Captain Forsyth: A Letter

A Web of Intrigue

The ongoing letter that Henry writes to his brother Clarance, which is now addressed to his wife.

Dear Abigail,

Again, I’ve scribbled a few notes as we have gone along, again I hope these somehow find you.

We’d stopped for luncheon and a rest. Now we were faced with a bat filled cavern of substantial proportions and an exit somewhat up a wall that would require a climb.

I may lay a modest claim to be able to move with some tact. Tiger hunting in India was a very fine balance, one had to move with care or become the prey. Hartwell, excellent hunter that he is, possesses the same instincts I believe.

But our scientists have no experience in this type of skill and no reason why they should have. Our last encounter with a cavern such as this, was perhaps somewhat comic in those two entered it and struggling with their footing.

We also know that the bats, if woken, will attack en masse. Individually they are no threat, but a whole cauldron of them is a different matter. They will swarm all over you and their little bites can become death by a thousand cuts.

Weighting up the risks, we decided that the miraculous device Wilhelm has created that can take us from one place to another was our best option.

So, we found ourselves across the cavern in the exit. Except it was a loose rock or scree slope. While I bounded up with my usual cat like prowess, being in the field does somewhat hone these skills, the others fared less well.

Grant barely kept his feet; Hartwell lost his as did Wilhelm.

Grant was able to grab Hartwell by the ankle as he slid past and in turn Hartwell grabbed Wilhelm.

The bats were now disturbed and a whirling deadly black mass filled the chamber together with a continuous high-pitched screeching.

We were able to recover the position, while the bats seemed too excited, to find us as prey.

The next chamber was breathtaking.

Huge and full of stalactites and stalagmites. Except clear pathways had been created through the latter. Small steps too.

We had clearly encountered the work of sentient beings. The size of the steps was clearly far small to have been created by humans.

The Pathways led to 4 exits, all in darkness.

We took the first on our left, the idea that we might explore them in order.

We descended a staircase, to narrow for our feet, but given how little we weighed, it was not really a concern.

We had Wilhem’s lantern for light, it glanced about, showed water on the walls, but I missed a trick in not looking at the floor.

So it was that I didn’t spot the fragile rock and pent-up pressure behind it that was about to release as we descended.

The staircase erupted under our feet with a torrent of water was released.

We were caught totally off guard; the sudden gush of water swept us of our feet. I managed to hold on and not get swept away, but the light and everyone else was.

I got my head out of the water and yelled; had they all been lost? I tried to climb out of the torrent, but it was too much.

I thought I heard Hartwell reply that they were fine. So, I let go my grip and cascaded down to where the others were.

It was black, but by voice and touch we were able to find each other.

I cleared my sidearm on instinct.

Wilhelm still had the lantern. By chance Grant had waterproof matches. We were again able to light our way.

We had no choice but to follow the flow, thigh deep to start with.

We’d now entered another large cavern, impossible to explore by the light of our lantern alone and hampered by the water we were wading through.

However, Hartwell with his keen eyes spotted a dim light off to the right.

We waded over, eventually coming out of water.

We emptied our boots, wrung out what we could and did our best to make dry what was needed. Firearms were all checked and cleaned. On the positive side it will have washed all the acid off.

The rest would have to dry as we went.

Our major problem was our foodstuffs were ruined.

The water had been unusually warm and had a strange taste in the mouth. Grant opined that it was like spa water.

A staircase led up the opening that glowed, we didn’t really have another opinion so ascended.

We reached an entrance to another cavern. Again, stalactites and mites. Again, a path and been cut thought the later. Not directly but clearly avoiding the larger obstacles.

Wearily we trudged down the path, not having spotted anything of consequence.

What a mistake we made! What a surprise we had! Grant looked upward to see what looked like giant termites or spiders holding the rifles I’d been so concerned about pointing at us!

They indicated for us to lower to drop our weapons. Clearly very sentient beings, able to use weapons and tools.

They had the advantage of cover and height.

Besides we weren’t there to start a war. We complied.

Moments later more of these armed creatures, about 5 feet long and 3 feet high, but clearly able to wield rifles, appeared fore and aft. They walked on 4 legs and wielded rifles in the other 2, limbs or arms.

I was seething, how had we walked into a perfect trap and not seen a thing?

