An emergency telegraph message via heliograph, to Mrs. Abigail Forsyth.

Dearest Abigail,

On return from my latest sojourn, I was confronted with the dreadful news regarding Clarence.

I can imagine that only something of the greatest import would have enticed him on such an endeavour.

Rest assured that I will be travelling to moon and beyond, if necessary, in search of him. The means I have to determine, but this I will do upon my honour.

Clarence was ever a resourceful fellow, so I will not countenance his demise. Time and distance are against me, but one has to live in hope.

I know the estate is good order and your keen mind will keep it so, you should not want.

Yours dutifully,

Henry

Later:

Dear Abigail,

I have tracked down an inventor here on Mars that has built a new design of ether ship, capable of landing on the moon. We have provisioned it with that we think necessary, no doubt will have forgotten something, but haste is of essence.

We leave for the moon shortly. The inventor is a Doctor Grant, of Colorado, USA. In my brief time there, I did hear of him, a good reputation for improving farming, but his moon craft was clearly too much for an uneducated rural populace and he relocated here, to our great good fortune.

Wilhelm are Hartwell are accompanying me. To my chagrin it belated occurs to me that I had not asked them. You might say that we are rather like those characters out of that French author’s book, Dumas. The Mouseteers, although I’m not I have the translation correct. Anyway, as they say “oil for one and once in a hall”.

I will make good on my promise. We will also follow the same path as Clarence and send regular updates on our progress via heliograph.

Yours dutifully,

Henry Forsyth

Last message:

Arrived at moon, no signs of Moth on surface heading to the dark side and the glow. Following the path of the Moth.

Interlude: Luna - A Brief History

Luna

The Earth’s nearest neighbor,circling resolutely a mere 300,000 miles away, has to date been far more elusive than the much more remote worlds of Venus and Mars.

Ethereal navigators have been put to the test merely setting their vessels down on a world with no atmosphere,and every indication is that Luna has no particular wealth or prospects to offer the ambitious Earthmen buzzing past in favor of richer worlds.

Telescopic observations from the Earth have been confirmed by firsthand examination of the facts: Luna is a barren world without atmosphere or water, trod upon for the first time by scientists wishing to unlock the doors of knowledge with Edison’s remarkable key.

Specifically, Luna is a ball of rock 2160 miles in diameter with a surface area of 14.5 million square miles, approximately equal to that of Asia. Its terrain, as can be seen from Earth, is mostly mountainous and cratered, and speculation that much of this is due to meteor impacts over time appears to be correct.

The gravity at the surface of this tiny world is only one-sixth that of the Earth, allowing for tremendous acrobatics for those willing to brave the deadly vacuum in specially adapted suits.

Navigational Difficulties

ETHER FLYERS used for commerce Venus generally take advantage of the atmospheres of those worlds to get from orbit to surface. Both liftwood and hydrogen help make the vessel “lighter than air,” letting it settle to the surface or rise to orbit using the atmosphere as a buoyancy medium. Luna, however, has no air to be lighter than, rendering liftwood and hydrogen useless. The only alternative for getting to its surface is to use the ether propeller, a device whose speeds are measured in millions of miles per day, to navigate the delicate distance between orbit an surface.

Obviously, the typical ether propeller is hardly sensitive enough for such precise maneuvers, and only the very best pilots will even attempt a landing on a vacuum world like Luna.

Earthmen on Luna

LUNA WAS first visited by Sir William Otterbein, in an ether flyer designed by himself and his Italian assistant, Luigi Piachetti, and financed by his estates and by industrialists in London wishing to find cheap sources of iron ore.

Otterbein managed to land his flyer in Mare Imbrium without significant damage. He and his assistant then set out to establish that Luna does suffer from “Moonquakes,” that the surface, at least in the so-called “seas,” is very dusty and difficult to traverse, that the surface gravity is quite low, and that there is no atmosphere.

After his return trip, analysis of samples found them almost barren of useful materials, and Otterbein’s industrial backers pulled their support out from under him. He never returned to Luna.

Others have, however, including Brian Masterly of Great Britain, the Davis brothers of Philadelphia, and Vladimir Tereshkova of Russia. The latter made a total of five trips to Luna for the Czar, the final one (from which he never returned) in 1887.

All the scientific data gathered have confirmed suspicions that Luna is of little value. No permanent facilities exist on Luna, and by 1889,visits there are extremely infrequent.

The Glow

RUMORS ABOUT hidden treasures, great wealth in diamonds, and indeed the existence of so-called Selenites, or Moonmen, have passed between space mariners for years. To date, none of them have been borne out despite several visits to Luna over the last two decades. Still, such rumors die hard, and many people persist in their belief that there is more to Earth’s Moon than meets the eye.

“The glow” is a particular event which many explorers and ether pilots claim to have witnessed on the far side of Luna. They claim that, if one is in the right position, a faint glow can be seen on a particular part of the far side. The glow is barely a pinprick as seen with the unaided eye, but telescopic observers claim the glow area may actually be anything up to a mile across. Its greenish-white light has never been scientifically examined.

Rumor has it that the Russians have more information about the glow, but, frankly, they aren’t talking.

It is also rumored that Vladimir Tereshkova was investigating the glow on his fateful trip of 1887.

The text of this post is taken from the original Space 1889 rulebook, Copyright by Frank Chadwick, now published by Heliograph.

No challenge to asserted rights is intended by reproducing this extract.

Episode 61: Bad News in Syrtis Major

[p Upon returning to Syrtis Major Forsyth was met by a Colonial Office official who let slip that his brother had apparently taken it upon himself to join an expedition to Luna¹ and that contact with the expedition had been lost and the ship was feared lost with all hands!

Forsyth was understandably taken aback by this news, that had been reported in The Syrtis Major Times-Courant by none other than Phoebe Carter-Lloyd.

Hartwell and Wilhelm rallied around their stricken friend and vowed to do all in their power to assemble a resue mission. No-one spoke of what all must have felt; that this could be a mission to recover the remains of the expedition members.

A major problem with exploring the Moon is that it has no atmosphere. An aethership uses lighter-than-air gas in an inflatable dirigible envelope to land gently and to take off, as approach with an operating aether propeller would be suicidal due to the extremely high speeds produced.

For reasons not understood, liftwood does not function on Luna either.

So why go there?

For many years, scientists have been perplexed and fascinated by an odd display, called "The Glow" that can be seen illuminating the edge of the Moon under certain circumstances, and speculation as to its nature has fueled interest by foolhardy explorers using questionable "cutting edge" technologies to visit Earth's satellite. As of yet, none have returned to tell of their adventures.

Other than that, the Moon seems nothing more or less than a lifeless ball of rock, and since other, more accommodating worlds² are available for exploration, tourism and resource and mineral exploitation, Luna has been seen as an object best seen through a telescope or gazed at from a punt on the Cam with one's sweetheart.

It seemed that Forsyth's brother had joined his fate to one of those crackpot inventors of a ship, the Moth, with "cutting edge technology".

The team were at something of a loss, for the Moon was around 100 day's journey from Mars, and when they got there they had no way of making a landing.

But then they learned of Dr Cyrus Grant, formerly of Arizona, lately somewhat down on his luck after word of his new Aether Propeller had gotten around the farmer and rancher community he had served so well with his contraptions, and having decided that he did not need that sort of grief from ingrates, and in possession of a fully functional aethership equipped with the Grant Propeller, now resident in Syrtis Major - albeit in a rather rundown district.

Grant's aether propeller was, it was claimed, capable of close approach and landing on Luna, although why anyone would want to visit that benighted place Grant couldn't say. The Grant Propeller's chief attraction was that it was capable of interplanetary flight at a distinctly higher speed than an Edison model.

When the team visited Grant he was receptive, but informed them regretfully that his ship was grounded for want of a diamond core, a vital component of the Grant Propeller.

Wilhelm got some details and was surprised to find out that gem-quality was not required,though the size of crystal required was not inconsiderable. He assured Grant that he would be able to source such a stone³ and all that was left was to provision the expedition.

Grant's machine proved every bit as capable as its inventor had claimed, and though the journey was by turns tedious and a source of d___able frustration and worry for Forsyth, eventually the Grant Flyer approached the Moon and Grant began to demonstrate the aerobatic ⁴ qualities of his aether propeller were not exaggerations or bravado.

Searching the surface with a powerful searchlight showed no evidence of a crash, but it was not long before the heroes saw The Glow, and hey steered the ship toward it, where they discovered a massive chasm in the crust of the Moon.

Hypothesizing that this would have been where Clarence's attention would have been drawn, the team directed Grant to descend into the chasm.

The team were amazed to discover that there was light of a sort coming from the walls each side of them. Some creature or plant, perhaps, was emitting a low level greenish glow that was getting brighter as they dropped into the depths of the chasm.

It seemed they had solved the mystery of The Glow.

Suddenly Grant announced they were descending rather more quickly than he could account for - or control! He suspected that there was air in the chasm, which was disrupting the working of his aether propeller, and quickly deployed the gas buoyancy envelope, but it was too late and the ship crashed onto a large ledge on the starboard side cliff wall.

After picking themselves up, the adventurers made an assay of their ship's condition, which was not good.

