Traveller Manifesto

Oxford – Today.

It would be the first occasion that the management quorum of Historical Research International would physically meet since the inception of the Traveller projects some years earlier. Though a few had, at times, gathered or met at international conferences, most business had been conducted over the internet.

But Professor Taylor’s return had all eager for a reunion. He was, and always would be, the first of the eminent academics to have travelled back in Time. Not only had the Professor returned in glory from the outstandingly successful Byzantium Traveller, but he had leaked news that he was in possession of authentic manuscripts sourced from the Emperor’s Royal Library itself. His innumerable photographs of invaluable works of literature and art were still being catalogued, let alone studied. Each knew those images would be a source of academic discourse for generations.

He had insisted, of course, that the meeting take place on his own home turf of Oxford University. Professor Lady Deborah Alexander knew the canny Professor Taylor well enough to understand that he was again up to something, that the location was not an accident. His insistence on a face-to-face meeting had been obdurate. He was known to be an old curmudgeon at times, so there was always the fear that non-attendance might not only cause a lack of access to the new data, but even see offenders voted from the quorum. It was all in his power. With his popularity and influence at an all-time high, Professor Alexander had little doubt that anything he suggested would be sanctioned by all.

It was also most significant that Professor Cowen, newly returned from Mississippi America, was to also be in attendance. Both academics were immersed in the contradiction of the academic celebrity status, with their valuable findings and experiences coupled with the media pressures, schedules, and professional jealousies such fame attracted.

When she had initially met with the good Professor Taylor three days previously, Professor Alexander was flabbergasted at the change to his appearance. Even though he had enjoyed a few weeks of royal treatment as guest of the Byzantine Empire’s most powerful Emperor, Basil the Bulgar Slayer himself, Professor Taylor had lost weight and was obviously much fitter. What was most noticeable was his bearing, which looked more erect, while his eyes were harder and his florid face had thinned. Almost a year of tough, military training and association with some of the finest of soldiers had changed him. He looked more decisive and, possibly, even ruthless. Not surprising, considering some of his team had been murdered, had witnessed the blinded Bulgar prisoners and the now-famous knife fight on the walls of old Constantinople. He was trained in the arts of clandestine combat, survival, and had earned respect from the soldiers with whom he had worked. No, he was not the same tweedy academic that she had known for many long years.

Could any of these other contentious academics have achieved his role to such a proficiency? With her colleagues gathered and watchful, she sat back and observed the proceedings with an inward smile. This would be interesting.

Professor Taylor personally welcomed each member of the Historical Research International quorum as they entered the room in Oxford’s historic Duke Humfrey’s Library. To enter this area of the famous Bodleian Library, each was required to stroll through corridors of truly ancient tomes, where the cinnamon fragrance of priceless books infused each breath. The message was clear. Here was a place where history was not only studied, but was created. For the library was founded by Humphrey of Lancaster, First Duke of Gloucester and son of Henry IV, King of England, after he had donated his personal collection of manuscripts to the University of Oxford before his death in 1447. This building, this place of study, was history.

Seated around a solid, dark table with an almost silky surface polished by the hands of generations of scholars, the historians were struck with the dignity of the locale. Oxford University was older than most of their nations. Yet again, it emphasised Professor Taylor’s stature as first among equals.

They were, she had to concede, an arrogant bunch. Each was dedicated to their overwhelming personal ambition; to leave an ever larger footprint on the previously obscure field of history. Some seemed peeved that their nemesis had returned, not only safely, but as an international hero. The stories of the trials of the Byzantium Travellers had finally hit the news and his rescue was a triumph. Turkey was riding high on a wave of Traveller euphoria, where anyone involved was lionised, studied, and elevated to the upper echelons of global celebrity. Already famous and respected from his role in advocating the use of the Transporter in the study of History and his administration of the inaugural Saxon Traveller mission, Professor Taylor’s decision to place his body on the line and join Byzantium Traveller had attracted more fame than even he imagined.

