Captain Forsyth: A Letter

Captain Forsyth, Fort McMurray, Late December

My Dearest Brother,

I hope this reaches you as soon as possible and that you and the family are well.

McMurray remains a difficult command and I count myself fortunate to have gained such stalwarts in previous adventures by my side here. Indeed, but for the good doctor Phipps, the stoic Hartwell and now the indispensable services of the great professor Wilhelm, I’m not sure what state we’d be in.

Yesterday we woke to the most awful mess. The damned (excuse my language) Carter-Lloyd woman had absconded. Worse, the two-man detail on guard were found foully murdered in her wardrobe of all things.

I immediately ordered reports from the gates. The south gate was found open and the guard brutally murdered in the same fashion.

Two gashants and their tack was missing.

Worse was to follow. I was urgently summoned to the heliograph tower. There another two men had been murdered; their throats cut in the same savage way. But here their blood had been deliberately sprayed around. I’m not sure if it was intended as ritual of some kind or just designed to shock. Although having seen the depravities that these fanatics will go to, very little shocks or surprises me.

The Carter-Lloyd woman is heavily implicated in it all. Two murdered guards found in her wardrobe, the guard on the gate murdered. Strangely she left behind a pair of shoes with a broken heel in her room, the heel was missing.

It was found at the top of the heliograph tower, together with crumpled note decrying myself and the officers of the garrison.

Carter-Lloyd claims that a veiled mystery women released her took her to the stables and allowed her to ride out. It seems that she had strangely taken exception to being confined for her own good.

Which reminds me I must add theft to the charges against her. At least she has openly admitted that one!

Having ascertained all we could I naturally took a search party after the miscreants.

There were two tracks leading from the fort, both heading south. We followed.

After about two hours the tracks diverged. One was heading for the city, the other heading west, seeming nowhere in particular.

I guessed that Lloyd-Carter would make for the city. She didn’t seem like the mass murder type, although one never can tell.

I therefore felt that the main threat was from the other track and decided that should be our main objective. I recognised that Dr. Phipps was intent on catching the woman, so allowed him to pursue with a small party. I included my batman Jones in this. Jones has a good many faults, a nose for trouble and just as many ways to get out of it. He can act as a scout if required.

We rode hard and once again into trouble. Another Martian hill tribe ambush. Will they never learn? I’ve held out the olive branch time and again, but I fear there is some fanatic around who is whipping them against us.

It was hot and I can’t fault their courage. They lack tactics and leadership. We will have serious issues if they get modern weaponry.

We saw them off in short order, but each action costs a man or two. Men I can’t afford to lose.

I have to confess, that I’ve now been in command long enough to get to know some of the men. Occasionally they will speak their mind to me, which I welcome if done respectfully. But of course, I have to retain the aura of command. The garrison has remarkably good morale all things considered. I put this down to a comradeship forged in fire and the natural disposition of the British soldier.

We continued the pursuit, but very late into the afternoon, a Slapstash war kite came at us low down. I ordered men into cover, it came in fast and low and dropped incendiary devices.

Regrettably I was to lose another man to these.

But they were low enough that we could fire at their crew. A whole half dozen when down to our opening volley. As we were using the silenced rifles, I’m not sure they knew what direction the shots were coming from.

They turned faster than I thought possible and looked ready for another run.

Having seen these vessels before, I took a shot at the helmsman. To me he was key. If I could take him out of action, it might the cause the ship to mis-steer and miss their attacking run.

It’s possibly the most significant shot I’ve ever fired. I hit that enemy good and proper, with only his head and shoulders to aim at, I took him out in the most certain of fashions.

I saw him sump over the wheel. The trims man behind him desperately tried to address things but he couldn’t wipe the gore out of his face fast enough, or throw the corpse off the wheel.

It was as much I’d hoped for, more than expected. I knew they’d have trouble if the helmsman was hit. I’d like to say I’m crack shot, but I’m not. I’m a decent shot that got lucky.

The airship ploughed into the ground at high speed. No-one survived.

It’s quite an achievement to take down a war kite with small arms fire.

Maybe they’ll think twice of troubling us again aerially.

There was a bit of an understandable gleeful search of the wreckage. But it cost us too much time. Then again ghasants had to be rounded up too, many having bolted at the impact, from the subsequent explosions and fire of the ship. It all added up to much the same delay.

For all the satisfaction of taking this enemy out, there was something otherworldly about watching this ship burn. A little reminiscent of bonfire night. Burning liftwood floating into the sky. It was little surreal. I regret these fiends are so fanatical that they don’t appreciate good governance or good neighbours that avoid these scenes.

