Traveller Probo
56. 11th Century England

The Saxons lived up to their friendly reputation as they prepared to farewell their guests. Tatae had insisted that Olivia also be permitted to attend. Along with the medical teams and their armed support, a few dignitaries from the 21st Century military also tagged along. Michael was surprised to see his old Saxon Traveller teammate, Paul Anderson, accompanied by what he knew were high ranking officers.

Lieutenant Wicks generously volunteered as Olivia’s guide and bodyguard. Like all who Travelled, she found the sudden change astonishing. All knew the forest was there but to be Transported from the Area of Convergence within a building to arrive into the glade was an experience almost beyond comprehension. Unfortunately for Olivia, she was one of the few who experienced nausea from the Transportation process and was typically vocal in expressing her discomfort. Wicks was immediately on hand to sit with her while she recovered. Michael watched Wicks with amusement and wondered if the hardened veteran knew just how obvious was his affection for the attractive business executive. She swooned and placed a weary hand to her forehead and Wicks was immediately on one knee with a canteen of water.

The military dignitaries gazed around the glade in wonder. They were conspicuous in their attempt to emulate Saxon dress but the clothes were far too clean and they had military haircuts and faces devoid of hair. Curious villagers looked on.

The village men and youths busily stacked logs and branches to build another mountainous bonfire. Across the busy clearing, Tatae waddled towards him, her pregnancy hidden beneath a voluminous woollen coat that reached almost to her calves. Her cheeks shone pinkly from the icy breeze that blew between the skeletal trees. It seemed the entire village was in attendance. As usual, Wuffa and his band of urchins ran around the glade with the dogs. Yffi smiled as he watched them. “Look at ’em, little shits! They’re up to something I’ll wager. Those wolves will be long gone. Oh, they’ll have other dens and will return to their shattered oak once everyone’s gone. You’ll see.” He yelled sharply to Wuffa as he darted past, “Oi! Don’t wander too far! Those wolves may not be here but they’ll be watching. They’ll crunch your bones as quick as sniff your arse!”

Wuffa waved happily before he ran off into the forest with a couple of the other lads, Yffi’s dogs in hot pursuit. The hunter shook his head in frustration and Tatae giggled so Yffi was forced to smile in response. “Just like I was as a lad, this lot. Wild as the wee folk and just as like to do as you tell ’em.” He glanced with interest over to a few of the visiting nurses who had gathered with the redheaded doctor and pulled at his beard thoughtfully. Yffi smiled with his cheeky, gap-toothed smile, jerked his head at the women and, thumbs tucked into the band of his breeches, sauntered over.

“Heaven help them,” smiled Michael.

Tatae giggled. “He’ll show them a thing or two,” she agreed.

Remnants of the temporary field hospital were stacked near to the Area of Convergence with the remaining beds, generators, lights, and other supplies. The patients were to have returned to their homes, even the girl with her newly repaired cleft palate. But, like all of the villagers, they were still in the clearing. She ran about with the other children, despite her mother’s admonitions to be careful. The children viewed her newly reconstructed face with a degree of fascination, while the adults watched her with a touch of fear.

Brother Horsa made no secret of his admiration and support for the visitors, for all must accept the blessing of healing as from God. With the death of Brother Oeric, Brother Horsa had shown himself to be a man worthy of the task of spiritual leader and had taken upon himself the title of Prior. Due to the reduced numbers of his brothers in Christ and the lack of monastery, he felt unworthy of the title of Abbot. Since the massacre by the Vikings, the number of monks had slowly risen to about a dozen, their newest addition being the son of one of the travelling peddlers.

Brother Horsa had become a fixture at the field hospital, where he learned perhaps too much about the human body and the basics of modern medicine. He sat with one of the medical team, both wrapped in thick, prickly, woollen blankets as the doctor used a pen and piece of paper to explain the circulatory system. All equipment, including computers, was forbidden to be used in front of the villagers. Even a spare stethoscope, which Brother Horsa had worn around his neck to nestle by his simple, wooden cross, had been retrieved. Michael feared that too many new ideas might see Brother Horsa branded as a heretic. But modern knowledge could not be contained and the monk absorbed what he could as if he was a balding, hessian-clad sponge. In exchange, he shared his knowledge of the healing properties of herbs and their medical salves and potions. Though his knowledge was considered minor compared to Tatae, everything he said was carefully recorded and collected by Olivia.

