Captain Forsyth: a letter

My Dear Brother,

I remain in command in Fort McMurray. The incidence of the German visit was resolved but not to my satisfaction. Also, not without incident.

I was able to obtain an invitation to tour the Zeppelin. They had a plausible explanation for the strange device which I believe to be a weapon which discharged the diseased cloud over our troops. However, I found the explanation that this was some form of velocity booster tenuous. Mostly because it’s difficult to imagine a Zeppelin accelerating in the manner claimed.

The quid-pro-quo for this tour was to allow the adjutant, a German army major, to tour the under croft. This was a mistake. Despite having guards and using my own batman to escort him an incident occurred. There is an alien device in the under croft, which I had literally put under wraps.

Some kind of explosion occurred rendering my men unconscious. The German major carried them out, an apparent act of valour. But once I got a true account of things it was clear the timings were wrong. An hour or two is missing from the explosion to the supposed rescue.

My suspicion is that the German caused the explosion incapacitating my men. This gave him ample opportunity to study the device, which I believe was his intent. I do wonder if this was the entire objective of their visit here.

Sadly, there was little I could do other than allow them to leave with the best face on it. Maybe at a later date there will be a reckoning.

The under croft is a curious place, which we suspect is in some way controlled by this strange device. I had long intended to explore it more but time has not allowed. It became a matter of necessity when the miscreant under arrest for the appropriation of stores escaped. The evidence suggested that he had taken refuge in the under croft, where he had previously hidden his contraband.

The good doctor, Hartwell, half a dozen rank and file and myself, entered in search of the culprit. We found him down there in a chamber, but in the most surprising and shocking circumstances. The man’s body was mummified, his equipment rusted, it was as if he’d there dead for centuries. His throat had been cut and the small footprints I found alongside suggested a female assassin.

I’d also found substantial Martian footprints further back, not from our garrison, but for sure a large body of men, maybe as many as 50. This is extremely alarming as it may mean that the enemy have a secret entrance into the fort.

Off the chamber where we found the body were two passages. We investigated one, which became a rather strange experience. It seemed to go forever. One soldier commented we seemed to be walking on the ceiling. While I didn’t feel this, we had gone quite far enough so turned about to retrace our footsteps. The strangest thing, we must have walked twice as far and not reached the exit!

When we finally got out the place after just a few hours to us, it was late at night above ground. The discrepancy in time was rather disturbing. Even worse was the soldier who was missing who no-one had noted. The same man that had commented about walking on the ceiling.

The following day we returned to the investigation but took a different tunnel. Aside from searching for the missing man, I felt my duty was to investigate those Martian footprints. Things were to get even stranger. We came to a chamber about 100 feet above the surface with windows! On one side was a seascape, on the other desolate mud flats. Yet a breeze fitting the view came in at either window.

Again, passages led off. We started exploring one, but a soldier put his hand on the wall resulting in a pin prick, which immediately caused him to collapse and die in short order. He’d been poisoned and fast acting it was too. We carried his body out.

I feel I will have to call for volunteers for any future exploration. This has so far been delayed by military necessity.

The female reporter has gone from being a distraction to being a problem. She has been openly flirting with the men and resorted in openly kissed a rating in an effort to obtain illicit access to the heliograph. Really her behaviour is outrageous and seriously undermining the command. She is resorting to writing scandalous lies about the officers and distorting the truth in the most damaging manner to morale.

I confess it’s the most difficult challenge to deal with. The good doctor has declared her in a state of hysteria, which has compelled me to confine her to her quarters.

On a more positive note, as I was trying to deal with this difficult and irresponsible lady, a green light appeared. For a moment that strange weapon that killed the major came to mind and the alarm was sounded. Thankfully I recognised the individual that appeared out of thin air. It was none other than the esteemed Dr. Wilhelm. I first had the pleasure of meeting him on Venus, but he is a veteran of the fight against the Brotherhood and I can think of no-one whose talents will be of more use in the present situation.

His latest invention allows him to travel from place to place without a conveyance! I’ve had no time for discourse on his inventions or adventures so cannot enlighten you further.

