Traveller Manifesto
9. USA - Today

USA – Today.

Steve Morris squinted into the bright sunshine and took a sip of the ice-cold beer. “I’m not sure what to think of all this,” he commented quietly as he shrugged. “Something is changing. They keep making ever more excessive security arrangements. Don’t you think a heavily armed base at each end of the Area of Convergence is excessive?” he added.

“So, what’s brought this on?” asked Sean Leishman with a frown. “You seem to be having second thoughts about Traveller missions lately. Have you ever been in the position to doubt what we’re doing?”

They leaned against the hood of a rental car and watched the frantic preparations for Mississippi Traveller. Personnel and vehicles made for heavy traffic as guards actively patrolled both inside and outside of the electrified perimeter fence. The new fence had been set up on vacant land adjacent to a cluster of military facilities that included the local Army Reserve barracks and National Guard. It seemed a strange location for a Traveller base, placed as it was in suburban St Louis, but Leishman was to concede that it was as close to homes as was New Zealand Traveller. The real difference was that the New Zealand location was kept secret, while here the full might of the US military were involved and a small temporary city had emerged. Leishman and Morris had long agreed that the effort might be a case of overkill, but the US Military team destined to Travel back to 11th Century Mississippi to visit the mysterious tribes that inhabited the time were determined to have no fatalities. They didn’t want to make the same mistakes as made in New Zealand, Turkey or England.

No Traveller was to be injured. Not on their watch.

“Morally?” asked Morris.

“Of course,” the American laughed. They have been having more of this introspective style of discussion since Morris had returned from his training mission in Saxon Aengland, as if he had been reminded of human frailties and the limitations of those who made command decisions. Maybe it was the terrible death of Lieutenant Wicks. Leishman opened a can of Dr Pepper and took a swig. He had to admit it seemed the once glorious Traveller missions were becoming mired with even more bureaucracy, if that was possible.

“Ha,” scoffed Morris. “Every soldier, every thinking soldier, has to question everything in the end. Special Forces now see more action than ever before. In fact, we’ve been fighting too many proxy wars that nobody will ever admit to. That way, a nation’s participation in conflict can remain secret.”

Leishman shrugged. “Been that way for years.”

“It’s just, with Traveller, the grubs seem to be inching from their hidden places and are trying to take over,” replied Morris. “Let’s just say that I can feel it, you know, the distrust. All I can say is that I’m no longer as trusting as I once was.”

Leishman just gave a nod in agreement. Cynicism was always a risk for those in the Special Forces. It just boiled down to doing the job. Mere miles away, across the waters of the mighty Mississippi, reared the hills that were once pyramids and earthen ramparts of the ancient people of Cahokia. He couldn’t see them, but they were close. A beautiful bald eagle perched in a nearby tree to watch the activity, and the men below it, with unabashed curiosity.

“I dunno why I even question this, but for some reason I’ve been thinking a lot lately, about life and my career,” Morris continued. He did seem moody.

“I think all of us have,” agreed Leishman as he absently watched the activity. “A few months ago I ran into Kitchener. He started describing his time in Giolgrave. He and Poxon saw some heavy stuff as medics after the battle, as you know. He told me they saved a lot of lives, but being alone with the villagers while the rest of us were medevacked gave a lot of time to be introspective.”

“Kitchener!” responded Morris. “There’s a name and face I haven’t noticed for some time. Since Giolgrave he has virtually vanished. Why isn’t he involved here?”

Leishman simply shook his head. “No idea. He’s into something to do with Traveller, but it’s pretty deep. He wouldn’t say.”

“No,” replied Morris. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

They were silent as they watched more trucks of equipment and personnel enter the base.

“It seems either the act of being Transported, or our experiences, have caused us all to think that way,” continued Morris. “Look at Hunter. He’s one of the most dedicated soldiers that I know and a top operator, yet he’s decided to cut himself off from the military side of things and make his own way.”

“You know him as well as I do,” murmured Leishman quietly. “He’s one of the best operators I’ve ever met. There’s more to this than we know. He wouldn’t have pulled the pin on the mission if he wasn’t compelled to.”

“Maybe he just grew a conscience,” replied Morris quietly.

Leishman looked across at his friend with raised eyebrows. “A conscience, in the Special Forces?” he added with a cynical smile. “You were describing your own conundrum, I believe.”

“Sure, I’ll give you an example,” Morris explained. “It was Haiti, you know, after the quakes. I was new to Canada’s JTF2. I had a tour of duty under my belt, in Afghanistan, well that was where I was officially anyway. You know how it goes. We were ordered to help with the Haitian gang situation after the quakes. It seems the quake damaged Haiti’s National Penitentiary, so 3,000 inmates broke out.”

“Nice,” replied Leishman. “As if the survivors hadn’t enough to worry about.”

