Traveller Probo
31. New Zealand

The off-road truck pulled up to the vacant land at the edge of the ancient caldera. Normally all green fields with a panoramic view of local suburbs and harbour, it was now limited to street-lights and the warm domestic glow from nearby homes. Four police cars and a wagon were in attendance but they had their lights dimmed. They didn’t want anyone to know they were there.

Dr Neil Chow leapt immediately out of the lead car, “Who is it? Is it the media?” he asked apprehensively.

The police sergeant shook his head and smiled as he quietly replied, “No Professor, just a couple of kids caught having a shag in the back of a van.” Sergeant Vinny Manning chuckled. “Seems like they left the side door open and were caught in all sorts of compromising positions.” His left arm was still in a cast and would be for weeks. When he heard of the special operation about to take place on Mount Mangere, he had been adamant that he be there. The Deputy Commissioner understood and conceded, even though Vinny was officially on special leave. The veteran cop knew they meant well but his inactivity was driving him up the wall.

He had called Selwyn. It looked like the younger cop might pull through, just. He had not been injured physically but the sight of so much carnage in the hospital had been particularly difficult for him. Both of the men had spent some time talking to psychiatrists or psychologists, Vinny was still unsure of the right title, and he heard that Selwyn was in a bad way. Vinny fought to have Selwyn included in the Mangere event. After all, they were a team. To make matters worse, they had been cited for a bravery award, which made Vinny laugh. All he had done was get his arm broken and his head bashed. Selwyn had done the hero stuff.

The sergeant in charge of the detail headed over and shook his head in disbelief. “What do you think Vinny? They’re just a couple of stupid kids,” he exclaimed as he looked across at the couple who stood, now dressed but wide-eyed and looking utterly wretched. The pretty young Maori girl had her hair in disarray and she had been crying, while the young Samoan lad looked like he wished he was dead.

“Might be more of a worry than it’s worth if we take them in and charge them,” suggested Vinny. “After all, it’s just trespass. It might attract attention as to why we’re here.”

The other sergeant nodded in agreement. Dr Chow piped up, “What if they tell someone?”

The other sergeant chuckled as he replied, “I don’t think they’re going to say much without admitting why they were here. I think all these kids want to do is go home. The girl keeps saying how they have to get home by midnight or they’ll get into trouble.”

“I think they’re already in trouble!” Vinny smiled as he shook his head in amusement. “Stupid bloody kids. Of all the nights they pick for some sneaky sex.” The brought a rumble of laughter from the other sergeant, though Selwyn never cracked a smile. His hollow-eyed look was a concern. The giant Samoan sergeant had the nick-name of ‘Tiny’ as he was about seven feet tall. The only place he could access shoes to fit his huge feet was to have uniform police boots made for him. Vinny knew him to be a gentle giant but his presence seemed to make Selwyn a little more secure.

“Ok then, no use making things more complicated than they are,” Tiny said with a sigh of resignation and he lumbered off to where the wide-eyed kids waited, plainly terrified.

After a quick discussion, where there was a lot of nodding and chastened shaking of heads, the kids eagerly jumped into the van and, guided by one of the police cars, drove away. Vinny doubted they would say much until the story of the night-manoeuvres on Mount Mangere was finally released to the media. He suspected they had other, more pressing issues to attend to.

With potential spectators removed, the truck reversed onto the agreed location and a crane on the back took a few moments to position a small shed and then unload a mini-container, a cube only half the length of a normal shipping container. Technicians guided the placement and then, by headlight, the container was opened.

Vinny watched as the enigmatic Dr Mel Chandler guided the operation. Once the shed was safely in place, the Transporter components were carefully removed with an electric pallet-jack and moved into the small shed for assembly. Dr Chandler appeared anxious and exhausted. Vinny heard she had flown from the USA especially for this project. The local technicians she had trained on her last visit assisted her.

Because it was to be used one time, the Transporter setup only took an hour. Radio calls were made and the second team notified. Tiny had the police area patrolled by canine teams while floodlights set up for the Transporter assembly were killed until the other cargo arrived.