One crisis seems to follow another. A lone rider appeared on a wounded beast carrying his regimental standard in a rather desperate manner. A cavalry patrol out of the city had been ambushed by Slapstash regulars in territory rightly claimed in the name of the Queen. Seems they had some kind of silent guns, which had given them an element of surprise. The officer had ordered the trooper to ride for the fort and preserve the colours.

I ordered the strongest patrol I could mount to go to their relief, although there was little hope that the combat was anything but long since over. The good doctor volunteered in the event of wounded, Hartwell ever the stalwart came too. Although they cannot ride, they were able to travel behind men who could.

Guided by the trooper we headed for the ambush site at speed, a calculated risk, which backfired. We in turn were ambushed by opportunist hill Martians. We killed most and put the rest to flight but not without casualties. These are men I can ill afford to lose, both Human and Martian.

At the ambush scene our patrol was all dead. Looking at the site and terrain they never stood a chance.

We picked up the tracks of the Slapstash force, a couple of dozen strong, which outnumbered my own force. I therefore decided to give them a taste of their own medicine. We circled round ahead of them and laid our own ambush.

Given a superior force with advance weapons this was a difficult fight. The broken terrain gave cover to the enemy once the element of surprise was over. It was bloody and I lost yet more men that are sorely needed. Yet we prevailed, most of the enemy were killed and the remaining handful surrendered.

I’ve not long returned with the patrol. My report has been sent off. It is true that the enemy had silent rifles, a strange appendage on the mussel seemingly creating this. These we have captured. Once again, the mark of Cairo Munitions.

We have gained a good number of gashants, enough to replace those lost by the patrol and significantly increase the numbers at the fort. But we lost too many good men who are more difficult to replace. It was a necessity to bring these weapons into our possession.

What may assail next I have no idea. The under croft and the darned reporter remain to be dealt with. After that I feel we need to track and stop Cairo Munitions, not to mention what-ever dastardly scheme the Germans are up to.

Long live Her Majesty!

Your brother,

Henry

Episode 44: A Shastapsh Incursion, A Costly Battle

Fort McMurray appeared to be peaceful and in order, and our heroes rose on the 27th unaware they had missed the Christmas celebration arranged by the NCOs and the quartermaster for the men while feasting with the Caravan Master.

Phipps and Hartwell, out and about before Forsyth had finished messing about with uniforms and Shakos and Jones’ fussing, saw miss Carter-Lloyd speaking earnestly with a trooper just outside the heliograph tower. She seemed to be trying to persuade the private to do something, and passed him a piece of paper, then kissed him in a manner not explainable as familial affection.

Phipps was outraged and, with Hartwell in tow, hurried over to the tower where he confronted the private and demanded first, an explanation, then second, the paper miss Carter-Lloyd had given him.

The private’s stammered explanation did little to assuage Phipps’ outrage, and when the doctor read the contents of the paper his blood boiled and whatever warm feelings he had held for the Carter-Lloyd woman were driven from his soul and replaced with withering disdain:

Dateline: December 27th Fort McMurray

Scenes of debauchery and unrestrained fraternization at Fort McMurray.

Last night, during an impromptu feast provided by the wagonmaster of a caravan, your reporter was shocked to witness scenes of such licentious debauchery between certain members of the garrison of Fort McMurray and the Martian ladies of that caravan she almost swooned. This disgraceful breach of military discipline, common good manners and, dare one say it, public hygene went on in full view of the so-called "Heroes of Fort McMurray", particularly the commander pro-tem, Captain Forsyth, who seemed more interested in scoring points with the wagonmaster than in providing leadership and proper guidance to his men. One would have turned to Mr Hartwell, but that worthy has "gone native" in a disappointingly short time and was clearly hung over from the previous night, during which he had become extremely indisposed with what looked like the entire Martian contingent of the garrison, all with Captain Forsyth's implicit support I might add. The lauded Dr Phipps might have supplied some much-needed British backbone but he has been a complete boor in my dealings with him. One suspects some unwholesome habits of a medical nature. It is this reporter's opinion that the Empire would be best served by the immediate recall and cashiering of Captain Forsyth and the deportation of Dr Phipps and Mr Hartwell, and the urgent dispatch of a commander capable of turning this Martian Seraglio back into a military strongpoint before it is overrun by the forces of Shastapsh. Phoebe Carter-Lloyd.

