Fiona Leclair

[14 February 2138 - 60,000 kilometers from Vesta]

The faint hum of the (LV-27)Burgundy’s fusion engines resonates through the Centrifuge Accommodations Modules, mimicking the pull of gravity as your ship cuts through the void. The bridge is bathed in a cool, dim light, the displays casting faint glows across the faces of your crew. The Burgundy, a proud French ship of the line, carries a commanding presence, its sophisticated systems and imposing armament a symbol of the République’s might.

But the serenity is shattered by the sharp ping of the radar console.

“Thermal signature detected! Bearing 235-07” your radar officer calls out, his voice tense. “Multiple inbound—identifying two frigates and five corvettes, decelerating. No IFF signatures—they’re pirates!”

The three dimensional holographic tactical map springs to life, painting a clear but dire picture. The pirate fleet is decelerating fast to match Burgundy's velocity, their formation loose and unpredictable.

Commander Fiona Leclaire, your Executive Officer, steps up to your side, her brow furrowed as she studies the map. Her voice is calm but firm, cutting through the rising tension. “Captain, their formation is highly flexible. They’ll press the attack if they sense an advantage, but they’ll retreat the moment the odds turn against them. If they disengage, they’ll scatter—hunting them down will be nearly impossible.” She pauses, turning her sharp gaze toward you.

“Captain, what is your order?”

[14 August 2138 - High Sedna Orbit]

The Burgundy’s engines rumble faintly as the ship decelerates to orbital insertion velocity, settling into position above Sedna’s frozen, reddish surface. The barren dwarf planet stretches out below, its icy craters faintly illuminated by the distant Sun. On the bridge, the simulated gravity from the Centrifuge Accommodations Modules presses gently against you, grounding you amid the growing tension. Holographic displays shimmer to life, projecting a detailed map of the target zone. The escorting frigates, FSN La Fayette (F-70) and FSN Surcouf (F-71), appear as green dots on the display, holding their positions a few hundred kilometers ahead of FSN Burgundy (LV-27) in a loose formation.

Commander Fiona Leclaire stands beside you, her presence calm yet charged with anticipation. “Captain, we are now within combat range of the pirate hideout. Ku-band radar and thermal scans confirm their base is situated in the Foxtrot-Sierra-71 crater. ELINT sensors have also detected X-band radar emissions—likely for automated turrets and missile platforms. So far, we’ve found no signs of larger ships docked nearby, though they could be hidden beneath surface structures.”

The tactical display updates with new data, highlighting the pirate base tucked into a jagged crevice. A handful of power signatures glow faintly on the map, marking defensive installations and critical systems. Leclaire continues, her voice firm yet measured. “Their defenses appear light but well-positioned. A precision bombardment would neutralize them quickly, though it might destroy any valuable intel or supplies stored in the base. Alternatively, we could deploy ground troops to secure the base intact, but it would expose them to significant risk.”

She turns toward you, her sharp eyes meeting yours with unwavering focus, as the low hum of the Burgundy’s weapon systems powering up fills the bridge. “Your orders, Captain?” The crew falls silent, their attention fixed on you, waiting for the decision that will shape the operation and determine how Burgundy delivers justice to Sedna’s icy depths.

[20 October 2138 - Pirate Vessel Eclipse, orbiting Neptune]

The heavy metal door slides open with a low groan, revealing the stark, dimly lit room. A single light flickers overhead, casting shifting shadows across the walls. Commander Fiona Leclaire sits at the lone table in the center, her wrists bound by thick handcuffs to its cold, metallic surface. Despite her disheveled uniform and the strain etched into her sharp features, her defiance is palpable.

Her piercing gaze locks onto you as you step into the room. “Well, if it isn’t the king of scum himself,” she spits, her French accent cutting through the air like a blade. “What do you want now? Haven’t you had enough gloating for one day?”

You ignore the insult, letting the door slam shut behind you. The room is silent except for the faint hum of the ship’s systems. Leclaire leans forward, her eyes narrowing. “When are you planning to ransom me back to my ship, or is this just another one of your pathetic power plays? If you think you’ll break me, pirate, you’ve severely underestimated me.”

[24 October 2138 - En Route to Lunar Spaceport, FSN Burgundy (LV-27)]

The Burgundy drifts silently through the void, her fusion engines dormant, having already achieved the optimal trajectory toward the Lunar spaceport. The Centrifuge Accommodations Module hums softly, its gentle spin providing the simulated gravity that anchors the ship's crew in familiar rhythm. The curved corridors of the CAM feel quieter than usual, the absence of propulsion creating an almost eerie stillness.

You stop outside Commander Fiona Leclaire’s quarters, the subtle hiss of the air system accompanying the faint buzz of the ship’s systems. After a moment’s pause, you press the chime.

“Enter,” comes her voice, firm but subdued.

The door slides open to reveal a modestly furnished room where Leclaire stands by the viewport, framed by the faint glow of starlight against the blackness of space. Her uniform is immaculate, but the tension in her stance softens her usual sharp demeanor. She turns slightly as you step inside, her expression a guarded mix of relief and weariness. With measured steps, she moves to the small desk, sinking into the chair and folding her hands in her lap, her gaze briefly fixed on the floor before meeting yours.

“I kept my composure while they held me,” she begins, her voice steady but quieter than usual. “I told myself over and over that Burgundy would come for me. That you would come for me.” Her words falter briefly, and she presses her lips together, searching for the right ones to continue.

Her eyes flick back to the stars beyond the viewport, and for a moment, the façade she wears so well begins to slip. When she finally speaks again, her voice trembles, the vulnerability unmistakable.

“I was scared, Captain.”