Shortly afterwards, we were bound, which didn’t bode well. It was clear that they didn’t understand a word we were saying and indeed didn’t like us talking. They communicated by a series of clicking sounds, which made Dutch sound reasonable.

We were led off to the exit and then passed through various caverns, where we saw these ‘insects’ cultivating mushrooms.

There appeared to be some kind of hierarchy. The farmers, or labourers at the bottom. I think they are called ‘drones’ in the insect world.

Next are the guards and we saw plenty that were not armed, maybe ‘workers’?

Finally, there was a quite rare group that appeared to study us. I’m guessing these are the ones with any form of intellect.

Then we met the mad Russian doctor! He’s been alone down here a number of years, which may account for much of his eccentric behaviour, but I suspect he was a megalomaniac long before.

He greeted Grant, who he’d clearly met before. He’d been waiting many years for someone to turn-up.

In his madness he explained that the place was full of mineral wealth, ‘diamonds’ he declared repeatedly and drew out a large pouch of them, scattering them across them across his desk to make his point.

He planned to find and take Grant’s flyer, leaving with his treasure trove.

Quite how or why he thought Grant’s flyer would be in any condition to get him out of here, when his own had crashed so badly, I don’t know. What if he comes across Clarences’ flyer?

He explained that he’d needed a little ‘muscle’ down here to extract the diamonds, which is why he had bought the rifles. Somehow, he’d got his own little insect militia to impose his will.

He was almost gleeful in explaining that he’d had to eliminate the rest of his crew, who were loyal to the Tsar.

He also took delight in telling us that our fate would be to be left behind and that he wouldn’t be returning.

Then we were escorted to a cell under guard and keep there. A short while later our bonds were changed for manacles. This led me to question what kind of expedition, where space is limited, would have included manacles in their inventory?

We were attended on by one of the creatures which we supposed to be of the intellect. We were much surprised when he made a passing and halting attempt at English! It was brief, I endeavoured to engage him, but he was uninclined to converse more.

We had some chance at conversation between us and Grant said that the largest of those diamonds would be perfect to replace the one lost when we crashed at the heart of the ether engine. We also appraised that most of the diamonds were flawed and unlikely to bring the kind of fortune that madman was expecting.

While we had lost our weapons and much of our equipment, Wilhelm still had some of his inventions about him. We could in reality, if we effected things quickly and perhaps with a little difficultly, get out of this hole and be elsewhere.

But where and to what effect. We’d still need to remove the shackles anyway. Then we’d be hunted by these creatures.

There had been something in the conversation with the intelligent mind, who had talked about ‘nest’, to think he or they (who knows) might be persuaded to help.

The intellect returned periodically. Over a few short conversations, it became apparent that our mad Russian doctor, had initially gained influence by showing ‘the nest’ better ways and places to cultivate the fungus that they live off. I would then surmise that he’d staged something of a coup.

Meanwhile I’m afraid that we learnt that the other side of the canyon was considered dangerous and was sealed off as a consequence.

We needed to escape our bonds. We been in captivity for I would guess over a day, what was the mad Russian doing? What danger might Clarance be facing? Hartwell had listened carefully to their language and felt, while he could not translate, he understood the gist of what was being discussed. He felt it was the search for our flyer.

My backpack had been taken from me and so I no longer had my tool kit.

Wilhelm however keeps things closer on his person, he has the most ridiculous things hanging from his belt and elsewhere. I should add a rather fanciful hat, that is full of gadgets that he has invented.

In this instance it served us well, as it so often does. He had some tools that he could make into a lockpick at Hartwell’s instruction. Hartwell was a little coy on how he knew this, but it mattered not.

Some manacles were undone, but he broke the makeshift key in the lock on my arm before all were freed.

Wilhelm set to work again and produced another usable tool.

In short order our chains were no more than theatre props, except the one still around my wrist, but that wasn’t going to stop me wielding it like some medieval flail.

Again, the intellect returned. Finally, we got an understanding. The ‘nest’ was being effectively being held ransom by the evil doctor.

If we helped them, then the nest would help us.

There were a daunting 30 odd rifles arrayed against us.

But if we could pick them off in small parties, perhaps we’d have a chance. I reminded myself that I’ve faced worse odds.

The intellect engaged the 3 guards in conversation. Enough that we raced from our positions and attacked with surprise.

I was on the right, took a guard alone, swung with all my might and modesty prevents me describing how much mush there was.

