Traveller Campaign

[fsn]

My narrative of the perils of Brenda was put under "chat and news", and I thought it better to continue on a new thread under "batreps". The original thread is here
                                                                                                                                                 
Those expecting the Warspite's landing to be distressing would have been disappointed. Alex's expert piloting had bled height over a number of orbits, and the time was well used in picking out a suitable landing spot. For the final approach, the crew were wearing environment suits and securely strapped into chairs on the bridge.

Alex was at the controls, Lydia and York handling sensors and mapping the ground beneath them. Sean and Quillam fretted over engineering and damage monitors, worrying as the fuel tanks emptied steadily through damage or as Alex used the engines to adjust the ship to a safe landing.

Smita looked a little panicked, probably as it was her first unorthodox landing, and Alison fussed over her, trying to distract the younger woman's attention by suggesting meditation or mindfulness exercises. Janine's attention was firmly on the screen she held in her hand, probably catching up on medical journals. She was as afraid as Smita, but there was nothing she could do to help, so she put her trust in Alex and the Warspite and distracted herself with her reading.

At the back of the bridge, Rowan and Alder sat in combat armour. Each carried a veritable armoury, and strapped to their chairs were packs of emergency supplies. "Better to have than to want" was their mantra.

The Warspite crew on the bridge. The pink chair is Lydia's

A bump, and a scrape and they were down. Alex switched off the engines and silence descended.

"Is that it?" Asked Janine, apparently disappointed by the soft landing. Alex blew out a long breath. York patted him on the shoulder and murmured "well done".
 
Rowan and Alder unstrapped themselves and made for the exit. Nobody commented, for they knew that they were now in the twins' element. They would be going to reconnoitre the area. Ship's sensors were fine, but nothing beat the boots on the ground.

Smita unscrewed her eyes and allowed herself to breathe. She screamed.
"Look at my chest!"  Quillam slapped the back of Sean's head to make sure he was not distracted by the invitation, and led him off to inspect the damaged engines.

Smita's body glowed green in patches. She raised her hands which glowed green. She ripped off the gloves and was horrified to see that the glow came not from her suit, but from her body. Janine was by her instantly, checking life signs from the suit's displays, holding and peering at the glowing hands, and simultaneously analysing the atmosphere for biological contagion.

The glow was slowly increasing, slowly engulfing Smita's forearms and up to her neck.
"I can't see anything wrong with you." Janine looked at York " Could this be mechanical in some way? Radiation? " Smita mewed her fear. York shook his head.
"No radiation spills, besides which I don't know any ..." he saw the girl's frightened face ".. thing that would make a body glow that way."

"And yet ..." put in Lydia "... it's not unique here." Her nimble fingers flashed over her console, as she pulled up a series of images.
"I caught these when scanning the ground. You can see a number of bipeds on this planet – I would go so far as to say humans or near humans, it's a bit difficult to say. Anyway you can see here " she pointed to an image " .., and here ..." she pointed to another "... there are people who have parts of their body glowing. In these cases, it's their hands, but it doesn't look as if they're carrying a torch or lantern."

 Janine cocked her head. "Not physical,  not environmental ..." she looked at York.
"Psionic?" He asked. Janine did not respond, but chewed her lip. York knelt in front of Smita, who was scrubbing at her hands, trying to to remove the green glow.
"Have you ever been tested for psionics?" he asked gently. The young woman looked confused, then perplexed, and then explosively angry.
"I ... am ... not ... a ... monster!" Each word was angrier than the last. She pushed at York, who flew across the bridge to clatter into the emergency stores cabinet.

"Do you mind?" was all the reaction from Alex. York picked himself out of the dented cabinet, gingerly checking for broken bones. There were none, but he was sure that his back would be badly bruised. If he was looking for sympathy he got none. Janine was bent over Smita, excitedly examining the girl's hand. Alison held the other and glared at York. Smita looked at him through tear filled eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry" she repeated, rocking backwards and forwards.

"Evidence for my thesis." Janine mused. "Possibly a manifestation of psionic ... shall we call it energy? It accumulates until released – see the glow has receded." York experimentally rotated his shoulder, wincing.

"I'm OK" he said to Smita. "It's OK. It wasn't your fault." 
"Of course it wasn't!" snapped Alison.