The gasbag had been ruptured, which would require a repair if they were ever to lift off again since the presence of an atmosphere - confirmed now - meant the aether propeller would not work. There were some small rents in the hull, which would be easy to fix if a short trip - say back to Earth - were contemplated. Worse of all, the diamond crystal had shattered and would have to be replaced.

The most immediate problem was food and water, and after a discussion it was decided that climbing down seemed the only logical choice. No-one was coming to rescue them, after all, and Clarence might very well be alive somewhere down there.

Gathering as much food and water as they could carry, and some basic climbing gear that they had brought along, the team began to descend the dizzying drop, so deep they could not make out the bottom despite the presence of ample light now their eyes had adjusted.

The climb down was a fearful, days-long affair.

During the descent the team discovered two kinds of mushrooms that were edible, if unpleasant-tasting, and one that contained acidic juice when Hartwell's safety rope was eaten through.

They were harassed by various strange fauna including giant caterpillar-like animals and swarms of bat-like creatures. It was during one such attack that they discovered that the "Lunar Bats" could be repelled by the acid fungus, though the risk to their own human skin was considerable.

After a few days the team came across the wreck of an aethership, but it was not that of Clarence Forsyth. It had been stripped of everything, including the interior furnishings, which was suggestive.

Further down, the team were able to see with the aid of binoculars the wreck of the Moth on a ledge on the other side of the chasm. No movement was visible, and it was impossible to cross the vast distance separating the team from the wreck, so they continued downward.

On perhaps the 12th day, having descended around 10 miles into the Lunar interior, the team came to the entrance to a cave. In the distance ahead of hem hey could see a primitive rope bridge connecting their side of the canyon to the other, but each end appeared to lead to caves in the sheer walls rather than a ledge.

Forsyth reasoned that if he were to reach the wreck of the Moth he would need to cross that bridge, and that to do that he would need to find the cave it was anchored to.

So the team entered the cave in front of them.

1. The Moon↑
2. the reader may interpret much hyperbole here, and opine that the term "more accommodating" is doing some heavy lifting↑
3. if from nowhere else, there might be a suitable gem in his collection from Bordobaar, currently languishing in a vault in Lloyd's of Syrtis Major↑
4. selenobatic?↑

Captain Forsyth: A Letter

An ongoing letter from Captain Henry Forsyth (Royal Engineers) to his brother.

The Duel

My Dearest Brother,

Once again, I offer my dearest facilitations and trust you and the family are all well.

I am pleased to tell you that that the duel that poor Wilhelm was subjected to has been resolved.

The good professor had several options, with one being a team duel. Naturally I did not stint to support my colleague and dare I say good friend. Hartwell was likewise minded. So, the three of us were to face an unknown adversary in an unknown place. Only the timing was in our control. Wilhelm wanted enough time to reinvent one of his devices, which he duly did.

I used the time to create some ordinance, which I felt might be useful. I also found an old cavalry cuirass, which I had modified and reinforced to suit myself.

Hartwell was ambushed by knife wielding thugs on the street. It seems the intent was to wound him, for having stabbed him the assailants ran off. Robbery or murder were therefore not the motive. We suspect this dastardly noble was behind the attack and designed to weaken us. In the event Hartwell had plenty of time to recover.

In the interim we resolved to only go out in company and be more cautious.

Research into our adversary only reinforced what we expected. A petty minor noble, with a grudge, managing to stay on just the right side of legality.

In the event this coward didn’t appear in the field himself. He sent 3 proxies, leather clad, masked and much like the adversaries we have faced before. We know these to be highly capable, fast and deadly.

It is my thought that there must be a training centre for these elite assassin’s.

We were transported via kite into a typical Martian boulder strewn plain and the game began.

Having seen these operators before, I felt our best chance lay at range, where our Winchesters (replacements bought at some cost) could be bought into play. We therefore opted for the area that gave the most open range for fire, while looking out for the foe.

While we stuck together, they hunted independently, we had brief ideas of shadows crossing the terrain, mostly from Wilhelm using one of his inventions.

Then they had clearly spotted us, an arrow hit Hartwell, but only in the strap of the knapsacks we were carrying. One assailant was now known at range to the south-east, I heard another moving to the south and Wilhelm was trying to track one to the east.

It then became apparent they were using some kind of invisibility device, all but one.

That one charged our position, in hindsight I suspect to draw our fire so his fellows could come into close combat, which is where their skill lays.

I felt sure I’d got the blighter with one shot, but he had the devil’s own luck as my shot deflected off his sword.

Arrows were coming in from all directions, thankfully none of them hit home, close on a few occasions, but we did note damp smears on rocks where they hit. The cads were using poison!

How outrageously unsporting!

Hartwell was firing south at some adversary I couldn’t see, so dodged out at the one we could see and took him down.

Next thing there is one of these leather clad dervishes next to Hartwell, with two blades flashing about, in close to a noon day sun.

Wilhelm ‘gubbers’ him, that is to say he has this gun that fires some kind glue that can trap an individual for a time, a bit like a fly in a spider’s web, although the trapped maybe able to break free. It will also degrade with time.

Then another of these deadly swordsman appears out of nowhere next to me and suddenly I’m also trying to fend off flashing blades. Thankfully my new armour proved it’s worth, although I was taken aback by the ferocity of the assault.

Wilhelm had the right strategy at this point. Calling Hartwell to him he moved next to me and by strange mean of his miraculous device moved us all south in a blink, to once again we could operate at range.

From before the start of the encounter I had identified this as our advantage and close combat as theirs.

I confess I was usually badly shaken from the minor wounds I’d received. Plus, while the strategy of moving us is one I would have shouted out, being suddenly in combat, then not, discombobulated me.

Meanwhile Wilhelm used his ‘gubber’ gun to fix an assailant to a rock and Hartwell, fine shot that he is, did the rest.

Recovering from my stupor, I thought I saw an image running a bit to my right. I’m really rather proud of my improvised hand thrown explosive charges, we used them to great effect in defence of Fort McMurray.

Playing cricket has proved useful at last. It something of an overarm lob. But I put my improvised throwing bomb exactly where I wanted. It worked far more effectively than I expected. That was the last assailant dealt with.

At least no brotherhood marks were found on the assailants. I’m curious as to whether this elite group religiously or fanatically driven. Or are they just plain old-fashioned mercenaries?

Back in what passes for civilisation in this part of the solar system, a grovelling apology was duly received from the petty Martian noble. Wilhelm followed form and made a gracious acceptance, although I rather feel it was through clenched teeth.

Who knows how this will play the Martian population at large. There are those who will see the honourable outcome and an increase in Wilhelms’ already considerable reputation. However, there maybe also be those who still heed the false accusations, doubtless those bigoted, biased and unreasonable individuals, who fail to see the benefits of benign British rule.

God save the Empress!

Henry

Episode 60: The Duel

[p Wilhelm set a date that gave him plenty of time to build a new Healing Engine, while his friends gathered supplies and searched out heir favourite forms of self-defense.

When the date arrived, Lord Arapiranth's kite appeared and the heroes, accompanied by various observers, boarded. There they saw for the first time that Lord Arapiranth had elected to use proxies for this duel (as was his right). Three black-garbed characters of sinister and familiar aspect skulked on he main deck. Were hey former Brotherhood assassins as heir garb suggested? Perhaps our heroes would have a chance to find out.

The kite sailed for a remote area of steppe and broken ground, and each party was dropped off in a chosen location kept secret from their opponents.

Wilhelm allowed Forsyth to pick the manner of their tactical deployment, which was a small clearing guarded on three sides by rock outcroppings giving cover. Forsyth signaled for a silent wait with heightened vigilance. Each hero took one sector of ground to cover, and their long, tedious watch began.

It wasn't long before certain sounds made Wilhelm aware that their opponents were using Weird Science devices - and Wilhelm feared the most likely conclusion (given their situation) was some sort of invisibility device!

If these d____d Martian bounders were not only trained assassins, but capable of attacks while invisible they were in a situation that wouldn't do at all.

Unfortunately, it was soon after this realization that Hartwell broke silence and gave away heir position to the enemy, who quickly converged on our brave lads.

One stroke of good fortunes was that one Shadowy Figure had inordinate trouble with his various devices and so was easily spotted.

Another was that the keen eyes of Hartwell were up to the task of locating another, even though he was invisible.

Exchanges of fire took place, with the Shadowy Figures using bows and the stalwart Earthmen more modern longarms. Near misses and lucky hits on Sam Browne belts soon led to the suspicion that the Shadowy Figures were using poisoned arrows in addition to their unsporting technology. Clearly the gloves were off.

The fight was desperate at times, but by a combination of luck, skill and sheer British Pluck our heroes were able eventually to dispatch all their opponents, who upon quick examination bore no obvious Brotherhood tattoos.

They were picked up by the kite, and Lord Arapiranth delivered a formal declaration of apology, which meant that from a protocol standpoint the matter was at an end, and honour was satisfied.

No-one was under any illusions that this was an end to the gossip of Wilhelm's perfidy, or of Lord Arapiranth's enmity.

Episode 59: Back to Civilization and Yet More Trouble

The crash had broken the back of the kite, and nothing was to be done about that.

Fallen masts and rigging fouled what was left of the decks, and the crew was either dead or absconded into the steppe, there to continue their ground-cleanser activities with no further impedence from the thrice-damned Earthmen.

