A tale of two worlds

This Battle happens sometime after the Battle of Sandringham.   The conflict has escalated, and the war is now fought on two fronts, Earth and Mars.

Several ‘keys of power’ have been hidden across both earth and Mars.  These keys are what keep the Martians tied to Mars.  they can be used to unlock a barrier allowing the indigenous population of Mars to travel beyond its gravity once again.

The setting is a French archaeological dig to recover one of these lost keys.  At the time the French have no idea what the keys is or indeed for.  The Prussians on the other hand know full well how valuable the item is and have plans to break the barrier.

Anyway onto…

The Lafitte Incident
Part One

A prelude…

Trooper Dumas of the Legion Terra-Rouge looked out over the dark shapes of the ruins that surrounded him and huddled further down into his coat. The twin Martian moons gave little light to the landscape, but enough for him to shudder at the eerie sight of the twisted and misshapen columns that surrounded him. The lost city of Ganash could stay lost for all he cared. He could hear laughter coming from camp. Sounded like Raymond has just won another game of ca va. He silently cursed the sergeant for taking away his smokes but remembered his words “blinds a man at night and your enemies know just where to aim..two inches above the glow..”  Not for him to argue with the sergeant. Not that anyone did. Sergeant Lafarge WAS the legion. No one knew how old he was or how long he’d been on Mars. There were many stories about him. But the most famous was that of the siege at the fort at Gauche. Over two thousand Termions has attempted to dig under or climb over the battlements for six months. When the Martian war was over the defenders were relieved. Out of five hundred legionnaires only six were found alive. It was said that Lafarge was found with the bodies of fifty Termions piled around him, and had fashioned a crude club from the femur of one enemy, having devoured his flesh.
Dumas shoved his hands so far into his coat that he found an old stub of a Drune charoot he’d forgotten about. Leaning his rifle against the wall he crouched down behind the large stones so that no-one in camp would be able to see him and lit it up. For a split moment he noticed that the glow was reflected by numerous eyes that stood directly in front of him and that the stars above were blotted out by the great legs of the gigantic beast. But that is all he noticed as his head was split in two. About two inches above the glow of his cheroot.

The next morning dawned on the dig site. Lines of Drune labourers were already silhouetted on the skyline, making use of the early morning cool. The soldiers of the French expedition were milling around camp or forming search lines.  In the officers tent Raymond O’Keefe was amusing himself by flicking dung beetles onto the research table of Gaston, the half deaf researcher from the Sorbonne, who was poring over the findings of the day before, including some rubbings of the central pillar hieroglyphics. The flap opened and in strode the tall shape of Henri, Comte d’Artois and leader of the expedition. His normally placid face looked drawn.
“Do stop annoying Gaston..he has got some work to do..”
“Sorry old bean. Any news on your chap?”
“Not yet. They found this next to one of those foul-smelling holes” he placed a stub of cheroot on the table. “Think he may have fallen in. Also, they found some blood.”

Gasto’s head arced up “Hmm, Blood you say? Yes, I think that about sums it up for these inscriptions on the pillars.”
“You’ve found something?” Henri bent over his worktable, flicking as he did so a dung beetle out of an inkwell.
“Well, the older stuff still baffles me, but the crude work is definitely Termion, but very old. From the Drune cipher we know that these symbols mean blood, and this one means sacrifice. But I’m struggling to understand this one. Appears everywhere, this eight pointed star.”
“Well all this is fascinating gentlemen” O’Keefe said swinging his legs off his camp-bed and strolling to the tent flap “but a face doesn’t shave itself. Back soon.”
Gaston raised one eyebrow at Henri in a way that stated, “why did we have to bring him along?”. Henri smiled. “Ignore him, he’s an old friend. And besides, we may yet have need of his skills”.

