Traveller Probo
62. Turkey

McAlister’s medical emergency was a bolt from the blue. The men had been making final preparations for their mission when Zoe had arrived with the other wives, where they enjoyed an evening on the town and stayed the night. But when the men caught up later that morning, Erol led McAlister gently, as if he was a child.

The tough Londoner sat placidly as a doctor examined him closely. Every now and then McAlister would roll his tongue. “I’m all right, see. I know it’s not a stroke because I can roll my tongue. I’ll be all right!”

“Perhaps you can then tell me where you are?” asked the doctor gently.

McAlister frowned in concentration and looked to the doctor and then to Osborne and chewed his lip worriedly.

“Do you know where you are?” asked Osborne with concern. “Do you know who I am?”

McAlister frowned, “Are we in England? I’m pretty sure we’re in London? Um, sorry not sure who you are. Um, Ozzie? Right?”

Osborne shook his head and followed the doctor from the examination room where McAlister sat. He was booked for a CT scan and MRI but the doctor was not convinced they would be useful. “This is not so uncommon, Captain Osborne. From what I understand, Sergeant McAlister suffered a severe blow to his face at the Battle of Giolgrave and as a result experienced Post Traumatic Stress and migraines. His records suggest these are managed and you tell me his work is exemplary but sometimes unrelated maladies can occur. I believe this is a case of Transient Global Amnesia. It is a temporary episode of memory loss that can’t be attributed to a more common neurological condition.”

Osborne frowned, “Meaning?”

The doctor frowned in concentration, “There’s a temporary inability to form new memories and to recall the recent past. I stress this is a temporary condition that should only last 24 hours at the most. His symptoms are typical, for he has retained his personal identification but has totally forgotten his recent history. His past migraines might be an associated symptom, though we’re unsure.”

“Is there a cause?” asked Osborne.

“Well yes,” responded the doctor. “It seems the two causes appear to be submersion into icy water, or ...” and he paused.

“Or what?” frowned Osborne.

“Well it seems the condition is also caused by bouts of vigorous sex,” replied the doctor.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” exclaimed Osborne, aware McAlister had been with his wife the night before. Obviously the morning too if his condition was anything to go by. “Okay, what does this mean? We need to know if he’s reliable, Doctor. We’re about to send him back a thousand years into the past. Is this a permanent or repeatable malady?” he asked briskly.

“Research shows this malady is common, yet rarely repeated. It is what the medical profession calls a non-repeatable malady. Your man will be well and fit in a day or so,” nodded the doctor as he dismissed the illness as of no concern.

Osborne shook his head in disbelief. To the doctor it seemed insignificant, yet it might actually prevent McAlister from making the journey back to Constantinople.

***

“I’m all right guv. I know I am! I wouldn’t risk the mission,” explained McAlister as he sat in his Traveller gear. He looked every inch the professional he was but appeared uncharacteristically fearful.

Osborne and Chuck nodded and Hami looked uncomfortable while Baki sat with his mouth in a stern line. All were close friends with McAlister and found the situation trying. “You know the story Mac. We have to evaluate if you’re safe to Travel,” explained Osborne. “Your trainers have nothing but the highest praise for your skills and suitability and now I have to make the final call.”

His tone said it all. Despite the differences in rank, McAlister had been chosen to command the Traveller team. McFee, an officer, had supported the decision. To these men, military rank meant little. Each team member was capable of leading because, in the end, someone had to make the decisions. As a tough, capable soldier and veteran of Saxon Traveller, McAlister had earned that right.

Osborne sat quietly. He had been pondering this situation for the past two days. As expected, the scans showed nothing and McAlister quickly regained his indomitable spirit. The doctors suggested they treat the episode like a dose of influenza but was it all so simple? McAlister looked to Osborne as if his future depended on it. The episode had scared him.

“Look Mac,” began Osborne, “you’re one of the best. We’ve trained together and fought together but I have to look after the team.”

McAlister looked devastated, then his face hardened, as if a shield had gone up. He was sweating. Realising where he had finished his statement, Osborne knew he had to put him out of his misery. “Mac, I’m not going to pull you from Traveller. You’re still in,” he exclaimed bluntly and there was a flicker of relief in the Londoner’s eyes. “However, I can’t condone that you retain command. We just can’t risk it. I’ll pass that over to McFee. He has rank and you’ll have to play as number two I’m afraid. That is, if you’re up to it.”

McAlister’s eyes narrowed before his reply, “Look Ozzie, I don’t know what happened. I can’t even remember the bloody day and the day after was like it was a dream. I suspect it was a type of migraine but I’m fine. The doctor says it was a one-of and I have to treat it that way.”

Osborne looked to the trainers and Chuck spoke up, “Mac, we have to make sure of this, you know mate. We can’t afford to have you let the team down.”

“Of course,” replied McAlister. “I wouldn’t ever risk the team. This has never happened before, so I can’t say what happened but I feel good now. I’d pull myself from the mission if I suspected anything less than my best.”

“Also,” added Hami, “you’ll have to tone down your fucking, you know. Not everyone’s a sexual athlete like Chuck, Baki, and me. It’s a great goal but not yet for you. Okay?”

McAlister looked stunned and was speechless. As his squad mates erupted into laughter, he blushed. “Oh Jesus. I’ll never live this down,” he moaned.

The men stood and, after some shoulder slapping, went back to work, though the hard Londoner was seriously shaken.