The heroes swiftly divided up into teams in order to loot what supplies they could, with Forsyth rather optimistically seeking out materials for a construction project: a flying lifeboat in which to return to civilization.

Actually, this was not an altogether unfeasible plan, but it was interrupted by the post-crash behaviour of the wreck, which though non-viable as a kite was still bouyant in detail.

Forsyth was alerted when Mr Wiseman let out a yell and leapt for the safety of the steppe. Forsyth followed suit, which turned out to be a splendid idea.

The deck of the bow section gave a shudder, and freed of most of its clutter, rose into the air, tumbling slightly as it did so due to the weight of the cast-iron bow canon still mounted at the prow, though not for long.

The deck swiveled vertically and the artillery piece fell from it, to crash into the steppe with an almighty thump, though this was partially drowned out by the stentorian sounds of the bow section of the kite disintegrating, scattering a benison of non-liftwood components around the site with scant regard for the health of those cowering on the steppe below.

Fortunately there were no casualties.

As Forsyth and Wiseman watched the enormous liftwood panels from the bow section sail off into the sky, they were allerted by they more sounds of possible injury by post-shipwreck when the stern of the kite performed a similar lift off, aerial ballet and potentially disastrously lethal disintegration.

Fortunately, Wilhem and Hartwell had had the good sense to leap off and take cover.

Forsyth buried the body of the faithful Jones as best he could, which amounted to making a cairn over the body and a crude marker. A few words were said in lieu of a service, and that concluded the sad business.

Of the trip back to Moerus Lacus, let us say little. Suffice to comment that the journey was terse, difficult, unpleasant, to be avoided at all costs in the future, not to be written home about, and not one for the books (as it were).

On making their report to the British authorities, the team were informed they had best make all speed for Syrtis Major and report to the Colonial Office, which they did, taking a barge along the grand canal connecting the two cities (all were somewhat wary of flying and heartily sick of walking).

Events in Syrtis Major were interrupted by A Martian Noble arriving by small flyer and a herald disembarking and publicly demanding loudly to meet Professor Wilhelm, Despoiler of Bordobaar and Thief of Martian Heritage Treasures.

Wilhelm obliged by meeting with the Herald, observed by a large crowd of Martians and curious Earthmen and Women.

The herald then unrolled an ornate scroll and began reading in a loud, accented English voice:

Be it known that Lord Arapiranth does declare to all that the following be true and answerable crimes:

That the thief Wilhelm did enter the ancient Martian City of Bordobaar with many Earthman accomplices.
That the thief Wilhelm then conspired with them to construct diverse unholy technological devices to put aside the holy wards set from time immemorial as protection for the many valuable and holy relics kept within the mighty vault of Bordobaar.
That the thief Wilhelm did cause the death of the Holy Guardian, the manifestation on Mars of The Worm, by forbidden dark sorcery, thereby tainting the treasures within with the shadow of heresy.
That the thief Wilhelm did divide up the spoils of his most vile theft with sundry other Earthmen, each of whom has met a most deserved and grisly death before their alloted time had they not corrupted their essence by accepting the gifts of Wilhelm.
That the thief Wilhelm has used the wealth he has amassed by his ignoble and base actions to murder uncounted innocent Martians, this being reported by numerous reliable Martian witnesses of unimpeachable character.

Be it declared that unless the thief Wilhelm be surrendered to the justice of Lord Arapiranth immediately and without reservation, his lordship will call for a most deserved Holy War against the British interlopers, who have for too long sheltered the scum of their so-called civilisation here on Mars, and by this omission of action have been the proximate cause of much misery and illegal activities to the cost of the Martian people.

The herald then rolled the scroll back onto its wooden rod and offered it distainfully to Wilhelm, who refused to take it.

The herald sneered something in Martian¹, tossed the scroll to the ground at Wilhelm's feet, turned and left.

Wilhelm also left, and after a small debate with the others, sought help from his lawyer at Messrs. Boots, Boets, Bowts, Boets, Marchinup & Downagin, where he was informed that this was an archaic form of Martian challenge, and a perfectly legal one too. The options were many, including submitting to Martian judgement which Mr Boets felt to be imprudent and most likely a death sentence in all but name, or responding with a challenge of one's own to be delivered in a particular format, which would result in a form of trial by combat.

The original scroll would be needed.

Returning to the square, the team were just in time to see a martian pick up the scroll and, catching sight of the Earthmen, bolt for the alleys running off the square like an eegar with the scent of a steppe tiger in its nostrils².

The chase was an arduous one, but the team eventually recovered the scroll with minimal need for violence.

Wilhelm then formulated his response, which was delivered and the form of the challenge was hammered out.

1. later, reconstructing the words as best they could, the herald said something to the effect of "His lordship was right. All earthmen are arrogant cowards."↑
2. A real one, not Hartwell, who had had a chance to bathe since his tribulations↑

Captain Forsyth: A Letter

An ongoing letter from Captain Henry Forsyth (Royal Engineers) to his brother.

Escape to Civilisation

My Dearest Clarence,

Salutations and greetings.

I am now safety returned to the empire, but not without event, I can assure you.

Our Martian air vessel had crashed in foothills. There was much to be done. Firstly, we attended to our wounds. Hartwell and I were beyond immediate repair, but we were able to patch up Wilhelm to good effect and at least help Wiseman a little.

We felt we urgently needed to garner what we could from the wreck. Wilhelm turned his attention to supplies and went to source them below decks.

Hartwell looked to see if there was anything that could be of personal advantage.

I had a notion that perhaps some of the lift wood could be salvaged and maybe we could create a lifeboat out of the wreckage. I therefore set myself to inspect the damage and what may be salvaged.

However, as I was examining the structure, it became apparent it was unstable. The frames holding the lift wood were splintered and in a strange case of reverse gravity were creaking under the upward pressure of the lift wood.

Still if we acted quickly, a panel might be salvaged, weighted down with rocks and if we could keep the slattered aspect with its control, then ideas were starting to form. No doubt Wilhelm would bring his expertise too.

Wiseman being somewhat more the worse the wear had remained on deck. He let out a warning cry and as moments later I was to realise he jumped for it.

The back of the ship was broken and the fore section now tore away. The movement finally did for the lift wood panels, which released crashed into the underside of the deck and carried that whole section of the ship aloft!

I leapt out of the rent in the ships side, narrowly avoiding being carried aloft myself.

Now another danger assailed us. The bow section ascended slowly at first, then dipped forward and the forward cannon fell off, it reeled back and debris fell from both upper and lower decks. It crazily lurched about ascending rapidly, while breaking up.

Lethal blocks of wood, pulleys, fragments of heavy rope, stores and more were raining on us. It was a deuce of time to avoid getting hit. Sadly, Wiseman was not so fortunate, he got clobbered by what I take to be part of the balustrade. If only things were built to British standards, this would never have happened.

He was still alive but a little groggy, we managed to shelter from the rest.

Meanwhile I’d shouted a warning to the others, who both got out in time as the rest of the ship went the same way and managed to evade the falling debris.

The heavier parts of the ship all returned to the planet surface, but very little was salvageable, neither did we try.

I’d hoped that I’d be able to construct some form of lifeboat. I’d appreciated that we probably had limited time, but within that vague hope was the possibly of conveying the body of Jones back to the empire, where he might have the funeral he deserved.

Alas, his body was still on the foredeck as it ascended and we later found some 50 yards away, in the direction we needed to travel.

We gave him a burial, the very best we could. Naturally I said a few words and ended with the Lord’s Prayer. It seems so little for a man that gave so much. He was miscreant in many ways, but latterly only in my service. I’ll be forever grateful, for the pickle he got us out of in Shastapsh. In irons with seeming no escape and the man just produces the key like some conjurer’s trick.

Top class tenor too.

Wilhelm had managed to gather about a days’ worth of food.

I still had my compass and concurred with Hartwell’s more instinctive sense of the direction we needed to go.

We began our march back to civilisation over very difficult terrain.

We pitched a cold camp, there being no brush or trees that would serve as firewood, but before we hunkered down, another party came close and also set up camp.

Wilhelm volunteered to scout, which was unusual, as Hartwell or I have more natural abilities for this.

But Wilhelm figured if he could get close enough, then he could use that wonderous hat of his to spot sentries in the dark.

So he did!

He reported the disposition, the presence of gashants. He couldn’t understand them but seemed to think they were hostile.

Consequently, we planned a dawn attack, with the principle aim to take gashants, which would give us a much better chance of reaching the nearest British city.

Wiseman and I circled the encampment, so he was in the direction we would need to escape and we could collect him as we made our proposed escape.

Then Hartwell, Wilhelm and I, each attempted to take out and subdue the guards, one each. I am most embarrassed to report, that my two non-military comrades conducted themselves in textbook manner, while my sentry was somewhat more alert.

I failed to subdue him, he shouted an alarm and then the cad tried to run me through.

I regret it all rapidly regressed into a most unfortunate melee, which I’d hoped to avoid. We had not intended harm to this hill tribe, despite being in what may be considered hostile territory. However, when one is fighting for one’s life, such niceties have to be set aside.

I was forced to shoot a couple of the tribesman, notably the one desperately trying to provide me with new body apertures that would not have conducive to my health.

A number of them managed to gain their mounts and were threatening to overwhelm poor Hartwell, who’d gone in close.