"You know what's odd?" Lydia had drawn her knees up to her chin, and sat with her arms around them.
"A member of the crew has glowing green patches and has just thrown me into a cupboard?" asked York, hopefully, Lydia scowled slightly.

"That too. I was wondering why a low tech planet with struggling human inhabitants has been declared a red zone." She span the chair through a full circle. "It's almost as if they've been ... abandoned." She propelled the chair through another rotation. "Why would the Imperium abandon humans?" She made to spin the chair again, but York put a heavy hand on the arm, arresting the motion. Lydia looked up at him, a bright smile on her face.

"Psionics." She said. "Who better to dump on a remote planet than psionics?"
"Psionic gulag?" he asked.
"Possibly. There could be all sorts of reasons." York wished the Warspite was in contact with the Imperium network so he could do some digging, but the nearest relay was weeks away. He looked at Janine, who was still fussing over Smita.

"Is this planet making Smita psionic – triggering something?" Janine stood, pressing her hands into the small of her back which suddenly ached. She shook her head.

"I can't say for certain, I'm not sure, but I don't think so. I think there's something that makes psionic ... energy glow, but I don't know what." She looked down at Alison. "I have some basic exercises that can be done to focus the energy. Not control it, but ..contain it. "   
"That may help." Alison smiled down at Smita. "You are not a monster. Psionics are a natural human trait, whatever the Imperium thinks."
"It is what I have been told from an early age." Smita stood, and moved to face York. He noticed that her glow had noticeably lessened. She looked up at him solemnly. "I am sorry to have thrown you across the room." She bowed her head slightly. "It was not my intention."

York reached out to pat her shoulder, but as her head came up, he changed the movement to stroke his beard.
"You're not a monster. You have nothing to apologise for." Smita bowed her head, and left the bridge, followed by Alison and Janine.

York looked at Lydia, who was staring intently at him, fingers pressed to her temples.
"What are you doing?" he asked, politely.
"If Smita has psi powers, maybe I do too. I'm trying to communicate with you telepathically."  She shook her head. "No. You have nothing in that skull." York laughed, but was acutely conscious that he had felt something tickling the back of his brain.

The crew muster outside the ship

The shore party dressed for Brenda

GM's note. For those of you of a Traveller bent, Alex passed a 'very difficult' task, aided by Lydia on sensors and Quillam on engineering.

[Duke Speedy of Leighton]

Brilliant

[fsn]

Arturius woke when Balinda gently kicked him in the ribs. He opened his eyes.
"Where's Damon?" She asked. Arturius knew she was asking for him to search for Damon using his mind. He concentrated, frowning, then shook his head.
"Not here." Balinda swore.
"Go find him. Take Armin." Armin was the scout, expert in reading physical signs on the ground. Arturius nodded, then took his spear and went to collect Armin.

Arturius and Armin took turns. Arturius searched for life with his mind; then Armin would look for physical signs. After several hours, they had both drawn blanks, no sign of the missing Damon. 

"Let's go to the top of that rise, then call it a day."  Armin said, scratching his sparse beard. Arturius nodded and trudged up the gentle slope behind the scout. As they topped the rise, he became aware of two figures standing  on the reverse slope.

"Not human, not ip." Armin looked around nervously. The two figures were taller than the run-of-the-mill ip, with features more goat-like than the ip's. Indeed both of the still figures sported magnificent curled horns on their head.
"Are those spears white metal?" asked Arturius.
"I think so – though they're blackened – I don't know."
"Let's go back – tell Ballinda what we have seen."

Armin did not respond, but gave a sound like a disappointed sigh as a long blade appeared through his chest. Arturius gaped, looking in horror at the fountaining blood.  He didn't even feel the blade that penetrated his chest and took his life.

Stealthy not-ips creeping up on the human party.


GM Note. Well that's a bit of a bugger.  Although I haven't got a specific plan for what happens in this campaign, I was planning for Arturius to meet the Warspite crew. Regrettably that isn't going to happen now.

Armin and Arturius both failed to notice the two not-ip's creeping up behind them. The initial strikes wiped out both Human END, and did significant damage to the DEX.

I could have continued for another round, but that would have been pointless. Better a swift demise.

