the situation, offered the same conditions to the Council forces. In an act of kindness, the Provence offered medical attention to those wounded in the blast. Without much choice, the Council Capitaines surrendered. The Count, knowing the consequences for rebelling against the Crown, offered a quick death to those who asked for it. The Captaines knew the cruel torture methods that the Royal Navy used, for they were in the Navy before; thus, they chose to accept the Count's offer.
The other rebels, however, did not share the similar chance. They were to be imprisoned in the vicious Fleury-Mérogis Prison. It is rumored to be the largest prison in all of Sirius, where most Gallic rebels are held. Here some higher-ranking rebels are tortured to reveal enemy locations, spies, and other valuable information, while the other non-important ones are summarily executed.
The Count and its escorts returned to link up with the main fleet... now nearing Montpellier Station. The former Guard Station was now in the hands of the Council Rebels... but the massive fleet that King Charles IX mobilized would soon changed that...
The ships defending the Guard Station were quite less than the ones that assaulted it before... Clearly the rebels were buying time for the main bulk of the Council fleet to escape. Resistance was futile as mighty fleet of the King marched forward. After a few minutes... the fleet surrounding the station was annihilated. A bloody battle ensued inside the Station, the Council defenders bravely held off a few Gallic boarding parties but then perished as the Gallic forces decided to depressurize the station. The Count thought of it as a coward move... but he agreed that it saved a lot more lives than it would take to take over the station by force.
For a moment, the Gallic war machine stopped there... clearly exhausted from the valiant efforts of the Council rearguard. But this would just be the beginning.... the beginning of an end.
Languedoc system, preparing to jump, RNS-Paris, September 18th, 818 A.S.
The Gallic fleet managed to crush all resistance offered by the Council rearguard fleet. But the delay proved to be a successful gamble as the Council managed to evacuate all personnel from Reunion. Before they could leave; however, some of the rebels set the weapons system of the station to fire on any ship coming out of the Languedoc Jump Hole. Gallic scout wings, who jumped ahead of the main Gallic fleet, found themselves under fire from the accurate weapons platforms that the Council rebels managed to set up. Within minutes, an entire wing of Caracal light fighters was decimated. The Gallic invasion fleet didn't waste much time and sent in numerous Valors coupled with their cruiser escorts. The tiny weapons platforms were of no match to the sheer might of these beasts. With much effort, the Valors reached Reunion station... now abandoned by the rebels. The Gallic commanders were forced to damage the station as it's defense platforms were firing on the Gallic fleet.
With Reunion secured, and the Council forces nowhere in sight... the Gallic forces prepared to amass their fleets towards a on-going conflict between the Kingdom of Bretonia and the Empire of Kusari.
Several months have passed and no word from the Bretonian Admirality. I am beginning to think... that defecting was a bad idea. Idleness angers the crew. Jacques himself tells me that some of the men want action... These... Bretonian crew members are no different than the our own... Drills... drills... drills... The men want action.
Luckily for Jacques, he spotted a Gallic fleet preparing to jump to Leeds... we immediately headed for battle. Against the orders of Admiral Davis, I put it upon myself to assist the Bretonians...
As we neared the battlefield, some of the Gallic Capitaines asked for my help... it seems that they were unaware of the Paris' status. We waited for the right time to strike... At some point, I ordered Jacques to open fire on the nearest Gallic ship. It seemed that the Capitaine was shock to see me firing on an ally.
He was able to escape from the range of our guns, but then two renegade ships opened fire on me. We were able to escape but the damage was extensive on our ship...
<<<Accessing Paris database...
<<<Database FOUND
<<<Communication logs ACCESSED
<<<Search parameters "Paris ; defection ; event"
...
...
...
# of entries found: 1
Open? [Y/N] _ Y...
...
... LOADING
Quote:Unknown system, Paris, December 20, 818 A.S.
*only static is heard for the first few minutes*
Helm:
Colonial swine on our tail! Capitaine!
CR|-CM-Flak.Monkey:
Hello, Gallic.
Dupont:
Cruise away for now... they can't follow us for long.
CR|-CM-Flak.Monkey:
What brings you to this area?
Dupont:
This is none of your concern, Colonial.
*static resumes for a few minutes*
Dupont:
Being silent are we? You Monsieur have no manners...
Dupont:
What do you want, Colonials?
CR|-Blackjack[31st]:
Your death, Gaul. Besides, Cortez is a bit of a long walk for you, isnt it?
Dupont:
Hmph... you will never understand.
CR|-Blackjack[31st]:
Understanding that your all imperalist pigs? We understand that just fine, which is why we dont feel bad when we kill you
Dupont:
Clearly your eyes are blurred, Monsieur. No ship such as this will go as far as this system of yours.
CR|-Blackjack[31st]:
Clearly your a terminal retard and late for your trip to hell. Now stop hiding.
Dupont:
Heh... you are no match for ze Valor.
CR|-Blackjack[31st]:
Then why hide?
Monsieur, the hostility in this area is great... Hiding is but our only option until we find a suitable place.
CR|-Blackjack[31st]:
Hah, you talk so tough, but in the end, your just a coward
Dupont:
I expect no better from a Colonial. Whom we took, a home.
