Graphics Note: The characters in this campaign will be shown in Camos rather than the combat armour they're really wearing. There are two reasons for this; first, though I could only get a mediocre Battledress 3d model worked up, I have some excellent BDU uniforms, and second, it makes it easier to tell who's who.
The IM Brazos was detailed to patrol regularly through the Elchev subsector, keeping an Imperial eye on the worlds of that backwater region, ready to provide the specialist services of the Imperial Marines to the local planetary governments if they found themselves with problems their own security forces couldn't handle.
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At this particular time, the ship was dirtside on Farwyn, a quiet and peaceable place, equipped with a B-Class starport (unusual in the district). Some small maintenance to the ship was required, so the vessel had been there for two weeks. Shore leave had been authorised to the Marine platoon. A week of this had elapsed; in five more days, the ship would depart for the next stop on its' patrol, the world Sirnoth. |
Loading Up (click for larger image!) |
Morning on 062 found Uriah and Reagan heading into Startown in search of an upgrade to Uriah's standard-issue arm laser that he'd fancied for some time. Investigation led them through the ship-fitter's sector to the kind of establishments that catered to mercenary units as well as lone individuals in search of arms.
Looking around the streets, they located a very flash store - Gun'U'Like - all gleaming counters, display holos, chrome and gleam. The other option was Scruffy's; a shop which did exactly what it said on the tin. They started with Gun'U'Like, where a rather slick young salesman was completely taken aback at being handed the exact model number of the part required. It was produced, in the original packaging and everything, and the haggling commenced.
Initially, the price was set at Cr70,000 for two. Haggling brought this down to Cr50,000, from which the young salesman wouldn't budge. The two marines consulted by radio with Sarge, who reluctantly authorised the use of Cr25,000 of the unit's funds to help in the purchase - on condition that they shopped around first.
Telling the salesman they'd be back, the two went across the road to Scruffy's. There they were greeted by an impressive pile of second-hand equipment mixed liberally with utter junk. Much of Scruffy's stock was obviously battlefield loot; the sort of thing both the marines had sold themselves in the past.
Rummaging around, they managed to find two autolaser modules for some sort of combat armour. Whether it would fit theirs was anyone's guess. Optimistically, they took them out to the test range, hooking up the power pack Scruffy rummaged out for them.
The first of the two, bearing a price ticket of Cr200 didn't do anything at all. Blown. The second looked more promising; lights came on, the tube warmed, a beam formed, and then the weapon caught fire, burning with a sullen red glow and a cloud of evil-smelling smoke. Scruffy appeared unbothered that his stock might be in some way faulty. His only comment was "chuck 'em in the bin on the way out." Uriah tucked them in a pocket instead.
The pair then returned to Gun'U'Like and closed the deal, with a psishield each added to the pile. They spent an enjoyable afternoon cruising the local gaming houses, making a moderate profit, before returning to the Brazos.
The Brazos leaves Farwyn (click for larger image!) |
On the appointed day, the Brazos lifted off, moved to orbit, and and jumped for Sirnoth. Once the ship is into Jump, Sarge came through the Marine quarters and ran the platoon through the usual drill. Weapons checks, comm procedures, fitness check, equipment check, armour diagnostics with the shipboard computer.
On the last day of the Jump, the Lieutenant called them together in the Mess. He briefed them on the system they were going to. Most of them had heard this kind of thing before, but this is a world they hadn't patrolled before, and he intended to go through it anyway. |
"All right, heads up. This is a routine patrol visit. We'll be pulling five orbits to check the satellites and commo relays, then landing at the main Starport - Ne Selvas - and checking in with the local Law Enforcement. Unless they have any bugs for us to hunt," there was laughter from some at this, as it's what he always says, "we'll be done in about ten hours. We'll be stood down for the usual five days, during which I want you to stay out of trouble, then we'll be moving on to the next world in sequence, which is Raufoss; I hear they brew good beer there. Planetary and Local maps and the Planetary Familiarization Pack have been downloaded to your battle computers - please at least glance at them. Muster in full armour 08:00 hours tomorrow. That's ALL!"
Working together, Uriah and Reagan had managed to add the upgraded lasers to their armour. There was no real chance to test them though.
Early the next morning, the Brazos broke out of Jump. For the troops, there wasn't much to see, the crew do it all, but signals of things being "not quite right" soon filtered through.
Eavesdropping the intercom, they could hear Cassandra (who doubled as Sensor Officer) reporting "Negative beacon, captain. Negative RT, negative vessel signatures, negative surface neutrinos, negative bloody everything, Captain. You sure we're in the right system?". Maclean sounded worried. "It's the right system, all right, and there should be something. It's a C-Class for God's sake!" He pauses. "Oh, well, Scoop Stations." The klaxon bleated, and the Brazos dived into the atmosphere of the gas giant Lasnain, filling her tanks with fresh, free fuel.
