This is a record of an actual play Traveller campaign from my characters point of view and in his voice. I do not depict any game mechanics or actual rolls in this narrative.

254-1102
Zem and Mitch went off buyin’ and loadin’ cargo while I spent some time shoppin’ ‘round for a personal computer. I loaded it up with some brokerin’ software—figured it might help us make a few extra creds on the side. Threw in a veterinary suite too, just in case somethin’ happens to our little pup along the way.

Andre gave us the word fly the HighnDry to Meritractor. The ol’ ship looked a whole lot better after a week in the yard. They even loaded in a couple vac suits and an air raft. Makes dyin’ in the cold black of space just a lil’ less likely. Zem took care o’ most the travel details while Coop and I gave the ship a once-over.

I wrapped up my mechanics certification, finally. Felt good to lend Coop a proper hand gettin’ the old girl squared away. The repair crew did a decent job, but let’s be honest—the HighnDry is an old beast. She’ll fly, but she’s got character, if ya know what I mean.

263-1102
We hit Faldor and had to pull off a wild refuel. Took us a whole day scroungin’ up water to fill the tanks proper. It was easy work though.

273-1102
Back at Walston again. Gotta say, it was kinda nice returnin’ there. Hell, even the local dictator came out to see us while we were in town. Sold off most of our cargo and made ourselves a decent haul in credits. If I’da known haulin’ freight could turn this kinda profit, I mighta quit the Marines a whole lot sooner.

283-1102
We touched down at Noctocol—our second cargo drop. I made more money on that one delivery than I seen in two whole years of pension. Easiest damn money I ever made. Place was little more than a dirt patch masqueradin’ as a landing pad. Didn’t even have fuel resupply. Just dust and wind.

284-1102
Had to do a gas giant skim for fuel. First time I ever pulled one of those. Lucky for us, Zem knew what he was doin’. I tried helpin’ by runnin’ the sensors, but lookin’ into that gas giant was like starin’ into a thick bowl of soup—just swirls and pressure and nothin’ useful to make out. Still, Zem kept his hands steady on the stick and we got what we needed to push on to Dallia.

293-1102
We arrived at Dallia. Used our vouchers to restock the food and fuel. In and out, nothin’ fancy.

302-1102
Made it to Mertactor—put us square back in the Imperium. Not much more than a piddly planetoid, with gravity makin’ us feel about half what we’re used to. We docked at bay 8 on the high-port and reported in to Jace Ellison. He took the HighnDry off our hands. Job done. Ship delivered.

They dropped us planet-side afterward. Whole place was covered in jungle—more green than I’d seen in years. Customs waved us through without fuss, though I had to check in my laser rifle.

We was on our way to the bank when a courier flagged us down. Handed a briefcase right to Zem. Looked strange as hell—how’d anyone even know we’d be there, let alone who to hand it to?

Didn’t even make it to the bank before Zem’s communicator lit up with an encrypted message.

We deposited our creds, then grabbed a bite at a little outdoor café. Nice spot—they let us bring our pup, Kimberly, so she sat under the table gnawin’ on half my meal. Zem picked up the check, which was kind of him. Then he pulled out the briefcase.

Thing was beat to hell, looked like it’d seen a few wars. Heavy too. Had a code lock on it. We figured that encrypted message might hold the code—and sure enough, it did. Zem punched it in, and the latch clicked open.

Inside was a heavy laser pistol sittin’ in foam next to a box of ammo. That alone had my attention. But then there were two sample cases—the kind science folk use to carry sensitive specimens. Mitch took one look and called it a “Carter Case.” Fancy gear, worth a cool million just by itself. Whoever wanted our attention had deep pockets.

Zem fished out a note tucked in between the cases. He read it quiet at first, then passed it around. It said:

“The gun is just to get your attention and, well, you know. I think they found something and it’s big. I need you to come and get me and we’ll slip some more of this stuff out when we leave. Look for a scout ship named Garnette. Her skipper is Bernadatta.”

Zem said Sorrel was like a bad penny—always turnin’ up when you least expect her. He didn’t rightly know what she did for a livin’, just that she skirted the edge of the law and always had herself tangled up in some kind of oddball adventure.

I had my doubts, sure as sunrise. But we decided to help her out anyway. Did a search for her ship, but nothin’ showed it planetside. Dug into the old flight plans, and sure enough, the Garnette had a recorded departure for a planet called Egypt about three months back.

Still didn’t sit right with me. Felt like chasin’ ghosts across the stars. But Zem seemed mighty eager for the ride, like this whole thing lit a fire in him. So we booked ourselves passage to Egypt.

