Traveller Probo

The zodiac purred along the waterway and, in the dark, was invisible and silent. The clouds were pregnant with the promise of rain as the boat flitted like a ghost across the ebony water. If not for night vision goggles, their task would have been foolhardy. The project had proceeded with surprising ease and First Sergeant Maksym Vasylenko allowed himself the luxury of a smile. Like the other five in the boat, he was dressed in waterproof covers to protect his Traveller garb. There was no way the honour of dressing like Travellers would be taken from them. He looked across at First Sergeant Kateryna Kravchenko and they shared a more intimate smile. Yes, things were going much better than planned.

It had almost come undone of course. First Lieutenant Vovk had argued against the plan, citing it as unbecoming but a few calls from Uncle Aleksei convinced the good lieutenant to reconsider. Using the old carrot and stick technique, Vovk had seen the wisdom of participation and, being the wise tactician and chess player that he was, had played along beautifully.

Then the plane had been late. The fool pilot had not even been on hand and they had to wait for him. While the night wore on, the risk of being caught by English security increased. But again, by keeping a cool head and maintaining that they were doing what was best for their country, they had loaded the cargo, both electronic and human, without incident. Thankfully the flight was uneventful and everything proceeded just as Uncle Aleksei promised. After all, greasing the right palms made sure any plan succeeded and, as his uncle often reminded Maksym, he had all too often smuggled larger units than they were moving tonight.

But none as valuable.

They were on their flight to the northern Ukraine town of Horodnya when the radio squawked out news of their exploits. Having stolen the famous Transporter, as well as kidnapping engineers and one of the famous owners suddenly made them the most wanted people on the face of the earth.

And the most adored by fellow Ukrainians.

While their spineless, Europe-controlled government could swear of no knowledge of their activities, close family connections to the Minister of Defence permitted them a silent and unseen flight across their country. Awaiting them at the airfield stood a truck and an American-style mobile home where their precious cargo was carefully stowed. They then drove north, out of Ukraine and onto the main highway into Belarus. Priority screening saw them through the border without a pause. Years of human trafficking made his dear uncle’s means of moving people and supplies seamless. After hours on the road they arrived at the boathouse on the banks of the Dnieper where the Transporter was finally assembled. The guests, as they were called, had responded well to their treatment and had barely uttered a complaint. One of the engineers had cried but the others watched their travels with interest. The most interesting of their captives was one of the co-owners of the Transporter, Zak Chandler. He seemed to let none of the events trouble him. He comforted the weeping engineer and then tried to speak with his captors, undeterred by their silence.

Chandler had finally cornered one of Uncle Aleksei’s more senior men who had been compelled to bring Zak to Maksym’s attention. “I don’t care what you blokes are up to but I need to make sure your actions haven’t harmed the Transporter. There’s a lot more riding on the device than your national pride you know!” he fearlessly lectured.

In the end they agreed to operate the Transporter as Zak specified, for he had warned them that if they didn’t do it right, they wouldn’t come home.

So they assembled the Transporter and Vovk and one of the others tested the Transporter by taking an unmanned aerial vehicle into the past to conduct a reconnaissance. Thankfully the followed Zak’s advice for, in the thousand years before the shed had been built, the river was found to be two kilometres further away. They realised that the river could have been where the shed was now, that those who had ventured into the past might have landed in the middle of the river. They were lucky.

The plan was simple. It had been Professor Balanchuk’s idea. He was the historian. It was all about gaining knowledge and striking a blow against their Russian tormentors, a blow so subtle that they would never know until they were finally told. Not only would their team venture into the past but they would also collect artefacts that would reward Uncle Aleksei for his undying loyalty.

It was all a matter of modern skills and technology against their clueless ancestors.

Their aerial reconnaissance confirmed that not thirty kilometres away, on the banks of the wild river, was the ancient town of Smolensk. Smolensk was one of the major settlements for the Kievan Rus and had been an integral part of their expanding settlement into the heavily forested wilderness. The plan was to set the Transporter upstream of the new hydro-electric power station in Aleksandrija in Belarus, then perform a reconnaissance to make sure there were no major waterfalls on that stretch of the 11th Century river. Using a standard Special Forces zodiac, they would then make a run to Smolensk and raid a couple of churches of their valuables.

With modern training and equipment, it would be easy.

The town of Smolensk would fall prey to the ravages of one army or another in the coming two-hundred years or so. What was there to lose?

Vovk and three of their comrades guarded their makeshift facility as the rest of the team were sent into the past. They were close to the Russian border but the River was a popular place to fish, so the presence of a few fishermen in a hut would not be noticed. Nobody knew they were there, not the Belarus forces nor the Ukrainian military. Only a precious few knew enough to make sure that their presence was undisturbed.

Now they were on their way.

Kateryna had made the mission even more rewarding. She had seen the immediate advantage of siding with Maksym and making sure his plans were faultless. Having decided her old love, Vovk, was history, she had shown how impressed she was with her new lover in ways that had Maksym’s head spin.

Yes, she was a most talented girl.

As the boat sped into the night, Maksym knew the humble people of Smolensk would never know what hit them.