A Lesson In Ancient History: Session 5

I can’t speak for other players’ experiences with Traveller, but for me, one of the most appealing aspects of the game is that you play relatively normal people. When I play Gabe, I’m playing a man who just retired from the Marines. He has a handful of skills, a good heart, and a lifetime of experience and purpose behind him—but at the end of the day, he’s just a regular man. He isn’t some galactic hero, just your average guy trying to live his life.

Playing this sort of character lets you embrace a more grounded sense of humanity than you might in other games. In Traveller, your character isn’t a demi-human with reality-warping magic, a mountain of hit points, or a double layer of plot armor. He’s just a normal person. And when he’s faced with terrifying challenges, you get to ask yourself: What would a normal person do?

I asked myself that quite a few times during this session. The answers surprised and amused me.

365-1102 …continued.

Sorrel pulled up her sleeve. On her wrist was some kinda device I couldn’t quite make out. She opened the door, and sure enough, two robots were standin’ there ready to shoot holes in her. But she flashed that device at ‘em, and they went colder than a snowman in a meat locker.

Then the whole place quaked like the lil’ planet was about to bust at the seams. Lasted near two minutes. Sorrel figured the alien tech nearby was causin’ it. She tried explainin’ it all to us, but it didn’t make half a lick of sense to me.

I checked the poor woman the security bots had killed. Moved her back into the elevator so we could bring her remains back with us. Sorrel and Zem went off to retrieve her oh-so-important research while me and Mitch went lookin’ for more survivors.

We found more remains… and more of them command-access devices like Sorrel’s. They worked pretty well—we got the bots herded back into their storage pen. We also found the armory: four snub pistols, four stun batons, and a pair of real pretty laser carbines. Guess the day wasn’t a total waste.

On another level, we came across a mighty strange scene. In the mess hall, ‘bout half a dozen fellas had been shot by a bot, but a couple of ‘em looked like they’d been beatin’ another man—Keith—half to death with a metal plate before they got themselves killed. Looked like a real bad fight broke out, and I started wonderin’ if that’s what made the bots go wild.

Found another survivor not far from there, a fella named Vaughn. He’d holed up in a corner with a case of booze and, figurin’ he was about to die, got absolutely filthy drunk. Of all the folks we found in that death trap, Vaughn might’ve been the most sensible.

We tried headin’ up to the last level, but the elevator wouldn’t budge. Tried hotwiring it and found some strange device blockin’ access. Felt like we were ‘bout to walk into somewhere we weren’t supposed to be. So, we gathered up the team and got ready.

Took some doin’, but Zem cracked the thing open and figured it out. Had a feelin’ we were in for somethin’ strange—and I weren’t wrong. What was supposed to be the sensor and comms room had been turned into some kinda shrine. Candles everywhere, chantin’ music like you’d hear in a temple. Zem recognized it as part of the Church of the Stellar Divinity. Now, I’ve seen some of their services before, but this was a mite too holy for even them.

We found a woman named Kellys hidin’ up there. Said she ran up when the droids started shootin’. Claimed she saw the mess with Keith—how he came runnin’ into the cafeteria yellin’ he made a mistake with Sorrel and needed help to save her. Apparently, that got everyone riled up enough to start beatin’ him.

Not sayin’ I believed her. Truth be told, I don’t think I’d believed a dang word anyone’d said since we first landed. Still, we detained her, gave the place a search, and headed back down to the APC.

Zem went down to fetch Sorrel. All the while, the planet kept shakin’, like it was windin’ up for something real bad. I know I was feelin’ it in my bones. Mitch and Coop sure as hell were feelin’ it too.

Now… this next part’s hard to explain, so bear with me.

Zem came back up with Sorrel, but she wanted everyone from the mining station to come back into the facility with her. Said she had somethin’ big to celebrate, somethin’ about her research. The place was damn near fallin’ apart from the quakes, and she wanted a party.

Then a Droyne shows up. Just poof—outta thin air—and tells us the planet’s about to blow. Said he was sent to warn us, and he could help us evacuate if we came with him to his ship.

Now, I don’t know much ‘bout Droyne, and I ain’t the kind to trust someone who just pops outta nowhere. But considerin’ the circumstances? I was real inclined to take him up on his offer.

Problem was, Sorrel had other plans. She pulls a laser pistol, says she’s gonna keep her team on the planet to meet their end. Starts talkin’ about meetin’ their maker and such. Honestly? I wasn’t real broke up about the idea of her passin’ on. But she weren’t takin’ those other folks down with her—not if our crew had anythin’ to say about it.

The fight was quick and bloody. Mitch and Coop each put a slug in her, and I followed up with a laser shot. Zem—bless his heart—still went to work tryin’ to stabilize her, even after all she’d done. I got a lotta respect for that kinda loyalty.

But the day wasn’t done throwin’ us surprises. The miners—scared, kind folks not five minutes earlier—suddenly got real uppity. They wanted to toss Sorrel outta the crawler and leave her to die. I mean, I get it—heck, I just shot her. But killin’ someone in a fight’s one thing. Tossin’ an unconscious person out to cook is somethin’ else.

I told ‘em to sit down and shut up. They didn’t listen.

So, I did the reasonable thing. I shot one of ‘em in the face with a stunner.

They got real quiet after that.

Dan drove us out to the coordinates the Droyne gave. With Sorrel out cold and the miners actin’ right, the ride was almost peaceful. Except the planet felt like it was comin’ apart under our wheels. Dan kept us steady. We drove that crawler straight into the Droyne’s ship.

Soon as we was aboard, they sent down a greetin’ party. Now, I still don’t know much about Droyne, and I surely don’t know what they consider good manners—but their greetin’ party had enough firepower to melt the crawler and everyone in it. I wasn’t too worried, though. After the day we’d had, it felt downright normal.