I still wished to pursue this foe, for surely it was our main chance at answers. The tracks of our quarry continued northwards. Playing my telescope across the horizon I could see nothing of our quarry. But a large party was heading in our direction, most likely a hill tribe responding to the explosion and subsequent smoke plume. Indeed, the explosion and combustion of the war kite must have been noted a great way off.

It would have been easy to ambush these and I so wanted to continue the pursuit. Therein lay the answers. But my duty is first and foremost to the garrison. With a heavy heart, we returned to the fort.

Regrettably the Germans had showed up again. As we arrived the Zeppelin was tethered to our mooring mast. It was early evening, Lt. Jacobs (who has my full trust) and the quartermaster had organised a feast for the visiting German sailors. Not much else they could do in the circumstances.

It was most tiresome. Count Overblast was his usual overbearing self, although I think he regretted patting my arm in what he thought would an ingratiating gesture only for a pile of trail dust to fly off and make him cough.

The overbearing lout tries my patience somewhat. Nevertheless, appearances have to be maintained. I accepted an invitation to dinner, how could I not. There was an unfortunate standoff when the good professor Wilhelm thought it would be useful to view the Zeppelin. The idea was largely to determine whether my own analysis was correct.

The Germans felt this was an easy ask, but wanted access to the under croft in return. There was some discussion on photography, they claimed some new technology that involved a red light to take low light photographs.

I don’t doubt it. But I also don’t doubt that access to the under croft is actually what they are after.

After all, why would a supposed diplomatic mission visit a remote British fort not once but twice.

Arrangements had already been made for the German crew to bivouac in the courtyard. I could hardly counter this as we’d also stated that enemy forces were expected to attack at dawn.

Those being the afore mentioned riders that caused us to leave the crash site. It’s unlikely they would attack, but gave good cause for the damned Germans to leave. Their neutrality was threatened if they stayed.

We had a convivial evening aboard. The Count having lost the previous bout of diplomatic one-upmanship, tried to up his game. The bockwurst and sauerkraut were excellent, but hardly the thing to turn the head of a true Englishman. Sadly, they catered for their own palate, so while making the right noises it was something of a disappointment rather than the triumph that the Count thought.

One interesting snippet that did come out of conversation, was when I questioned the Count on how he knew the history of the place, he mentioned discussions with a certain Martian scholar. None other than Queeleek if I recall his answer correctly.

So, we know that there was contact between the German delegation and the head of the Brotherhood at some time.

The Count was clearly pleased with the reception for his men. He praised the food that had been served. This was spiced Martian meat that we had bought from a caravan passing through. I hoped to use it to provide the garrison with a feast, but the troops didn’t like the taste of ‘the foreign muck’, so it was still in store. The Germans by contrast thought it wonderful.

I refused permission to tour the under croft. I knew it would look bad diplomatically, but justified it that I’d made it out of bounds and it would reflect badly on me if I made an exception. I pointed out the dangers, to which the Count had very reasonable counterarguments. Ultimately, I had to thwart their purpose, even if I didn’t know exactly what that was.

I’m hoping Professor Wilhelm can shed some light on it all that’s down there, but it’s rather a big ask for one man.

It was in early hours that things went wrong and played out badly. A large number of the German sailors infected with Red Sands attacked our guards.

I thought we’d defeated this evil, but it seems not.

I awoke to screams, years in the military means one knows to be fully awake in the instant. Seizing my revolver, which sleeps next to me, I was viewing the scene in seconds. A score of the German sailors were attacking our guards.

I’d ordered the guard detail doubled in case of Germen skulduggery but now it meant more targets for the Red Sands victims to attack. While it’s easy to just regard these as crazed Germans, they were just Red Sands crazy. From my previous correspondence you understand how deadly this condition is and how it transmits rapidly from man to man.

I’d hoped never to see this horror again. Thankfully I was in position fast enough to issue commands. I ordered our men to disengage and run to provide clear shots for the other guards. It placed those engaged in grave danger, but I believe the best way to deal with this threat is at arm’s length to prevent the spread of the disease.

I also had my esteemed colleagues firing into the fray. I believe they are decent shots all.

Thankfully the extra men on duty meant I had rifles to bear from the off. It was chaotic with my men trying to find cover or respite, while others took the shots that bought the demons down. Several of my men got infected during the assault and turned into assailants within seconds.

However, the discipline the men showed in firing upon the enemy rapidly proved decisive. It was undoubted difficult for the troops to face those few comrades who had turned but they understood the fight and stood up bravely. Indeed, I confess a great sadness overcame me when I realised our own troops were lost to this vile plague.