A moment later O’Keefe re-entered the tent, his face half shaven and a tear in his shirt quite apparent. He strode up to the worktable and took another look at the picture. “That is not a star gentlemen, that is a spider?”
Henri smiled “You English are so impetuous. How can you know this?”
But O’Keefe was already opening a box under his bed and pulling from it a stick of dynamite.
“Because my dear fellow” he said stuffing the fuse into the casing and pausing to light it with the pipe that was now half hanging from the dropped jaw of his friend “you have a spider problem”.
Striding outside with O’Keefe, the archeologists were met with the sight of the roof of the officers latrine lifting off to reveal a huge white bulbous thorax . The side walls already had several legs which had split through the timber and the door reading ‘officers only’ had somehow got wedged on its mandibles. O’Keefe flung the stick directly at its eyes.

Ten seconds later the largest pieces of beast and timber latrine had ceased descending on the startled Frenchmen, who lay spread around the crater which had once been the toilet.
“Mon Dieu!” Henri Comte d’Artois exclaimed.
“What is it that we have discovered?”
“Well old chap..” O’Keefe looked at his friend “always check under the toilet seat would be a good start I’d say”.

The detonation shook around the old city. Stones toppled from their perches of aeons and pillars tilted more precariously. And not a mile distant many eyes were watching.
Colonel Muller of the Kaisers Shocktruppen took the field glasses from his sentry and looked over at the plume of dust emerging from the French camp. More blasting? That one seemed to be on the surface though. Perhaps an accident? He winced a little as he noticed the dark shape of Spiegler appear next to him.
“Problems Muller?.”
Spiegler of the Kaisers own secret police knew just how to twist words. It sounded to Muller like “YOUR problem Muller..”.
“Probably nothing. Our spy still indicates that they found the main chamber yesterday. The item is already in their keeping. We still go at dusk”.
“Good. And the good Professor Snapes will do the rest I am sure. Any news on your missing men?”
“Not yet, but we found traces next to one of those stinking holes. My men are exploring it now.”

And further into the city more eyes watched both the Prussians and French. The Drune chieftain and his tribal leaders would not sit by idly as the desecrators destroyed the city of their ancestors or bring forth the power trapped within. At dusk they would be put to the sword.

And as the sun slips it’s grasp upon the shattered stones of Ganash for yet another day, the sound of the clicking of mandibles rises from the stinking chasms that surround our brave explorers….

Colonel Muller slid shut the fine hand-crafted telescope he had been using to watch the French.  The night was fast approaching, and he knew he needed to get this attack underway.  He would have preferred to have waited until total darkness fell across the campsite, but he could feel the soul piercing stare of Spielger drilling holes into his back.  There was something very wrong about that man, something very wrong indeed.
He tried carefully to recall the telegram he had received from headquarters.
French uncovered the item stop retrieve at all costs stop command relinquished to secret police stop assets expendable stop

What did it mean assets expendable.  He was travelling light as it was.   With his small force of elite sturmtruppen, veterans of many campaigns, and two newly commissioned armoured cars this would be a lightning-fast attack, but an attack that had no expendable components.

And what of the American.  He had already betrayed his own country in turning to assist the Kaiser.  Apparently, a specialist in his field.   An Archaeologist, a man who scrapes through mud and dirt to find things from times gone by.  What use would a man like that be to the war effort.

Muller was not impressed with how in only a few short days he had in effect lost complete control of the situation.  At least he could trust his men.

As night closes in the French are posting sentries, the archaeologists are around the camp studying the items recovered earlier that day, whilst the Drune Labourers head back to camp for some well-earned rest.

Under cover of the fading light the small force of elite Prussians moves towards the dig site. Even the Howling of the harsh Martian winds cannot hide the sound of steam engines.

From the west, a thunder of hooves, as a horde of Drune Raiders charge through the site of the ruined city.  Close on their heel’s hordes of raiders on foot, screaming like dervishes.

The Raiders throw themselves upon the French Foreign Legion.  In this sudden and brutal act of carnage many French fall to the savage blades, including Captain Legras. The French fire volley after volley into these fanatics but the fast-fading light makes it almost impossible to hit anything.

Darkness finally falls and something large and nasty stirs…