Sacks and crates of food arrived in the Area of Convergence and curious villagers gathered. Regulations specified that no food was to be packed in plastic, so calico bags and timber crates arrived a few at a time until stacked about the arrival area. Real excitement became apparent when carcasses of a freshly slaughtered pigs and lambs were stacked on the icy ground. The hunters were uncertain as to what the beasts were, so different were they from those encountered in the forest or their own village. The pig was massive, bloated monster compared to the long-legged boar that ran freely about the forest. In the end, Michael had to convince them that the carcasses were good to eat and were a gift for the villagers to enjoy, so Godric’s wife Hilda organised the women to clean and prepare the meat for cooking. Individual fires were lit and the lambs skinned and spitted while the pig was cut into pieces for roasting. As always, nothing was wasted.

Calico bags of highly-prized rock-salt were collected by each family. Dried beans and peas were curiously inspected but were soon soaked and salted for stews. A few of the visitors also helped with food preparation. Chicken carcasses were also introduced, monsters compared to the scrawny egg-layers that frequented Saxon villages but caution was thrown aside as the smell of bubbling chicken stew soon filled the glade.

Michael sat to tune his mandolin in preparation for the celebration and looked up as the visiting officers wandered across. He knew there was more to their visit than research or maintaining good relations. He knew the Australian and British officers and they greeted with respectful hand-shakes and nods. The military was re-evaluating their role in view of Tatae’s recent health scare, so there was debate as to where the military role ended and commercial interests began. Despite the lack of insignia on their clothing, all but Anderson were colonels or generals. Colonel Grant from the Australian Special Forces was Michael’s former commanding officer.

They took seats on the logs and, seeing themselves alone, Colonel Grant soon made their purpose known. “Master Sergeant Hunter, we would value your opinion on an important matter that we’ve been discussing,” he asked quietly. Michael looked up from his tuning to inspect his old CO closely. Grant was a soldier of the highest calibre but as Traveller projects became more important, Michael suspected he was compelled to swim in ever more challenging waters.

“As you’re aware, the success the Saxon missions has initiated a rush of nations to institute their own Traveller programmes. In fact, the Traveller programme has been the best news for Special Forces of any nation,” Colonel Grant continued quietly.

“So I hear. I’ve spoken with Hurley about the Ukrainian Traveller project and the Kievan Rus,” Michael replied.

Colonel Grant nodded and continued, “And you would have heard of what transpired in New Zealand?”

Michael inclined his head, “I hear some good men were killed. I knew some of them.”

Colonel Grant shrugged. “It was a tough business. The blowback is there’s been a significant shake-up of how the Traveller projects are implemented. Training for Special Forces globally has been tightened, though the New Zealand experience hasn’t dampened any enthusiasm, so we have to make sure we have our training and procedures in place so objectives are achieved and our lads kept safe.”

“Of course,” Michael agreed as he looked to the villagers in the glade. A couple of medical staff wheeled a keg of ale to a nearby log. With some villagers, they heaved the eleven-gallon drum into position and then wandered off with their trolley to collect another drum, this one of cider. Michael screwed up his nose as if to question the wisdom of the drinks but the American, General Connor, chuckled. “Well, we know these people love to party and we thought we’d show our appreciation for their hospitality in a way they can understand. After all, we know their beor isn’t as plentiful as it once was.”

Colonel Grant watched Yffi as he strode across the glade with Eadric, Alric and Desmond. Desmond’s two daughters expertly butchered a lamb as they laughed and sang together. Eabae arrived to help, having been collecting winter herbs with Alric. Michael knew they were seeing a lot of each other and suspected the trysts in the forest weren’t as innocent as they pretended.

General Connor nodded at the extended family group as they quartered the carcass and sang together. “Is that the family of the head-man, thegn Godric?” he asked.

Michael nodded. “Aye, they are,” he replied, “and of Desmond the blacksmith. They travelled with me from Snotengaham. We encountered Vikings on the way, as you will recall.”