[Duke Speedy of Leighton]

Ouch! 
Reminds us Brenda is not a happy, fluffy, place to dwell.

[Techno 3]

Great stuff, Nobby.

[fsn]

Quillam, trailed as usual by Sean, staggered on to the bridge, the grey dust of Brenda falling from his shipsuit and dusting the deck. He stopped between York and Alex, unsure of which to report to. In the end, he threw himself into a chair and spoke into the space between them.

"It's not as bad as feared.  Mostly, the final m-drive venturi. We can cannibalised enough to get sufficient back in action to get us off this rock."
 
York looked at Alex. Alex looked at York.
"There's a 'but'"
"There is definitely a 'but'" confirmed York,
"... but, " continued Quillam, undaunted "the problem is the fuel tanks.  One mine bent a fuel scoop, then there were some more which hit the same place and we've lost one fuel scoop that we can't fix here, and there's been extensive damage and leakage, so we're almost out of juice."
"We could fix the scoop ..." Sean started, but seeing the angry look from Quillam "... but it would take a long time." he finished weakly. Alex stared at him for a few seconds until the young man shifted nervously on his feet.

"In short then, you can fix the m-drive enough to get us off planet, and you can presumably fix up some storage tanks which we can use to store the fuel we don't have." Alex asked quietly.

"That's about it." The engineer agreed.
"Jump drive?"  Asked Alex.
"Not totally certain but it looks OK. I thought we'd need to prioritise the m-drive." York patted his shoulder.
"I agree. Now, where do we get the fuel? I didn't see any water on this rock as we were sedately crashing."

"It's there." The one pink chair on the bridge swung round, and Lydia smiled at her crewmates. "It's just underground." She nonchalantly pressed a button, bring a display onto one of the large screens. "Probably quite contaminated with copper, and other yuckieness, but it is there."

"We can pour it into the working fuel scoop. Probably harvest some oxygen as well." Mused Quillam, rubbing his chin. He'd shaved just a few hours before, but he'd already grown enough stubble to produce a rasping sound as he did so. 


 

"So, " said York, addressing the assembled crew "we have a plan." Several busy hours had left them tired and mostly dirty. Janine remained perfectly clean, as befitted her medical role, and although Lydia had pitched in with the tidy up, she was also miraculously fresh and clean. Even Smita had gingerly contributed in a delicate way to clearing the damage, and sported a streak of grease or soot across her shipsuit, and a matching one over one cheek. She looked, York thought, very young and almost childlike. He rubbed his bruised chest. Smita's green glow had settled to a mild gleam.

"We split into two. Lydia and I will go hunt for water." He couldn't help but notice Lydia swinging two metal rods between her hands – divining rods. She smiled encouragingly at him.
"Since Lydia and I will be busy, Rowan and Alder will act as protection detail." The sisters bumped fists. This was what they had been born to do. They had been born into a military family and knew more ways to create mayhem than anyone York had ever met. If he thought about it, he could be afraid of the twins.

"Sean and Quillam will look to getting the fuel tanks and m-drive up and running." The two engineers nodded sagely.

"Alex will run diagnostics to make sure we haven't bent a gimble or something." Alex rubbed his chin and looked vaguely perplexed, as if mentally cataloguing the gimbles on the ship.

"Janine will monitor our the progress of the shore party, and keep an eye on the perimeter for unwanted visitors." Janine nodded curtly. Alex patted her hand in reassurance.

York turned to the last two members of his audience. He noticed Smita had her hand raised as if in class. He noted also that it glowed rather brightly. He smiled, inviting the young doctor to speak.

"Smita will go and talk to the natives." She said, firmly.
"And I will go with her." Alison added. York shook his head vigorously.
"No, it's not safe. We don't know the attitudes the ..." He paused as something flashed by his head and embedded itself into the cupboard he had been thrown into. He knew it to be a knife or dart or throwing star. Alison was very good at throwing pointed things accurately.
"We can look after ourselves" Alison said.

"So that was Plan A" chipped in Lydia, brightly. "Who's interested in a Plan B?" York sat down.

Lydia had laid out plan B. York was sure she had known of Smita's intentions to seek out locals in an effort to learn about the green glow. She had then packed everyone off for some rest.