CR|-Blackjack[31st]:
Expect us to never stop until every last one of you bastards is dead and burning in hell for what you did... Military or civilian, means nothing to us.... Every single one of you will burn...
Dupont:
So be it... but I offer nothing but a white flag to show.
CR|-Blackjack[31st]:
You bastards didn't offer a white flag when you gunned down our refugee's fleeing Tau 44 - a home you stole from us....I lost family.... So I promise you will lose yours
Dupont:
My family.... are.... Dead as well.
CR|-Blackjack[31st]:
Even if I have to set the atmosphere of New Paris and every single gallic world on fir-... Good
Unknown system, Inside the Paris, a few moments from the defection event....
In a small, dimly-lit room... two men were seated across each other, with a round-metallic table between them. The lighting in the room barely exposed their faces... but it clearly showed that these two weren't ordinary crew members...
One wearing a Aspirant insignia spoke, "Lieutenant, you've 'ave 'eard of zhe rumors.... zhe Comte is planning to defect.... 'is family is dead.... but most of ours is not.... I do not want ma famille to see zhat I am a traitor!
His fists slammed into the table. Clearly the midshipman was distressed... Almost everybody knew that the Count planned to defect but only a select few were disgusted at the idea. The man opposite him remained calm.
"S'il vous plaît??? Je vous en supplie....", begged the midshipman. Still the Lieutenant remained unmoved by the plea.
"Hmph... I knew zhis was a waste of time...", having enough of the silent man, the midshipman stood up and headed for the exit. But before he could even take a single step, the Lieutenant took hold of him by the collar and slammed his face unto the table. Revealing what seems to be a very young man, probably in his twenties or so...
"No it is not! If you are planning to defect... zhen I'd suggest you plan it carefully.... and not go shout 'Vive le roi!' and go shooting at everybody...", as he said this he looked at his junior's eyes squarely in the face... hinting that no mutiny could ever succeed without proper planning.
Without much to say, the midshipman barely manages to give a nod with his face to the table. The Lieutenant then releases the man.
"Non... zhis mutinerie will be carefully prepared... and executed to zhe most precise details!", saying this as he made his way to the door...
"Gather some of your amis and only zhe leaders...
en ce moment... we don't need anyone unimportant 'earing about zhis...Oui?"
The startled midshipman just nods again in agreement and the scene fades away into darkness.
The Count was alone in his quarters... it had been 5 months since the last word from the Bretonian Admiralty. He sat there near his bed, a gun at his side. He was beginning to think that they've forgotten him but having nothing lose, he bid his time on this one chance.He thought, 'Maybe they were just focusing on the war... Maybe. Just Maybe they're preoccupied with other matters.' The thought of shooting himself was out of the question, but it was all too easy. The temptation to end it all was catching up on him. But then he remembered, 'La manière d'un lâche sur'. He'd rather die a heroic death, fighting for a noble cause than choosing the easiest way out.
Instead of wasting time, he kept training the men... It was in this moment that he realized that these Bretonians were no different than his countrymen. In war, you don't fight for your family, your country, nor for any of those ideals that serve to strengthen one's resolve through war. You fight for your life. But there's something more to that.... there comes a time when a soldier fights for his comrade's life.
In these months of waiting, the new crew that had replaced most of the Paris' old crew grew stronger in bond. The first few weeks under Count Dupont were the most trying. Some of the crew wanted to bail out as soon as they could. They at first distrusted the frog, but as time spent under his command passed by, they gradually understood the Count's situation and as such thought of their own 'what if' scenarios. This time, everyone was in equal footing. There was no racial difference nor there was a division of nobility. The Count's title meant nothing special, for he held no estates, no subjects, no guards, no servants... everything was lost when he defected.
The count shook his head and holstered the gun back to its place. He preparing to return to the Bridge when a voice rang...
Citizens of Gallia,
The holoscreen inside his quarters came alive, he was startled to see such a transmission, since the count ordered a total communications blackout to the outside, but then his aide, Jacques, suddenly entered to explain....
"Capitaine, you 'ave to see this..."
Code:
I stand before you today, as the harbinger of good tidings. Leeds has finally fallen to our forces. A frontal assault, many months in the making was executed without flaw, and their defenses were obliterated. Our forces are now in control of the Leeds system, and only scattered fighting on the planet itself remains to be resolved.
But we did not triumph without loss, however. Battleship Villeneuve, leading the assault was destroyed by the Bretonian Battleship Derby in a suicidal attack, ensuring the destruction of both ships. Their sacrifice shall not go in vain, and we shall soon end this conflict once and for all.
But our work is not yet done. As we have carried on to this day, every man and woman in the Kingdom will need to put their best effort, from the lowliest deck hand to the corporate executive to ensure that our war effort is not hindered.
But celebrate, for today is a day of victory.
After the holoscreen transmission, Jacques hands a datapad to the count, "Capitaine, it is true... Leeds 'as fallen... the Bretonians are being pushed back.", one can sense the trembling feeling in the aide's voice.
The count flicks through a few screens without surprised on his face, it was as if he expected this to happen.
"There's no time zhen, we 'ave to act quickly... wid or witdout zhe approval of zhe Admirale....", he hands the datapad back to Jacques who gives a quick salute and leaves immediately, the count ponders for a moment then follows suit.
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