Wilhelm had other ideas and managed to account for the four assailants closing in on Hartwell in one go, using one of his devices. He bought down the other mounted adversary in similar fashion.

It was over in short order. Regrettably most of the tribe were killed in the action.

Obviously, we couldn’t leave the mounts to fend for themselves, so took them with us for their own well-being.

They greatly speeded our journey and we arrived in Moerus Lacus in following day.

Wiseman was able to get the medical attention he needed.

I reported to the senior officials, as I was duty bound to do.

Naturally we reported the true character of the prince and of his heinous behaviour and hideous treatment of humankind. I was surprised to be doubted and questioned.

Really, this official was being a bore, suggesting that we had had an excess of Bhutun spice. I bit my lip somewhat, not knowing how the land lay, but really it was the most outrageous slander and one I will redress.

In hindsight I should have called this official out, but we had just escaped a perilous situation and were not expecting to be fighting on the home front. I regret I played the situation badly, we handed over the evidence on the basis that a marker and an inventory would be provided.

A sealed envelope was duly sent to me as we prepared to embark on a barge for the capital, along with dispatches.

However, it was empty. We had clearly been deceived and I must admit our collective anger was so strong we debated missing our barge and returning to confront this snake at the colonial office.

In hindsight I think that’s what we should have done, but it would have meant at least a day’s delay. My sense of duty was weighing heavily on me, I was entrusted with dispatches and needed to report to the governor and other officials at the earliest opportunity. I was also not sure what could be gained by confronting a petty official, who was most likely trying to avoid a diplomatic incident.

It has only occurred to me now that this may be more than petty bureaucracy. What if this individual is within the sphere of the prince?

We have already decided that when opportunity allows, we will dish the prince for his insults and crimes. The murder and indignation he has subjected innocent people to cannot go unpunished.

However, we checked our anger and boarded the barge.

We arrived without incident. It was rather surreal as we are used to travelling in questionable areas, where attack is always a possibility, so an uneventful journey is a rare thing.

I reported as expected and handed over the dispatches.

I’m at a deuce to know what’s going on. The investigation or court martial has been postponed with no expectation as when anything might happen. The hu-ha has rather died, there are rumours of another situation, where I may be called upon, but no-one will say more. Therefore, it’s obviously quite serious!

That rather despicable journalist has gone very quiet. I’m no longer a guest of her Majesty (God bless her), but it’s all rather unsatisfactory. There are hints that nothing may happen, but I will be most pleased to defend my character if necessary.

We were rather in a fug, staying at the Explorers Club trying to work out our next course of action.

Then Wilhelm got the most unusual challenge, which was presented in one of the main squares. A Martian herald read the most preposterous set of charges out loud against him.

Wilhelm, I think rightly, spurned the offered scroll and left in distain.

To me this felt like a very scripted and pre-planned encounter. It had certainly attracted a large audience and garnered much interest.

I felt the scroll was important, it hadn’t been created by accident and aside from a very personal attack on Wilhelm, it had referenced threats on British forces.

As an officer, I clearly an obligation to pursue this.

Initially there was great interest in the scroll that had been thrown at the feet of Wilhelm.

I decided to outwait the crowd.

As they were breaking up a young desperate Martian ran out and grabbed it.

I immediately gave pursuit, overhauled the individual and gained the scroll. His comments on being apprehended gave me to believe he may have been a ground cleanser.

Wilhelm had sought legal advice.

It seems the challenge was very much a formal device under Martian law.

Under the same rules Wilhelm has been able to issue a counterchallenge.

So, at some point there will be a duel between Wilhelm and some unknown and some self-proclaimed Martian Lord.

We rather suspect that Belltower might be the real adversary.

May our family prosper,

Yours Faithfully,

Henry

Captain Forsyth: A Letter

An ongoing letter from Captain Henry Forsyth (Royal Engineers) to his brother.

The Most Damnable Hunting Trip

My Dear Clarence,

It’s been quite the whirlwind, so I may have to step through a few episodes with less than my usual attention to detail.

Having been relieved of command of Fort McMurray, I together with Professor Wilheim and the ever stoic Hartwell were ‘invited’ to take ship for Moerus Lacus. It was clearly not an option and both Wilheim and I were frustrated at not being allowed to hand things over, or indeed have any contact with our replacements. Given the trials we’ve had in the under croft and indeed at large, I fear something quite nasty could occur without this simple expediency.

Still the General clearly had orders, which doesn’t bode well.

Dr. Phipps was AWOL. What an earth had got into the man. I fear he might be off pursuing that brazen hussy!

As our ship steamed away and dusk descended, I caught a flash of light on the horizon. It could only be another ship and the only one that would have reflected that way, would be the German zeppelin of Count Overbearing.

I reported this to the watch, who were both complacent and indifferent, they claimed their usual vigil would be enough. So, us three determined to keep our own watch in turn.

Our equipment was taken from us and stowed. Naturally as an officer I was permitted to keep my sidearm. However, the good professor was most aggrieved and severely put out. After all, I was the only one travelling under sufferance, the others by more of a voluntary nature, although options had been in short supply. It was unclear whether the captain was acting under orders or had taken the action on his own authority.

I must advise Wilheim on the etiquette of command, especially aboard ship, where the captain’s word is law.

The question became a little overblown over dinner which was taken in the officer’s mess and the captain retired to dine alone.

Our vigil proved very necessary, as while I slept one of the others came down for a changing of the guard. Here he noticed a sentry placed on the door stores (sadly posted following Wilheim’s outburst) slumped and asleep at his post.

Waking me, it rapidly transpired that the whole crew, plus Jones and the captain were in some kind of deep sleep from which they could not be roused.

Only us gallant 3 and the 2 ships officers that remained to dine with us were conscious.

As we headed above decks, we heard Belltower and Le Blanc. By the time we were on deck they had made their escape by means of the same device I saw before at the frightful end of the Red Sands and were descending harmlessly to the ground below.

Strangely there were flares glued all about the sides with some substance we couldn’t budge. The flares were lit, so the ship must have looked like a birthday cake, but it was clearly lighting us up as a target.

The engine slowed and I raced down with a ships officer, it had been fatally sabotaged.

Sure enough, that darned zep appeared. We were a sitting duck, but had a quack or two left in us.

In confirmation of what I’d suspected, they fired a rocket at us. It was the same munitions that we’d got at the fort, long since captured, but these had fins and appeared to fly far truer.

We still had control of altitude and I ordered an immediate heart sinking drop of 30 feet.

It worked; the missile flew just overhead!

But they fired again and this time we were not so lucky and took a shot on the bows. Thankfully it was not fatal. But we were not idle either. Without crew the big guns take time to load, but now I’d got a Hotchkiss ready to go and returned fire. I doubt I did any damage of note, but we were fighting back.

Another rocket missed and our forward cannon fired, Wilheim at work, again a hit but to little effect.

Hartwell was showing some signs of understanding the ship and was assisting in keeping some semblance of control.

But it was clear the cowards had no stomach for a fight, we weren’t the lame ducks they were obviously expecting. They took off into the night. I’d have dearly loved to give them a parting shot, but without a crew the cannon took far too long to reload.

So, my dear brother, potentially we have an act of war. Deliberately and without warning, firing on one her Majesty’s warships going about its legal business. Witnessed by two naval officers.

Germany is either going to disown Count Overblown or we are at war!

We put the crippled ship down best we could in the wilderness. Thankfully the crew and Jones has just been drugged and all made a full recovery.

Unable to steer, we used the ships buoyancy and floated on the wind, a very strange sight to those on the ground, I’m sure.

We drifted very close to the canal. From there we three plus Jones were able to hire passage back to Moerus Lacus. The crew and officers chose to remain with their ship.

An encounter with river pirates, proved fatal to them. I don’t quite speak the language, but if I didn’t know better, I swear I heard traces of a Cornish accent.

That news seemed to be ahead of us, we were greeted with cheers at docking. But whisked off by ‘a guard of honour’, to seemingly house arrest.

I met a charming chap, who’s assigned to my defence, but it’s still unclear what the hell is happening. Darned Lloyd-Carter woman has made of bunch of accusations, all trumped up nonsense of course, but I’m not sure there is any military authority to her case.

Then there came this timely invite to Hartwell to go on a hunt, with friends. The establishment have been tying themselves in knots. It’s frankly tedious. It was a court martial, except it’s clear that the evidence was not there and it’d be very dangerous ground to allow a civilian to trigger one.

Now it’s an enquiry. I am confident I can defend my character, but regret that it may not go so well for my accuser. But if one will set themselves up as judge and jury, they may get what they deserve.

I confess I now find the woman quite detestable.

Hartwell, who is called ‘Steppe Tiger’ among the natives, received an invite to a hunt from a wealthy Martian prince who had heard of his reputation. I am sure I have told you before that Hartwell killed one of these legendary beasts, who are the primary hunters here on Mars, with a single shot, saving to a man the patrol he was leading.

An aide to the governor suggested this would be a good thing and get us out of the city, so the controversy over my ‘hearing’ could die down. I’d no idea what the man was talking about! He did try to explain that on the one hand I’m seen as some kind of hero for my defence of Fort McMurray and then that blasted journalist woman has painted me as villain for doing my duty.

He said tensions were running high and it would be good if I wasn’t about in the short term to allow matters to cool.

