Traveller Campaign

[O Dinas Powys]

You will be pleased/indifferent/sad ...

Sad, definitely sad 

[Last Hussar]

Warspite will not have the same number of crew at the end of it.

Recruitment?

[fsn]

The humans watched the newcomers caper and howl around them. Lady Kelete and her troop viewed their foe with stolid implacability. The volunteers were less sure and grasped their weapons in sweaty hands. The Collator moved between them, offering comforting words and perhaps some psionic fortitude. York had arranged his team – Smita at the back; Lydia, Rowan and Alder in front of her, bows ready and Alison and York at the front – solid and armoured and intimidating.

York picked out one of the newcomers who appeared to be watching and controlling; a leader or chieftain of some kind.
"Rowan, can you pick off that one?" he asked, pointing at the target with his axe.
"Which one?"
"The ugly green one with the spear."
"There are lot's of ugly one with spears." But as she responded, an arrow flew and took the chieftain in the throat. The brute fell, gurgling and pawing at the arrow.
"Ha! They've not seen bows before." Exulted York. The newcomers in the vicinity of the dying chieftain started at the casualty in silence. Then, they resumed their howling and shaking of weapons. Some stones were thrown in return, but most fell short. 
"I think you've made them angry." Observed Alison sourly.

"Drone incoming" Alex's voice was a welcome glimpse of hope.
"What payload?" Asked York.
"Err ... supplies. "
"Supplies?"
"Food and water ... and ..."
"And?" growled York.
"Cakes." Alex finished lamely. York turned to look sternly at Lydia. Pointedly ignoring him, she loosed a shaft at another chieftain.

"How long for an armed drone?" Asked York. 
"One is being prepped now. Should be with you in fifteen minutes."
"We may all be dead in fifteen minutes. Send this drone over their heads – buzz them. It may put them off for a bit." York looked around, scanning the sky. He couldn't see the drone, but knew it was there.  The comdots they all wore had a very limited range, and needed the drone to maintain contact with the Warspite.

The newcomers had reached a point where they were fired up enough to take attack. They didn't attack en masse, two or three would detach themselves from crowd and rush at the humans.  Alison deftly avoided a clumsy spear and nearly took of the hand that held it. York was not as elegant, but he wielded his axe powerfully, cutting through a shield and the head that hid behind it.

Elsewhere, one of the volunteers had fallen. Two newcomers tried to drag away the body, but one of Kelete's soldiers slew one and put the other to flight.

York scanned the sky again, and saw the drone diving towards the fight. He grinned, and hacked ruthlessly at another newcomer.

"Dammit!" Alex's voice was distorted. Something was wrong. The Collator stood with arms raised, facing the oncoming drone, which wobbled and dipped.
"Nooo!" screamed York.  The Collator had struck the drone with some kind of psionic blast. Damaged, it wobbled away towards the Warspite. The newcomers had barely noticed, never having had to watch the sky, and they continued to ramp up their frenzy.

A half dozen newcomers broke from the group and rushed towards the Warspite crew. Alison continued her almost balletic moves, taking one of the attackers with each of the two swords she held.
York parried a club with his shield and chopped the leg from his attacker, but the others had pushed by the front line and onto the archers. Rowan and Alder didn't bother to unsheath their swords, but tackled their attackers to the ground and despatched them with daggers which suddenly appeared in their hands.
Lydia was not so quick. She dropped her bow and went for her sword, but the newcomer was on her. A copper axe came down on her shoulder, and she fell. York heard her cry and turned, to see Smita with both hands pointed at the newcomer.
"Get away from her, you bitch!" she said in a tight determined voice. Two bolts of green light flew from her hands and  struck the newcomer in the chest. It fell, and there was a sickly smell of burning flesh.
"Protect her by killing them." Green light flashed in Smita's eyes. "I will do what I can for her."

Lydia is wounded

Never before had York experienced the red mist, the wrath of battle, the berserk fury; but seeing the pink shirt splattered with blood triggered his rage. He howled at the newcomers, he screamed abuse at them, and dared them to come to him to die. The newcomers paused, and York made to descend the hill into their mass. It was Alison who stopped him. She darted in front of him, facing the newcomers and pushing at him with her back.
"York!" She snapped. "Don't be stupid. There are too many an if you die, we all die." York leant against her, his greater weight and strength forcing her forward inexorably to the shrieking newcomers. For some reason, there were tears on his cheeks. He felt hands on his harness. Rowan and Alder, swords in hand were pulling him back. He stopped.
Seeing the defenders on the hilltop exposed,  a knot of newcomers dashed at them. York became aware of the danger when he saw green fireballs exploding as Smita was the last defender standing on that side of the hill.
"Rowan, Alder ... go." The sisters disengaged and ran back up the hill to stand beside Smita. York heard bows twang and nearby newcomers suddenly sported arrows in head or body.  York and Alison backed slowly up to their original position.

