Traveller Inceptio
86

When Hurley arrived in the Area of Convergence and became an immediate media sensation, waiting journalists fired questions while he was given a superficial physical examination. He was in great spirits and waved happily to his fellow team members. Though they had monitored his and Hunter’s daily reports, there was an eagerness to get together and chat about the reality of what was happening in Saxon Aengland.

Mel watched as Hurley sought a glimpse of Murdoch who, despite her normally reserved exterior, was unable to completely hide her excitement. If any of the media had been vigilant in watching the responses of Hurley’s commanding officer, they would have very quickly concluded the relationship between the two was anything but professional. Once given the all clear, the reinforced Perspex door burst open and the media spilled in. There were photo opportunities and brief interviews managed by Professor Taylor, after which Hurley excused himself with an urgent communication for his CO, and he dragged Murdoch to her office.

Mel smiled. The meeting must have been important, as it lasted at least half an hour, while guests consumed champagne and petit fours hurriedly prepared for the occasion. None were permitted to approach Murdoch’s office, the door guarded by a couple of the Saxon Traveller team, who promptly shooed away nosey media and a desperate Professor Taylor.

The two later emerged to a media storm which missed Murdoch’s radiant smile as Hurley calmly answered questions and conducted brief interviews. He then excused himself once again, this time for a meeting with his fellow team members. Mel, as head of the technical team, and Professor Taylor were also included. There he gave an overview of the situation in which Hunter and the villagers found themselves.

Professor Taylor was incensed. “You men have no right to interfere with the local politics of the Saxons. I know you’ve engaged in defensive actions in the past, but this goes too far.”

“How is it too far? What do you think Hunter is to do, just walk away?” asked Hurley coolly. He stared at the academic with his feral, grey eyes.

“Well, you have. Why didn’t Hunter join you?” the professor asked.

Hurley looked at Professor Taylor in a manner that was anything but friendly. To Mel, the temperature in the room had suddenly dropped a few degrees. After a pause, the Traveller spoke. “Professor Taylor, much as we’ve been privileged in participating in this wondrous project, you know that we in the Special Forces conduct our operations within the parameters of what we do best; that is infiltrate the locals and befriend them. In return, we offer our skills, and sometimes our lives, as we’re obliged to defend them. Now, excuse me if our guidelines as to our interaction with the locals were a little vague. We integrated with the Saxons and those people have accepted Hunter into their village and rely on him, as they do any warrior.” He paused and took a shaking breath. The normally aloof Hurley seemed mildly surprised at his own depth of feeling. “You haven’t experienced what rampaging Vikings can do. You’ve seen his reports, his images and footage. Haven’t you?”

“Well, yes,” stuttered Professor Taylor. “But——”

“But Hunter was there,” stressed Hurley. Mel had never seen anyone look so dangerous.

Professor Taylor seemed oblivious to Hurley’s feelings. The other Travellers watched him carefully, aware of the dangerous path Professor Taylor trod.

“You know he’s seen murdered children and women disembowelled. He just wants to look after his villagers is all.”

Murdoch, quickly recovering from the first flush of a romantic reunion, was obliged to comment as military commander or the operation. “In the Saxon Traveller Terms of Engagement, we all agreed that mission specialists weren’t to be drawn into local disputes and battles. All of us are concerned how interference could affect history. Despite the theories, we’re still not sure if involvement could change their future and our present.”

Hurley took a deep breath in an effort to maintain his calm. “Hunter and I lived with that thought every day and it nearly had me killed because I hesitated to combat some locals who tried to rob me. You’ve seen my reports, because one of those fools lost an arm. But I got through it, and after a while, I began to belong there. I can’t explain why, but there was something right about it. About being there.” He looked to the others as he continued, as if pleading for understanding. “You’ve no idea. The feeling of the place is almost magical at first, and despite the fact that death is often knocking on the top of your head, I found I just liked being there. Hunter has been there over three times as long.” Hurley paused and looked at each of the men he had trained with, at Professor Taylor, who looked strangely envious, and then at Murdoch. “I swear if I was as committed to the village as Hunter, I would want to bloody well stay.”

“So what about Hunter?” asked Anderson.

“What I’m saying is that we can’t leave him to be killed when he’s defending those he’s obliged to fight for.” Hurley turned to Professor Taylor. “As a part of our study, you requested that we integrate ourselves into Saxon society. These societies are, as you taught us, built on reciprocity. Only in a community group can a person survive the times of winter or hunger, or times of conflict. I should know. Once you’re accepted into a village, especially how Hunter has been, you can’t just walk away. They rely on you and trust you. When I became accepted by them, it was like being a part of one big, smelly, hairy family, like we never have here. It’s fucking uncanny. I don’t know why we’ve given that away.” Hurley paused and shook his head. Mel had never heard any of the men speak so eloquently and even his fellow Travellers looked impressed.