The others swung equally as violently but to little effect. Indeed, Grant merely threw his chains in the air. He is clearly no combatant.

It became a little messy and the worse point was one of the guards managed to get a shot off. Although it did no physical damage, the risk was the noise was going to be heard. Something I’d hoped to avoid.

But now I’d got a Remington at my disposal from the guard I’d made a bit of a mess of, so was able assist the others and between us we put down the other 2 guards.

Wilhelm and Hartwell were able to claim rifles too.

We had a limited time to check ammunition and get into position before the relieving force arrived. 5 charged into the chamber. It should have been a duck shoot at the chamber entrance, but they moved much faster than we realised.

A brief fire fight ensued, but we emerged victorious.

A sixth guard emerged from the rear of the cavern, as the fight ended and was dead before it had chance to take in the scene.

With more rifles at our disposal, we were able to ensure our own were fully loaded, arm Grant, then hand to the remainder to the intellect.

He now hurried us out of a rear exit to another cave. An opening led off to what we were told was the ‘mine’. After some brief confusion, it became apparent that ‘drones’ were being forced to work in the mine under guard. It appeared our task was to free the drones, which of course meant killing the guards watching over them.

We were able to spy a little of the layout and the danger was the guards would use the drones for cover. That would put innocents in danger in a firefight. Tactically, there was nothing to be done. Wilhelm did suggest we appear behind them, but I felt we had the element of surprise and that move would be better kept in case we needed to extract ourselves.

So, it was that we charged in, picked our targets and fired. We stayed pretty much together and scored a deal of early success. Far from being able to use the drones as shields, the guards were left exposed when the panicked drones fled somewhere to the rear of the mine. I think we killed 8 of the blighters, but one ran off.

Not entirely without cost we had some minor wounds ourselves.

Now another threat appeared the panicked drones were stampeding back in our direction, hell bound on getting out of the mine. This wouldn’t been a problem if we hadn’t all been standing together in the narrow exit.

In an instant Wilhelm had us in the previous cave and we were easily able to move aside and let the force of the stampede pass us by. We gathered what had caused this reaction, more guards were coming from the back of the cavern, many more.

We set to defend the exit at its narrow point. In hindsight we were too close and should have given ourselves, maybe a fighting retreat. But Wilhelm wanted to try and shoot them in the exit tunnel, along with Grant, so were close to the exit. In truth it was as good a plan as any and I believe he did account for at least one, before they got to our cave.

They burst forth faster than we could stop them and within moments, we were facing superior numbers at short range and were spread across the cave. Wilhelm was hurt but healed himself, with a mask that he has invented that restores health almost immediately. Grant was grievously wounded and Hartwell was defying the slowly accumulating cuts that were appearing about him.

I confess I believe I was indebted to my uniform on a couple of occasions or I would have been in the same state. I will need to replace a button or two on return, it’s those sorts of moments when I miss poor Jones.

Wilhelm suddenly appeared supporting Grant alongside Hartwell and I. Then I’m afraid the world went rather dark. I remember the flash of a rifle before me and thinking, that’s a good shot, straight at me!

I came too on the floor back in the mine. Wilhelm was tending to me with his healing device. He’d moved us from the cave back into the mine and was now trying to revive us. What a wonderful resourceful fellow he is! I believe I owe him the finest of dinners and perhaps a bottle of the ’76 vintage.

Grant was down and out, Hartwell pale, heavily wounded and I doubt could have stood. Our situation had been perilous beyond measure, Wilhelm had without doubt saved us. As his healing device revived us breath by breath, those repulsive guards re-entered the mine, clearly searching for us.

Wilhelm had just enough time to restore both Hartwell and I to fighting condition and Grant near to, before we were spotted. We’d remained prone so harder to see.

The spotter was shot before it could fire and scattered across the mine as they were, the guards were easier to pick off. I do believe there was some anger and retribution in our fire!

We are now all fit and healthy, although I confess, I do feel significantly weaker after the wound I took. The intelligence tells us that the doctor has 3 rifles left guarding him.

It’s clearly time for a conversation on different terms.

Henry.

Captain Forsyth: A Letter

Moon stuck….

The ongoing letter that Henry writes to his brother Clarance, which is now addressed to his wife.

Dear Abigail,

I’ve scribbled a few notes as we have gone along, I hope these find you.