The flight from Lasnain to Sirnoth took 1.3 days, during which Cassandra ran repeated Active scans, picking up nothing. A few neutrinos at power-plant-tick-over level from the surface, abundant IR traces from local vegetation and animals, that was all. The same went for the moon Granung, the only other inhabited body in the system.
Lt Stalker called the troops together again.
"People, as you probably gathered, Sirnoth is not as it should be. Something pretty drastic has happened down there. OK, so that's what they pay us to investigate. I'm going to put you down at the Ne Selvas starport to try and work out what's up. Once you're down, you can establish a cleared LZ for the Brazos and we'll join the party."
"Late, and without bringing a bottle," chuckled Ted.
"Full armour, people. I don't think there's anyone down there to shoot at, but I'd rather get you out alive if it's all the same to you. Sarge? Issue standard ammunition. LZ? Prep the Valkyrie."
The marines studied the orbital photographs Cassandra had managed to secure. The towns dotting Sirnoth's surface were deserted; no sign of human movement or bodies was discernable, and severe damage to some of the buildings and vehicles was evident. Around the starport there were signs of weapon discharges, including energy weapons. One of the 'port's parking pads was gone, replaced by a massive crater; a starship seemed to have met its' end there. There was some head-shaking among the marines; more than three hundred and fifty-three thousand people had simply disappeared.
The platoon embarked on the Astrin APC Valkyrie, and LZ guided them out of the hatch and down towards the planet. They dropped into the atmosphere and headed for the starport; LZ was cheerful - "Nice weather for flyin'" he commented.
Suddenly, at around 2000 feet, the Valkyrie's sensor readouts lit up like Christmas trees. The computer's monotone voice started warning; "Multiple incoming missiles detected; threat radius 360 degrees, convergence time 35 seconds...mark!" On the screens were marked around fifty traces, coming in at hypersonic speed from all angles. "Point Defence!" barked LZ and flipped the APC over in a series of evasive moves.
The sky lit up as the PD turrets mounted on the vehicle's hull started spearing the attacking missiles on lances of laser fire. Taking control of the maingun from his console, Reagan managed to knock down a further two. It wasn't enough.
With a series of shuddering impacts, the missiles crashed into the APC. Red lights flared across control panels, and LZ started cursing violently. As this happened, Jacques noticed that the missiles that were hit by PD fire didn't explode, so much as splatter.
The ground rushed up at them with terrifying speed. There was a brief glimpse of foliage and then...
It was in fact a "soft landing". Grav vehicles have an emergency shutdown routine which - even in the event of power plant failure like this - will attempt to glide the craft to a landing rather than just having it plummet. The APC was heavy, though, and the landing was only distinguishable from a crash in that it took longer.
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Once everything settled, Sarge had the platoon out of the APC and a defensive perimiter established, then set LZ and Verral to work to evaluate the damage. While they did so, Sarge called "upstairs", and Reagan, Uriah and Jacques examined the striken vehicle's hull. What they found was odd. As well as dents, scoring and scorch marks, they discovered that the areas of hull near the impact points were smeared with a peculiar and unpleasant viscous, purplish substance. |
Crash Site (click for larger image!) |
Maid Marian came over, and scooped a quantity of this stuff into her analysis kit, which set to work. Jacques opted for a more direct line of enquiry; he scraped some off the hull, smelled it, flipped some onto the back of Dead Ted's armour to see what it did, and finally tasted it. This proved to be a mistake, as he promptly threw up everything he'd eaten for the last 12 hours. He did, however, learn that it was bitter, chemically and slightly metallic flavoured.
Over the intercom channel, they could hear Sarge reporting in to the Lieutenant, and Stalker's conversation with Captain Maclean. Stalker was trying to order Maclean to land the Brazos and evac the troops, but the Captain was having none of it. "My crew have analysed the attack," he stated, "and the ship will not survive if we attempt to land in the face of that firepower."
At this point, LZ and Verral reported that the Valkyrie's power plant had gone into safety shutdown, to prevent a fusion bottle rupture, and that repairs would require parts not carried on the APC. They would almost certainly be available at the starport.
Stalker came back on the line. "You're going to have to make it to the Starport, Sarge," he said. "There's a town about fifty miles north of you - Marli - you should be able to scare up some local transport or other there. Once you reach the starport, secure the area and take control of the defence systems. They should provide enough covering fire to allow us to land and pick you up."