Though their meeting was casual, the presence of a stenographer had some members miffed, for it meant that every word would be recorded. As Professor Taylor’s fame grew, members of Historical Research International felt obliged to support and praise him publicly, an act some found galling.

Professor Alexander smiled. God, how he annoyed them so.

After the opening greetings, Professor Taylor got down to business. “It is, of course, wonderful to see each of you. As you can imagine, there were times when I doubted I would ever again see your learned faces.” His eyes softened as they fell upon Professor William Cowen, only recently returned from his mission to the American Mississippian civilization. The American scholar’s eyes looked haunted. Too many Travellers had come face-to-face with death. Thankfully, Professor Alexander had not yet had that experience. Psychiatrists associated with the rehabilitation of Travellers had diagnosed the shock inherent to those who witnessed such raw violence, especially when involving friends or innocents. It was known that New Zealand’s Professor Neil Chow still struggled with his own horrific experiences. As a small consolation, at least in the case of Professor Cowen the death had not been of any from his party.

“I welcome and congratulate the esteemed Professor Cowen for his courageous and astoundingly successful mission to the Mississippian culture of the ancient Americas.” Professor Taylor placed his hand on his heart as he gave a small bow similar to that which the Turks favoured. “We are so relieved that you are safe and well.”

There were rumbles of congratulations and “Here! Here!”

“We can, I believe, continue to confirm the undeniable success of the Traveller missions,” continued Professor Taylor briskly. “Yet, the missions repeatedly display how cheaply life can be treated in the 11th Century, both in the case of locals or the members of our team.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, for the slaying of the members of his team had deeply hurt him. Yes, conceded Professor Alexander, he had changed.

“We are eternally grateful for the sacrifices of Professor Cowen and we understand that there will be a set of seminal papers that will be prepared with Professor Hughes. We, and indeed the world, look forward to your findings.”

There was a robust applause and more cries of “Here! Here!”

“Without taking any of the kudos away from our esteemed colleague, I made the request that we meet as there is much for us to discuss. The Byzantium Traveller mission is also in the process of being detailed. You will be pleased to note our footage is being edited and compiled, while the results are abundant.”

“And welcome to you Professor Taylor,” called out Professor Alexander. “We are relieved and happy to have you return to us safe and sound.

There was more applause and cries. Even though the good Professor was a professional pain in the posterior, he was still one of them. He paused and looked up, his eyes bright. “My deepest thanks to each of you. Yes, it has been the adventure of my life, but what is more important is that many of my findings have a particular relevance to our understanding of History as it applies to Europe and the adjoining regions in Asia and the Middle East. While the list of topics and findings is prodigious, I will provide each of you with a summary, a preview, so to speak. For the record, here are a few of the most significant discoveries of which you should be aware.”

“But I’ll begin with a couple of minor points of interest. In his relationships, Captain McFee became friends with a senior Byzantine military officer. From him, our good Captain was able to obtain enough of the recipe for Greek fire to, we think, replicate it. One issue that highlighted the consequences of our interaction with the peoples of the past was the suggestion by McFee, quite innocently I might add, to develop the Greek fire into hand held weapons, like a grenade. Now, I understand that the Byzantine military did use such weapons, though whether the idea came from McFee, who can tell?

“Another event worthy of mention was the Emperor’s interest in adopting the double-headed eagle as the Royal emblem. Now, we know the emblem was used in various functions by a number of noble Byzantine houses, but we think the fallen crucifix-shaped unmanned aerial vehicle, felled, or gifted, by an eagle, might have influenced that decision.”

“So, do you think your presence might have also influenced our history?” asked Professor Abbas. The Egyptian was in the process of organising a Traveller mission for Egypt, a mission he expected to lead.

