Traveller Inceptio

A midnight phone call informed Mel and Zak that one of the Travellers was to return at midday. They had taken up residence in a rented cottage outside the claustrophobic confines of Welbeck Abbey. They were originally provided with a pleasantly utilitarian suite in the manor. Despite the stately architecture, it was still essentially a military installation with the required rules, regulations, and security. It wasn’t the place where they could return late, after a night out, or purchase the little dog that Mel dearly wanted, so they decided to live out their contract where they could breathe free air. Their small cottage was in the village of Whitwell, near to Welbeck, so was close enough to the Transporter, but still a therapeutic thirty-minute drive from work.

Any call after 10 pm was treated as an emergency, especially as the upload of reports was due at midnight. Though a team member was on duty at all times, the news that one of the team was to return was good news indeed. That is if he was in one piece. They were privy to the reports both Hurley and Hunter were sending and it looked like the lads were in a spot of bother, as the village Hunter had been studying was under threat, from Vikings no less. Both of the Travellers were advised to return to the 21st century as soon as possible, but Mel hadn’t heard anything conclusive.

Hurley was the intriguing one, the one who was always quiet. His mission had received little or no publicity and his reports had been kept under wraps. Mel knew his mission had been more of a reconnaissance nature. Though he had been accepted into a small community, he was never one of them. Hunter was the one who had made real progress and the world had taken to his mission. Every update became world news.

Mel suggested an hourly activation of the Transporter to make sure any further messages would be received safely, just in case.

Over the months, the Transporter shed had been improved from the semi-permanent extension to the old farm shed they had had learned to live with. A permanent power supply had been established and security fencing installed. The farmer was pleased with their improvements to his property and had consequently not only extended the lease, but also left them well alone.

The Traveller project was not without its own dramas.

Uncle Peter told them he had been under pressure from within the US Government to cut the mission in England short, while Professor Taylor lobbied for more publicity on Saxon Traveller. He and Murdoch had been at odds, as she had been ordered not to reveal anything until the UK Government was ready.

When Hurley had initially returned, there had been no publicity at all. Murdoch had been on a month’s assignment in the USA and Professor Taylor had taken charge. Mel and Zak had been at the centre of it all, as one party would tell them one thing, and another party something else. Professor Taylor always complained that the military’s handling of publicity was inept, so a rift soon emerged between the academics and the military.

Professor Taylor took his feelings to the media and publicly criticised Captain Murdoch as unbending and authoritative. Having no media communication from a government under siege, Professor Taylor took the step of letting the entire Traveller story leak. Unlike the Dutch boy with his finger in the dyke, the military couldn’t plug this leak, and before long, not only was it revealed that Taylor as the whistle-blower, but an embarrassed government was forced to provide more of the full story.

This happened just as Hurley returned to Saxon Aengland. With new details of Hunter’s mission, including the riverside battle with Vikings, the media made Murdoch look like a fool.

***

The Woomera technical team was on location by 0700 and once the Traveller was confirmed to be Hurley, Murdoch seemed delighted. Mel spotted the change in Captain Murdoch and she knew that this particular Traveller was…special. As midday approached, protocol required an emergency military medical crew be on hand. Their purpose was to ensure Hurley’s health and they would conduct a thorough physical examination before he was released.

The unexpected arrival of Professor Taylor and his staff to the shed, with an accompanying media team, immediately changed the mood.

“Professor Taylor, you are to immediately remove the media from the Transporter area. Their presence is not permitted,” Murdoch advised scathingly while cameras recorded all.

The professor drew himself to his full height and stared at her like an angry rooster. “May I remind you Captain, that this project is under my management? Your role is in the training of our team. I will not be dictated to by your masters as to what the media can or cannot be told. These men are heroes and deserve all the accolades publicity can give. Having Travelled one-thousand years into the past and returned, without so much as a footnote, is a crime. These men deserve this, as does the entire Saxon Traveller team. Besides, the public have a right to know!”

Murdoch seethed and stalked from the chamber to make phone calls, but there was nothing else she could do.

When Hurley arrived, his foot resting jauntily on the artificial stump which housed the latest voice and image data, he arrived not to an empty facility, as he had before, but to a hero’s welcome. Mel thought he looked leaner and tougher, if that was possible. Thanks to Taylor’s media relations, the world finally learned about Mike Hurley.

Mel watched Hurley’s face split into a cheeky grin. She could imagine his shock, travelling from a dense forest to a media pack held at bay through the intervening bulletproof glass. His face changed subtly as he spotted Murdoch and Mel knew, without a doubt, they were a couple. She smiled at her discovery and looked around in wonder. Didn’t anyone else find it obvious? My God, the media would love that little titbit if they ever found out.

Hurley looked like a Saxon Grizzly Adams. Despite having just been involved in a conflict with the Vikings, he looked healthy, capable and dirty.

He heard the cheer of his comrades, dressed like he was, who watched from the observation area. Hurley wore his sword at his chest and he casually pulled his pack off his back and dropped it to the pristine, white-tiled floor. He looked mystified, for he hadn’t been long on this leg of his mission. After returning from his month in Aengland to an empty chamber, he obviously didn’t know what the fuss was about. He looked to speak and the noisy barrage of media questions was stifled. Every spectator quieted to hear his first words, the first ever recorded as spoken by a person who had officially returned from a mission to the past. They leaned forward in expectation and the cameras whirred.

“God, I’d kill for a cuppa,” said Hurley.