Traveller Manifesto

Washington – Today.

“We have a problem,” General Connor warned.

“How big a problem?” sighed Senator Benton. She thought little of the dramatics in which the military too often seemed to delight.

“A big fucking problem!” was his angry reply before he had hung up.

Now they were about to meet. This did not put Senator Ruth Benton in any better mood. There had been rumours that some fool had leaked the findings of the Israel Traveller mission to the White House, which then meant they would eventually leak to the media. The damned White House had been a sieve. Always had been and always would be. Disaffected staffers had let leak too many controversial matters and there had been resignations. Yes, heads had rolled, though none was convinced that they were the guilty ones. If one could not find the perpetrator, it paid to fabricate a scapegoat.

By the time General Connor sat opposite her, Senator Benton had cleared enough of her diary to give the military strongman time to put some of the nagging issues regarding Israel Traveller to rest. She knew the Israelis could be prickly. He just had to grasp the nettle and sort that shit out.

However, he immediately took a different tack. “Have you seen Major Anderson’s report?” he asked with barely any preamble.

“Not yet,” she replied, her face icy. How dare he talk to her with even a hint of irritation?

“Well, I think you had best place that on your highest priority, especially with the follow up analysis from Professor Rita DeMille from the American Jewish University. There are enough unsatisfactory conclusions made for the Israelis to be livid. It seems they didn’t find a trace of anyone called King David, of all things,” growled the General. “We’re waiting for Professor Cowen’s report before we make a call.”

“A call for what?” asked the politician.

“To finish it, to pull the pin on this,” he exclaimed angrily. “There are whispers, from leaks no doubt. Someone at the White House has stuck their nose where they shouldn’t and there’s been some talk about the project.”

Senator Benton grunted. “I’ve heard whispers, General, but I was to believe they’ve been plugged.”

’Well they better have,” he continued irritably. “You know the President’s attitude, that all is well until you get caught. Nobody likes a shit-fight!”

“Calm, General Connor,” she soothed with a voice that she knew would only irritate him further. “I’ve been assured the leaks have been plugged.”

“Okay!” he nodded reluctantly. “Okay. You say it’s under control, so it’s under control. But I have something else.”

“What!” she replied, her tone icy. She could never abide anyone who panicked at the merest hint of trouble.

“There’s an academic paper by Professor Allen Nguyen,” he continued.

“One of the original inventors of the Transporter,” confirmed Senator Benton. “Isn’t he the software genius?” She steepled her long fingers and raised her eyebrows in inquiry. “What does he have to do with this?”

“Good question,” General Connor nodded. “His paper indicates two salient issues. First, he claims to have a sensor that can detect the activation of a Transporter by measuring the radiation caused by the interruption the device makes in Space-Time.”

“Ah,” exclaimed the politician. “Peter Conti advised me of such. So now they have publicised the detector. Now we know why the troupe from Traveller Corp is in Israel.”

“You write this off as nothing?” he exclaimed in irritation.

“I write off nothing!” she snapped. “They’re in Israel. That’s it! There has been no word of any media coverage, indeed no formal submissions to our Government either. That they’re in Israel and sniffing around like junkyard dogs is of no real concern. We just keep a watch on the situation, as I’m sure is already being done.”

“It is,” conceded General Connor reluctantly. “But the second issue might be worth consideration. Nguyen theorises that the use of more than one Transporter at a time might cause, what does he call it? ‘A cavitation in Space-Time’. It’s something to do with the interaction of the fields in close proximity to each other.”

“Has that happened?” asked the Senator. “Not in the use of a Transporter in Saxon Aengland, not in Mississippi, and not so far in Israel. Maybe the people of Helguard and Woomera are trying to unsettle us. Maybe they’re just fishing?”

“There hasn’t been any indicators yet,” confirmed the soldier reluctantly, “but the Israeli’s are nervous. They’re beginning to run a little cold on the whole project.”

Senator Benton sighed. “Don’t they always? They want one thing, then they want another. They want to prove a sacred lineage, a birthright by which they can rule their little piece of land and then they want us to do their dirty work. Has anyone even thought to provide findings that will serve them best?”

“That’s the trouble,” offered General Connor. “The project includes some of the world’s most highly acclaimed academics. Changing facts risks destroying reputations. They won’t roll over easily.”

The career politician sighed. “My dear General, everyone rolls over when the right pressure is applied.” She placed her palms onto her desk in a move that showed strength and decision. The poor fool. Must she do everything?

“I’ve supplied copies of the relevant papers, including the reports from Major Anderson and the academics,” he nodded as he placed the folder onto the smooth French-polished surface of her desk.

“Thank you General,” she replied in dismissal. “Please keep me informed.”