Traveller Probo

The hunters gently lowered Wicks onto the stretcher. Hurley and Morris looked haggard as they also knew the grievous leg wound could kill him. Although their light medic kits included painkillers and thread for stitches, the injury was too serious for them to attempt any real assistance. The bleeding indicated that the femoral artery had been nicked and they dared not trust his welfare to mere battlefield care. Once Wicks was delivered to the Area of Convergence, they would be able to catch one of the regular data exchanges and he could be airlifted to a hospital.

As they hurried through the forest, Michael felt anxious. How could Tatae have known such an event could transpire? He looked down at his friend grimacing in pain and for the first time felt real fear. Wicks certainly didn’t deserve the fate Tatae had foretold, yet there seemed nothing any of them could do. The grubby tusks had gouged a deep wound that only modern medicine could repair.

The wounded soldier hung on as best he could almost tumbled from the stretcher on more than one occasion. They had injected morphine to manage his pain and antibiotics to prevent the immediate onset of infection. The bandage on his leg was already soaked and he was deathly pale.

They were some kilometres from the glade when they spied Wuffa and his urchin mates who waved and yelled to attract attention. As the lads approached, they were not alone. Two Transporter guards accompanied them. Dressed in combat fatigues, they carried modern weapons and looked tired and half frozen, as if they had spent the night in the forest. Their look of relief to see Michael and the other Travellers was obvious but on seeing the injured Wicks, they glanced at each other in alarm.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” asked Michael, perhaps a little abruptly. He was becoming ever more concerned at unnecessary modern contact with the villagers and the guards’ lack of care caused him irritation. They had not even attempted to adopt local attire.

The first of the men, a Royal Marine corporal by the name of Aden whom Michael knew well, made an immediate apology. “Sorry Hunter but something odd’s happened. Standard Procedures had us Transported to exchange the Base Station as we do at least three times every day and we haven’t seen any activity to allow us back. We hung around overnight in the Area of Convergence, and not a cracker. Something’s bloody wrong by the looks of things!”

Hurley was the first to respond. “Was there anything unusual as you left? Normally the engineers have you back in about five minutes, don’t they?” he asked earnestly.

The corporal shrugged, mystified. “No idea on anything unusual, master-sergeant. We had the Travellers from your Ukrainian team there doing a familiarisation. Even Zak Chandler was there. Everything was fine as far as we could tell.”

Michael asked, “So, nothing! No indication of why there should be a delay?”

The men shook their heads, “No sergeant, nothing.”

Hurley muttered, “Oh, just sodding great!”

Morris asked, “So, the only people there were the Ukrainian Travellers? Nobody else?”

Hurley turned to Morris and a look passed between them.

“Well corporal, we have an issue. Lieutenant Wicks has been injured by a wild boar that has torn up his leg pretty badly. We’re on the way to see if he can be Transported for emergency medical attention.”

The corporal looked to his fellow and said, “Well, we should be able to return with him but we’ve been here for the better part of a day and night and nothing’s happened. It’s as if the system’s down or something.”

Hurley turned to Michael. “What do you think? If we take Wicks back to the village, we’ll have access to the rest of the medic kits but we risk him being jolted and his wound worsening. If we take him to the Area of Convergence, we risk things getting worse if the Transporter doesn’t pick us up.”

Michael thought a moment. “Morris, can I suggest that you and the hunters head back to the village. The rest of the lads can take the boar while you and Yffi run ahead to pick up the other medic kits. If we get to the Area of Convergence and all is well, we can radio you so you don’t have to return. If not, then at least we can stabilise Wicks so we can treat him once you get the gear to us.”

Morris nodded in agreement. Yffi and the hunters were gravely worried at the sight of the injury. Their look made it clear that they thought Wicks as good as dead.

So, as Morris moved off with the hunters, loaded down with the boar, Wuffa and the lads joined the abandoned soldiers, Michael, Hurley and Wicks. Hunter’s dog, Latis, silently scouted ahead.