He glanced at Anderson, who merely sat quietly.

The Canadian General chuckled, “We all know, Master Sergeant, the whole world knows.”

General Connor continued, “Such an attractive family. They look like any mid-western American family at Halloween. I knew girls who looked like that when I was a boy in Austin.”

General Humphrey, the British officer, spoke up, “Master Sergeant, yours has been the most successful Traveller project to date. We put it down to being best prepared due to your superb training and, of course, to the excellence of the troops involved. Now, this is where we come in.”

General Connor continued, “We’re looking at a training mission for our trainers, the men who will shape the skills of the men and women who will participate in future Traveller missions. Now, much as we love to visit your Saxon Aengland, you’ve probably guessed that we aren’t here as tourists. We have to prevent another New Zealand disaster and better predict issues that might confront our teams. We understand that the New Zealand mission was an ambush and we’re making every effort to make sure such an ambush isn’t repeated. We’re implementing better drones for recon as well as targeting every contingency we can to make sure our people on the ground are better prepared. That’s where you come in.”

His old CO continued, “Hunter, we need the skills of these men, your village hunters. Men who can get so close to a deer they can touch it! Now, I know that some of our troops can do that but we want to instil the additional skills these people practice every day. We need to sharpen our tracking skills and the ability to melt into the forest like they aren’t there.”

Michael felt a pang of familiar concern. “What are you asking, exactly?”

General Humphrey hunched forward from his seat on the log and looked closely at the Traveller. Michael knew he looked scruffy and hairy, nothing like when he had first began his training for the Traveller project. They said he had gone ‘native’ and, while some did not approve, he detected no negativity from the men seated before him. “Hunter, we want to have some of our lads come and live with the villagers, to hunt with them and learn how to improve their skills. We want this to be unobtrusive, because the men involved will be your friends and will, say, spend a month or so with you until you feel they have fully absorbed their lessons.”

Michael pondered a moment. “So they will live in the village, with us? They’ll have to have more than the basics in language and recon specialists of course.”

The men all nodded in agreement.

“I have to think about this, because we really must, from now on, reduce the 21st Century impact on these people,” Michael explained quietly. “As you know, this isn’t my call. I have to run this past our thegn Godric and the other men who run the village, like his son, Eadric, as well as Brother Horsa, Yffi of the hunters and Desmond the Blacksmith. They’ll make a decision and then whatever issues they raise can be discussed. Is that okay?”

The men were suddenly still and Colonel Grant’s face became expressionless. General Humphrey spoke as he looked up beneath his bushy eyebrows, “Master Sergeant, this isn’t a request. It’s imperative that our men gain the skills that you’ve developed through your close interaction with this people. While we appreciate the significance our interaction might have with the villagers, so far there’s no evidence that our presence has had any effect on our time line. One thing is certain; we’ll leave three men here once the main medical team and hangers-on like us are returned to the 21st Century. We need for these men to be trained sufficiently so they’ll be able to pass the skills on to their own Traveller teams, to ensure the troops employed in future Traveller missions are even better at staying alive.”

Michael simply nodded, for it was useless to argue. “Yes sir, I’ll make the arrangements.”

General Humphry just nodded and patted Michael’s knee. “One to three months is what these lads will need. Get the hunters involved and our lads will be home before you know it.”

“I might suggest one issue that will need to be addressed,” Michael added. The men all looked up and watched him carefully. “I’ll need to have your guarantee that the Transporter will be readily available. We’ll have to maintain constant contact and access in case any accidents happen. The training you propose will place them into high risk situations that can easily become fatal.” Michael held his mandolin gently. He had come so close to losing Tatae and their baby. How easily could any potential trainee die from accidents incurred in activities like hunting? Death could strike so unexpectedly.

General Connor replied, “The team at Helguard have joined forces with Woomera and are building another Transporter. With testing, we expect the new unit to be on-line within the next few of months. With Traveller projects in Turkey and Mississippi, we know the Transporters to be busy but we guarantee that we’ll have scheduled use to support you and our people. You’ll receive the support that you need.”