We had three nights to kill ‘fore the flight, so we rented some rooms to lay low. That first night, curiosity got the better of us. We opened up one of them scientific sample containers. Inside was a gem—strangest damn thing I ever laid eyes on. Seemed to change colors dependin’ on who was lookin’ at it and from what angle. Even without light, the colors just kept shiftin’ like it was alive. Ran a scan on it with my comp, and it flagged as an exotic gem—artificial, not naturally made. It gave off a little heat too, and it glowed whenever you brought a magnet near.

We cracked open another case. Inside were some jagged chunks of metal, looked like they’d been hacked or bashed off somethin’. They weren’t magnetic. Didn’t do much around the gem—’cept when Coop or Zem held it. Then the gem started gettin’ warmer, and both pieces gave off a soft glow. It was subtle, but noticeable. Heavy, too—dense as hell. Wouldn’t heat up with flame neither. The metal had this strange honeycomb pattern inside, which didn’t make a lick of sense considerin’ how dang heavy it was.

305-1102
We hitched a ride to Egypt aboard the Far Trader Interstellar Wayfarer, captained by one Tliaqrnad—odd name, nice enough fella.

When they scanned our briefcase with the laser pistol inside, it came up showin’ just papers and office supplies. Some kinda trick case, clearly. Steward told us Kimberly had to stay put in our cabin for the duration of the jump. Not ideal—makes it tough to give her a proper run—but rules is rules, and we weren’t lookin’ to rock the boat.

314-1102
We touched down on Egypt, the main world in the system, though it ain’t alone—ten other planets and two asteroid belts keep things plenty busy. Whole place felt heavy, especially after our time on Mertactor. Gravity here’ll remind you what you’re packin’ on your bones.

Weren’t a hospitable world, neither. Just steppin’ outside the domed cities meant suitin’ up in a vac suit, or else you’d be suckin’ vacuum for your last breath.

Customs waved us through without so much as a second look, and Zem went straight to the starport terminal to run a check on the Garnette. Nothin’ turned up. So we hit the streets, askin’ around to see if anyone had laid eyes on it.

Found ourselves in a bar, talkin’ to a fella named Alexander. He claimed CPT Khaled had gone planetside about a month back. Said she was one of them “Ancient hunters”—folks who wheel and deal in relics, tech, and stories from way back. According to him, Khaled and her crew had done business with some museum curator down on the main planet. He offered to dig up their last flight plan—for the price of a drink, naturally.

We bought shuttle tickets down from the high port. Planet-side, the town was cobbled together from shipping containers, stacked like bricks. Not much to look at, but it did the job. We asked after the Museum of the Ancients and got pointed to Sector Three, corner of 4th and 33rd. Only took about ten minutes to walk there, which was a blessing since Kimberly hadn’t stretched her legs in near a week.

Damnedest thing though—after all the trainin’ and time I’d spent with that pup, she still doted on Mitch like he’d raised her himself. I’ll admit, it got under my skin a little. Guess you can’t win every heart and tail wag.

The museum had one of them loud, glowin’ tourist trap signs out front. Mitch covered the entry fee. Inside was a mess of stories and theories about the Ancients, half of which sounded like space fairy tales. Still, we poked around ‘til we found the fella runnin’ the place—called himself the “Captain of Knowledge,” though his real name was Aish Nirka.

Zem asked about the Garnette, and Aish confirmed Khaled had visited about a month back, with Sorrel in tow. Apparently she’d dropped off a few artifacts for study. He rambled on a bit, said they were huntin’ down some kind of specimen. Took a bit of coaxin’, but eventually he admitted Khaled had headed to the planet Callia. Told us we might find a contact there—someone named Blanka.

We showed him the strange metal and the gem. He figured the metal came off an Ancient ship, and said the gem was some kind of psionic amplifier—a “meditation gem,” he called it. Zem put the thing up to his head like he was tryin’ to use it. For a second there, I had to wonder—what if he was? Would’ve been somethin’, realizin’ I’d been bunkin’ with a Psion all this time.

We took the shuttle back up to high port, and just as we were steppin’ off, we saw a group of Droyne standin’ there, starin’ at the shuttle we came in on. Just standin’ real still. Then all of a sudden, they turned and walked away together, like one body with a dozen legs. Gave me the creeps. Mitch seemed to think it was more than odd—said we oughta follow ‘em. So we did.

They moved strange, all synchronized like. We tried to keep up, but eventually they vanished into the crowd. Little buggers moved too quick for us.

Booked ourselves passage to Callia. Desert world, but plenty folks live there. A subsidized merchant was passin’ by in two days, so we grabbed ourselves a spot aboard.