Traveller Probo

Tiny glasses of Turkish tea steamed as the men gathered in a common area that had become an informal meeting place. A Turkish Army cook and his team hurried to prepare food, while Osborne guided his old comrades around their facilities. “It’s not as salubrious as the stately home of old Welbeck,” he apologised, “but it’s good enough for us.”

“Seems like the tea is pretty well the same,” smiled Hurley as he sipped the sweet Turkish tea from a small glass. During their training for the original Saxon Traveller, even the Americans learned to prefer tea over coffee. As the tea was poured, Morris sighed, “Well, this is nice. I haven’t had a nice cuppa in ages. It’s almost like old-times,” he smiled. Osborne found it difficult to equate the clean-cut Canadian as the same bushy-moustached giant who had saved his life from the attacking Vikings. That was when Morris had been stabbed and his life, like Osborne’s, irrevocably changed. Osborne silently raised his drink and they clinked glasses.

“Jeeze Ozzie, your blokes looked pretty good,” exclaimed Hurley. “They looked all done in but responded well. What’s your aim, to move them away from the sword to spears or what?” he asked.

Osborne nodded a moment, “Well we still aren’t sure. As you know we’ve had the Wushu guys over and learned a hell of a lot about spear use. You know what bloody curry the Vikings gave us with their spears, so we’ve been working on our lads to have proficiency with the sword and shield as well as the spear.”

“We’re in the same boat I’m afraid,” replied Hurley. “We’d bloody well love someone who had some real skill in the long-axe too but there are none. Sure, there are a few lads out there giving it their best shot but nothing like the buggers my team might meet. So, were the Wushu trainers useful? We’re looking at the same skill set as you and were hoping they’d be worth a try.”

They chatted a while; light, general chatter as old comrades and friends. Soon, platters of meat balls, olives, breads, and Turkish Pizzas loaded the table. There was continued discussion on the best way to access weapon skills the troops would need. Then the inevitable happened as Osborne directed his attention to Hami.

“Hey mate, great to see you here. From what we hear, you made it through some heavy shit” he remarked gently.

Hami chewed and swallowed as he thought a moment. “Yeah, it was.”

There was silence around the table.

“So, how did the court martial go?” queried Hurley lightly. Having survived Murdoch’s ordeal, he felt the most qualified to ask.

Hami simply nodded, “Yeah, all right. Sometimes they forget we prefer not to constantly replay the event but you get through it.”

Osborne nodded, “Yeah, we do.” He arched his eyebrows to Chuck, who leant forward and exclaimed, “Well, you’re here, which is the main thing. We know you’re a Kiwi and all but, all that aside, we thought we might have a job for you if you’re interested. Not sure if anyone told you about it but we thought it was a gig best suited to you. It has a cost of course.”

“What’s that?” smiled Hami, who looked relieved. Osborne knew that feeling. He heard that the burden of the court-martial had been considerable and, after the funerals for the soldiers who had been killed, Hami and the rest of the team had been given leave.

Chuck smiled an evil smile, “Well you have to put up with us. Baki here is a good bloke but Osborne is a stinky bastard and farts like a fucking trooper, especially when we eat chick-peas. Jesus!” and he shook his head in disbelief, “You’ve never heard anything like it! As for me, well, I can be a right cunt at times.”

Osborne smiled grimly and nodded, “He can at that,” and there were chuckles all round. “Your other mates, Pokere and Ngawaka, they’ve opted for leave?”

Hami simply nodded, “Yeah, they have. I thought, for me, it’s best to keep busy.”

The atmosphere lightened. “One thing I need to know,” Osborne asked as he took the attention from Hami, “is how the hell the Russians expected the Ukrainians to let any of their team on board. What was the story there?”

Hurley shrugged, “Politics of course my old mate. More in Historical Research International than anywhere else.” Eyes turned to Professor Taylor, who reddened. “Yes, well I believe we have that under control,” the academic stuttered.

“What’s that?” asked Hurley. The Irishman could intimidate through his icy stare and Professor Taylor was now the recipient.

“Umm, well we know that Professor Yumashev, whom you may be aware is the Russian member of Historical Research International, was under intense political pressure to implement a Russian Traveller project. The Russians, as the name suggests, are descended from the Kievan Rus but their ability to run a separate Novgorod-based programme parallel to that of the Ukraine was limited. When we take into account the convincing cases that have been approved for Traveller projects in Germany, France, India, China, Japan, and now Mexico, of all places, they had no chance. New mission formats have been discussed and look to be pioneered with technology the Americans plan to use in their Mississippi project. The Russians hoped to access the Ukrainian…”

“Make that bully their way into and even take over,’ interrupted Hurley abruptly.

Professor Taylor hesitated a moment, “Yes, that was what they hoped. Please note all of this transpired without the consent of Historical Research International. Each member of the committee is under intense pressure ...” He paused a moment to look about him where the tough soldiers hung on his every word.

“So, is that now shut down?” asked Hurley.

Professor Taylor nodded again, “Well, yes. In Historical Research International we are dealing with substantial egos. Add to that the considerable political influence and wealth and we can, at times, have problems.”

Hurley shook his head and then returned to their conversation, “Yumashev tried to put the lever the on US project. He said that there was a move to have the project moved ahead of the Ukrainians, even ahead of the Byzantine one.”

Professor Taylor paused a moment and frowned. “There are always politics at play, as you know. Historical Research International is responsible for the biggest game in town. We know the owners of the Transporter have been offered obscene amounts of money for the use of the device. I understand they and the broader scientific community are on the road to discovering how the device works, so they can, we hope, duplicate it but I don’t know how that’s progressing. I have no more control of the decisions of such a capricious and, it seems, venal group as any other. Rumours will abound but I do have a vote in any final decision and all I can say is Byzantium Traveller is next. I believe Kiev Traveller will be one after.”

The men nodded as they were all too familiar with the amorality of politics and those in power. Meanwhile, Osborne noted that Professor Taylor was silent as he sipped his tea and looked to have suddenly lost his appetite.