The next morning York watched as a drone lifted into the air high above the downed Warspite. It would form a communications link, provide reconnaissance, and if necessary a distraction if things got too hairy.

He breathed the air of Brenda. Bit thin. Strange hint of a smell – almost metallic.  He took some experimental deep breaths without ill effect. He swung his axe experimentally. It was a heavy, almost brutish weapon, but he had learned the use of various axes whilst living with a ... oh so long ago, and far away.

Loosened up, he shrugged the claymore more comfortably across his back. It too was an unsubtle weapon. He could wield it one handed, but most people would need two.

"Morning." Lydia was attired similarly to York. The chests of their shipsuits were now covered in a discrete form of armour, and both wore large cloaks. Lydia carried a bow and there was a blade at her hip. She was proficient in both – she had competed in the archaic pentathlon whilst at university – bow, blade, equestrian, swimming and running. She twanged the bowstring.

"Do you notice anything?" She asked.
"I notice your armour isn't properly laced." Indeed Lydia was showing a distracting amount of cleavage. She scowled and tightened the armour. Just a little.
"There are no birds – nothing flies here."  York peered into the sky, seeing no signs of avian life. Lydia undid the armour again.
"...and" she continued, "there are no trees. Just those bushy things." She pointed her bow at some pompoms. "... and they have moved closer since we landed." 

York stroked his beard and glowered at the pompoms, as if his frowny face could halt the approach. He couldn't be sure, but he thought that one of the pompoms had in fact advanced towards him.

Rowan and Alder appeared as usual, with no noise - as if by magic. Being army brats who had enthusiastically  embraced the family profession, they  had spent many seasons living in the wilderness, and on more than one occasion had crafted primitive weapons – for fun. Alder had once told him age 8 the twins had dug out iron ore, smelted it and crafted knives.  As usual York wasn't sure if Alder had been joking, but was quite prepared to believe it.

York nodded to the soldiers, and scowled at Lydia's unlaced armour.

"All netted in?" York asked. They had decided that the comdots were small enough not to be obtrusively high tech, but essential for keeping in touch with the ship an each other. 
"On net." Alex responded.  Lydia, Rowan and Alder displayed thumbs up signs.

York settled the belt holding his claymore more securely on his shoulder, and turned to follow the drone, which would lead them to the

"Wait a moment!"  Alison appeared, wearing armour similar to York. She carried a two sword combination – a set she carried as part of her heritage and from her years of training. Beside, Smita tripped along in a fine sari. She did not apparently carry a weapon, but over her shoulder was slung a medic bag.

She looked at the rest of the party, who were all kitted out with war in mind.
"What"? She asked. The green glow began to rise. Having been on the wrong side of Smita's psionic wrath, York was not keen to speak up, but Lydia discretely prodded him. He looked a question at Alison, who shrugged apologetically.

"Uh... Smita? Do you think that is the right outfit for a jaunt across a potentially dangerous planet?"  She scowled, and the green glow pulsed ominously. The she smiled sweetly, and pulled up the sari to expose expensive hiking boots. They looked as if they had never been worn.
"Alison, she's your problem." The older woman sighed.
"I know," then she smiled "and a lovely problem to have."
"Really?" York couldn't stop the question. Alison shot him a warning look, and Smita glowed a little greener. Then, being the bigger person, she stomped off after the drone. 

Several hours later, Smita stopped. If he allowed himself to admit it, York was quite relieved. The young woman had kept up a cracking pace which York had struggled to match. He was mildly irked to see that she seemed to be as fresh as a daisy, apparently cheered by the yomp across the landscape, whilst he had become convinced that either he was allergic to something in the air, or that Smita's green glow gave her extra stamina. He surreptitiously examined the rest of the party. They looked like people who had galloped across a strange planet. A faint flush, but not especially fatigued.

Smita was staring at a large goat. They had seen several goats – either singly or in small groups. York blinked the sweat out of his eyes and looked at the goat. It was big. Very big. As big as a horse. It stood unmoving, gazing disinterestedly at ... well it was very goat like so probably most of the world around it. What had caught Smita's attention was the broken shaft of a spear embedded in the goat's shoulder, blue-green blood streaming down its foreleg into the grey dust. ,

"Poor thing." She said. York looked at the 1000lb of angry looking meat, and shrugged. As if entranced, Smita made for the goat, cooing reassuringly. The green glow brightened in her hands as she moved carefully, but confidently towards the beast. Lydia's hand on his arm stayed his protest. She nocked an arrow, as did Rowan and Alder. Alison had followed Smita, keeping some distance behind her charge; one hand on the hilt of her sword. 

