Traveller Probo

General Humphrey carefully sipped his superb scotch. Though the Minister was not a drinker, she certainly knew how to turn on the top-shelf stuff. He looked out over the limited view of the Thames from her bullet-proof office window.

“Thomas, what is the upshot of the theft of the Transporter? Where do we stand?” asked Minister Paddington. “What’s your honest assessment?”

“God, Maureen, I wish it was all good news. The Americans are livid. Naturally, they implied it was our fault, though they had the good grace not to go so much as to actually accuse us.” General Humphrey fiddled with his heavy glass, causing the scotch to slosh gently over the ice cubes.

“But what of the training missions to Giolgrave? What are your thoughts?” pressed the Minister. Her elbows were on her desk, her stern, grey eyes locked onto her target. General Humphrey knew the minister well enough to know she wouldn’t be deterred. Minister Paddington might look like a schoolteacher but, like her idol, the legendary Margaret Thatcher, her tenacity was becoming legendary.

“The Americans want security beefed up but still want to proceed. The Australians are urging caution and the Canadians seem happy that we keep on track. The most significant impediment seems to be our man on the spot, Michael Hunter. Assessment from Hurley seems to indicate that Hunter is against further interaction between modern forces and the people of Giolgrave.” General Humphrey frowned. “He’s gone native, of course but I think he’s beginning to place the needs of the people of Giolgrave before the mission.”

“Well that’s not a surprise. His wife has been identified as a strong influence is due to have their child,” mused the Minister. “What are his choices?”

“Well he can’t run, because he needs modern medicine for his wife,” conceded General Humphrey quietly. “He dislikes the idea of having a training camp in the forest. He’s already asked for us to reconsider but the Americans are adamant that the forest will be ideal for the evaluation of assets too sensitive to test elsewhere. The technology sharing agreement is far too important to disregard.”

“Do we have him though?” pressed the Minister. “Will he run or prove unhelpful? What if he refuses?”

“Well, I repeat, he can’t,” countered the General. “He needs access to our time and access is controlled by us now. After the theft of the Transporter, we’ve placed it under military control.”

“Which is what the Americans have been suggesting all along,” agreed the Minister.

“Yes, though I’m not sure if that’s for the best,” General Humphrey replied. “The researchers are beginning to become rather vocal in the media about military control and Hunter still sends his reports directly to Transporter Corp, of course.”

“Well if it’s under military control, why can’t we bloody well control his reports?” exclaimed Minister Paddington.

The General paused tactfully. “As you’ll appreciate Minister, our control of the Transporter means we oversee the security and now the activation of the device, not the actual historical data collection. Not as yet anyway. Helguard and Woomera would, of course, object to military control of the projects, as is their right. Legally we can’t confiscate the Transporter for National Security. If we irritate Transporter Corp and they pull out, well, the fallout against the Government would be far too significant. We must handle this affair very delicately.”

“You suggested that the media is privy to his reports? How long has that been going on?” demanded the Minister.

General Humphrey held his hand up before Minister Paddington could continue. “He hasn’t said anything, yet. Data summaries have been handed to the media by a Historical Research International media liaison. It’s all about keeping the media interested, which is part of the Transporter Corp business model. The media feels special and are valuable allies for the ongoing research effort.”

The Minister snorted. “Yet I understand that ‘Hunter in Saxon England’ is losing audiences, that the show will soon be pulled.”

The General nodded as he took as another sip. “True, though we need to be vigilant. The media isn’t really interested in the life of old Giolgrave anymore but they have showed enormous interest in the theft of the Transporter, and the death of Wicks.”

“But that’s a storm we seem to be weathering well,” confirmed the Minister.

“Yes,” agreed General Humphrey, “but let me reiterate, we need to be careful. Michael Hunter is a man to watch.”

“I suppose all he’s doing is looking after the interests of those he loves, especially his family,” mused the Minister.

“He’s a professional with a duty to fulfil,” countered the General. “But given a choice between the mission and his family?” The General let the question hang as he looked across at the politician, his eyebrows raised.

“Exactly,” nodded the Minister. “Which brings me to another relevant point. Major Murdoch. She tendered her resignation today?”

The General wearily nodded. “Your sources are good. Not only hers but Sergeant Hurley’s as well. Seems they also want to concentrate on family. Hurley says the death of Wicks has affected him. Says he has more important things to attend to.”

“Okay,” nodded the Minister wearily. “I accept that they want to have a more normal life but I don’t want to lose assets like those two. I suggest we pull them from any future Transporter missions and see if we can keep them in a more administrative role. Let’s see how persuasive and tactful you can be.”

“Okay,’ nodded the General with a satisfied smile. “But what about Hunter?”

The Minister thought a moment, “Don’t burn our bridges.”

The general nodded as he swilled the final drops of malt liquor before he took a last, luxuriant sip. “One more thing,” he grunted as he placed the glass back on the occasional table by his chair.

The Minister looked up warily. “Being?”

“The Ukrainian Travellers? What about them?” he asked.

The Minister frowned. “Well, we have the last of them in prison and will release them back to Ukraine when we’re good and ready.”

“Not them,” added the General. At her look, he shrugged.

“Those in Kievan Russia? You’ve got to be bloody joking!” she exclaimed.

The General shrugged again. “There have been some suggestions that we should look for them. Some say they might still be alive and slaves to the Rus.”

“Incredible!” exclaimed the Minister wearily as she shook her head. “We lost a good man because of the action of the Kiev Travellers who, I might add, we took to be friends. We have a most valuable asset who might extract himself from future Traveller missions and, to top it all off, the Americans are on our backs, all because friendly forces turned on us. Their actions can only be described as inflammatory and criminal. That alone almost reignited conflict between the Russians and the Ukrainians. The only thing preventing more outright hostility is that the Ukraine Government knew nothing about it!”

“Professor Dimitri Balanchuk was captured at the Ukraine border, trying to slip into Romania,” General Humphrey added.

“Good! He’s lucky we missed him,” exclaimed the Minister angrily. “The Ukrainians will probably treat him like a bloody hero.”

“Some eastern European scholars suggest that the errant Travellers might still be alive,” continued General Humphrey.

The Minister nodded and then sighed. “And they might be. But what can we do about it? The Transporters are involved in missions in Turkey and Saxon England. Planned missions have been delayed in Mississippi and I’m receiving flack about the planned missions in France and China. Don’t even mention the secret missions in Giolgrave. These delays have caused us a lot of embarrassment. It’s been suggested that our only redeeming actions have been the rapid recovery of the Transporter with Zak Chandler and the engineers, and the apprehension of the remaining Kiev Travellers.”

“So?” asked the General.

“No! Sod them! That was their choice. If we free up the Transporter to send Travellers back, be they Russian or Ukrainian, we have to ask the international community to bump their own missions and risk the lives of more good men and women. The Ukrainian Travellers will probably be dead and if they aren’t, then they made their bed and have to lie in it.”

The Minister turned to look at General Humphrey like an eagle. He only smiled a crooked smile and muttered, “I had to ask.”