“I still can’t say,” conceded Professor Taylor, “it looks like our presence could change the lives of those we meet. Our current timeline suggests that these changes wrought by us were a part of the history. As far as we are aware of at least. Then there are the latest theories relating to the nature of Time itself, that there is a certain elasticity, that the Butterfly Effect does not exacerbate future events. Perhaps we can influence the past, but I believe it is a past that we already know. But,” he shrugged helplessly, “this is something we those more learned in the science of the Transporters will continually debate.”

“And with the attentions of the Emperor, you were compelled to leave,” added Professor Yumashev. The Russian’s rumble was iconic and, with the theft of the Transporter by the Ukrainian Travellers, he had become even more notorious in Russia.

“We were,” conceded Professor Taylor. “Truth be told, Captain McFee had become too popular with the Emperor who, it seems, became very fond of him. Many of the noble families were jealous and we realise that if we had stayed it was likely McFee could have become a victim of palace intrigue.” He gave a small chuckle. “You should have heard the other Travellers when he returned. Oh the joking and ribbing he received from Poxon who, you know, is as close to the role of group jester as any.” The tone of the meeting lightened and Professor Alexander realised that the good Professor’s humour had changed. Perhaps almost a year in the company of hardened soldiers had such an effect. He had often described them as accepting of death as part of their job. Such men laughed at a lot of things others might consider sacred or sensitive.

“I know our research is, like Professor Cowen’s grand mission, yet to be evaluated, but I wanted to tell each of you how the documents I found in the Royal Library will be of monumental benefit to our knowledge of the past,” he continued. Justifiably, he looked delighted. “Prepare to be astonished, for I have sourced fragments of the lost works of Archimedes, some of which I believe might be of the Epic Cycle, and even portions of Plato’s Hermocrates.”

There were gasps and murmurs from around the table. “When will these be available?” blurted Professor Febvre, her normally flawless poise having momentarily slipped. The academic yearning was palpable, for it was suspected that the rumours were true; that Professor Taylor might have found some of the most valuable classical literary works ever lost.

“As agreed at the beginning of the Byzantine Traveller Project, Turkey has possession of all data. As Historical custodian, Professor Askar has all stored and they will be available only after they are thoroughly catalogued,” he confirmed. “The conditions under which Byzantium Traveller was to proceed was on the assurance that all would be available to the broader scholarly community. I only recall and took notes on some works, those in Greek or Latin, but I photographed over a thousand documents, many likely to have been copied from the Grand Library of Baghdad. Consequently, many were in Babylonian or other languages of the Mesopotamian region.”

Professor Abbas murmured his approval while others looked to each other in delight. They would undoubtedly have first access to the mass of invaluable resources.

“I must confess that even I barely know what I discovered there. The images are currently being placed into a format that will enable all scholars to clearly access them and, we hope, interpret and decode them. But that’s not all,” smiled Professor Taylor. His excitement obvious. “I promised to do all I could to gather original sources and that I have done. Not only images, but real literary works.” He gestured to three packages wrapped in cloth. “The rumours are true! Yes, I managed to smuggle some manuscripts from the library itself, works that are original.” He looked up and his eyes twinkled. “You think the Dead Sea Scrolls and Gnostic Texts caused a furore? Wait till you see these.” He carefully uncovered the first package. “This scroll, I believe, is a copy of one volume of Livy’s Ab urbe condita libri. Yes! Right here, we have what may be a significant portion of the lost history of Rome. I could only find one scroll, I’m sorry to say.”

Professor Alexander was stunned, for in that one scroll, there would be enough to rewrite the accepted history of Rome, the greatest civilisation to influence the Western world.

“I have also brought another gift,” continued Professor Taylor, lost in his own wonder. “I really haven’t been able to view this extensively. I removed it only as the light in the library grew too dim. I believe it may be lost works of Homer.”

Professor Cowen, a specialist in the Roman occupation of the Holy Land, laughed. “God damn you Adrian,” he groaned in not entirely good humour. “You make it difficult for any of us to eclipse your work. Much as I hate to say it, well done sir!”

