Traveller Manifesto

Mississippi – 11th Century.

Leishman’s arrival to 11th century Mississippi came as a shock. Far from the expected patch of virgin forest he experienced in Saxon Aengland, with four other squad members he arrived into the middle of a small base. When they emerged from behind a camo screen surrounding the Area of Convergence they could see half a dozen large military tents surrounded by the hustle and bustle of a vibrant camp. At the heart of the base, a wall-less tent acted as command centre and home of half-a-dozen Unmanned Aerial Vehicle teams with their banks of computer screens and virtual reality goggles.

The most insidious addition was the mechanised defence system around the camp perimeter. The newest version of Samsung’s Tower Hawk ensured no human or animal could sneak by without being identified and, if programmed to do so, killed. He understood the system had currently been configured for human approved firing only. There had been rumours of one test where the fully automated .50 calibre weapons had torn into approaching friendly troops. Now they were assured the system would attack anything not having been injected with the approved ID chip. With the likely presence of bears and other wildlife in the pine forest, he wasn’t sure the system’s inclusion in the base perimeter was the best idea. But after the New Zealand ambush there was no way Command would not use every resource at their disposal. The Army and Marines were to use Mississippi Traveller to field-test as many of their new toys as possible.

He looked across to a high pitched whine from an open area by the camp. He had, of course, seen the tiny Black Hornet drone that could fit into the palm of the hand, but these seemed to be a new, smaller model. The real issues for such tiny drones were of flight radius and battery life. A few personnel laughed as they tested a swarm of the new mini-drones that looked to be half the size of the Black Hornet at almost the size of a dragonfly. No doubt these were some of DARPA’s newest technological additions to US military reconnaissance resources.

Like the rest of his team, Leishman wore full forest-camo tactical gear. They assembled next to Professor Cowen and Professor Hughes who keenly watched a couple of local hunters who had discovered their camp. The Indians looked up at the newcomers, their faces painted and eyes wide with superstitious terror. Beside them squatted a couple of middle-aged indigenous specialists from the 21st Century. They could be Chickasaw, Quapaw or Illiniwik, Leishman wasn’t sure. There had sure been a fight about which of the seven likely indigenous tribes deemed as locals had the right to be represented on the mission. By the looks between the two older men and the locals, communication had not been overly successful. The local hunters seemed more terrified of them than anything that was going on around them.

“Any luck with the language side of things?” asked Leishman.

Professor Hughes, himself part Cherokee, shook his head in frustration. “Not yet,” he sighed. “I’m not sure if we’ll have any success. As the various tribes of the First-Nations migrated over this land, coupled with their own wars and the arrival of the Europeans with subsequent wars and disease, this language might be long gone. We’re recording everything though. Hopefully someone will eventually be able to make sense of it.”

Leishman nodded and then watched as a familiar figure strode toward him. Marine Colonel Tod Jamieson was the Commander of Mississippi Traveller on the ground. Much to his chagrin, he was to remain in the base camp, having been ordered to leave the exploratory team under the leadership of the more experienced Sergeant Leishman. In Traveller missions, rank often became irrelevant. “Hey Leishman, welcome. Just to let you know that we don’t have any new intel.” He looked at the local forest Indians who stood to leave. They were given a few gifts of strips of ribbon, which had them bright-eyed and nodding briskly in gratitude. They then strode off; lean, hard men dressed in worn leather breechcloth and moccasins. Their hair had, in part, been shaved and then tied back while their ears were pierced with porcupine quills. Colonel Jamieson and Leishman walked to the Command tent as the CO shook his head in frustration. “No human intel, because nobody can understand what the hell they’re saying. The UAV’s have been superb though. There’s a village about an hour to the north-east and a hunting camp of sorts to the west. Cahokia’s just a big village, though with a smattering of about twenty impressive mounds, which the egg-heads consider surprising.”

“Very!” agreed Leishman. “That seems a lot for the area. I know many were destroyed with the development of St Louis, but so many?”

Colonel Jamieson gave a snort and shook his head in disbelief. “Exactly. There’s something odd going on all right, ’cause there’s a lot more mounds than we imagined. You had the briefings of course, that St Louis was once called the ‘Mound City’. Our briefing suggested that many will be created after our visit here, in the period heading to the 13th Century.”

“What are they?” asked Leishman.

His CO screwed up his face and shrugged. “No different to what we’ve all been taught. They seem to be burial mounds, but in the immediate region there are literally hundreds. This is your gig. We’re hoping you can find out.”

As they spoke, more of Leishman’s exploration team emerged from behind the screen. The screen was a procedural improvement after the medical mission to Saxon Aengland, where the arrival and disappearance of modern Travellers was sometimes witnessed by the 11th Century locals. “Okay, let’s get this all squared away,” agreed Leishman. “I’ll get my team geared up and we’ll have a full briefing, say in an hour?” he added as he glanced at his watch.

The local hunters had already fled. He hoped they would prepare a friendly welcome.