The chamber we found ourselves in was vast. Stalactites handing down to a rock-strewn floor.

There were 2 exits one which appeared to go up and the other down. Knowing that the rope bridge we had seen was well below us and that whoever had the survived the crash of Clarance’s ship had gone down, so that was the only logically way to go.

We felt a little heavier down here, but still incredibly light, maybe half of our true weight on earth.

We headed down and into another cavern blanketed with the glow fungus. I spotted those strange insect-like rats moving about, but they avoid us. Again, there was choice between going up or down through a fissure. We continued down.

The cavern we came too was dark, but thankfully Wilhelm has a lantern which he lit. A bright reflection came back from one part of cave. We entered and found the source of this reflection. It is a glass like mineral vein, we could spot of red further within it. Sadly, in the limited light I could not make out what it was, humble quartz or huge diamond or something in between.

My curiosity was peaked. Why had Clarence bought a geologist with him? What did he know and how?

Yet again exits up or down and again we descended.

Another cavern, with only one way out.

We have speculated on the formation of these vast chambers. They are mainly circular in shape. I have determined that they are not the result of water erosion, like say much of the Blue John cave system in the county of Derbyshire, or the better-known sections of Chedder gorge.

Rather we speculate and I confess with really little knowledge, that these may have been created by gas bubbles eons ago, perhaps when the moon was forming and cooling.

The next chamber was level, more illuminating fungus and moon rats running amok. Such was density and smell of the latter that we suspected a nest. While they avoid us, we suspected that should we stumble upon a nest, they would defend it. We therefore proceeded cautiously and in single file to reduce the possibility of such an encounter.

I should explain that the glowing fungus grows to about shin height, is like a blanket, so it hides the scurrying creatures from us. We hear them more than see them. It’s also quite hard work wading through this fungus stuff, a bit like wading through a corn field.

An exit led us to another chamber, which had clearly experienced a major rock fall. It was difficult to navigate and pick our way over and around, but we did so without incident, to an exit on the other side and proceeded to the next chamber.

Again, a carpet of glowing fungus, little else of interest but again an exit on the other side, this time higher up that was going to require a climb.

As we set out across the cavern floor, the fungus again making it hard going, I instinctively felt something was wrong underfoot. So apparently did Wilhelm who also stopped dead in his tracks.

Toe poking ahead gave us to understand there a sharp fall off. In short, a pit that we could have fallen into. The fungus had grown out of there to the same height as the rest, so the danger was hidden. It was the slightest of misalignment in these flowers that got my attention.

Wilhelm too. Thankfully we were alert enough to avoid this peril.

For the first time we had to climb to get out. I volunteered to go first with rope. I’m the best climber, not by much and no expert by any means, but it gives the others a much better chance of ascent if I can deploy a rope.

Another passage leading another chamber. More fallen rock to navigate. These chambers are huge. While I suspect we haven’t gone many miles, it has all been on difficult terrain. We have to maintain our concentration.

I should ask Grant, he has a watch and some kind of compass.

We’d done as much as we could. We were getting tired and it was time to rest, eat and sleep.

I’ve speculated a little on this crazy mass of chambers. They are connected by these kind tunnels that seem to replicate the main chambers, or by fissures that have opened up.

The latter are obvious. Rock falls caused by time and gravity, little as it is, who knows how long it’s had to do its work.

The best I can up with is that maybe some of these gas bubbles had weak spots that they expanded through.

We slept without a watch, there didn’t seem any need and we were all very tired. This type of terrain and concentration takes a lot out one, as I can testify.

The next ‘day’, who knows what night and day are anymore, we entered a large cavern.

With the option of exits requiring a climb or down, we opted for our usual approach. Except when looked down into the dark, with Wilhelms lantern, something was reflecting on the floor that glistened.

Hartwell, as sharp as ever, noted something moving on the ceiling.

When Wilhelm played his light up there, it was clear this was chamber full of bats.

We’d already encountered these; we knew they would attack if woken and it was a long way to the only exit we could see across the cavern. That was down and again the way we wanted to go. But we felt trying cross this chamber was very high risk.

We backtracked to the climb which was the other way out of the huge chamber we were in.

Again, I made the climb with rope and secured a way up for the rest of the party.

We passed through the tunnel and to our surprise it came out looking above a lake filled chamber! The illumination was a bit dim, with only fungi on the side in a limited amount, but good enough to our well-adjusted eyes.