"Watch," said Lydia. York scanned the area, but apart from the largest herd of goats he had ever seen, and some pompoms, there was nothing.

Smita has reached the goat and extended a hand to the spear. The goat tossed its head and three bowstrings were tightened. Smita, oblivious to the tension behind her, stroked the goat's flank with her other hand. The green glow seemed to flow into the goat, and it lowered it's massive head. With a swift jerk, Smita pulled the broken spear from the wound. She put both hands over the resulting gout of blood, and the green glow intensified in her hands.

For a few seconds she stood there, head lowered, whispering nothings to the beast she was healing by the simple laying on of hands. She stroked the blue muzzle and patted the shaggy head. The goat bowed its head, then trotted off to where the herd stood.

Smita heals the goat

Smita looked more tired from the healing than she had from the hike. Alison rushed to her and put a supporting arm around her. 

"That was amazing!" bubble Lydia. "How did you know what to do? What did you do?"
Smita looked around, then decorously sat on the ground. She graciously took the water bottle Alison proffered.
"I don't know." She said, numbly. "It just seemed the thing to do."

York had been watching the goats, a puzzled frown on his face.
"S'up?" asked Lydia. 
"I'm not sure. I thought I saw something ... someone ... in those goats." Lydia studied the herd.
"I can't see anyone." 
"I may have been mistaken.  Warspite ...does the drone see anything in that herd?"
Silence
"Warspite?"
"Sorry – Janine here. Alex has popped off to do something technical. May I help?"
York looked at Lydia. Lydia looked at York. They pondered the herculean task of getting Janine to review the drone feed.
"Just checking in."


Did York see someone in the goat herd? Was it a good idea to give the least technical member of the crew the role of remote overwatch? Will Smita find a role as a night light?

These questions and many more will probably not get answered next time on "Let Me Tell You About Breda"

[sunjester]

Brilliant! Looking forward to the next instalment.

[Duke Speedy of Leighton]

Ohhh,progress! 
Awesome

[Ithoriel]

That was fun! More, please.

[kustenjaeger]

Excellent stuff 

Edward

[Radar]

fsn -had you spotted that there is a new, 'official', little black book for classic Traveller? Book 9 Pirates.

My copy has gone to Father Christmas I believe, so I can't tell you anything about it.

[Techno 3]

Great stuff, Nobby. 

[fsn]

fsn -had you spotted that there is a new, 'official', little black book for classic Traveller? Book 9 Pirates.

My copy has gone to Father Christmas I believe, so I can't tell you anything about it.

No I had not. I shall investigate and whisper to the elves.

[fsn]

The elves said "why wait? Buy it now!"   

[d_Guy]

Always listen to elves (although they have both angelic and demonic qualities requiring some discernment  ). Very much enjoy your Brendanian adventures.   

[Radar]

My apologies to your wallet. Mea culpa.

[fsn]

My apologies to your wallet. Mea culpa.

No apology needed. On the contrary, many thanks.

I took the opportunity to also order Supplement 5: Lightning Class Cruisers. It was the one supplement that I didn't own, but I now do - even if it's only a pdf.

A 40 year itch finally scratched. 

[fsn]

Always listen to elves (although they have both angelic and demonic qualities requiring some discernment  ). Very much enjoy your Brendanian adventures.   

Thank you. Your kind words are valued.

[Radar]

No apology needed. On the contrary, many thanks.

I took the opportunity to also order Supplement 5: Lightning Class Cruisers. It was the one supplement that I didn't own, but I now do - even if it's only a pdf.

A 40 year itch finally scratched. 

I've got that one, picked up a mint copy of Ashanti High Lightning a few years back (at a good price).

I continue my search for the 4 special supplements in book form (only 2 available as pdfs, which I find strange)

[O Dinas Powys]

For anyone who wants to fill out their Traveller PDF collection, I've just seen this linked to on BoardGameGeek: Classic Traveller Bundle

~£15 for 61 PDFs...