“Right hey!” replied Morris with a chuckle. “It was the usual thing. All shit eventually flows downhill, so they immediately made for their old stomping grounds: beautiful, shitty Cite Soleil. It’s the seaside slum close to the capital of Port au Prince and has long been a social symbol of the poorest country in the Americas. The heavily armed gang members who once ran Haiti’s largest slum like warlords returned with a vengeance. I suppose it’s only natural that they would go back there. It was always their home after all.” He shook his head and remembered. “We were briefed by United States Southern Command. They operated under USAID who ran Operation Unified Response there. They were having a tough time of it. It seems the gang members were doing their usual shit, you know, mounted on motorcycles and brandishing assault rifles and guns stripped from prison guards and all that. They also grabbed whatever guns and ordinance they could from local military and law enforcement so they became too dangerous to root out with police or conventional troops.” Morris gave a small laugh. “Oh yeah, did I mention the gangs were overseen by a stone-cold killer known only by the street name of ‘Blade’.”

Leishman chuckled. “Nice. Sounds like something from that old movie, what was it? Remember ‘Escape from New York’? It was one of those dystopian future movies. Who was the guy?”

“Kurt Russell, with an eye patch,” chuckled Morris.

“That’s it!” agreed Leishman with a laugh. “Those old 80’s movies,” he reminisced as he shook his head. “The bad guy from that would have been named something like Blade.”

Morris grunted and took a swig. “Right. God, now I think back, some of those 80’s movies were such crap.”

Leishman finished his can of drink and burped gently. “Sorry, you were talking about the escaped prisoners running Haiti.”

Morris paused a moment in recollection and watched the eagle fly off with a majestic soar of its broad wings. “The Haitian criminals weren’t completely stupid,” he continued. “They did what they do best. For a start they searched the rubble that was all that remained of Haiti’s collapsed Justice Ministry and set it on fire to destroy any records of their incarceration or criminal history. They soon became the kings of a teeming warren of shacks, alleys and open sewers that were home for more than 300,000 people. It was a hell of a kingdom. As you can imagine, the local Haitian forces were completely ineffectual and our troops couldn’t just run in there and conduct a police action as there would have been too much collateral damage. They would have had to navigate hostages, narrow streets, and building to building operations that would have seen too many of our guys and the local populace die.”

“Messy,” agreed Leishman.

“Yeah,” confirmed Morris with a nod. “That’s where we came in. To get the situation squared away, we were part of a clever, ballsy plan, you know. There were two teams of shooters, one from the US and one from Canada because there were Canadians in the command structure. Our mission was simple. Establish a sniper hide and then target only armed hostiles, which meant anyone in Cite Soleil who was openly carrying. Given the situation, anyone carrying any firearm, machete, or whatever, was a gang member. We were to take them out. So, as they swaggered among the locals they ruled by rape and murder, we picked them off.” The big Canadian gave a small shrug. “It seems the operation fell within the structures of the UN’s ‘advise and assist’ mission.”

Leishman gave a grunt of amusement and nod of understanding.

“Once we killed off every hostile in one area, we identified their local HQ and our strike team went in and cleared out the rat’s nest. We then set up a new position and the game continued.”

Leishman nodded as he watched the eagle soar overhead. “Neat plan. Did it work?”

Morris laughed and took another swig. “Hell yeah. It only took a few days and the assholes didn’t know what to do. It was difficult for the gangs not to show their machismo with weapons, so as soon as one was seen, they were dead. Gradually, the smart ones called for negotiations, but the government and Command would have none of it. Eventually, they took their families and just crept away. It was surprising how strong their loyalty lay. They really didn’t want to relinquish their turf. Not that the local cops would have been much better, but we did our job.”

“Cool,” nodded Leishman, impressed. “Good plan.”

“It was,” grunted Morris as he finished off his beer. “The trouble was that many of the gang members had family there. I picked off more than a few bad guys who were helping their kids to school or caring for their aged. I later found that many of the gang members thought of themselves as like Robin Hood and his merry men. The local opinion was that the local police and military were a greater risk than the gang members who only wanted to set up a happy life the only way they knew how.”

“So, the rape and murders?” asked Leishman.

“Sure, they happened,” conceded Morris. “There were many more after the gangs were gone and the police took over.” He rubbed his short, blonde hair in frustration. “I think I can empathise with Hunter, you know? Sometimes our way might not be the only way or the best way for the people concerned. For some reason, I can feel this Traveller thing unravelling. I loved the Saxon Traveller mission, the crazy way we just made shit up as we went along. Remember the training in New Zealand and that incident at the night club? It was like Summer Camp. The training was hard and satisfying and the Battle of Giolgrave a fitting end. Hell, I still have nightmares about it. There’s something about hacking off a man’s arm or head that is such an antithesis to modern warfare, where we kill from afar. Seeing burned body parts after a strike is nothing compared to hewing into some Viking kid’s arm because he’s trying to do the same to us.”