There were grumbles of agreement. But it was obvious that Professor Taylor was not yet done. “Perhaps the most controversial work is this,” he declared as he carefully unwrapped a worn, ancient tome. “This is, I believe, a collection of scripture. Yes, I know we have access to many that Michael Hunter was able to detail from his findings in Saxon Aengland, but this is older, much older.”

The scholars craned their necks to view a leather book with pages that looked to be either vellum or parchment. It was hefty, for it stood about 20cm or ten inches thick. As Professor Taylor donned an archivist’s cotton glove and carefully turned the pages, bright illustrations were seen, surrounded by pages of neat writing. “I believe this is a compilation of scripture that may predate the First Council of Nicaea of 325AD. Now I suspect this is really a compilation of Christian works discarded by the Church, which will make these works over seven hundred years old in the early 11th Century. God knows how these were preserved, for I was to suspect they would have been destroyed long ago. Many of the works I have never even heard of. Why or how it was preserved, I’ll never know, but these look to be ancient writings indeed. I actually found it by accident while rummaging in an area the librarian had not even visited. I think part of this might include a version of the so-called Kolbrin Bible, but we have to check to make sure. Regardless, these documents describe religious thought in the early Christian period, or even before. It may confirm whether Christ even existed. These have, naturally, been lost in the mists of time.”

“My God! Incredible! But what will the Vatican think?” exclaimed Professor Alexander.

Professor Taylor tilted his head and shrugged. “Who can say? There are the rumours, of course, that works such as these might be already housed in the Vatican Libraries, but that is, of course, a conspiracy theory. But know that this set of documents has already been carefully photographed and formally documented. As we all know, the modern versions of the Bible are related to the King James Version which was essentially a compilation of heavily edited manuscripts designed for approval by the English King and Parliament. To put it bluntly, the ‘Word of God’ was edited in the 17th Century from 16th Century translations of around 8,000 contradictory copies of 4th Century scrolls claiming to be copies of letters written in the First Century. No wonder it’s a historical disaster! We, that is Professor Askar and I, with his staff of researchers, are due to release our series of images with comment in a set of publications that are already under way. We are also summarising the works, book by book.”

Professor Cowen laughed again and quietly uttered, “God damn you.”

“How many works?” asked Professor Yumashev. All knew writings such as these would impact on the theological study of Christianity and would doubtlessly have a bearing in the study of many faiths, including Russian Orthodoxy.

Professor Taylor looked up, bright-eyed. “We’ve identified two hundred and sixty-seven in this volume alone. And, I repeat, these aren’t like the Dead Sea Scrolls or the often fragmented Gnostic texts from Nag Hammadi. These are by disparate authors from different times. None are in the 66 books of the current Bible, or even the 81 books of the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church canon. This is a scholarly treasure trove and, because it’s hand-written and lovingly illustrated by scholars and artists, is also a priceless work of art!”

“Can we be provided with advance copies of your papers before publication?” asked Professor Febvre. The intention was clear. Early access to the work meant preliminary studies on the historical raw materials.

What followed was some discussion on the division of scholarly materials. “Further details can be agreed upon,” declared Professor Taylor, “but these findings, significant as they may be, are not the reason I insisted that we meet together.” He gently closed the ancient tome and carefully rewrapped the silk cloth that, Professor Alexander believed, was authentic Byzantine. The material itself would be priceless.

“It’s about us!” exclaimed Professor Taylor abruptly. “As a quorum and an organisation we’ve been fighting amongst ourselves for our own petty glory. Yes, you might level criticism against me on this front, but this has got to stop! To seek glory through consistent and clever academic pursuits is to be lauded, while to work the political angles of the Transporter is not.” He scowled, his face having flushed the bright red to which they were all familiar. Despite his lost weight and obvious fitness, he was still the old Professor Taylor they knew so well. “Thanks to political interference, the Ukrainians stole the Transporter. It could have been destroyed, but it only destroyed the Ukrainian project and cost some of the lives of those involved! Did you know their fate? No, you would not. Do we really care? Only a few days ago our Traveller team on the ground at the Area of Convergence near to Constantinople found and rescued two of the missing Ukrainian Travellers. Yes!” he reiterated, “Members of our Turkish and British Traveller Teams bravely risked their lives to rescue two lost Travellers, lost because of political interference!”