Maid Marian's instruments returned some very odd information. The slime was clearly organic, though not of a familiar kind; the genetic structure was very strange. She had patched an uplink to the Brazos' data systems and was trying to establish what it actually was. Reagan used his PRIS to take a full spectrum sensor snapshot of the stuff, and shared the data out as an attempt to create something to track whatever had done this.
The platoon gathered their equipment from the stricken APC, and moved out into the dense forest.
Some five miles from Marli, the platoon stumbled on the remains of a grav vehicle, crashed into the forest. It was a 50-ton shuttle, of the kind often used on sparsely-settled planets like this to transport people between towns. It had been brought down in the same way as the Valkyrie, but lacking the APC's military-spec armour, the damage had been much, much worse. Holes had been blasted right through the craft, and it was evident that the grav modules had failed completely, resulting in a vertical plunge into the trees. Blood was splattered all over the inside, but there were no bodies, only the odd shred of skin, hair or bone.
Jacques - after an unsuccessful attempt reminded him that trees and combat armour don't mix - climbed one of the trees nearby and cautiously stuck his head above the canopy. He could see for miles, and had a nice clear view of Marli. The town didn't look any better from this angle.
Down below, Reagan unpacked one of the unit's remote sensors, linked it to his battlecomputer's telemetry channel, and sent it aloft. It popped up through the trees, and circled higher and higher. As it reached about 200', everyone's armour sensors bleated with alarm as four of the strange missiles appeared as if by magic, starting just above ground level and rising out of the trees to converge on the flying eye. As Jacques watched, the missiles streaked overhead and the first one struck the sensor probe, disappearing in a wide blast. The other slowed and circled, and he got a good look at them; about 18" long, spindle-shaped, with stubby wings and deep set eyes, they were clearly creatures and not devices. Ignoring the marine, they accelerated again and tore off, apparently returning to wherever they'd come from. Relieved, the marine climbed down again.
The platoon pushed on to Marli.
Map of Marli (click for larger PDF) |
Moving cautiously up the southwestern road into the town, the platoon passed the shopping mall; almost every window was broken, and obvious bloodstains were visible inside. Sarge sent Verral and Jacques in to investigate, and the rest of the platoon peeled off in different directions to check the rest of the town. Uriah and Reagan headed for the central square; Art and Gramps down to the school; LZ and Maid Marian headed for the fuel station, and Sarge himself headed towards the water tower with Dead Ted. |
Verral and Jacques moved through the devastated shopping mall, their initial caution easing as it became apparent the place was as empty as it was wrecked. As is normal for infantry in such places, they kept their eyes open, and more than one smashed shop till lost its' float as they passed. They noted all the power was off; evryone else confirmed this, and it seemed plain the town's power plant was down.
Further down the hall, the remains of a greetings-card shop caught Jacques' eye. The germ of an idea formed, and he hunted around the racks and drawers until he found a stock of silvered plastic balloons, two feet across when inflated and - at the back - a cylinder of helium gas. A quick snick! with his las-scalpel severed the flimsy chain holding the cylinder to the rack, and a sporting goods shop up the hall provided a golf trolley to transport it.
Other troopers called in from the dwellings they were checking. Even where people had attempted to hide, they'd been found and dragged out. Here and there in the blood, prints were found; two types. One was a long, muscular foot, clawed, with distances between indicating a creature that travelled in leaps; the other resembled a huge snake, and seemed to take the second rank in combat situations.
Uriah and Reagan, meanwhile, had secured the Crown, the pub in the centre of town. From the curl on the cheese sandwiches, the experienced barfly Uriah reckoned that -whatever had happened- had happened around a week ago. Pausing only briefly for a quick whistle-wetter, they pressed on across the square, meeting up with Verral and Jacques.
The sapper explained his plan, and soon a cheery "happy birthday" balloon was floating over the town. Reagan tracked it with his PRIS, recording the rangefinder readings. Around 150' up, sure enough, half-a-dozen hypersonic darts arrowed in from different angles, and the balloon was destroyed in a blaze of flame.
Soon all four were filling balloons and launching them, trying to overload the resources of the -whoever they were-. Over half the box was used this way, and no sign of decline in the available numbers of missiles was visible. Tests with three or four balloons hooked together and filled with hydrogen from the fuel station seemed to indicate that the missiles had no intelligence as such; they were quite capable of catching each other in their suicidal explosions as they attacked. Finally, they settled on creating a dome of tethered balloons a hundred feet above the pub - which Sarge hand nominated as tonight's billet - to create a defensive shield. Balloons were running short by then, but Art and Gramps returned from the Medical Centre with boxes of surgical gloves, which did just as well.