There was an exit on the other side, water slowing appearing to disappear through a cave. But how deep and where did it lead and would we have any control if we went that way?

Hartwell stepped forward to test the waters. Modesty requires me to omit a small detail.

He climbed easily down, not really needing the rope provided.

He waded out to the point of needing to swim, felt a current, then made his way back.

He’d refilled our canteens, the moment he tasted the water.

He was shaking with cold and we had to haul him up with the rope. It took a while for him get warm and we used the opportunity to rest. We determined that that it was not practical to essay the water, aside the unknown position we would find ourselves, the water would probably ruin our equipment and weapons.

After that we were faced with two options. We either tried to essay the bat infested cave, or went a very long back, I thought in the order of nearly a day, to the nearest alternative branch that we hadn’t explored.

We rested again, climbed down and returned to the bat cave. Grant had a bit of a rush of blood to the head and took the lead. He let go of the rope part way down careered down and his momentum carried across the slick bat guano, which is what we seen glistening.

The idiot was hollering like crazy. Americans don’t seem to have much self-control, which is of course, instinctive to us British. (Or at least this one doesn’t.)

Wilheim climbed down and slid into a similar position, although he kept his feet.

It was clear that we could not traverse this cavern. We needed to get people out of there in case the bats woke up and attacked, which Grant seemed to be doing his best to invoke. Eventually we did this, but Grant in particular wanted to return to the lake to clean up.

We did so, filling water bottles in advance.

Then Grant realised had lost his water bottle in his slide down into the bat dung.

It was a very minor point that would have made no impact if we had been on campaign for example, but down here water was at a premium. I suspect there was also consensus that none of us really wanted to share a canteen with Grant.

We returned to the bat cave, spotted the errant bottle, in a pile of bat poo and were able to retrieve it without incident. Grant felt it unusable, given that it was heavily coated in a very unpleasant substance.

We returned yet again the lake cavern, once again I made the climb. Grant got to clean his canteen and once again we drank and refilled before he did.

Wilhelm pulled me aside; he is concerned that Grant is slowing us down. Certainly, he’d become rather vocal and annoying. It was clear that was maybe a little of friction between the two inventors.

I feel we are all a little stressed. Earlier, the first time we rested I confess I had moment when I could have been overwhelmed by it all, fearing the worst for Clarence, but simply humming the national anthem, reminded me what is to be British!

I assured my dear friend Wilhelm that I would a keen watch for any skullduggery, but Grant is our only hope of getting out of here. I feel he is being difficult, or perhaps stressed, or just the worse of American. I also allow he’s not used to these kinds of circumstances. Unlike us three average British citizens, who regularly face the unknown with our natural stoicism.

We climbed back down and returned to the bat cave, but with a very different idea. The great professor Wilhelm simply transported us across. Grant was mightily impressed, but still went on a bit.

In the next chamber the more obvious passage out led us to another lake. A waterfall cascaded from one side. We speculated that this could have been the overflow from the previous lake chamber. The outflow from this was clearly underwater, so we declared it a dead end.

For some time now, Wilhelm has been scratching marks on all the tunnel entries and exits. So, we should have no trouble retracting our steps. Then again, I have my writing bureau, so have been able to take notes so sorts, Grant seems to have been plotting the path and if all else fails, as you know my dear Abby Abi I can rely on my excellent memory.

Forestalled at the lake, not a comment I believe I’ve ever made before, we returned to the previous chamber and exited by the less promising looking fissure.

We found another cavern with a mineral vein in it. I wonder if that is why the Russians have returned repeatedly. Is there some value in this? The rats around us are now almost incidental.

Only one exit, which bought us again to a cavern with the edible fungus growing in it.

We ignored a fissure and carried on in what we though the right direction, but who can tell. We’ve been turned around so many times, heaven knows how far we have really descended.

This passage overlooked another cavern with a giant field of fungus. It’s hard to explain the scale of this strange system.

Exhaustion was again entering our veins. We stopped in the next passage and again believing there was nothing else and no danger down here fell asleep. How foolish of me to neglect my basic military instincts.

I was awoken by the sound of a single pistol shot. Indeed, it rang and echoed in the tunnel, almost deafening us all completely. I just caught the sight of one these giant caterpillar monstrosities with its head half blown away flailing at the edge of the tunnel before falling away to the cavern below. Hartwell’s pistol had smoke still tailing from the barrel. Some instinct had caused him to wake. He’d drawn and fired in one fluid motion all the more remarkable from lying in his sleep.