The newcomers fell silent. The wounded and dead were being carried from the battle. They reformed into a tight circle around the hill. York took stock of the humans. One of the solders was down, and three ... or was it four of the volunteers. He looked at Lydia. Her eyes were closed. He couldn't see if she breathed, but Smita was busy with bandages and her hands glowed. She looked at him and nodded.

"We're out of arrows." Rowan and Alder had moved to his side. Blades drawn. Alison seemed unmoved by the carnage. She stood, eyes closed, lips moving in prayer or promise? Although it seemed that hours had passed, York knew that the fight had lasted but a few minutes. The armed drone was still some way off.

The newcomers advanced. Slowly. Shield held in front of them, spears advanced.

"They've finished playing." Alison said quietly. "They're coming to finish us off."  Lady Kelete began to sing, a mournful dirge.  The song was taken up by the other soldiers and was the only sound to be heard. Except ...
"What's that?" asked Smita.  It was a rumble. The song trailed off as the soldiers became aware of the new sound. It was getting louder.

The newcomers halted, also unsure and then from over a nearby hillock appeared a herd of goats. Big one, small ones, medium side ones; they galloped straight into the back ranks of the newcomers. Horns slashed and came out blooded; the bigger goats trampled, the smaller one stabbed and  hacked. The goats split and began to roll up the ranks of the newcomers. The humans could do little but stare. The goats ignored them, but viciously attacked all newcomers. In seconds it was over. The newcomers fled, the goats in pursuit, but the chase was short as the newcomers disappeared. Living, dead, wounded; one moment they were there the next they were not. With no immediate enemy, the goats recommenced more traditional goaty things like nibbling on an unsuspecting pompom, nodding at each other or gazing blankly into the distance. It was as if the newcomers had never existed.
Goats! Thousands of 'em. Well dozens.

The humans began the tasks common to the aftermath of all battles. They asked for the health of friends, attended to wounds, mourned the dead, or just settled to rest. The Collator and Lady Kelete moved among their survivors, offering comfort and praise.

After checking the others, York sat by Lydia, staring at her pale face. She was alive. She was asleep or unconscious. He told himself that if they could get her to the Warspite she would be fine. Unaware, he took one of her hands in his, and stroked it. 

"Ech- eg – ex – excuse me." The voice was scratchy, as if from long disuse. York turned to see an android some paces off. It was obviously old. Very old.  It was dented and battered and one arm had been crudely repaired with a rough copper plate. It was covered by a cloak made from the skin of a goat.

"Are you to thank for our deliverance?" York asked, The android paused, head twitching as as if struggling to access the right part of its memory.
"We .. wi ...wo ... will you be .. leaf .. lead ... leaving this planet?"
"Just as soon as we can."
"I request passage." Either the android was getting more used to using its voice, or it was a phrase it had practiced.
"Gladly. "Said York. "Do you have a name?" The android stopped and began the head twitching again.
"I do ... not ... know." The head turned from side to side, the neck making painful sounding squeaks and groans. 
"Melvin" said a small voice. Lydia had come round and was watching the android in a glazed-eyes sort of way. "I always liked the name Melvin." York stroked her cheek and smiled down at her.
"How about it? Will Melvin do until we find something better?"
"M ... mi ...M ...  Mel-vin." The android nodded slowly.

A large goat had ambled up to the Android. Smita emitted a small squeak of joy and ran to embrace its shaggy head. It was the goat she had healed, and it took her blandishments with stoic good nature.

Marvin talks with York and Lady Kelete, whilst Smita renews her acquaintance with a big goat

The humans took the time to bury the dead. The valuable white metal arms and armour were redistributed and what could not be carried was stashed for later collection.

York picked Lydia up, using her cloak as a sling to carry her. He sought the drone as a guide then began the long walk back to the Warspite. Behind him, the humans fell into a rough column. Melvn paused to commune in some way with the goats, then shrugged of the goat skin cape and hurried to join the marchers.


OK, so I was wrong. I shall add an epilogue which will explain something of Melvin's history. It will also sort out some of York's conundrums, but to be honest, I haven't got all the answers. I still don't know where the newcomers come from, or even what they are.

I can say that Lydia will be fine.

Probably.

[Techno 3]

Great stuff, Nobby !