So, we accepted the invitation, Wilheim and I on the coattails of Hartwell.

The princes yacht whisked us of to his manor, a day from British territory.

He was most hospitable and the first hunt flew us to familiar planes.

He insisted we use black powder weapons, those belonging to his father, which I found a little excentric.

Hartwell had a bit of a moment, when having done well, his rument baer was fatally injured by the tiger we happened on and fell.

He used the downed beast as cover. But then left himself exposed in trying to get a decent shot.

Worse the tiger was not alone, it had a mate, which was charging in from cover.

I had to get my shot right. I’m most pleased to report that I did and downed the male tiger with a single shot even with the antique weapon I been handed.

The mate went a trifle rabid and attacked Wilhelms mount, only for the huge beast to trample it underfoot into a mush.

I had the honour of the kill and had I been able to reclaim it, which later events made difficult, a very fine pelt.

Next came a hunt for a ‘deadly’ serpent, in a swamp, one I’m familiar with. This time we had only spears. We tracked the thing to its lair and it came out threatening the Prince and Hartwell, at which point I marched up and lanced it through. It really was child’s play.

Again, I had the honour of the hunt. However, the prince’s demeanour was becoming increasingly bellicose. It was clear that he’d expected to triumph in the hunts and while superficially being gracious, it clearly irked him.

More however, his questioning directed at Hartwell was becoming odious. He asked many questions about local politics and situations which poor Hartwell was clearly at a loss about. Had I not been a guest, I believe I would have called the blighter out.

The next hunt and what was billed as the last, on the prince’s estate this time.

Again, we used black powder weapons, this time flintlock pistols. We did, at my insistence get a vest that allowed us to carry 6 of the things in a primed position.

What we were up against was some form of giant scorpion, the size of a horse, that could apparently turn invisible. The prince only told us the last of the information at the last minute, with an apparent confession, that he’d lured us to this point all along and that the creature was ravaging his estate. He seemed to imply that he had wanted help in dealing with it.

We descended a slope to be confronted with a couple of caves on the other side of the valley, the lair of the beast.

Clearly trying to beard the beast in its lair felt like a fatal action. Our advantage lay in the open.

I arranged for the prince’s bearers to bring dry scrub from the top of the escarpment we had descended and set a smoke heavy fire at the mouth of the most likely cave.

Sure enough, we smoked the monster out. This time it was as billed and more. I fired as true as possible, a shot I’m sure would have taken down a tiger. Yet the musket ball merely bounced off its caprice, as did others.

Then it disappeared! So, the description was true!

We’d clearly need different weapons to flintlock’s; I began backing up the party in an orderly retreat.

Wilheim had the technology that he knew where the monster was, ironically developed to counter Belltower. He was able to shout out its location.

Then, I do declare the most remarkable thing I have ever witnessed occurred. Hartwell, I can only assume goaded by the princes taunting, recklessly and in complete abandon charged the monsters location. It looked like certain death; I had momentary images of Waldmart, also charging recklessly to his doom.

Hartwell had drawn the short sword we were all armed with. He swung blind and wild. It was as I believe the modern expression goes ‘a shot to nothing’.

I ask how do hit something you hit can’t see? How do you face something considerably larger than you close up? How do you hurt something so heavily armoured?

It was entirely improbable. Yet somehow Hartwell’s wild lunge went home. The beast reappeared as it fell to the ground, killed outright.

As you know I’ve seen many remarkable acts of bravery and daring do. Fogg killing a raptor bare handed comes to mind. But this I do declare, tops anything I’ve ever seen. Most remarkable!

We were again feted by the prince that evening with a banquet in Hartwell’s honour.

The prince returned to his petty taunting of Hartwell, although I felt with not the same conviction. The staff were certainly in obvious awe of the man.

Then I regret to report that everything became rather different.

That evening we were drugged. We awoke in the bottom of what I took to be some sort of grain store with the merest undergarment to preserve modesty, but still in our boots. I imagine the latter being due to some imagined smell were they to be removed.

Our hands had all been entrapped within a claw, in such a way that we could not articulate our fingers. So basically, we could not use our hands as anything but claws.

It gave me a moment to pause. We use our hands for all things, it’s separates us from the beasts and to be denied their use was unsettling and immediately placed us at a huge disadvantage.

The gloating prince, from an elevated advantage, now declared us the hunted. He confessed to being a ground cleanser and had bought in a couple of cronies, clearly well to do, to join him.

A door opened, we were permitted a head start. Clearly this had been the purpose all along. For some reason, this deluded individual had to prove himself superior to everyone.

He stated that if we could reach beyond the limits of his estate, we’d be free to go. I didn’t believe him. I doubt there was any circumstance he which he could let us go given the hand he’d just played.

We were out in the jungle around the palace. We felt our best chance was to stay close to the palace with a view to getting back in there and our equipment.

We cut a path though with the ‘claws’ parallel to the wall. The Green Kobo snake dropped on us several times, but was relatively easy to deal with our ‘claws’.

We managed to avoid a deadly giant insect hive. But set up a trap, trying to look like we’d walked into it, in the hope that if the hunters followed us they would.

Meanwhile we carefully moved through the jungle to the side, trying to leave no trace.

We were circulating the palace wall looking for a weak point.

We didn’t initially spot one, but eventually our round about tour bought us to the ravines.

Here we set false trails leading down the escarpment in the hope of misleading our hunters.

We re-entered the jungle about the fort.

Then something rather unexpected happened.

A gentleman appeared out of the ground! Rather dishevelled he quickly called us into his little underground hide. He was an archaeologist that had become stranded on the estate, realised the true nature of the prince and managed to hide himself. It seems we were not the first to be hunted.

It was a remarkable feat of endurance and survival. Mr. Wiseman was able to remove our claws, but before we could we find out more or make plans, we heard beaters thrashing about nearby. I didn’t much like our odds if we were caught in a hole in the ground, so we burst forth, took the blighters by surprise and they met their deserved end, quickly and quietly.

After taking their weapons, we hid the bodies, but it seemed like they were not being followed by the main hunting party.

We improvised the claws into spears and made our way to the gate house as it started to go dark. There were two sentries posted on a ledge above the gate. Wilhelm, whom I must say is rather good at these things and I, improvised a grappling hook from a couple of the claws and a rope from the vines. Some large leaves were used to muffle any sound from the metallic claws.

After it was fully dark, I cast the grappling hook onto the ledge and ascended. Catching the sentries, as well as I hoped by surprise, I was able to launch a spear into one and be in close quarters with the other, before he knew what was happening.

Having cleared the ledge, the others were able to climb up safely.

We descended a staircase on the other side into the courtyard and entered the palace by a side door. This bought us into the kitchen where we startled a servant. Thankfully he was so in awe of Hartwell that he fed us and gave us some idea of the layout of the palace, although not that much.

We explored the rooms where we had stayed, but all our equipment had been taken. We found the guest quarters, where the princes cronies were staying in most lavish style. We found his antique weapons store, but with no ammunition it was useless to us.

Then we found the Major-domos’ rooms where Wilhelm discovered the large mirror had a catch revealing a secret closet behind it. Wherein a set of keys was found.

This gave us access to the princes’ quarters which we’d been unable to enter as they were locked. We discovered a secret tunnel, which led to a position behind a large mirror in the princess’s chamber from which the room could be observed and accessed. It then went up and did the same behind the guest rooms. As well as deranged, this so-called prince, was clearly perverted as well!

Then came the worst of all discoveries, a secret chamber that held indescribable horror. It is what I would take to be the princes trophy room. Yet those trophies are human heads, male and female, it seems he does not discriminate. Worse of all there were corpses that had been embalmed and displayed like animals, a man and a woman indecently exposed.

It was little consolation that all our equipment had been dumped on a table in this room. Clearly, we were supposed to join this ‘collection’. Dressed again in uniform, I felt I could better deal with this horror. Wilhelm was once again a force to be reckoned with and Hartwell had already told the prince that he would be standing over his dead body.

One disadvantage was the prince had taken my Winchester.

Now we knew where the secrets might lie, we set about exploring the place again. We found another secret passage that allowed access to every guest room again behind a mirror.

Finally, a passage to the walkway above the grain silo, where the prince had taunted us less than a day before.

But we’d taken too long, an alarm was being sounded, guards were coming into the main hall. We headed out through the kitchen, blocking the door. Probably we’d have been better dealing with the small number and then creating a pinch point at the doorway.

But we didn’t know the numbers and if they’d burst in from the yard, then maybe that was empty. Giving us opportunity to escape.

It wasn’t.

We walked into a fire fight. The initial half dozen was enough to slow us down, then more arrived.

We were tired and rather unnerved about what we’d seen in the trophy room. We’d barely got our usual weapons and these guards proved a distinct cut above what we’ve faced before.

In short order Hartwell and I were seriously wounded, Wilhelm wounded and Jones was down. We’d taken a few of them in return, but only something miraculous was going to save us. That something was someone, Wilhelm, who was able to use his teleport device to haul us all out of there. We went to the prince’s chamber knowing the guards couldn’t access it and it would give us some temporary respite.

Wilhelm used his marvellous healing mask and Hartwell and I were back in rude health in no time. Jones however was an invalid but had at least survived.