Leishman simply nodded in agreement, his eyes vacant as disturbing memories flooded him. “But, that wasn’t what you’re describing as unethical, surely?” asked the American.

Morris gave a small chuckle, but he still seemed troubled. His booming laugh was, sadly, not so evident. “No, of course not. Stuff is happening in the background. Now Traveller is the biggest game in town, there are those who, of course, want nothing more than to control it. I can see the signs and I’m sure you can too. Hurley, the world’s first Traveller, quitting. Hunter, the most famous Traveller, fleeing. The silent chess pieces are being manoeuvred in the background. You can feel it?” asked Morris.

Leishman frowned, and nodded. “I think, in the end, we have to be true to ourselves. That’s why the life expectancy in this job isn’t too long.”

Morris silently stared at Leishman for a few moments. “Be true to myself?” he murmured as he shrugged, his beer forgotten.

“Sure,” added Leishman. “After all, you’ve managed to bounce back from some serious injury there, good buddy. You’re one of the original Travellers, are wealthy, and can have any Traveller or defence-based consultancy job you want.”

“True,” nodded Morris with a grim smile. “That should make me some hot property on a personal level, I suppose. Being rich, famous and single.”

“And? You’ve been released from most restrictions now. Your government has been good to you, I believe. That should set you free,” added Leishman.

Morris again silently stared at Leishman as he frowned. “Meaning?” he asked quietly.

Leishman simply shrugged. “I’ve been a best friend for the last three years. Do I have to spell it out,” he added with a sympathetic smile.

Morris sighed and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he stared at the ground. “The Canadian Military has, for quite some time, taken a strong stance on the issue regarding sexuality in the forces. Drugs too, I might add. I was at one of the briefings when a senior officer addressed the troops on the two separate and distinct issues of homosexuality and drugs. He was quite a character, because he told us that, “If anyone catches you out in the dark and sucking on something, it had better have a vein in it.”

Leishman shook his head as he chuckled quietly. “Yeah, I’m not sure how you would have done in the US military. There still seems to be some healthy paranoia regarding gays in the military, especially the Special Forces.”

Morris merely nodded and then sat up. “So, how long have you known?” he asked. Though he looked tense, there was also a shadow of relief to have his secret in the open between them.

Leishman chuckled as he leaned against the car and placed his hands behind his head as he stared at the blue sky. The eagle had long since fled. “Oh man, I just wasn’t sure for quite a while. I think it was with your approach to Mae. Everyone made their best effort to romance her. Even me! But for Hurley and you, that is. In retrospect it was obvious that Hurley was making a play for Murdoch, but you? It seemed out of character. Then there was one of the nights when we hit the town in Istanbul.”

“Ah,” was all Morris would say.

Leishman gave a bark of laughter. “I saw you check out a couple of the guys, and they checked you back. I was busy with a couple of the ladies and then, you were gone.”

Morris sighed and then asked, “But you and I remained friends?”

“Of course!” exclaimed Leishman with a wave of his hand. “Hey, I may be one of those homophobic Mormons, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t my friend. Always will be I hope,” he added. “We both know where the boundaries lie.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” nodded Morris. “That’s important to me.” He looked relieved, as if a terrible weight had been removed. “As you can tell. I’ve been evaluating things of late, my life journey that is.”

“Anyway, we were talking about moral codes, or something like that,” joked Leishman.

Morris smiled, relieved at the change of subject. “Yeah, well, as I was saying before we were interrupted,” and he gave a sharp bark of laughter, like the old days. To hear his laugh had Leishman feel relieved. “I have my suspicions,” continued Morris. “Somehow, the higher echelons want to militarise the Transporter. We heard the rumours of establishing a training base in Saxon Aengland. That was why I was there with Hurley and Wicks. But Hunter scotched that.”

“Or did he?” added Leishman.

Morris nodded. “Exactly. Look, I’m a good soldier and I follow orders, but something is brewing.” He screwed up his face and looked towards where the mounds of ancient Cahokia lay. “I think what bothers me most is that we’re constantly being lied to about everything else. What makes us think we aren’t being lied to now?”

Leishman only nodded.

“Be careful when you head back buddy,” Morris added, his face a mask of concern. “This Traveller Mississippi mission is different to anything we’ve ever tried because you’re heading in with full force. We’ll see what the drones have to reveal, but tomorrow, when you go, keep your eyes open. Maybe the poor natives of the time aren’t the ones who are the most dangerous. Nothing is ever as it seems.”

Leishman gave a small smile as he nodded in thanks. “It never is,” he replied.

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