Uriah and Reagan made a surreptitious foray to the rather imposing bank which stood at the far side of the square. Unusually, it was undamaged, and locked. Uriah's battledress-enhanced kick made short work of the doors, and the pair entered. The bank was deserted, and untouched. All the security systems were down except for one simple bell that Uriah found and shot out.
A few piles of cash that didn't seem to be going anywhere disappeared, and then the two found the doors to the vault. A massive twenty-foot cylindrical steel plug-door, with internal bolts driven home by powered servos and controlled by an encrypted computer. A carefully-worded message to Sarge gave the implication that they'd heard what might be a survivor hiding inside the vault. Jacques and Uriah carefully traced the power and data cables; Reagan came up with a spare laser power pack to drive the servos.
Sarge called in at that point, and sent Uriah, Art and Gramps over to the factory on the east side of the town to look for transportation, as all the vehicles the platoon had found so far were wrecked beyond repair - mostly torn open from the outside. The three yomped off across the fields.
Jacques, Reagan and Verral continued to work on the vault. They plumbed in the power pack, and then Jacques settled down with his intrusion computer to try and slice the lock's encryptions.
Across at the factory, Uriah, Gramps and Art cautiously entered the gates of the factory. Perhaps because of more robust basic construction, the place was in much better shape than the other buildings in Marli. And best of all; parked in the yard were three wheeled lorries of local manufacture!
Posting the two troopers as guards, Uriah swarmed over the lorries, checking them out. All had suffered some damage, but he reckoned that with parts from the other two he could get one running. Unpacking the toolkit supplied with the vehicle, he set to work.
Meanwhile, the safecrackers had encountered a problem. The locks holding the safe closed were more complex than the hand-held computer could deal with. A little nervously, the sapper created a data uplink to the Brazos to utilize the ship's library for the task. The slicer computer hummed quietly and set to work again.
Uriah realized he was having some difficulty with his repairs. A little belatedly, he called in LZ, who made his way to the yard. Looking disparagingly at the antiquated fuel-cell vehicle, he made the time-honoured mechanic's indrawn whistle, and set to. "Did you know you've got that bit upside down?" he asked, pointing to one of the parts Uriah had installed. The fusiongunner decided to leave the expert to it, so, leaving Art and Gramps on watch, he set off back across the fields towards the bank.
Inside the bank, better computing power was paying dividends; the vault door had opened. Unsurprisingly there were no survivors inside; there was a substantial quantity of cash, however, quite a bit of which had "been damaged in the fighting".
As Uriah walked across the fields, a movement caught his eye. Far out at the edge of the northern forest, a shape leaped and then was gone. Alerted, he readied his fusion gun. Suddenly, about a hundred yards away, a shape, scaled, sinewey, very similar in color and appearance to the "missiles" appeared to materialize from nowhere and start leaping across the field towards the town.
Without hesitation, the fusion gunner drew a bead and fired, his armour automatically locking into the firing stance and his battlecomputer coolly enumerating ranges, blast radii, and threat estimations in his ear. The massive blast obscured the creature, and when the smoke cleared, he couldn't see any signs of a body, so he slapped off another two rounds. Before the dust settled, he could already see the leaping shapes appearing from the forests, converging on the town - and, inexplicably, already bounding through the houses, searching for the platoon members. He slung his fusion gun and readied his gaussrifle.
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Suddenly, with no warning, his armour's threat indicator blazed near the right-hand edge of his visor. Spinning, he found himself confronting two bizarre creatures. The things were around the size of a small pony, though slung lower to the ground; two powerful clawed hind legs looked designed for leaping, and were balanced by a powerful tail. The forelimbs terminated in three-foot blades of some bony substance; the head was a scaled, armoured nightmare lined with teeth. Segmented armour carapace lined its' back and the top of the tail. |
Uriah fights Leapers (click for larger image!) Yes, I know gauss rifles don't produce muzzle blast or ejecting brass. It looked good, OK? |
Uriah took all this in in a flash, even as his finger tightened on the trigger. A burst of needlebullets ripped across the short space between them, hammering into the nearer creature and punching it backwards, a spray of familiar purplish fluid arcing up. Instantly, the other one leaped. Its' speed was incredible; before Uriah could fire again it was on him. The blades flashed; he felt, staggeringly, one pierce the chest of his armour before his second burst blasted it off him and onto the ground.
Gasping, he looked around, the sounds of gunfire coming in through his helmet speakers. To his horror he saw literally hundreds of the creatures bounding through the town; from where he stood he could see some of his comrades fighting desperately.
Inside the bank, watching this through the centralised unit telemetry, Jacques decided that lying low was the only chance of survival; he, Reagan and Verral clambered into the bank's vault and pulled the door closed, cutting off the sounds of gunfire from outside with a funereal clang.