[fsn]

Epilogue
Melvin was making up for the many years he had not spoken. York didn't mind. It helped take his mind off his worry and his muscles aching from carrying Lydia. Melvin had offered to carry her, but York had  quietly but firmly refused.

Melvin had been a service droid on the Mind of Man. When the ship had broken up he was lucky to have been bundled into an escape pod. His owner had died soon after landing, falling into a pompom to be poisoned and  absorbed.  He had stayed with a group of humans until they started talking about him as a potential source of white metal, then he had slipped away to continue as a hermit.

His role of the Goat Father was accidental. He had rescued a kid who had got too close to a pompom, and just stayed with the herd after that. He was able to do some basic first aid on wounded or hurt goats, could walk into the most dangerous pompom unscathed. He didn't communicate verbally with the goats – they were mute. Sometimes he wandered and they followed. Sometimes they wandered and he tagged along. The goats hated the newcomers – or at least feared them to a point where they would attack on sight.

Melvin was fortunate to have been able to modify his power plant to accept Brenda water as a fuel source, and was capable of making the small repairs he required, but was aware that he was severely degraded.  As parts of his memory had become corrupted, he had removed functions to preserve his core personality.

"I have deliberately erased so much." He said. "I used to be a steward, but I don't know how now, and I can't see colour any more." His square head scanned the surroundings. "Let me guess. Grey?"

York grunted in agreement.

"Are you sure you don't want me to carry her?" Asked Melvin.
"She's fine." Lydia groaned gently.  Smita appeared and gave a perfunctory check of the wound and the bandage under the cloak. York thought he saw a green glow.  Smita nodded at York. He settled his burden more comfortably and resumed his trek.

Janine and Sean met them while they were some distance from the Warspite. They wore full  battle gear and trailed a floating stretcher. York made a mental note to chastise them for putting themselves in danger, then thanking them profusely. He placed Lydia on the stretcher where Janine and Smita bent over her for a moment before Janine announced "she'll be fine." Only Smita heard her add "but we need to get back as quickly as possible."

They reached the Warspite some hours later – tired, and thirsty, shoulders aching from the loads they carried. York took a minute to  examine the ship. It was canted slightly to one side, partially buried in a trench of its own making, but he was pleased to note the network of pipes and pumps feeding liquid into the fuel scoops for breaking down into hydrogen fuel and precious oxygen.

Alex met them, obviously relieved that Janine had returned safely. She patted his cheek affectionately in acknowledgement of his worry, but was in full doctor mode. She hurried the stretcher into the ship, Smita guiding it from the other side.
 
"She'll be fine. " Alex said. "
"Yeah. That's what everyone tells me." York desperately wanted to follow the medics, but realised he had more pressing duties. York and Alex took Lady Kelete and the Collator to a briefing room where refreshments were already set out.

Rowan and Alder gathered the others and undertook to feed, water and entertain them. Quillam appeared and berated Sean for skiving. He patted the young marine on the shoulder, and muttered "good lad. Good lad." It was as close as he would get to giving praise to his protege. He spotted Melvin.
"And who do we have here?" he asked.
"I am Melvin." replied the Android.
"Well, I'm very pleased to meet you. Melvin. Would you like to come in for a bit of what looks like, if you don't mind me saying, long overdue maintenance?"
"That would be most welcome".

In the briefing room, York made introductions and they settled gratefully into the padded seats. Kelete and the Collator looked around in interest, stroking and prodding the comfortable seats, and tapping the table experimentally. York noted that the screens had all be switched off. Not for the first time, Alex was demonstrating a certain perspicacity.

"Odd." Said the Collator. "I can't sense anyone outside of this room. "
"Oh! Is that distressing?" Asked Alex, ever the genial host. "Should we relocate?"
"No. It is just ... odd." The Collator smiled briefly. "Can you let the others know, so they don't fret?"
"Already done." Alex returned the smile.

The Collator looked at York. "You will be leaving soon. Perhaps we need to answer at least one of your questions, but first I should explain what it means to be a Collator. Most human settlements have a Collator."
"You are leaders?" Asked Alex.
"No." The Collator pursed her lips. "Leadership is only needed when there is change." She smiled sadly. "On Brenda, nothing has changed for a long time. To be a Collator one has to be able to send messages to another over great distances. That way, we keep each other up to date with what goes on – Ip movements, births and deaths, creating a new colony. Mostly very routine and boring. I have been communing with my fellow Collators and we do not feel we can should you to inform the authorities of our presence." Lady Kelete nodded in agreement. " We have been away from the rest of humanity for a long time and this " she indicated the ship around her "is confusing and frightening." She lowered her head. "We would also ask that you do not accept those requesting passage. We are few enough, and cannot afford to loose the young – who would be most keen to be away."  Her head jerked up at Alex's sharp intake of breath. "I know. It is a difficult ask, but please honour our wishes."
Alex looked at York, who was staring at the table. Seeing no dissent his leader, Alex curtly nodded his agreement.   