“I believe that when I left them, they would’ve been gutted, especially Godric. He was relying on every able-bodied fighter to assist, even the women. I know there’s a good chance that, right now, they could be battling a Viking attack group who will have no qualms at murdering every woman and child. I’ve come back to ask for your help.” Hurley’s brogue had thickened and he looked stubborn and angry, though his eyes pleaded.

There was a growl of consent from the team and they looked to Murdoch. Mel was grateful she was almost forgotten. Even she knew this was significantly outside the agreed mission parameters, but could they leave one of their team to die? Murdoch had a look of hurt, as if she felt betrayed. Did her lover, for that was obviously what Hurley was, try to sway her with the oldest technique known to womankind?

As if reading her mind, Hurley turned to Murdoch and managed to keep his face professionally neutral. “Captain Murdoch, I apologise I wasn’t able to raise this in our earlier debrief, but I just couldn’t. I ask for your permission to return and help Hunter, and that you consider permitting any Traveller Team members who may want to assist.” Hurley looked at his commanding officer.

There was a flicker of hurt in her eyes.

“Umm, Captain Murdoch, I must say I’m not sure if this course of action is in the interests of the project,” explained Taylor, his face flushed with panic. “Much as I agree that Hunter is to be returned safely, for us to send in a full squad of armed Special Forces to combat Vikings flies in the face of everything we’ve agreed. We all agreed to leave as small a footprint as possible, if any footprint at all. How can we do that with these Special Forces gentlemen running in with their guns blazing?” Taylor looked terrified, as if he could see his career going up in smoke. Mel knew the academic to be arrogant and convincing whenever he wanted things to go his way, but he looked lost and out of his depth.

“No guns,” growled Osborne, the big Australian. His tough, pockmarked face set in determination. “We’ve trained for the past year with everything but guns. We are fucking Saxon warriors, aren’t we? Why don’t we go and lend a hand as Saxons and then leave once the threat’s over?”

“Yeah!” Morris roared, and Anderson chimed in, “C’mon, Captain, we’re all lubed up and ready to go. This is what we’ve trained for.” There were exclamations of consent as they all watched her carefully. Murdoch looked as tough as the men seated in her crowded office. Mel noted the commendations and pictures on the wall, the images of a military career that was illustrious, especially for a woman who made a career in a man’s world. Mel had heard the stories; Murdoch’s father had been in the Royal Marines and then the SAS. Mel felt somewhat intimidated surrounded by people who were what legends were made of.

After a moment of silence, Captain Murdoch spoke. “Professor Taylor, when we began this project, you often complained that governments rarely had the balls to do what was needed, or took too damn long to make any decision.” She closed her eyes a moment. “If I permit this terrible breach of protocol based on the risk to the life of one of my team, what would your comment be if they were all equipped as Saxons, but only to extract Sergeant Hunter. That’s all! No pitched battles. No heroics. Get into the village and extract Hunter, whether he wants to go or not!” She glared at them, as if daring them to gainsay her.

Professor Taylor was incredulous. “Jesus, Helen, you can’t do this. We have to have a media presentation for Hurley and they’re all waiting. They’ll know something’s up.”

“Well, why don’t you tell them the truth; that one of our men is in a spot of bother and we’re going in to rescue him,” suggested Parker with a small smile. He gave a quick glance to Osborne, who gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Professor Taylor’s eyes lit up. “Are you willing to support me with a joint media announcement of this action?”

“I am willing to make a joint announcement on the condition that you advise the media as to the reasons, and that you fully concur. I don’t want this to come back at me with you running for cover. This must be a unified decision.” Murdoch smiled.

Professor Taylor had played a canny game with the Transporter, and had built a considerable public profile from the mission. He had become quite the political animal, but now looked trapped, for he risked considerable criticism, regardless of what course of action he supported.

He sighed and looked around him.

“Come on, Professor. We won’t let you down,” encouraged McFee.

McAlister added, with a smile, “Yeah, c’mon, Professor. Imagine the television rights on this. We’ll be in and out, but imagine the footage.”

They all spoke together, encouraging him, and he bobbed his head, smiled, and blushed with pleasure as he was, for once, almost one of the boys. “Okay, okay, I agree, but there must be no sign of 21st Century intervention. No guns, no bombs or modern weapons. You know what I mean. Get Hunter, and get out.” He shrugged in capitulation.

Anderson let out his best southern whoop and gave the thin academic a hug that lifted him from the ground.

“Gentlemen, you know what needs to be done. Assemble your gear and make ready to depart within the hour.” Murdoch was in command and grateful to finally make a decision.

Mel was under no illusions that this could destroy Murdoch’s career. The scientist wondered how she would react if one of her own team was threatened like Hunter, but these were all military. Their decision making process was different.

As Mel slipped from the room, she heard Hurley say, “Thank you, Helen. I know what this might mean.”

Murdoch didn’t even reply.

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