We know from previous encounters that these beasts are not the easiest to kill, it was on the sleeping Grant and would have surely done for him and it not been for Hartwell’s gallant intervention. So, this was the most remarkable shot in the circumstances.

In response we now posted watches and determined to sleep a little later by way of compensation. Wilhelm on first watch spotted any number of caterpillars in amongst the fungi in the cavern below us, which we’d need to traverse next.

I took middle watch. While I could see a couple of the beasts, I couldn’t see the others that Wilhelm tried to point out. Their appearance from afar is one of camouflage, they blend rather well with the fungus.

Although I tried to point out the creatures, when I handed over watch to Hartwell, he confessed he couldn’t see one.

However, we got to rest and then another cold breakfast. I think I may have to indulge in some devilled kidneys when I get back to the club.

We had some discussion about how to deal with the caterpillar infested cavern.

We could shoot most, if not all of the threat from our vantage point. We could wade across as usual and deal with threat as it arose. But the option we choose was to teleport across.

The next cavern had the grey edible mushrooms we’d encountered before. It’s I may say at best, an acquired taste, which may take some time, but gave us an opportunity to eat and replenish food stocks.

Worryingly we are starting to see evidence of corrosion on our boots and if you pardon the observation on gaters too. We know this glowing fungus has acidic properties and it’s clearly taking its toll. We pressed on to the next cavern.

As we waded through yet another chamber of glowing fungus, a giant centipede erupted out of the large glow mushrooms in front of us. We gather that the natural prey of these things is the rats, but they’ve certainly been interested in the newly presented human alternative.

We drew and fired, but not fast or effective enough before the thing had grabbed Grant in its giant mandibles and was squeeing the life out of him. At which point Hartwell put a huge hole in the thing and it was done for.

Thankfully were able to bring Grant round, once again Hartwell had saved him by means of some excellent shooting, but it was a close-run thing.

We reached the next passage and paused for break. We took what we regard to be lunch, but our next cavern is another bat filled one.

We have to find a way out of this indeterminable labyrinth soon. Blundering around these caverns, is just reducing our capacity. I believe it would take at least two days just to return to the original cavern and maybe more going uphill, before we even consider all the hazards we’ve managed to overcome.

I rather feel like we are trapped in that French writer’s novel, ‘Voyage au centre de la Terre’, published what 25 to 30 years ago? Now I’m starting to question if it was fiction, or did he know something? What was his name, Verde, or Verne, something like that.

I hope for better news, but given our distance I doubt it will be soon. Hope remains.

Henry.

Captain Forsyth: A Letter

Fly me to the moon….

The ongoing letter that Henry writes to his brother Clarence, which may be about to become irrelevant!

Dear Abigail,

I regret that we are now out of heliograph contact. I hope you’ll forgive these scribbled notes as I go. We found the Glow! It’s a giant fissure in the moon’s surface that does indeed emit a glow.

We descended down this giant canyon for something in the order of 30 miles, before our ship got into difficulties. The atmosphere had increased, so the eather drive began to struggle.

In short order, Grant was fighting with his ship. We hit the wall, almost landed on a ridge, but tumbled onto a lower one where we came to rest. The pressurisation was all wrong and the hull popped a few rivets, which were easy to repair.

Incoming air was breathable, cold and damp. That was all good news. It meant we didn’t have to expend air supplies and there possibly a source of water.

Looking about there was nothing but that glow below us. This fissure clearly went a long way further down, we didn’t have any sense of the bottom. The hydrogen balloon that should have easily elevated us out here, had failed on deployment.

But again, it was repairable. We concluded repairs with a degree of confidence that we could fly out.

However, the essential diamond at the heart of the engine was shattered. How could we possibly get a replacement?

But what of this fissure? Things had got a bit mashed up with the crash. But this was just so curious and I can’t resist that kind of challenge. Besides I was still looking for Clarence.

We’d got rope and climbing gear, so started to descend, following strict climbing protocol to ensure none of plunged to our deaths.

I’d have loved to abseil down, but Wilhelm and Hartwell are less versed in mountaineering. That may have proven better in the long run. As it made us more cautious.

Slime was our first problem – and encouragement. It made grip a tab more difficult, but told us there had to water somewhere.