Janine entered the room. She was wearing her medical outfit, and looked tired but satisfied. Seeing York's strained face, she said. "She'll be fine."
"Everyone tells me that." Lamented York. Janine smiled.
"Smita did some really excellent field work. It was a nasty wound, but she will recover. She's sleeping now. Smita is with her." York only nodded.
 
Janine addressed the wider room.
"I'm sorry to interrupt." She started "You must be the Lady Kelete and the Collator?" The two nodded their assent. "Well, "continued Janine "I've not been idle. I've been doing some research, and I have some ... offerings." York frowned in puzzlement. Alex smiled. The Brendans looked confused. Janine took a box from a side table and confidently took a seat between York and Alex. She opened the box, and took out a sheaf of papers, bound in a loose file.
"I have been researching the Mind of Mankind and managed to dig up quite a bit about what it was and who was on it. " She laid the papers aside. "Also, I've been doing some analysis of the soil hereabouts, and I think it can be used to grow plants." York noticed the perplexed look on the faces of his guests.
"Think pompoms without the danger, and they stay where they're put."
"And, added Janine ... some of them are edible. We can grow plants here on the Warspite, but we have some plants and some seeds that may well grow here on Brenda. I'd like to check for compatibility with you digestive systems first, of course. We wouldn't want to poison you with a tomato." Janine was rather taken aback by the less than uproarious reception from the Brendans. In fact they looked confused.

"Change can happen." York favoured the Collator with a lopsided grin. The Lady Kelete stiffened slightly.

"We thank you for the offerings ... but I don't think we should accept the writings." She looked to the Collator who indicated agreement with lowered eyelids. "However, I'd like to risk a tomato."

The conference broke up. The Brendans chose to camp in the shelter of the Warspite's hull, where they were plied with various foodstuffs by Janine, ably if reluctantly aided by Rowan and Alder.

York cleaned himself up, then took himself to the medic bay. Smita was there, drowsing, still wearing the faded glory of her planet side clothing. He gently woke her, and received reassurance that Lydia would make a full recovery, before the young doctor betook herself off to clean up and probably go to bed.

York sat by Lydia's bedside, and fell into a light sleep.

The next day, the Brendans began the trip home, carrying a bizarre assortment of plants and bags of seeds. They paused to watch the Warspite rise slowly from the ground, getting faster and gently climbing until it disappeared from view.

[fsn]

That's it for Brenda. Well, for now certainly. If you remember, I created Brenda to a) fill a table with terrain for £10 and b) create some low tech level Traveller rules where there is a high degree of psionic ability which is folklore rather than science. I didn't use much of the terrain, but I now have a Traveller subset.

What Brenda lacks is variety. I'm not sure how much more I can squeeze out of pompoms, Ips and goats. Having said that, I do now seem to have quite a few Brendan Humans, Ips, newcomers and goats, so it would be a shame to let them go unused. I'll have a ponder. 

The game has also left me with some unresolved issues.

• Who or what are the newcomers? We don't have transporters in Traveller, so how did they just appear and disappear? 
• Smita and York have both had their psi unlocked. What happens now? 
• How do Rowan and Alder have a psi-shield when they have no psi ability? Does it something to do with their army childhood? 
• I've know Alison for many years, and had no idea that she might have had a child, let alone lost one

To satisfy what little curiosity you may have, I use a narrative style of gaming. Like ancient historians, I like to create the speeches of my subjects.

I set out a broad story line with some key events. (Warspite lands/crashes, meets humans, meets Marvin, takes off), then let the die decide what actually happens -Smita got her psi -powers switched on, poor old Arturius got deadded before he met the crew, the Collator ko's the drone. I was going to do a dungeon delve with Arturius leading the crew underground in the search for minerals(?) and missing humans - but he forgot to look behind him. 

I didn't fight the whole battle on the hill. I threw a D6 for Lady Kelete's troops and the volunteers. A score of 1 meant that there were 1d4 casualties. In return, they would see off 1d6 newcomers. I did fight the Warspite crew. The newcomers had a few rounds of attacking in small groups (D4+2) which I reasoned were young warriors seeking to gain honour or experience.

The goat attack was a deus ex machina. Once the newcomers got serious they would steamroller the        humans. They had been unconcerned by arrows and hadn't noticed the drone, so I had to do something extreme, and I had to get Melvin into the picture.   