Professor Yumashev glanced up with a glare and a growl, but Professor Taylor moved on with barely a breath. “And now, Michael Hunter has declared his resignation because of political and military interference that he rightly found abhorrent.”

“But what could we have done about that?” asked Professor Alexander defensively. “The military of the four nations involved in Saxon Traveller have banded together for what is obviously a takeover. They plan to establish a permanent camp in the past and use the hunters of Giolgrave as instructors for their Special Forces.”

“I know what they say!” retorted Professor Taylor sharply. “But what have you done about it? Any of you!”

“What could we do?” responded Professor Cowen. His Mississippi mission had worked well with the military. Despite that, military control of Mississippi Traveller rankled many in the quorum.

“What could we do? What could we do?” mimicked Professor Taylor. “Don’t you see what this means? If through deception and intrigue the various Governments decide to take over the Transporter for their own use, it means the timelines can be compromised, but most important it means that the use of the Transporter for strictly historical research will come to an end.”

Heads came up in realisation.

“Yes!” smiled Professor Taylor. “No more research means no more Historical Research International. No more us! No more opportunity to engage in ground-breaking research. No more primary access to new scholarly data and no control of the public disclosure of new information. Also we have been so, so able to create new business through the disclosure of old knowledge. Doesn’t each of us have a share in the Tatae brand of natural pharmaceuticals and cosmetics? Don’t we also enjoy a share of the profits from merchandise and associated media products? But, lucrative considerations aside, imagine what more can be learned. Do you want to lose these opportunities?” he asked sharply.

The meaning was clear. Transporter Corp and Tatae Natural Products, of which each of them owned a hefty share, had earned billions from merchandise and media investments tied to the Traveller brand. Consultancy and appearance fees of each in the Historical Research International quorum were also worth a fortune. Remove that, and the stellar academic profile they each enjoyed, and they risked a return to anonymity and the humiliation of competing for tenure.

“So, what does Helguard and Woomera think of this?” asked Professor Taylor with a frown of irritation.

The academics all looked at each other, but none had anything to say.

“Jesus Fucking Christ!” he cursed in a phrase he had heard so liberally from his Australian trainer. He seemed to have unconsciously adopted more than a few of the soldiers’ habits. “Are you fucking serious! You mean you knew about this and did nothing?”

All around the table sat, stunned. Stunned by the language and the justification of Professor Taylor’s angry criticism.

“Now we risk losing Michael Hunter; the man who, I might add, has provided each of you with a nicely padded financial cushion for your generous, lazy arses,” stormed Professor Taylor. “What I want to know is, do you care? Do you want access to the Transporter to continue or must we go, cap-in-hand, to the military whenever we want what has been ours to use?”

“I beg your pardon?” blinked Professor Alexander indignantly. Stanford University’s Professor O’Malley sat up angrily, as did most of the others.

“Do you want to continue in the use of the Transporter?” exclaimed Professor Taylor again. “I’ve fought for the use of the Transporter, fought for the Saxon Traveller project which, I might add, changed the world. I’ve fought to be included on the Byzantium Traveller team and had two of my team-mates murdered. Do you know how that happened? Do you?”

All shook their heads, as the full story had not been revealed. Professor Taylor nodded and turned to a television screen. “Here’s the fully compiled and edited footage of what happened to our team,” he explained angrily. “Once this is released, the Turks will worship the two soldiers involved. But as you watch this carefully edited collaboration, just think about what I was able to discover, about what each of you can achieve with your access to the documents here in this very room, let alone the other thousands of images of lost works. Then imagine what military interference in our projects will not only do to us, but also to the people of the past.” He paused to look to Professor Cowen, “My dear sir. You might find it expedient to leave.”