Guards were stationed about the palace. We tried to ambush these coming out of different doors and using the secret passages to effect, while I think we whittled down the enemy, it wasn’t decisive. Clearly the prince had some good officers, who positioned their men to good effect.

Then the prince and his party returned. That would mean added firepower and of course he would know the secret passages so our advantage there was lost.

We were in danger of becoming entrapped. But Wilhelm still had a card to play. He could move us somewhere close again. We discussed exiting outside the palace, but that would have just started the hunt all over again. Plus, if the wind was anyway near right the princes’ yacht, granted just an airborne, sail ship could have tracked us and possibly attacked us from the air.

We decided that was the key, the yacht had bought us here and now we needed it to take us out. Which of course they weren’t going to do voluntarily.

We teleported to the deck, predictably a firefight broke out, which we were ready for. While we took a steady toll on the Martians, Wilhelm also got himself badly shot up. He looked like he was done for, serving as long I have you recognise these things.

Hartwell had rushed up to assist, but chose to deal with another Martian instead. At this point, after half his crew had gone down, the captain saw sense and gave in to my demands to surrender and take us back to civilisation.

Belatedly Hartwell tried to use Wilhelms’ own healing device on him, but none have us have any idea how it works. But the thing fizzed, sparked remarkably and smoked a lot, Wilhelms body jerked and as he gasped an unexcepted deep breath the machine sputtered, fizzed again, appeared to let out a moan and fell to his side.

But Wilhelm was alive. His miraculous device was no longer. I have no idea about this very modern and unusual school of science, but do wonder if Wilhelm had somehow invested a part of himself in the device, that somehow came back to him in his greatest hour of need.

We were sailing back calmly without incident, when the captain and crew decided to try and rebel. It was short and disastrous. My guess is that they ground cleansers too, they were certainly loyal to the prince. Perhaps they just didn’t believe my word, this branch of Martians doesn’t keep to theirs.

In the fallout we crashed. The Martian crew were all killed. We suffered various wounds, but most sadly I regret to inform you that Jones was killed in the crash. Jones was an exceptional character; he was a bit of a chancer and could go where gentlemen could not. He made himself useful, would attempt to use his language skills in my service for example.

He had a knack with many things and he’s the one that got us out of being prisoners in Sashtapsh.

A rogue to some extent, but utterly loyal. He will be much missed.

Now we are mountain territory, with still a long way to go.

Long live the Empress, here’s to ‘life on Mars’ and may our family prosper,

Yours Faithfully,

Henry

Episode 58: the Great Escape

The heroes' whispered conference in Prince's bedroom was suddenly broken up by arrival of troops in-theatre.

Palace guards. Well-armed palace guards. An elaborate ambush plan was formulated and executed using the secret accessway between the Prince's Apartments, the princess' apartments and the various honoured guest suites. Two guards were dispatched by this strategy, but the rest became alerted and they formed a double line of spearmen.

The heroes decided to engage openly and did fairly well despite rounds of black powder pistol rounds zinging about their ears, but eventually they decided to withdraw when even more guards appeared on the scene, this time armed with muskets.

The arrival of the Prince with his three High Martian guests caused a re-assesment of the situation and the team withdrew and hurriedly discussed options.

These boiled down to staying and fighting by attempting to raid the armoury and using whatever they could find there (a plan complicated by the fact that none of them had ever been to the armoury and did not know where it was), escaping to the outside, taking the obviously newly-returned Ruumet Breehr herd and making for the mountains, or boarding the prince's kite and attempting to steal it.

The team debated for a short while, then settled for the "kite" plan, and so Wilhelm teleported them to the deck of the vessel.

This proved to be something of a mis-step as the crew, although caught on their collective back foot by the arrival of the Earthmen in a ball of green lightning, proved unwilling to meekly turn over the vessel and a pitched battle broke out on the deck.

A hail of gunfire from the crew in response to the Earthmen's own volleys, along with savage hand-to-hand attacks ensued and the casualties were high on both sides.

Jones was killed outright. Forsyth was wounded, and Wilhelm was thought lost to two rounds of terribly effective swordplay and pistol work, but by some miracle his healing device must have been damaged in the fray and it exploded, bathing the hapless inventor in coruscating green energies. The team thought that to be the certain end of their friend, but it seemed the device had actually saved Wilhelm's life, though it left him in a piteous state and the device that had saved their bacon so many times in he past was unsalvagable.

The crew, however, had lost half their number and Forsyth's second demand that they surrender was, finally, grudgingly honoured.

The heroes took up what stations they could to make up for crew losses, and the sullen crew manned the tops, allowing the heroes to escape the Prince and his vile Ground Cleanser friends.

Sadly, halfway back to civilization, the crew mutinied, revoking their parole, and in the ensuing rebellion managed to crash the ship, wrecking her beyond repair. Though the heroes survived the crash with no further injuries, they came to to find no remaining Martians alive in the wreckage, and no immediate way of continuing their journey.

Captain Forsyth: A Letter

Finale at the Fort

The plains incident required further investigation, which happened the following day. With other duties dealt with, I could now lead a patrol in person. The site wielded no new information. The bodies of the Martian warriors had been recovered.

We were able to identify the boot prints of the of ‘causer of chaos’, which abruptly ended, nothing more.

Now I have to recall even more oddities.

It was clear that we had an adversity who could do remarkable things. It seemed like he could teleport as can indeed the great Wilheim. I would add that without this most esteemed worthy on our side, I believe our predicament would be even more dire.

Our learned professor was, indeed is, of the opinion that this was not teleport. What else, had the fellow somehow made himself invisible, footprints and all? Dr. Phipps was convinced that he had teleported.

Who was this new strange character who so threatened to drag us into yet more confrontations? More however, how do you track down a foe that can’t be seen?

This was a question only Wilhelm could resolve. Of course, he came up with the goods, excellent chap that he is. Not before another small incident.

I will first have to explain that Wilhelm has created a most remarkable hat, a rather singular invention. It has eyeglasses that usually sit on the brim, but can be bought down and allows him to see all sorts of things that we would normally miss. A little like me using my trusty telescope, except so much more so.

He’s picked up footprints for example that I’d not been able to see.

Then there are these weird little ear trumpets on each side which again sit above the brim and come down with him seeming doing nothing. Heaven knows what else is going on with the contraption, but the results are darned impressive I can tell you. It does all look a trifle weird, but that’s these strange scientists for you.

Wilhelm’s device picked up a conversation, I’m not sure he fully understood why, there was a lot of subsequent muttering by the said worthy and he went off in short order with the hat clutched tightly in one hand and his tool kit in the other.

But first he related what he’d heard. A conversation between the notorious, so-called professor Belltower and a female rebuking him for his actions. It was clear that they were both in the employ of Stapsash and intent on the destruction of the fort.

No doubt you’ve heard of the shadowy figure of Belltower and his supposed powers. Well, I can tell the rumours are true and far short of the reality.

Now we had some unknown lady berating him and she was able to do that, then who on earth (well mars) was she?

Clearly, we had most formidable enemies, but how to find them, how do you track an invisible man?

Wilhelm had the answer and set about creating a new device.

Meanwhile, we recalled that a Mr. Bell or Belltower had been involved with some kind of fraud scheme. Carter-Lloyd had written an article on the affair. However, when approached she was surly, uncooperative and seemed strangely almost wanton.

My sympathy is somewhat waning.

Wilhelm finished his device and it had somewhat unexpected results. Not strictly the purpose it was designed for, but in short order it picked up the existence of a number of listening devices planted about the fort.

The adobe construction of the fort means that unfortunately it is easy to hollow out a section from either outside or in. The first device we found was in the officer’s mess. The hollowed-out niche was covered with painted canvas. It wasn’t easy to spot, but once you’d seen it, it became obvious.

We checked all strategic locations and every key one had one of these devices including my own office, damn the cad! (Pardon my language.)

But we were most careful in removing the things, with no comments or words spoken. Ha, our intent was to turn the table. Only Belltower could have made these things. Wilheim felt the transmission range had to limited, so there might be a repeater device or he would have to be close.

We placed the devices (there were 6 in total) carefully in separate unused rooms, briefed the officers and NCO’s, then held inane conversations in the rooms to replicate the regular chatter that would have occurred, where they were originally placed.

The plan was to avoid alerting Belltower that his devices had been discovered and eventually provide false information that would draw him into a trap.

However, events moved too quickly for the plan to be implemented.

There was a crazy incident with Phipps.

He seemed back to normal after a long spell in a coma. We were all eager to show him the more recent discoveries in the under croft. As a man of intellect, we hoped he may have some insight we’d missed.

We got to our last point of call, what I would take to be seat of control in a hall of vast electrics. The rest of us had tried sitting here and tried interpreting things without success. But we all felt that somehow it had given us an insight into matters we were considering.

Phipps was sceptical, which was reasonable and consequently asked Wilhelm to sit in the chair to prove it was safe. The professor duly obliged with no effect as we knew there wasn’t going to be one.

This was the point when Phipps became unhinged. He accused us all of being on some ‘ampere trip’ or under the influence of some ‘mind control’. I hadn’t got a clue what the fellow was talking about.

Then he whips out a syringe places it at Wilhelms throat, claims he’s in charge and demanded I hand-over my side arm!

Well, that was never going to happen. Apart from the afront, it would have meant handing over command to Phipps, who was clearly not himself.