I knew there was only one solution. As commander it fell to me to try and put them out of their misery. In the event my marksmanship was not good enough on this occasion and in the ensuing volleys, I don’t think anyone know who accounted for our own men. I take that as a good thing, no man wants shooting a comrade on his conscious.

In all I lost 4 men. The Germans 20 sailors. We started cordoning the area, taking the necessary precautions against Red Sands infection.

Count Overbearing finally appeared, blast his presence. He misread the situation, ignored the state of his own men, ignored our own casualties and seemed to think we’d just gunned his men down, to what purpose he thought I have no idea.

There was a tense moment, where I thought he was actually going to and try shoot me with the pistol he had in hand. I think his adjutant managed to point out that I now had most of the garrison turned out and that would only end one way.

Shouting insults and threats the Count retreated to his ship and they flew into the night in short order. I’ve no doubt he will create a diplomatic incident and I’ll be facing questions.

On the positive side I doubt he will back and his mission may be termed a failure.

We cleared up the aftermath. The only sure way with this is to burn everything, well away and well downwind. Dr. Phipps is well versed in these precautions.

I was interested in how Red Sands had got into the fort and the Germans. There were two possible explanations, either it was in what they’d eaten or arrived in some way on their ship.

Dr. Phipps did some examinations, not without personal risk I should add. In fact, I was so concerned that I requested he submit to quarantine after the examination, least he became contaminated. In the event all was well.

I believed he learnt a good deal about how red sands works on the human body and I wouldn’t put it past him to develop some antidote.

However, my worst suspicions were confirmed when the spiced meat was shown to contain red sands in the preparation. I can’t say the Germans were innocent, they have clearly been up to no good. But I’m not sure common sailors deserved that fate.

It was clearly intended to destroy the garrison, but we are still standing.

I am concerned that the merchant party continued on to the city. Who knows what they are peddling.

But I also recall a veiled woman with the caravan. Apparently travelling to get married in a matter of high Martian society. I have now harbour doubts.

Long live Her Majesty!

Your brother,

Henry

Episode 46: Encounters With Airships, An Old Threat Re-Emerges

Phipps and his small team rode back toward Fort McMurray with their captive, miss Carter-Lloyd bound, bootless and tied securely onto a gashant.

Meanwhile Forsyth's party rode hard after the mysterious second gashant rider, following the tracks left by what looked like a rider anxious to avoid being intercepted. After an hour or so, they sighted a kite and Forsyth ordered the men to spread out and seek cover.

This was sound tactics, for the kite altered course slightly to overrun them and reduced its altitude to a reckless 50 feet off the ground! The dastardly Martian was obviously going to bomb the party and seemed supremely confident in his crew's ability to manage this at nap-of-Mars.

A sad mistake.

Spotting a group of four soldiers to the west of the main group, the Martian came in for a bombing run unaware of the majority of the force lying in wait for him. As the kite overflew them the hidden troops opened fire, as did our brave adventurers, aiming to hit anything they could.

The bombs were dropped and were devastatingly effective, but a lucky and well-placed shot by Forsyth's sergeant took down the helmsman just as he put the kite into a very tight turn to port, intending to line up a second run on the now-revealed troops firing at them.

The helm of the kite swung wild, forcing the trimsman to frantically attempt to trim the craft - a task to which he brought inadequate skill.

And so it was that the kite keeled over and ploughed into the Martian steppe, smashing the hull and detonating the remaining bombs, which in turn ignited the magazine. The resulting explosion smashed the hull to matchwood. The non-lifting components of the unfortunate kite cartwheeled across the steppe in a swath of wreckage and destruction; cannon barrels, cannon balls, masts, steering gear all thrown up, out and along the path of devastation.

Phipps' party was just deciding whether to follow the tracks left by Forsyth or to return to Fort McMurray when the deafening roar of the explosion washed over them, and they turned to see a towering mushroom-shaped cloud of sooty smoke rising high over the steppe.

Fearing the worst, Phipps' party rode hard for the column of smoke, eventually rendezvousing with Forsyth and his men attempting to recover anything of value from the wreckage.

Managing to secure a few damaged planks of liftwood from the wrecked trimming equipment, which by some miracle had not broken free of their mountings and sailed up into the air like so much of the hull cladding had, the combined force decided to return to Fort McMurray as hostile Steppe Tribes would probably be rushing to the scene to see what they could grab, and previous encounters had instilled a healthy respect for the danger they posed.

Approaching the fort, Forsyth, Phipps and Hartwell were dismayed to see an airship at the mooring mast. The markings on it were those of the inconvenient Count Oberluft, obviously still out and about on his "diplomatic mission".