Professor Cowen looked up and set his jaw. “No Adrian, I must see this too. We all have to experience what we can.”

Professor Alexander activated the video feed and all too soon they were horrified at the violence. Before her eyes two members of the Traveller team were murdered and then bloody retribution enacted. The most terrible part was the realisation that this footage was not of actors, but of real people.

Professor Taylor stopped the vision as Erol impaled a severed head onto a spear.

There was a sob and stunned silence.

“The study of History will take its toll,” continued Professor Taylor quietly. “Our brave, brave men, and women, take calculated risks. They are trained by the best and, even then, some fall.” He wiped his eyes. “The two soldiers were Turks, Ahmet and Hazan, both dear friends with whom I shared hardship and hunger. They were both tough, capable and as good natured as anyone could be. They helped me through thick and thin. Erol, well he was another of the Turks, as you know. He was the one who cut off the heads, after our own Sergeant Ian McAlister shot them. Sergeant McAlister was subsequently injured in the rescue of Captain Cameron McFee and myself, though those details are yet to be revealed. You see, we met a couple of guards on the wall. One of them just happened to be known to Mac and Erol as one of those who plotted their murder.” He paused again. “I can’t describe what a knife fight is like on a fortified wall in the middle of a Byzantine night, lit as it was by only an oil lamp. Nor can I describe how we felt when Sergeant McAlister was stabbed deeply into his leg with a blow that will end his career as a soldier of the Crown. I also can’t describe the screams as the Varangian Guard, a beast of a man by the name of Asger, was knifed through his ear and into his brain.” Professor Taylor looked up, “And remember the young girl sacrificed to the Gods who walked among them in ancient Cahokia, witnessed as it was by our courageous colleague here,” he declared with almost a sob as he gestured to Professor Cowen. His voice dropped to barely a murmur. “So when you examine these scrolls and this tome and worry about your access to the images of extinct works, just remember the blood by which these are tainted and the brave men who gave their lives for it.”

Professor Alexander wiped her streaming eyes and blew her nose noisily as the usually immaculately poised French Professor Febvre sat disconsolate, her eyes red from weeping. “We’ve become so driven by success, that we’ve forgotten what we’re doing,” murmured Professor Taylor quietly. “Together, we’ve fought for the Transporter to be used for peaceful means, for the gathering of lost knowledge. Yet this can happen,” he explained as he gestured to the blank screen. “But what do you think will happen if the military take-over? Of course, they’ll cite ‘National Security’ or other vague, irrefutable reasons. In reality, they want to hide, they want to test weapons they ought not. Michael Hunter knew this so, with his beautiful wife, whose knowledge has seen the billion-dollar Tatae brand become a source of wealth for us all, and whose beliefs have seen the growth of the peaceful Forest Green movement that is the bane to established religion everywhere. Carrying their infant toddler, what do they do? They flee into the wilds of 11th Century England.”

There was silence.

“Now, I have one more thing. This is important,” continued Professor Taylor. To Professor Alexander he looked suddenly gaunt and exhausted. Her eyes still streamed and she suppressed a sob. What had they done? It had been so easy to forget the cost of Traveller, while she and the others had been obsessed with the game of academic politics.

“You will, of course, recall our friend, the first Traveller, Master Sergeant Michael Hurley. He has resigned from the Traveller projects. You may have heard.”

There were silent nods.

“What isn’t generally known is that Hurley had the courage to ask Zak Chandler to send him to Saxon Aengland in an unauthorised Transport. You see, he wanted to warn his friend. It seems the Generals at the heart of the decision to use the Transporter for military reasons are incensed at Hunter’s exposure of their activities to the light of the press. I find it interesting how the Press seems to have forgotten the issue and barely covered it at all, but that’s another story. Hurley warned his friend that they would come for him, would hunt down his wife, his child, and him. There will be a training session, you see, a test of new technologies.”