It was a long and arduous journey. Once they arrived at the glade, they made Wicks as comfortable as they could and a fire was lit. Blood soaked the bandage and Hurley looked grim as he bent to check the dressing. “We might have to remove this and see if we can do anything. Just applying another bandage on top isn’t going to do it, you know.” He looked to Michael with concern, “It’s not like we have a bloody chopper to call.”

On removing the bandage, it became apparent that their movement had aggravated the wound. Blood flowed so freely that Hurley did the only thing he could think of, which was to stick his fingers into the wound to put pressure on the puncture. As he struggled, the flow only became worse.

“I can’t find the fucking perforation,” he grunted through gritted teeth. Wicks made a strangling noise in the back of his throat as he struggled not to scream. Michael had seen many men wounded and Wicks would certainly be one of the bravest.

Using the heels of his hands, Michael put pressure on the femoral artery at Wicks’ groin, which caused a slight decrease in blood flow but it was not enough. He looked at Wicks, whose face had become deathly pale and clammy. “Do the best you can lads. We’ll sort this,” Wicks groaned and he smiled a ghastly smile of encouragement. The man was terrified. One of the marines sat by Wicks’ head and held his hand as he placed his other on the wounded man’s forehead in comfort.

Wuffa and the two lads sat and watched, appalled. They had long believed that Michael and the strangers could do anything but this was obviously not the case.

“We’ll sort it mate! We’ll sort it,” Michael grunted as he struggled to keep up the pressure while Hurley probed. There was a pop and a sharp quirt and blood jetted into Hurley’s face. He swore but the blood would not stop. “Looks like the artery has just about given way,” he grunted as he tried to wipe his face with his elbow. “Wuffa, give my face a rub, will you lad? I can’t bloody see!”

Wuffa dashed to Hurley’s aid and wiped his face to smear the bright blood with a grubby hand. Hurley’s hand probed and poked. “It seems the artery has opened, though it hasn’t completely gone. I’m trying to stick my finger into the break but I can’t do it. If I had clamps I might be able to stop the bleeding but it keeps moving away,” he grunted, his tone increasingly desperate. His hand and arm were soaked. Michael and the two other soldiers watched grimly but could offer no further encouragement.

“Fuck me, he’s out mate, Wicks has fainted,” exclaimed Michael and Hurley looked up in naked despair.

“I’m not surprised,” he replied. “The poor bastard has really lost a lot of blood. If Morris doesn’t get here soon, we’ll lose him.”

They tried for another half an hour until Wicks’ heart stopped. There was nothing any of them could do.

***

Wicks lay on the stretcher and the men sat despondently around him. Michael and Hurley had washed their hands and arms in the nearby stream, though their tunics were stained with blotches of dark blood. Latis had given the body a curious sniff but at Michael’s angry growl she slunk away, chastised. So they sat, their elbows on their knees as their hands hung limply. They were utterly exhausted.

Michael looked to his friend sadly. “Hurley, I’ve gotta tell you this but Tatae told me, some days ago, that Wicks was going to die.”

Hurley looked across wearily, “What, like this?”

Michael winced but continued, “No, not like this specifically but she told me that he was going to die. She foretold it.” He noted the other soldiers listening nearby.

Hurley looked a moment as if he was going to trivialise Michael’s comment but then just asked, “How?”

Michael shook his head. He felt utterly spent. Perhaps he could have prevented this happening if he had taken Tatae seriously. “I don’t know mate. How does Tatae know half of the things she knows? It was when the generals were here and she told me that Wicks was going to die. She didn’t imply of old age either!”

Hurley looked at Michael in weary disbelief but replied in Saxon as he shook his head and poked a stick in the fire. “Tatae knows much of the old ways Lord Michael. I would do nothing to treat it as naught.” Hurley only called him ‘Lord Michael’ in times of formality, or obvious jest.

Michael just shook his head, “If I had listened, I might have prevented it, is all.”