Day after day, we climbed down. We found edible mushrooms and thereafter the source of ‘the glow’.

It was another fungus of a different hue, that gave off a translucent effect. We’d found the source of the glow! It wasn’t strong but just the sheer volume of it was enough to create good illumination, all be it in a strange cast of light.

Wilhelm was nearly lost, when his rope crossed one these not quite mushroom type glow things and it secreted a very powerful acid. It burnt through the rope in very short order.

Wilhelm managed to grab an out crop of rock and save himself.

Another day climbing down. Now we found to answer to the question ‘is there life on Luna’, suddenly we had a cloud of batlike creatures around us. Nasty devils, with sharp teeth all over you. We were on a narrow ledge so evasion wasn’t possible.

I heard shots ring out and a couple of splats, but there were far too many for that. I grabbed a couple of them and slammed together, but to little avail.

There were too many, taking them in ones or twos wasn’t enough.

I’d been bitten to ribbons. Wilhelm had the answer as he so often does. His ‘gubber gun’ accounted for a fair many and a second shot effectively did for the rest.

Wilhelm has also rebuilt his healing device, I believe at great personal cost, which now cured me.

We continued the endless climb.

We were now aware of the need to avoid or clear the glowing fungus. An observation was made that the bat like creatures we’d swatted aside were being absorbed by the fungus at a very fast rate.

Further down we encountered some odd creatures that for all the world I would have called rats, except they looked more like insects. Size of rats, but an insect type of structure.

We continued down, it was harder going than you can imagine, there was little hope but no other option.

Eventually we came upon the wreck of the lost Russian flyer, clearly wrecked. Curiously the ship had been stripped of any machinal or electrical parts. Significantly there were abandoned rifle crates with the Remington company logo clearly on them.

We concluded from the cyclic writing that this was the lost ship of Vladimir Tereshkova of Russia. Why he should transport arms into the unknown is a matter of speculation.

However, it strikes me, with my military training, that you would only do this if you had the troops to arm them with. He has made many journeys here before.

Have the Russians discovered something of import and tried to set up a defence?

Or is there something far more to moon than we suspected?

One thing was clear, in order to gut this ship effectively, the survivors - or someone else, must have had access to food and water. We had hope!

No sooner had we settled than we were attacked! A strange giant caterpillar creature with mandibles and a gaping maul. As it advanced on us Hartwell put a bullet through it, creating a big hole and catapulting it over the side of the ledge.

I should explain that were climbing from ledge to ledge, finding place to rest, when our exertions were enough. But now it was noticeable that our path down and the ledges had been cleared of any harmful fungus.

Down further, another ledge, another stop to sleep and another giant caterpillar type creature. It attacked Wilhelm, whereon he whisks out his rapier and lances the head of the thing! He’s a scientist for heavens sake. I carry a sword as part of my uniform, but I’ve barely drawn in anger.

Down again, then there is another damaged flyer across the cavern. Playing my telescope across it I made out it’s insignia ‘The Moth’!

I’d found a trace of Clarence, my brother’s craft. Ropes led down from the craft, so there was hope.

The chasm was too wide for any thoughts of crossing.

We continued our aching descent, was no end to this chasm?

We were attacked again by another of these huge caterpillar creatures that are extremely fast and can climb the vertical surfaces with ease. I took a nasty bite, but Wilhelm has recreated his marvellous healing device and I was back to right in no time.

Following the ropes descending from the Moth, I did spy a corpse on an opposite ledge. It was too badly degraded to identify. But ropes continued down, so hope remains.

Finally, we hit a ledge that had a cave leading off it. Looking down the chasm there is a rope bridge linking to the other side of the chasm and still no sign of the bottom. Clearly there are people living here, but who and quite what they may be, we are yet to discover. The Russians and their rifles pose a big question.

Much as it would have been nice to reach the bridge it was still a long way down and off to the side, which would have involved the traversing along the chasm wall.

The cave seems like the better option. The fungus is present and provides illumination. A short way in it opens into a circular chamber. Stalactites and stalagmites abound.

We go on.

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.

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

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

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

Captain Forsyth: A Letter

Captain Forsyth, Fort McMurray, somewhere south of chaos.

My Dear Brother,

I trust you and the family are well. I hear young Bruce is quite the entertainer!