Phipps had Forsyth summoned and, when that worthy appeared, handed him the would-be heliograph. Forsyth went many colours in the next few seconds, but masterfully brought his emotions under control and prepared to give the wretched woman a piece of his mind when she let out a cry and her face was lit by an awful green light as a loud crackling sound filled the air.

Fearing another attack by the emerald ray that had killed Major Langdale, Forsyth bravely leapt to one side but was able to recover his composure when it proved to be merely the perfectly normal corona discharge from a teleportation device operated by none other than Professor Wilhelm

A round of quick introductions was made, and then the business at hand resumed. Phipps declared that the Carter-Lloyd woman was obviously suffering from hysteria and ordered her confined to her quarters for her own safety. Forsyth was happy to concur and two beefy and trustworthy other ranks were detailed to escort the loudly protesting Miss Carter-Lloyd to said quarters, civilian women for the use of, lock her in and arrange a guard and meals and so forth.

Forsyth was announcing his agenda for the day when his plans were, once again, cast into a small pile, doused in lamp oil and set alight.

A very badly used standard bearer rode up to the fort on gashant-back and, when given entry and water, gasped out a terrible story of a cavalry patrol dispatched from Moerus Lacus had been ambushed by Shastapsh forces wielding silent rifles of some sort, which had enabled them to gain total and devastating surprise. The officer in command of the patrol had ordered the trooper now telling the sorry tale to ride for Fort McMurray, save the colours and summon help.

Forsyth assembled a force of mixed Martian and British troops, and with the standard bearer as a guide rode forth to render what aid he could, though privately, out of the hearing of the brave standard bearer, he expressed doubts that the patrol had survived. Matters were complicated slightly by the fact that neither Hartwell nor Phipps could ride, yet Forsyth could not let either stay behind. Phipps’ medical skills might be desperately needed, and Hartwell simply would not hear of being left behind. The newly-arrived Wilhelm also mounted-up, eager to bring aid and comfort to the stout British lads and as much refusal of aid and discomfort to the Shastapsh swine as was humany possible.

Arriving at the site of the ambush, Forsyth’s gloomy prediction was borne out. The patrol had been wiped out to a man.

Pausing only to arrange a sort service for the dead and cover the corpses as best they could, the relief force began tracking the Shastapsh incursion. Hartwell’s tracking skills turned out to be all the Martian contingent could expect from “The Steppe Tiger” and he was able to give Forsyth the tactical edge by predicting where the force was heading and how strong it was - approximately twice the numbers of Forsyth’s own force.

And thus Forsyth was able to engineer a classic ambush of his own, bringing down half the enemy before they had a chance to realize they had been handed a helping of their own medicine.

Such was the carnage that the Shastapsh soldiers were thrown into disorganized, dismayed, demoralized disarray. A few soldiers took up defensive positions and returned fire with the odd-looking rifles, but the silent nature of them was tactically moot as the air was full of the roar of massed Winchester repeater fire, for Forsyth had equipped his men with these marvels of modern weaponry.

The fight was savage even though disorganized on the part of the Shastapsh force, and most of Forsyth’s martians - including Lieutenant Ph’sback - were lost in the firefight after a brave flanking move which proved to be the pivotal maneuver which turned the tide, with the surviving Shastapsh soldiers surrendering and Forsyth’s men capturing two dozen silent rifles.

These seemed to be ordinary Winchester repeaters but for a large cylindrical structure mounted on the muzzle of the rifle. All bore the mark of Cairo Munitions. These were confiscated, of course, along with a couple of dozen gashants. Once they had been stripped of the garish Shastapsh accoutrements and re-trained the would be a valuable addition to the garrison stables.

Despite the victory, it was a sad group that returned to Fort McMurray, bearing their dead on travois.