A police wagon drove up and the special passenger removed. At the sight of the Maori Warrior, Vinny noticed Selwyn become even more highly strung. Vinny patted him on the shoulder. “It’ll be all right bro. You’re safe!” he reassured quietly. Each of the officers in attendance were armed for this operation and all hoped they wouldn’t have to use their weapons. Clad in a straightjacket, the Maori warrior was still drugged and his head lolled idiotically.

***

Dr Chow was another who could barely look at the man, though he noticed the warrior had lost some weight over the past month he had been in their care. Despite the best efforts, he did not eat well and had, at one stage, required intravenous hydration. All were concerned for his health. Being drugged for so long was bound to have a harmful effect on anyone.

Two burly police officers carried the warrior and were accompanied by four black-clad Special Forces troops who stalked, panther-like, with pistols drawn. The police lugged the semi-conscious man into the shed and stripped him naked. The manacles had scarred his wrists and ankles and Dr Chow felt another flood of familiar guilt. The warrior hadn’t asked to be here. He hadn’t wanted to be moved from his home. It had been agreed that the priority was to have the man returned home as soon as the Transporter became available.

Dr Wihongi accompanied Dr Chow as they watched their primitive guest. Nothing positive had been achieved through his stay. Though specialists had garnered a little from his language, for the safety of all concerned he had been drugged to the point that he was little more than a drooling idiot.

The police placed his PiuPiu, the traditional skirt, next to his body. Someone suggested that they invite Maori elders to sing him on but it was unanimously agreed that this wasn’t a cultural event but an exercise in righting a wrong and avoiding undue attention. Some New Zealanders had already lobbied that the warrior be tried as a criminal, while many others made it clear they would kill him, given the chance.

Mel nodded to Dr Chow to indicate she was ready. Two of the grim soldiers stood by their man, ready to take their own journey through time to make sure he was delivered safely. All of the soldiers wore full combat armour and night-vision goggles. This time they would take no chances.

Before the system was activated, Dr Chow carefully bent and placed a small sack by the semi-conscious warrior. The big man stirred, so the academic jumped back in shocked surprise, his heart in his mouth. They had to go. He nodded to Mel and she pushed the activation button and then, in the amazing process that made no sound, the three men were gone.

Dr Wihongi and Dr Chow had decided to leave their reluctant guest with some trinkets. One Maori committee insisted he be given a valuable traditional club, a beautifully hand-crafted mere made of native green-stone, while the sack also included fishing hooks, and coloured glass beads. It was also important that he be covered with a blanket, for it was unknown how long he would lay unprotected before he recovered enough to make it back to his village.

As planned, after only minutes, the Transporter was again activated and the two soldiers returned.

Dr Chow felt an overwhelming flood of relief. He knew the Transporter would be disassembled and loaded in under an hour. By daylight it would look as if they had never been there. The police would return home and he would go to the university and try to continue his research. To honour those who had died, he was determined to mine the data for every precious insight he could, a process that would doubtlessly take years. A base-station had been left on-location to collect the data from the cameras left in ancient New Zealand. It would be collected whenever the Transporter was available, which might be every few months. At the moment, that eventuality was not considered a priority.

He watched the truck manoeuvre to have the gear loaded. The device was destined to be shipped to somewhere in the USA and, as far as he knew, the mysterious Dr Mel Chandler with it.

The police team were also plainly relieved. One car and a van drove off with the soldiers, while the others milled around. Sergeant Vinny spoke quietly with Sergeant Tiny. Selwyn had become a national hero but he had the haunted look of one who had seen too much horror. Dr Chow knew exactly how he felt.

As he was driven from the mountain with Dr Wihongi, Dr Chow had a sudden, irrelevant thought. “Does anyone know what happened to the young couple?”

“The young lovers?” smiled Dr Wihongi grimly. The night had even affected the good-natured Maori representative, who was known for his humour and loud laughter.

Dr Chow frowned, “God, what a mess. Their youthful foray had happened at such a potentially dangerous and sensitive location. I hope they got home without any worries.”

“They were caught, shall I say, in flagrante delicto,” replied Dr Wihongi, who smiled broadly.

Finally seeing the humour of the situation, something happened that Dr Chow had not experienced for a very long time. With Dr Wihongi, he chuckled until he had to wipe tears from his eyes.