It’s quite the jumble of events I have to record and I have to finish this letter quickly as finally a ship has arrived that will take dispatches.

The good Doctor Phipps recovered from his malaise. A welcome addition to our ranks again, however I fear the episode may have affected him more than expected.

Sadly, we were soon alerted to a hide hole in the stores. It seems that we’ve had a most unwelcome guest for a while. Stores had been stolen and the tins discarded. A hint of residual local perfume was detected. I fear we are being repeatedly attacked by some female Martian assassin.

I believe this was the person that set up the bombs that so affected out garrison. Whether it was with or without the assistance of the deserters I cannot be sure. My inclination is that she had some hand in that.

Then as we did a thorough search of the place, Wilhelm was fortunate to survive a bomb trap, but the rest of his party did not.

Other supplies are missing according to the QM, but it’s minor and low level. We have some petty theft, probably opportunistic, but it needs to be stamped out never-the-less.

We then received a visit from HMS Tuttle. Our first contact with the Empire in well over two weeks! I can’t tell you what a relief this was and I’m sure it will lift the troops, removing that sense of isolation. At least one of my overland despatches must have got though.

The airship had bought a replacement heliograph.

Tuttle is a most interesting vessel, designed for engineering work. I was most curious about how she went about her business. I’m afraid I may have bored her officers with my questioning, but they never stinted to show me every detail. It’s my field don’t you know and I would wish to think that they appreciated my interest.

Regrettably, we were denied a formal dinner by time and circumstance. We made do with a working luncheon. I hope to be able to entertain these worthies in the future.

While operations were in progress, a green flash was reported on the horizon. If you’re not aware the horizon here on Mars is less than on earth. I believe about 2 miles, compared to a little over 3 on earth. I may have misheard the expert, but I think it’s about right.

The flash clearly needed investigating. However, I didn’t believe it was proper for me to leave the fort while the Tuttle was about its work. The clear priority was to re-establish contact the rest of the Empire.

I suspect few commands are blessed with a handful of individuals, who can make such a difference. The nearly recovered Phipps, ever resourceful Wilheim and the always stout Hartwell, accompanied a patrol.

They reported back on a body of local hill tribesmen that appeared to have died by some appalling burn wounds. The rest of the armed tribe returned as the away party were approaching the site and a stand-off occurred. I have to commend my batman, Jones, who apparently was able to translate and defuse the situation.

The tribe demanded we turn over the villain that had killed their men. Of course, we had no such, but just as our words were gathering an understanding, the very villain appeared behind the small patrol and hurled some fateful strange green bomb over the heads of our honest men and into this possibly innocent tribe. An absolute outrage that deserves justice.

But his clear plan was to sow the seeds of destruction. Naturally, the tribesmen called foul and despite many having been blinded by this strange explosion, while our men showed great fortitude, opened fire on us.

Of course, I was not there, but being fired upon, the men did themselves credit as soldiers by eliminating the adversary in very short order.

Meanwhile this individual who’d appeared at the rear of our force, also attracted interest.

Dr. Phipps immediately judged him a threat. Hereto, I’d never have questioned the good doctor’s judgement, well more on that later. A sergeant too felt the same.

Now here’s the darndest thing – I do apologise for the language – all witnesses describe the fellow as being ‘blurred’. Both men swore they’d shot true, but the bounder disappeared. They found their spent bullets dented on the ground where he’d stood!

Back at the fort, sadly I have to record that I am obliged to have Miss Carter-Lloyd removed to the ship for transportation back to civilisation, where she can be more properly treated and face due judgement. With all that has been happening her confinement has been a sad one and her social interaction severely limited, which must have hard for one so used to the limelight.

Then I must temper my sympathy with my duty to my men. There was too much bloodshed and destruction to forget this.

It’s rather unedifying delivering her to ship in chains and I wish it could be done in any other way, but I had to be sure that the officers and crew understood she was a prisoner. Otherwise, I’m sure she will charm them all out of hand and have them flying where-ever she pleases.

I do hope this won’t get ugly, but have to send you fair warning, that it could all result with my character being called into question. I do believe the lady is not without connections.

If proved, some of her crimes may easily warrant the gallows, I do so hope that is not the case. Equally, my good fellows may be called into question, especially the good Doctor Phipps.

The Tuttle is anxious to be under away, so I must leave it here.

Long live Her Majesty!

Your brother,

Henry