“What!?” exclaimed Professor Abbas. There were other exclamations of anger and surprise.

“Yes! While Hunter has no doubt disposed of his technology, which of course means he now has no longer any ability to access our Time for medical assistance, Hurley warned of something more insidious,” continued Professor Taylor. He took a deep breath and spoke more quietly, “Immediately after I returned from Constantinople I, with the rest of the Traveller team, were to undergo a thorough physical examination. For some reason the military doctors were unavailable, one was able to examine Captain McFee while I was examined by a civilian doctor accidentally approved for the task. It seems the rush to complete my examination bypassed checks and balances they would have normally employed. Amongst all of my scans, the doctor found something that should not have been there. A chip, more sophisticated than that normally placed into your pet, was under my left arm. It was later explained that this was part of internationally accepted procedure, that the chip could permit rapid location of any lost Travellers. Hence, we know exactly where poor Ahmet and Hazan were buried because their chips were detected by drone,” he explained as he removed a plastic container from his jacket pocket. Inside was a small capsule, only slightly bigger than a grain of rice.

“Did you know about this chip?” asked Professor Alexander with a frown. She, like the rest of the academics, stared myopically at the small container he held between thumb and finger.

“No I didn’t and, I think, neither did any of the others in the team,” replied Professor Taylor. “I suspect that most Travellers and members of our Special Forces have been so chipped. I fear that Michael Hunter has also had such technology applied and doesn’t realise it, despite Hurley’s warnings.”

“What does that mean for Monsieur Hunter?” asked Professor Febvre fearfully.

“It means they might be able to track him,” replied Professor Taylor.

“But why?” asked Professor Abbas.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Because they can? Because they want to? A test of new technologies? Who knows? What I want to know, is why was I chipped and not told?” Each of the quorum passed the chip around and inspected it carefully. As the container was returned, Professor Taylor opened it and took out the chip. He thoughtfully placed it onto the tabletop, bent to remove his shoe, which was a conservative black, patent leather shoe with a hard heel, and he swung it at the chip and flattened it. “Now, they can’t track me!” he exclaimed with a curt nod.

There were gasps at the sudden violence and a “My God!” from Professor Cowen.

“May I add, Professor Cowen, that you might also be so monitored? It’s time to take control, my friends,” exclaimed Professor Taylor as he replaced his shoe. Professor Alexander noted that the destruction of the chip had left a small indentation in the flawless, polished surface of the table. “If we lose control of the Transporter, we’re done. We will no longer be the world’s premier historical research organisation. Our political influence will disappear.”

“But what can we do?” asked Professor Alexander. She felt indignant at how he had addressed them, but reluctantly conceded his anger might be justified. They had squabbled like children while the adults had taken their toys without them even knowing.

Professor Taylor smiled and shrugged. “Can you imagine the indignation if the Press learned of the military’s scheme? Michael Hunter’s missive did throw a cat amongst the pigeons, though we all know it has been quickly repressed. We each have good relations with the news organisations, so I suggest we work the Press in each of our nations. Work with whomever will run with this. Get things moving!”

“But will that be wise?” asked Professor Cowen. Professor Alexander knew he, of all of the quorum, had the closest ties to the military.

“It will be a start,” nodded Professor Taylor. “Besides, how would each of you feel about being chipped without your agreement?”

There was little argument and he seemed determined to press on. He was harder and less compromising than he used to be and his famous determination was razor sharp. Professor Alexander looked around at her colleagues. Some looked frightened, while others were angry. Professor Yumashev looked thoughtful and gave her a sly wink.

Professor Cowen was, perhaps, correct. Was it wise for them to prod the political and military dragon with whom they worked so closely?