Michael nodded, as the answer told him all he needed to know. The Transporter might not be available as often as he hoped. Tatae might also need more medical assistance. He was caught, and these officers knew it. He knew this day would come. He only had to make sure of their access to the Transporter until after Tatae gave birth.

“Who are the men?” he asked as he smoothed a snowflake from the mandolin. “You suggested they’re men I know.” He watched as a final log was hurled onto the pile and then Yffi knelt to use a stone and tinder. Sparks flew as dried grasses and leaves caught. More flakes of snow fell.

A couple of soldiers tinkered with one of the barrels of lager. The first paper cup of amber fluid was offered to Godric who sniffed with suspicion before giving it a sip. He then happily gulped down the lot before he wiped his bearded mouth with the back of his hand. The soldiers cheered as Eadric and Desmond also gave the brew a try. Michael was concerned that too much alcohol might see drunken cases of frostbite if any of the villagers slept wherever they fell. In the cold, they had to be more cautious. A collapsed drunk could freeze to death. Colonel Grant saw where Michael was looking and laughed, “Looks like they like that!” he remarked as Godric gestured for a refill.

General Lewis, the Canadian, answered Michael’s question, “You know the men Hunter. We’re not sending strangers. The first is Wicks. The second is one of your old team from Saxon Traveller, Steve Morris. He’s currently contracted to the Mississippi Traveller project and we’ve seconded him to this training before that project is officially launched.”

“Who’s the third?”

There was silence for a moment and General Humphrey smiled as he spoke up, “Well Hunter, you’ll no doubt remember him. He’s been getting somewhat bored lately and says that you’re having all of the fun. We’ve assigned Master Sergeant Mike Hurley.”

Michael sat in thought as the villagers were ready to roll out the food. He sat alone and pondered over what they had discussed. How much of the 21st Century influence could the villagers handle before their lives were irrevocably changed? Would his decision mean a paradise lost? Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

A movement caught his attention and he looked up as Anderson took a seat nearby.

“It’s good to see you Anderson,” smiled Michael wearily. “I hope they’re looking after you.”

Michael could not help but notice the garrulous American had been uncharacteristically solemn. Normally he was the one to crack jokes and make smart comments. “It’s good to be back. It wasn’t really that long ago but the Battle of Giolgrave already feels almost like a dream,” he quietly replied.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you for your efforts mate but I was indisposed. Seems you did all right,” nodded Michael.

“Yeah,” conceded Anderson. “Some say that. Getting back alive seemed important at the time.” He wearily looked across to the bonfire and watched the villagers busily prepare food or laugh out loud as they drank. “They’re a good bunch, these Saxons. I’m so happy to see that that day was worth it.”

Michael said nothing but carefully watched his old squad-mate.

Anderson looked over and gave a smirk. “They think I’m here to talk you into this. Seems General Connor is especially interested in your guaranteed support.”

“I’m sure he is,” nodded Michael, “but why him in particular?”

The American continued watching the villagers and didn’t answer for a few moments. Michael realised he was taking a particular interest in Godric’s family, where Tatae sat. “Hunter, you’ve been in the Special Forces for a while, so I can speak as plainly as I can. If what the Generals offer goes ahead, there’s the promise of new, advanced military tech for all nations involved. But there’s a cost of course. The real mission is well and truly into the shadows and isn’t anything like described,” he replied quietly in his Texan drawl.

“What do you mean?” asked Michael quietly. In the sinister world in which the Special Forces worked, nothing was ever as it seemed.

Anderson gave a small chuckle. Casual observers would see a light-hearted conversation between old friends. “It’s a part of the job, you know? We play in the shadows. We go where we ought not, kill someone on the quiet, and most of the time we don’t even know what it’s all about. Most of the time nobody knows, only the people at the top. You know?”

Michael gave a small nod.

Anderson leaned forward and spoke so quietly, Michael had to listen carefully. “This mission, the mission they want you to be involved in, is deep. It’s deep into the darkest shadows.”

Michael nodded but his blood froze. Anderson simply smiled as he sat up, slapped a friendly hand on his knee and rose to saunter across to where the others relaxed in the bonfire’s golden glow.

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