He sent the young lads off to gather more fire wood, not a difficult task despite the woods having been depleted with the villagers having made their temporary camp for the medical mission but he wanted them gone while the men discussed the Transporter. “I’m mystified as to why the Transporter hasn’t operated since you blokes have been here,” murmured Michael quietly. “Do you think it’s a mechanical or electrical fault or anything?”

Hurley then addressed the two soldiers. They were munching on smoked, dried meat Michael had given them. They were famished, despite Wicks’ bloody ordeal. “So, you said that the Ukrainians were there for a tour of the facility?”

They nodded as they chewed.

“If you were Transported, and the engineers and Chandler suggested that the system was working well, we can only assume that there might have been some action to prevent your return,” he mused.

“Like terrorist action,” suggested the corporal, who seemed to do most of their talking.

“Yeah,” Hurley agreed through gritted teeth. “Something like that. I fear it might have been my lads at work.”

Michael looked across sharply, “Do you think they would? You suggested they were severely pissed off but would they sabotage the Transporter? What would they gain from that?” he asked.

Hurley looked into the fire and pondered, “Well, they’ve been shafted by all and sundry in regard to their mission. They’re not only highly trained and capable but have meritorious records of combat as long as my dick. They hate what the Russians and the Americans have done. The Russians tried to take over and the Americans pipped them at the post, so they feel the whole world is against them. They have their research locations charted and planned but now they’ve been put on hold, it seems. What do you think could happen?”

The quiet corporal answered, “Well, they could steal it I s’pose. The Transporter I mean, and kidnap the engineers and Zak Chandler too if they wanted to.”

Hurley turned on the soldier, “What makes you think that?”

The soldier shrugged and replied as he tossed a stick into the fire, “Well it makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, they were a hard mob and all. They certainly looked angry when they visited before we left, as if they were waiting for something to happen.”

His companion turned to him, as if in revelation, “Like, you mean, for us to be Transported? That would only leave three lads on guard.”

“Precisely,” nodded Aden. “If they had the motivation, which Master Sergeant Hurley suggests, they might actually take the Transporter for their own use. There would be no motivation in destroying it, as another is in Turkey.”

Michael looked to Hurley in surprise and then turned to Corporal Aden. “How would you do it then?” he asked.

“Well,” thought Aden. “I’ve been thinking. If they took our lads by surprise, they would restrain them and then disable the electronic surveillance. Well, they are Special Forces after all. There was more of them than our lads anyway, so there’s no reason why they couldn’t. The carry cases for the Transporter were all there and they had the engineers to take the Transporter apart without a worry. Once they have it all packed and ready, Bob’s your mother’s brother, they get a lorry, and take it to an airfield, because nautical shipping would take too long. They could’ve devised some kind of diplomatic mission and, oh, say, three hours later, the Transporter and the specialists who can best use it will be on the way to the Ukraine. They’d probably be national bloody heroes.”

The other Corporal by the name of Tippins looked to Corporal Aden with respect. “Oh, well done, my lad! Well done! Pity you didn’t have that figured before we had our arses here in Saxon Aengland for the rest of our days.”

Hurley looked to Michael and shrugged, “It could have gone that way, they were angry enough, that’s for sure.”

Tippins spoke up, “Well, there’s been no activation of the Transporter since our trip here, we can confirm that. We’ve checked the Base Station, which monitors such things and there has been nothing!”

The young lads arrived with armloads of dry sticks and solemnly built the fire as the evening chill settled in. They carefully avoided looking at the pale and bloodied body of Wicks, who lay as if asleep on the stretcher. Hurley muttered, “We should have kept one of the pigs,” and the lads grunted in agreement but Michael was silent as he watched the fire. To have lost Wicks was a blow. He was a good man. But now he had other issues to consider. To be stranded in Saxon Aengland was not a problem for him, though he selfishly hoped the Transporter would be available soon. Tatae had told him that her time was close. Any day now, she would give birth.