No, my duty was clear, in no manner could I hand over command to someone showing such irrational behaviour. What emotions I went through!

Was my dear friend Phipps about to kill my dear friend Wilhelm?

Just when it seemed my only option was to take a shot and hope my aim was good enough, while debating whether it was the thing, Wilhelm did something extraordinary.

In a blink he disappeared from under the threat and appeared behind Hartwell and I. Phipps fumed but we had no-ill will to our previously much esteemed collage.

Wilhelm had us out there in a trice with one of his miraculous devices.

Phipps was apprehended on his exit from the under croft.

Frankly I was unsure what to do with the man. I had hoped to have a conversation with him to determine his state of mind and whether he was fit for duty. In the meantime, I ordered a period of leave and stood him down from duties, requested him to remain in quarters, while detailing a guard to ensure he didn’t go wildly off the rails again.

It’s one of the hardest things I’ve had to deal with. I can’t even begin to tell you how mortified I was by the situation. I faced down plenty of enemies, faced death numerous times, but how do you deal with a man who I’ve long considered not just a colleague but a friend.

I’d rather be in the line facing the enemy than dealing with strange version of a most esteemed colleague. Most distressful, I can tell you.

Any opportunity to repair the situation was immediately denied by other events.

Hartwell had caught a whiff of the troops talking about ‘ghosts’. He got nothing further, but my curiosity immediately piqued, we three most familiar with the under croft immediate set out to investigate. Sure enough, barely within the entrance I discovered fresh footprints. A man’s boot and not military.

Fearing the worst, that Belltower was in the under croft, I barked an order to the sentries before we pursued the cad below. We caught occasional evidence of footprints, but it was Wilhelm with his strange device that spotted most of them.

Fearing the worst, we headed almost directly for the electrical room. I’m sorry I’ve not had opportunity to detail all the wonders we’ve discovered in this strange and advanced world. I hope to remedy this in future correspondence.

But sure enough as we entered, we could hear the oily tones of Belltower telling Maxine Le Blanc that he’d set an explosive device, to which she objected.

As we started to move into the great chamber, Hartwell and I tried to take-up positions in cover, while Wilhelm remained in the tunnel leading to the chamber.

Hartwell was unfortunate. The position he’d taken up was discovered by Belltower and Le Bark who came up unexpectedly behind him.

Belltower let loose with one of his strange weapons, severely injuring poor Hartwell who was taken unawares. To give him opportunity to escape, I felt I had to break cover and took a pot shot. I missed, but had the satisfaction of Belltower moving for cover and perhaps not so great, gaining the attention of Maxim Le Blanc.

At least Hartwell was able to make his escape into cover.

Le Blanc was surreal in the way she moved, somehow leaping up high and jumping along the strange machinery at a rate faster than I think I can run. I’ve never seen an acrobatic as good.

Suddenly she dropped in front of me, kicking and punching faster than I could blink. I tell you the woman is the most lethal creature I’ve met at close quarters! I think I’d rather take my chance against a Venusian raptor!

It was Wilhelm to the fore once more. He managed to hit her with his ‘gubber gun’. This strange weapon fires a stickly web that entraps anyone in its range. Le Blank was trapped and at my mercy.

Could I administer the coup de gras? Shoot a defenceless woman at point blank range? I knew she wanted me dead, was working for the forces of evil and very much against the empire, I had every reason to pull that trigger.

But I could not, it would have been a stain upon my character. Instead, I prepared an appeal to her character and logic. Afterall, she had berated Belltower for his tactics over the natives and objected to his bomb, which was currently ticking somewhere in the background.

But my hesitation was my undoing. Somehow this most remarkable woman broke free. She didn’t attack me being intent on escape, she was past me in short order. I could have shot her as she fled, but that’s not the action of a gentleman.

More important was getting to what-ever explosive device Belltower had planted. I might have had to deal with him along the way, but time was ticking away. I had no-way of determining what the effect might have been. This network goes deep into the core of the planet, what energies are harnessed? What could be unleased or otherwise lost forever?

I arrived at the chair and sure enough spotted the device under it left by the dastardly Belltower.

Much of it was beyond my ken, but I spotted some improvised wiring, the cad clearly hadn’t figured out a timing device, so I was able to disable the thing in good order.

I’m not sure if I saved the planet, the solar system or just my own hide.

I headed back and out. In the tunnel Wilhelm was unconscious with Hartwell trying to rouse him. We had to carry him to the surface.

When we had recovered, Wilhelm said that he’d again ‘gubbered’ Le Blanks trying to make her escape down the tunnel. With her at his mercy, she demanded a kiss, from ‘the only man to best her’. Wilhelm it seems felt overwhelmed to comply. Where-upon he fell into a deep sleep.

Our adversaries had clearly fled, using all the means at their disposal.

We escaped from this deadly encounter, but on return to the surface another crisis immediately faced me. Shastapsh had finally broke cover, ended their long phony war and set a force against the fort. As well as infantry, which was to be expected in force, there was cavalry on either flank of the column, in a very classical deployment. But most disturbing was the presence of 3 artillery pieces.

While these are inferior to our own, they clearly significantly out-ranged anything we had. Plus the fort is merely an adobe construction, so the walls and structures would soon be reduced to nothing by even the most basic of bombardments.

I briefly considered deploying the garrison in the field, to avoid this fate, but felt while we could prevail, it would come at a high cost. Instead, I ordered a sandbag wall to be constructed to protect the north gate. It would protect the walls and while not providing long term protection, would absorb a lot of any artillery fire, possibly buying us enough time until nightfall, when we could possibly send men out and launch an attack of our own.

However, the other thing it would do, was allow the deployment of the strange, tracked glass machine discovered in the under croft. We know this ‘fires’ some kind of strange disruption effect, which is difficult to withstand. I would have preferred to deploy this in the field and not allowed the enemy to deploy, but it moves slowly and time was against us. We were therefore forced to fight a defensive action.

Wilhelm fired the device into the centre of the enemy forces, the infantry core, which immediately and most satisfyingly routed. Carrying the gunners with them and leaving the cannon exposed.

But meanwhile the cavalry on the right had charged. Recognising our key weapon, they were clearly determined to take it out. Wilhelm managed to turn it on them, which reduced their ranks as most turned tail, but a hard core continued on. We needed rifle fire to bring them down, but as you are aware it’s a tricky shot to hit a target moving at speed.

Wilhelm was desperately backing the contraption into the protection of the sandbag wall, but it was moving so slowly, it was clear the rapidly advancing foe would reach him, with the poor chap defenceless. Hartwell and I fired furiously with the handful of men I had to hand.

We cut down the last villain mere feet from Hartwell. It was another close-run thing.

As Wilhelm backed the machine to safety, I surveyed the battlefield. The main body had retreated and appeared in disarray, although the rout had been halted. The left wing of the cavalry remained in place and the cannons remained exposed. It was time for action.

I called for our gashants and riders. I felt this called for a show of leadership, as it involved a high degree of risk. I led our men against their left-wing cavalry. We had a slight advantage in numbers, but a minimum exchange of fire saw them fall back to the protection of the main body. Which allowed me to turn the troop to the real target – the cannon.

I was able to dismount and spike these in short order. Without them, I felt they could assault the fort all they wanted, I was confident we could repel any attack and inflict large losses. We’d done it before. I considered pressing our advantage, but advancing in their direction it was clear they were starting to rally and odd shots came in our direction.

I ordered the retreat sounded and the troop headed back to the fort without so much as a scratch. That I am proud off.

Then the most unexpected happened. Three British airships attacked the enemy, within minutes they were encompassed in a cloud of gas. With no wind it remained there a very long time. I don’t know if was entirely fatal, but I suspect so for most if not all. Either way it will have been the most unpleasant experience imaginable. I almost feel sorry for the blighters.

Another surprise awaited when I rode into the fort. A ship moored at the mast, officers and reinforcements about the place and an immediate need to report to the commander of this force, General McClellan. Finally, I’d got the support I’d long been requesting. Except I was relieved of command. Seems that damnable Carter-Lloyd has filed a lot of trumped-up charges and she’s well connected somewhere. I am to attend a hearing. It's outrageous!

I can assure you that my honour is beyond reproach, but I am sure there will be some elements that will attempt it drag through the gutter. I will fight this, but in the short-term I am to return to the city, where I will be held upon on honour. Wilhelm, Hartwell and the ever-faithful Jones will accompany me. Wilhelm is furious at losing access to various devices.

I am most perturbed in not being allowed to hand-over command formally, brief my successor and I dread to think the mistakes that will be made in the under croft, without the benefit of our experience.

Still, it seems I have a different battle to fight.

Long live the Empress and may your family prosper,

Yours Faithfully,

Henry

Episode 57: Into the Palace

The servant led the heroes into the kitchen, making frantic signs for quiet, then proceeded to give them food and water.

The heroes questioned the servant in Koline¹ and got as much information on the layout of the Palace and the size and whereabouts of the guards as he had.

It wasn’t much.

The team decided to explore the palace, starting with the area they knew personally - the guest suites. It seemed that all their possessions had been removed from their rooms.

All these suites followed the same plan, and each featured a full length mirror in the bedroom, which appeared to be firmly fixed to the wall.

Further explorations uncovered two locked doors and a luxurious corridor connecting five even more sumptuous guest suites, each with a very ornate full-length mirror in the bedroom.

