S21 Board and Storm

There were two options for this week - either the boarding assault by G-Carrier as planned, or for the players to step temporarily into characters on the two lurking SDBs and test out ship combat at the table. In the end they went with option A. Sadly no Ric so he wasn’t there to confront his nemesis. Wales was allowed to be at the edge of his bubble as his ‘hem’ privateer’s experience was needed for several things. As Ric’s Dad, Allan was given the job of rolling for Ric, so it’s not my fault!

Slavers’ Bay, Somewhere Outside, Collace/District 268/Spinward, 321/1105
Voice Print
With “Skinny” Taunton in the bag, the PCs had a rummage in Wales’ disguise kit and unearthed a voice morpher, a comapct gadget that would convert speech to match the voice print of a different person.  Taunton was not very brave, and it took very little persuading to encourage the pirate to reel off enough speech to set the gadget up. 
G-Carrier
Three of the armours worn by the G-Carrier’s troops were usable, and these were issued to three of the SWAT unit; gauss rifles were also passed around. The flyer could hold 10 troops plus Nevada and Wales up front and Wombat and Feng in the troop bay. They added three of the faux cryo pods. The PCs’ armour had its chaemeleon surface set up to resemble the pirate armour as closely as possible.  The Carrier was repaired as best Wombat could do, but the rear section was still not properly airtight and made faintly worrying creaks and hissings as Wales lifted it off.

The flight out towards the Torquilstone was uneventful and within an hour they had reached the point that “Skinny” had told them to call for docking. The daunting wedge-shaped bulk of the Kinunir-class cruiser hung in space before them, studded with turrets. 
Snake Eyes!
“SM-1 to Strawman, please open hangar for docking” sent Wales in “Skinny”’s voice. A voice responded “SM-1, roger that. What’s happened to your vid feed please, over?” Wales cleared his throat. He had some improvised patter about trouble with the system but at the crucial moment, it all deserted him. Clearly unconvinced, the pirate comms officer at the other end snapped, “Wait one, SM-1”. Two very long minutes later, a different voice came on. “Captain here. Put me on to Lieutenant Hands please.” Wales swallowed. “He’s, ah, not here, sir. Stayed planetside to sample the local brews, and sent an extra pod in his seat.” Beefheart’s voice darkened. “He did what?! There’ll be lashes for this.” He paused. “Extra pod?”

Wales leaped at the cue. “Yeah, it’s a really good haul this time - nearly fifty! It’ll need several trips,” he gushed. Beefheart’s voice lightened considerably as Credit signs lit up in his head. “Really?” he said. “Come on in then, and we’ll see how I’m feeling when we’ve added it all up.”  The hanger doors in the dorsal surface of the pirate ship swung open, and Wales guided the G-Carrier gently inside. It came to rest in a large hangar, across from three air/rafts and containing the ship’s primary lift, just as the design plans had shown. 

It has been years since I’ve seen this many snake-eyes rolled at the Traveller table. Another here for the SDBs’ alertness. Clearly a coffee break
A security camera aft kept watch, so initially they sent out the three SWAT dressed in pirate armour with pods on trollies to take control of the lift. Meanwhile, they were waiting for confirmation that the two SDBs had reacted to them docking to move in on the Strawman as arranged. For some reason, nothing happened and they didn’t move. After a tense couple of minutes, the lift’s lack of movement was going to be suspicious in itself, and Nevada lost patience. “Flight SD-47, move in!” he broadcast in clear, well aware that everyone could hear it.
Red Alert
The boarding team moved rapidly, some down the lift, the PCs with their grav modules down the maintenance shaft. Wales and three SWAT stayed aboard the G-Carrier to protect their exit if things went south. “Skinny’s” codes proved good and doors opened for them. Emerging onto B Deck, they rounded the corner to within sight of the bridge and discovered two guards, one at each iris to the command bridge. Their heads moved like people speaking, but the intruders could hear nothing; not on the right frequency. Suddenly both guards broke for cover, red alert lights began to flash and a klaxon honked along all the corridors. 

A short, savage gunfight - including a textbook single shot laser kill by Feng, Wombat taking a painful wound and a deadly gauss burst across the entire width of the deck from Nevada - cleared the two  guards, but more were already coming into sight through the hatches aft of the intruders. Leaving the SWAT to hold off the pyramiding numbers of pirate troops, Nevada and Wombat raced for the computer room, tapping Skinny’s code into the door panel. 

Nothing happened. 

Realizing that the bridge crew must have locked down, they frantically battered the door down and Wombat threw himself into the computer console. The passwords they had been given did not gain them access, however, and Nevada began to have the sinking sensation that this was not going to be a good day.
I could not find the numbers for smashing in a partition door so improvised, and it shouldn’t have taken as long as it did. The perils of “NPR and move on”. However, it wouldn’t have made much difference had I remembered. 

Wombat hobbled to the port bridge iris and slapped a breaching charge on it. The resulting explosion warped and pierced it but didn’t make enough of a hole so he followed up with a HEAP RAM grenade which sent the whole thing spinning through the bridge like a giant shuriken. Feng charged in, to find the bridge deserted and a ceiling iris valve - not listed on the original plans - standing open. “What’s up there?” she shouted. “Drop Capsules,” said Nevada
SDBs Launching
(Credit: Ian Stead)
The firefight aft was intensifying, more and more pirates piling on as the SWAT desperately fended them off. Amid all this, Feng felt a sharp, heavy tremor run through the desk plates under her feet. A few seconds later a message came in from the SDBs, “Assault Team, we track five drop caps ejected from the ship and burning for the planet.” Feng, however, wasn’t listening. She’d noticed a flashing red light next to a large button under a hinged-back plastic casing, and a numerical readout next to it counting down from nine minutes.... Nevada paled. “Flight SD-47, we have self-destruct activated here” he called, “we are leaving immediately, get to safe distance.” 

Switching to an open channel, he threw all the authority he could muster from his Marine rise to Colonel into a few words to all the combatants. “The command crew of this starship have triggered the self-destruct and abandoned ship. We are leaving and I advise you to do the same; there’s nothing left to fight over. The air/rafts are yours and we’ll take anyone who won’t fit in them.” 
Another snake-eyes on the second Leadership to persuade them to disarm; and another undocking the G-Carrier from the Torquilstone!

After a moment or two’s checking the ship’s systems bore this out, the pirate troops signalled acceptance - though declined to surrender their weapons - or their still-functional door codes. There were occasional blows and grunts of pain as the pirates and SWAT crowded back down towards the hangar and into the four craft waiting there. Then the hatches were opened and the flyers erupted from the doomed vessel. Wales tried to move too fast and clipped the edge of the hatchway; the Carrier tumbled out into space as Wombat watched the Laser-Y cannon he’d worked so hard to make look functional spun away into the dark in several pieces. Everyone was jolted to their fillings, but the Carrier levelled out and the flyers scattered, racing for safe distance. Four minutes later, the Torquilstone vanished in a silent flare of uncontrolled fusion.

Session Date: Aug 22, 2023