Wilhelm was undismayed only because he had not experienced the count's last visit, but he soon developed the appropriate levels of discomfort once the other heroes had explained matters.

The party was greeted at the gate by Lieutenant Jacobs, whom Forsyth had left in command. Jacobs explained that the Germans had arrived earlier that day and he had been placed in a difficult situation. The count was reporting more massing of Steppe Tribes and under the circumstances had requested that his men be billeted inside the walls rather than in a bivouac outside the fort as they had on their last visit.

The airship it seemed had developed a problem, some sort of engineering issue, and the count had "dropped in" to see if the fort could supply one or two essential components he might use.

Lt. Jacobs had granted this request, and the German ranks were as he spoke dining at trestle tables set up in the courtyard.

Forsyth was then approached by Count Oberluft and his aide-de-camp, Major Wilhelm (no relation to Professor Wilhelm). Greetings were exchanged and Professor Wilhelm requested a tour of the airship, which was granted with good humour.

Count Oberluft then requested a reciprocal visit to the undercroft, which Forsyth denied on the grounds that he had put the whole place off-limits due to fatalities suffered while exploring. The count was mildly offended, but Forsyth was adamant the danger was too great. The count expressed disappointment that he would not be able to examine this fascinating structure for himself before he was forced to continue on his way at dawn.

Professor Wilhelm toured the airship and examined the "special engine", but he could not decide whether the Germans were being truthful about its purpose (and its supposed off-centre mounting making it all-but useless until it could be re-aligned).

The Professor noticed that the frame of the airship had some odd modules attached at regular intervals along its length, along the dorsal centreline, the ventral centreline and along both the port and starboard centrelines. They were interconnected by thick wires of some sort. The German engineers explained they were instruments to detect leaks of he explosive monohydrogen used as the lifting fluid in the airship's gasbags.

Phipps used the time to dissect the boots miss Carter-Lloyd has stolen, along with sundry other items of clothing he suspected as harbouring tools of the assassin's trade. Forsyth had her incarcerated in a different room and ordered triple guards on the door.

Phipps' searches resulted in no items of skullduggery being discovered.

In the evening Count Oberluft has his cook arrange a German meal for the officers of his command and those of Forsyth's, along with the heroes and the count himself.

The German troops dine on the spiced Martian meat left by the caravan a few days ago. This was fortunate since Forsyth's own troops generally hated the spicy foreign stuff, and complained if served it in their mess.

The evening went as well as could be expected, with relations strained as they were by Forsyth's suspicions of the count's motives and the count out-of-sorts over Forsyth's refusal to bend to his request for a tour of the labyrinth. In any event, the meal was uneventful and officers and men retired well-fed.

Forsyth posted extra guards on the labyrinth with orders to watch the Germans carefully.

At 4am the fort erupted into a cacophony of gunfire and screams.

The German troops were savagely attacking the garrison, clawing and biting in a frenzy of insane violence. The garrison troops were fighting back and some were resorting to rifle fire, but were hopelessly disorganized until Forsyth and his officers arrived in theatre and began conducting things in a more military fashion.

In truth, Forsyth would admit later that he had been looking for an excuse to show those Hun swine the back of his hand.

The fighting was intense, and the danger quite severe, as it was now obvious that the Germans were infected with full-strength Red Sands, and were little more than mindless zombies who would fight until death, infecting anyone who was wounded in an alarmingly short time.

Three more British soldiers were lost in the action to th terrible disease, and another was killed by "friendly fire"

Count Oberluft, finally up and about, was livid, enraged at the slaughter. He refused to listen to trumped-up tales of disease and vowed to unleash the most dire consequences when he got to Syrtis Major. At the urging of Major Wilhelm, the count ordered the airship undocked and set on course for Syrtis Major.

Forsyth ordered the bodies burned, and after ascertaining that the Martian spiced meat was tainted with Red Sands had that destroyed, all but a small sample retained for evidence and "medical purposes".

Phipps autopsied the bodies and discovered organ and brain changes, changes that he had not seen in anyone but those infected by Red Sands. This confirmed an awful suspicion - someone had either a store of the original Red Sands poison or - infinitely worse - knew the secret of making the foul stuff.

Forsyth, dismayed at these developments and the conclusions of Dr Phipps, decided after consultation with Phipps, Hartwell and Wilhelm to dispatch a single rider to the nearest heliograph tower with an urgent message to be relayed, and a second to Moerus Lacus.

His thinking was that whereas a mass sortie would and had attracted the unwanted attentions of the Steppe Martian tribes, a single, careful rider might stand a decent chance of getting through.