Traveller Manifesto

Israel – Today.

There was silence.

The earthquake, or the cavitation that caused it, finally stopped.

The utter quiet felt deafening. For a brief moment, Osborne feared he had lost his hearing, that his eardrums had actually burst. As he watched incredulously, Time stopped. Like a scene from a movie, falling particles of concrete and glass froze, motionless. Hurley had a look of terror, the only time Osborne had seen such an expression on the dour Irishman.

Beside him, Professor Taylor lay with eyes wide.

Osborne realised he must have had a similar look. He had never been so frightened in his life.

There was a deep, resonant sound of sucking and then everything returned to normal. Concrete and glass fragments fell in a shower around them as people screamed. They heard prayers and cries of the wounded, but no quake. Thankfully, the ground now remained still. After staggering cautiously to their feet, Hurley helped the young Israeli sergeant to sit. The top of her uniform blouse was soaked with blood and she moaned as she held the folded scarf to staunch the flow. It was a messy wound, for blood ran down her arm and dripped slowly from her elbow.

Osborne felt shaky, as if untrusting of the treacherous ground upon which he stood. Instinctively he looked in the direction from which the force had radiated. Buildings lay shattered and military personnel struggled to their feet. One Special Forces sergeant shook his head, as if stunned. His ears bled. The contractor who had ordered the sergeant to silence knelt and offered first aid.

Professor Taylor was assisted to his knees by Hurley, so Osborne also helped him to his unsteady feet. “Oi! Come on Professor,” he exclaimed as he nodded in the direction of the centre of the shockwave.” This is our chance!” He looked to the United Nations representative and jerked his head. “Valeria? You okay?”

She shook her head and then closed her eyes to nod reluctantly. Her face was covered by a patina of sand streaked by her tears.

“Come on! Let’s go! Now!” ordered Osborne.

Leishman and Morris helped Valeria to her shaky feet as Osborne explained. “If we don’t move now, we’ll never get there. I’ll bet my left nut that the quake was caused by cavitation from the Transporter.”

“Like Allen Nguyen suggested?” replied Zak as he dusted concrete and dust from his expensive suit jacket. Realising the futility of his efforts, he gave up.

“It’s the only thing I can think of,” replied Osborne.

They moved unsteadily in the direction in which he pointed. Huge cracks had broken the ground in what soon became apparent was a radiating, spider web pattern that led to their destination.

“It looks like a bloody impact site,” observed Hurley quietly. In the sudden silence, wounded personnel struggled. As they passed the ruins of an administration building, some helped shocked and wounded fellows from the wreckage. The closer they walked to the origin, the more damage was evident. Soldiers and airmen bled from their ears and looked dazed. Some still lay, whether unconscious or dead, it was impossible to tell.

A large hanger was Osborne’s immediate objective. It had been the target of the jet attack, probably the F-15’s that they saw take off from the base when the quake had begun. They must have been the ones to bomb the building, for they were American-made F-15 ‘Mud Hens’ especially adapted for ground attack. Two Blackhawk helicopters patrolled menacingly, but seemed more intent on rescue operations.

“Run! Now!” commanded Osborne, jolting the inspection team into a staggered jog. Semi-trailers of equipment were parked nearby, while the walls of the hanger lay outward, as if burst asunder by forces from within. Two Israeli ground personnel lay, obviously dead. The cracks in the tarmac were so extensive that the entire surface had been shattered. Within the remains of the hanger, uniformed personnel lay everywhere. A bloodied woman gasped and moaned, while a couple of soldiers struggled to stand. Osborne barely cast them a glance as he led the team onward. Smoke blanketed the interior and blue sky was now above them, for the roof had collapsed. But they could go no further. Whatever had been there was no more. If there was a Transporter, they would have to sift through the rubble to find any trace, for the bombs had achieved what the quake did not.

A cluster of craters punctured the tarmac upon which the hanger had rested. The relics of what must have been a secure area lay shattered, the chain-link fencing and Perspex quarantine barrier typical to a Transporter operation strewn haphazardly. Osborne had the presence of mind to film what he could using his mobile phone. Beside him, Morris and Leishman took pictures and left the group to move around the wreckage.

Previous blockages to their Internet signal were removed with the damage, so they immediately sent all footage and images to backup accounts and contacts within the United Nations. Hurley made a verbal commentary, describing what they were seeing and regularly sent the data to Helen, his wife. She sent an immediate signal of confirmation of receipt. This data would not be lost.

Zak shrugged and looked forlorn. “How do you think this happened?” he asked nobody in particular.

Osborne shook his head in bewilderment as he replied, “I’d say Professor Nguyen’s theory was correct. I would guess that the cavitation might have been magnified by the activation of more than one Transporter in the same place at the same time.” He looked around at the damage. Bodies lay scattered. Nearby, an Israeli Colonel lay dead, his legs trapped by the fallen roof.

“God help us!” muttered Professor Taylor. “Transporters and death …” was all he could utter.

They then turned to help the survivors.