Interlude 1
Marvin had been disassembled. Bits of him lay strewn across the machine shop. His legs bubbled in a cleaning bath, Sean was testing the working of one of the arms and Quillam was buffing years of accumulated scratches and dents from the android's body.

York was talking to the box that was Marvin's processor and memory. The android was refusing an updated body, but York had talked him into having an upgrade to memory and processor. The tricky bit was integrating new technology with the old; preserving what was Marvin whilst updating his capacity.

"I have a mission." Explained the disembodied Marvin. "My owner, the Lady Aryn Linson charged me with finding the Lady Sana Lezal, and passing on a message to her."
"The Lady Sana will be long dead by now." Said York distractedly. He was watching the link between old and new technology forming and strengthening.
"Then I will find the Lady Sana's descendent and pass my message to her."
"What is the message?" the android paused.
"I don't know. It is private. It will be revealed when I see the Lady Sana." York considered that he could probably crack an 800 year old security code, but he was tired and wasn't that interested in the emotional babbling of long dead nobility. 
   

Interlude 2
Alison was guided to Smita by the ship's internal security systems. The young doctor was sat cross legged on the floor of one of the cargo bays. Her hands were on her knees, palms up. Green flames rose from each palm in turn, flaring and then dying. Her eyes were closed.

"Smita. Are you all right?" Alison asked gently. Smita opened her eyes, which seemed to be made of green fire.
"Smita?" Alison pressed. The younger woman looked unblinkingly at her with the green-fire eyes for some seconds before slowing shutting them. When she opened them again, her eyes had returned to their usual dark brown. 
"No." She said simply. "I have spent my life trying to be a healer, and now I have taken life." A flare rose from her right hand. "I have been given a  gift or a curse. I can heal with this gift " - flare from the left hand – "or I can kill" flare from the right hand. "I don't know why I have changed or if the change has completed." Flares rose from both hands. Smita watched them disinterestedly.
"You saved Lydia." Alison pointed out. "You saved her by killing her attacker, and then you saved her by healing." Smita's eyes turned to green fire again. Her hands became fiery green orbs, and she seemed to grow a pale green radiance around her body.
"But I failed ..." the voice was not Smita's, but sounded to Alison like a demon from the stories from her youth. "I do not kill, it is horrible to take life. I do not hold life as cheaply as you do! I would not kill my own child!"
Seeing the shock and hurt on Alison's face, Smita became immediately the girl that she had been just days before.
"I'm so sorry, Alison, I didn't mean that." The voice was back to normal. The green fire had gone. Alison's mouth moved, but she could not form words.  She turned and hurried from the cargo bay.

Smita looked about her, as if unaware where she was. She shivered, and miserably wrapped her arms around her thin body to stop the shaking.   


Interlude 3
Alex knew Janine wasn't asleep, even though she had her back to him as he entered the bed-room. He slid into bed, and nestled her into his arms. He kissed her shoulder.
"What's the matter?"  He asked. Other women may have played the "oh nothing" game and made him dig for the answer, but this was Janine.
"I need a holiday." He laughed softly, and felt her stiffen in his arms.
"I'm serious." She said. "We all need some time off this ship." Alex said nothing. He waited for her to continue. He felt her relax again.
"We all need a break from this ship, from being in danger. We need some time to feel safe and breathe real air."  Alex was about to bristle at the implied slight on his ship, but she sensed his objection and hurried on.
"It's not the ship. The ship is fine, it's just we all need a change. Poor Smita need some time to process what happened to her on Brenda ..."
"... and Alison has been like a hot cat on a roof" added Alex, thinking about how the bodyguard had been tense since they'd left the planet.
"The boys worked really hard getting the Warspite back into space – they could do with a break." Janine always called Sean and Quillam "the boys".  Alex grunted.
"You too, dear.  You worked yourself to a frazzle too." She kissed one of his encircling arms.
"We're going to need a period in dock when we get to Eric." Pondered Alex. "Perhaps York will consider letting some of us have some time on planet while the ship is being properly repaired."
"I'm sure you can sort it out with him" she said. Alex kissed her neck again, but she was already asleep.   


Next: Alex and Janine go on holiday, and who they met there.

[sunjester]

Thanks for posting this, I've enjoyed reading the adventures of the Warspite crew.

[Duke Speedy of Leighton]

Brilliant ending to the beginning

[Ithoriel]

Good read. Lots of fun! Thank you.

[Techno 3]

What Mike said !

[MonAtArms]

Thank you very much! I look forward to your future adventures, whether during your holidays or on new journeys. I really miss Traveller a lot.