Returning to the Great Hall they entered the Majordomo’s suite and searched it. Wilhelm discovered that the full length mirror in the bedroom (which seemed to be some sort of cultural motif) had a secret catch that caused the whole mirror to swing out and reveal a concealed cabinet, in which a large ring of keys was hanging.

The keys enabled the heroes to unlock the locked doors and explore the Prince’s apartment and what was obviously a princess’ apartment suite. The Princess’ apartments featured an incredibly ornate mirror in the bedroom.

While exploring the Prince’s apartments a secret door was found - a painting - leading to a corridor from which the guest bedrooms could be viewed through the two-way mirrors. There was a catch on each mirror’s rear framing, along with a “pull” that would allow one to enter the room and to pull the mirror back into place from the secret accessway.

Returning to the Prince’s apartments, another secret door was discovered (a secret catch in a bas relief of a heraldic crest opened it) that led to a room with walls bearing many mounted heads - of humans! Two full-body stuffed humans guarded the door, a man on the right, a woman on the left. Each of these held spears and was posed as though defending themselves.

Piled on a long table in this room was all the heroes’ gear and clothing, which they gladly repossessed.

Wandering back to the Grand Hallway yet another secret passage was discovered behind a paining of the Prince’s great-grandfather, this one leading to the pit in which they had waked yesterday.

Having found a number of secret passages, the heroes recalled several notable features, artworks and the like, that might be worth a closer look.

In the guest hallway a secret door by a huge painting of a battle was found opening onto another narrow, unlit accessway, which ran behind all the guest suites and allowed the bedrooms of each to be viewed through what was again obviously the two-way mirror in each room! Each mirror had the now-familiar rear frame with a catch that apparently allowed the mirror to be used as a door, and a “pull” to enable the mirror to be pulled closed after use.

As they returned to grand hallway the Alarm was raised! Obviously the guards had found their dead comrades!

As three guards raced into the Grand Hallway, the team left via the kitchen to the courtyard.

As the heroes attempted to take stock, six guards ran out of the barracks and prepared to engage with black powder muskets. A frantic firefight broke out. A volley of black powder weaponry was answered by spear throws and, from Forsyth, revolver fire, to very little effect on either side.

Wilhelm fired his electric pistol and killed one guard outright, but eight More guards raced out to join the fracas while three of original guards begin reloading.

More gunfire was exchanged and Forsyth was seriously wounded. The heroes retreated deeper into courtyard, and Wilhelm "goobered" eight Martian guards with his sticky webs, entangling them, but as then seriously wounded by a concentrated black powder volley. Jones dropped to the ground, wounded or dead.

As the Martians gathered for another volley Wilhelm healed himself using his miracle healing device, restoring his health completely and erasing all signs of the violence he had so recently undergone.

Martians began breaking free from the entangling webs, and savage Hand-to hand combat broke out. Hartwell was surrounded and badly wounded. Wiseman was also surrounded.

Realizing that the situation was dire, Hartwell and Wiseman broke away from close combat and rendezvoused with Wilhelm, Forsyth and poor Jones, who was being dragged by Forsyth.

Hartwell used his miraculous teleporter and took everyone to the Prince's bedroom. Jones revived enough to speak, but was weak and unable to take further part in combat shenanigans. Wilhelm used his device to cure Forsyth and Hartwell.

Panting, bloodstained, the heroes pondered their next course of action …

1. a more-or-less universal trade lingua franca widely spoken on Mars↑

Episode 56: The Final Hunt

The heroes were treated to a slap-up feast on returning to Prince Kalamanka's palace, though the Prince was obviously out of sorts over the jaw-dropping validation of The Steppe Tiger's prowess.

The evening featured the Prince's trademark needling of The Steppe Tiger, but it was subdued compared to the previous occasions on which this boorish behaviour had been demonstrated. Some of the staff seemed in awe of Waldmont, and he noted some pointing at him and saying "Ghost Blade". It seemed his fame would be a thorn in the sode of Prince Kalamanka from this day forward after all.

Pleading exhaustion, the Prince eventually left the feast, and the heroes were soon seeking their own beds, yawning greatly after the strong wine they had been served.

Wilhelm, Waldmont and Forsyth woke the next day with pounding heads and parched throats to find they were stripped to their underwear and boots, and were imprisoned in a deep pit. Not only that, their hands were all but useless as they were locked in fiendish metal looms, immobilizing their fingers while equipping each finger with a razor sharp metal claw!

The Prince appeared at the lip of the pit some 30 feet above them and began taunting them. On the wall of the pit was a map of the Prince's estate, showing some detail and calling out green areas and possible sources of water. Forsyth noted that there were marks on the pit walls that might very well have been left by someone wearing the damnable claws trying, and failing, to climb out of the pit.

A flask of water was thrown down and each Earthman fumbled it to their lips with their new clawed, stiff fingers. Wilhelm sustained cuts to is face when he was distacted while drinking. However, the water revived the men and their fatigue faded.

The Prince explained that the fourth hunt would involve the Prince and certain guests who shared his Ground Cleanser sentiments hunting their most valued prey - humans!

Looking around the heroes saw that the pit was about 60 feet in diameter, with a gated tunnel leading out. The Prince explained that once the gate opened, they would have four hours to make whatever progress they could toward the mountains. If they reached the mountains, they would be released unharmed.

The gate opened. The team studdied the map for a few minutes, then trotted out, through a tunnel to the lush jungle-like woods outside the palace walls.

The outer gate slammed close.

The heroes decided to circle the Palace walls, which were almost 100 feet high and unscalable, looking for the main gate so as to possibly ambush the Prince's party and regain the initiative, but were attacked by a dread Green Koko. Wilhelm snarled and leapt into close combat with the giant snake, improvising with his new claws to good effect, dispatching the beast in short order.

A few minutes later a distinctive baying was heard and not long after that the team were attacked by a pack of roogies, the most common scavenger of the Martian steppes. Working together as best they could, the heroes fought off the beasts in desperate hand-to-maw melee. Once one roogie was dead, the others backed off, and as soon as the Englishmen had left, the roogies tore into the carcass, snarling at each other for the best parts.

Some time was lost when the team blundered into a swarm of durge flies, but they recouped and decided to set a trap for their would-be hunters. The best plan they could devise involved tricking the hunters into moving out onto the steppe while actually making their way o the main gate of the palace in the hope of gaining entrance, where perhaps, just perhaps, there might be some Marian staff who would render aid to The Ghost Blade and his friends.

The party encountered two more Green Kokos which were killed before they could inflict any damage and eventually they reached the escarpment leading down to the steppe. The need to get out of the woods as quickly as practicable was emphasized when yet another Green Koko attacked and had to be dealt with. Clearly, overnighting in the woods was not an option worth considering unless the situation became hopeless.

The team split into two parties and two trails were faked, one along the escarpment edge, one down onto the steppe. The sunds of hunting horns and Martian ribaldry was heard from the distance, and the team carefully retreated into the depths of the woods.

Suddenly a trapdoor was opened in the ground cover, and a ragged, bearded, emaciated human beckoned the heroes into the hole it had covered. Whispering, the team introduced themselves to their host, who called himself Sam Wiseman, survivor of an aircraft crash a few months before. Wiseman was an archeologist, on Mars researching a project, and had survived the wreck of his craft by dint of his woodcraft, keen alertness and scavenger instincts. He rummaged around in his small and cluttered hide and found picks with which he was able to remove the claws from the heroes' hands.

The team decided to improvise spears by lashing a set of claws to a pole, of which Wiseman had a supply left over from his construction of the trapdoor roof over their heads.

Not long after this was done their hiding place was discovered by Martian troops, beaters for the Princes hunting party. A fierce hand-to-hand combat broke out, and the Englishmen were victorious but couldn't prevent one Martian from screaming a warning. Wiseman realized his camp was compromised, and led the heroes to a second hideout he had prepared. Unfortunately, he had not had time to stock it as well as the discovered hideout.

But it would have to do.

On the plus side, the main gate of he palace could be seen from their new vantage point. An uneasy night was spent, with each human grabbing a fitful few hours of sleep in turn between watches and studying the guards on the balconey atop the front gate of the palace.

Morning saw the arrival of a flock of High Martians at the palace, and shortly after that the Prince and his party sortied from the palace mounted on Ruumet Breehrs. Trusting to their faked trail distraction, the heroes stayed put and spent their time working up a length of rope and a grappling hook from jungle vines and a set of claws.

The hunting party seemed to have fallen for the various ruses set by the heroes, and night fell with no sign of their return to the palace. Forsyth, Waldmont, Wilhelm and their new friend Wiseman crept closer to the main gate as the night drew in and the sentries grew tired and negligent, prefering to spend time by the hot coals burning in the brazier than stand staring into the cold dark for the Prince's return.

Choosing their moment, the heroes threw the improvised grapling hook onto the balcony. Forsyth swarmed up the rope and engage both sentries with his claw-spear, sending both to wherever dead Martians go. The others climbed up to join him, though Wilhelm had difficulty and had to be pulled up.

Grabbing the sentries weapons the four Earthmen descended into the inner courtyard, then made for the kitchens where they surprised a servant.

The servant froze, then, in Koline, welcomed The Ghost Blade, offering him and his friends food and water.