Chapter 5: Traveling

“Tell me what you know about the Vikings?” asked Travis.

“They spoke Old Norse. They’ve also been dead for eight hundred years.”

Travis had a slight smile and gave a wry look at that. “Maybe yes, maybe no. That’s what your job is going to be. We’ve got a weird situation going on north of Scotland. We think we found some Vikings.”

“Vikings? That’s impossible,” argued Lars.

“That’s going to be your job, figuring this out. Here’s what happened. The British have a training base north of the Shetland Islands, which are north of Scotland. Remote as hell, cold, wet, boggy - thoroughly miserable sort of place. The Brits use it to train their commandos and such, and the US Army and Marines use it for the same sort of thing,” said Travis.

“It still sounds better than Burger Express.”

“Let me know when we get there. That’s where we’re going.”

“Oh.”

“The idea is to make the training worse than the combat you’re being trained for, that sort of thing. Anyway, like I said, this is in the middle of the North Sea, actually closer to Norway than to England. A few days ago, radar shows a boat in the area and the training element is sent out to see who was there. The people being trained were US Army Rangers, which is why the CIA is involved. So, they go out and start searching, and find over eighty people wandering around the island. They are all dressed in furs and homemade clothing, they don’t speak any language anybody has ever heard of, and they are carrying around spears and swords and bows and arrows. The Rangers gather them up and keep searching, and they then find what looks like the wreck of a Viking longship beached on the shore. Again, nothing modern about it, no engines, nothing that was factory made.”

“And you think you have time traveling Vikings? That’s crazy!”

Travis nodded. “I agree, but here’s the weird thing. They took some blood samples from these people. They have no radioactive isotopes in their bloodstreams. Ever since the nuclear tests of the Fifties and Sixties and nuclear accidents like Chernobyl and Fukushima humans all over the world have trace amounts of radioactive fallout in them, even if it’s just a few atoms. These folks? Nada, zip, zilch! The same thing with diseases. Some of them have antibodies for diseases we no longer have. And it’s not like they came from some remote island nobody’s ever heard of, either. During the Cold War, the North Sea was the most intensely scanned location on Earth.”

“So what? It has to be a hoax.”

“Maybe so, but it’s just plain weird. We can’t let this slide. A man has already died. One of these ... Vikings, for want of a different title, one of them attacked a soldier with a spear, and another soldier killed him. The reports are that they were terrified of moving vehicles and helicopters and didn’t understand the weapons pointed at them, like guns. And none of them seem to speak any kind of modern language. People have said things to them in different languages that would have caused a statue to react.”

“This sounds nuts.”

“That’s why we grabbed you. You speak Old Norse, or at least have an idea about it.”

“Huh! What makes you think I can do this?”

“What makes you think you can’t? I’m a glass half full kind of guy. Here’s another idea. Even if you can’t figure out Old Norse, you can probably tell if they’re faking it.”

“Why me? Back when I was learning Old Norse from that girl in high school, they had dictionaries and stuff on the language. I can’t be the only guy who speaks Old Norse,” said Lars.

Travis replied, “Don’t be so sure. There is a heck of a lot of difference between conversational speech and fumbling around with a computer and a dictionary. You’ll probably learn it faster and better.”

“What about the British? They used to have Vikings all over the place. They must have a bunch of professors who know about this stuff.”

“That’s a fair question, Lars. All I can say is that we are trying to limit access to the site. They’re bringing in an expert to check things out, and we’re bringing in one of our own - you!”

“I’m no expert on Vikings.”

Travis smiled. “No, just an expert on languages. What are the odds that you’d be able to tell if somebody was a native language speaker or somebody who learned it later in life? I’m not kidding when I say that you have a remarkable ability with languages. I’ve only run across one other person with your ability.”

“Oh?”

“She was the daughter of a career diplomat in the State Department. Every few years the family would get transferred from one embassy to another, and she would learn a new language in a matter of days or weeks. Completely fluent in French, Spanish, German, Italian, Portuguese, you name it. She even knew one of the Turkish languages from when they spent time in one of the ‘Stans. Everybody said it was because she was exposed to the languages as a child, but it was more than that. She had a sister who was with her the entire time, and she never learned any of the languages.”

“Huh. Maybe you should have hired her.”

“She’s in her eighties and has Alzheimer’s. You’re a safer bet,” said Travis. “Too late to back out now. We’re off to the Shetlands.”

Lars shrugged and nodded. “So, we’re flying there?”

Travis shook his head. “Not precisely. This place really is at the ass end of the world. We’re flying to an RAF base in northern Scotland. From there we’ll fly to the Shetland Islands, which are north of Scotland. From the Shetlands we’ll take a helicopter.”

“Cool!”

“So, what’s your family history? What made a nice Norwegian boy go to Iceland and meet a nice Icelandic girl and then move to New England?’”, asked Travis.

“I’m not completely sure. Dad never talks about Norway, at least not much more than what he said at dinner. If you start working backward, he must have left after leaving school. Not sure why he went to Iceland, either, but that’s where he met Mom. Maybe he likes blondes.”

“Your mom’s pretty cute,” admitted Travis.

Lars snorted out a laugh. “Give me a break. Mom’s freaking hot! My buddies were all hanging around the house perving on her.”

Travis laughed at that. “Ever been to Iceland? I visited there once. Most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. They’re all blonde and blue-eyed, and any girl who rates less than an eight gets thrown into a volcano.”

“Yeah, well, she’s still my mother, you know. Anyway, he went to college in Iceland, which is how they met, and then they got married and moved here. Not sure why, but they don’t talk about it.” He looked at Travis and shrugged, which the older man returned.

The pair continued talking, with Lars continuing to ask about time traveling Vikings and Travis asking about Germanic languages. After a few minutes, though, Travis said, “Stretch out and get some sleep. It’s about a six-hour flight, but we are picking up five hours in time zones. When we land, it will be morning.”

“Okay.”

It was half past six in the morning when they entered the main Operations building. A pretty flight lieutenant was waiting for them. “Good morning. You must be the Yanks we were told were coming,” she said.

“Guilty as charged, miss,” admitted Travis.

“Well, welcome to RAF Lossiemouth. I’m Flight Lieutenant Carslow. My understanding is that two of you are traveling on from here, and the other two are heading back to the colonies.”

Travis smiled. “We’ll be getting out of your hair as soon as we can.” He pointed at Lars and said, “He and I will be moving on to Sumburgh. These two will be flying back to the States.” Travis pointed at Jack and Harry.

She nodded and looked at the two pilots. “Crew rest?”

“It’s been a long day. We need to get some shuteye before we can head back,” said Jack.

The flight lieutenant nodded again and turned them over to a corporal, with instructions to take the two pilots to Transit Accommodations. They shook hands with Travis and Lars and left with the corporal. Then she looked at Travis and Lars. “Not quite sure what to do with you two. Crew rest doesn’t apply, and you are flying out of here in a few hours.”

“Just when is the first flight to Sumburgh?” asked Travis.

“We have a C-130 departing at 0900. You’ll need to be on the flight line no later than half an hour before that.”

“0830, right. Do you have a dining hall or facility so we can grab some breakfast before that?”

“I’ll take you there myself,” she said.

“Can we leave our gear here?”

“Certainly.”

“Great.”

“If you’ll follow me.” She led the way to a car and drove them to a dining hall.

Breakfast was served cafeteria style. Lars read one of the signs and asked, “What is a full English breakfast?”

“Some strange British meal and ritual?” asked Travis.

“We save those for the visiting Frogs. We’re still friendly with the visiting colonials,” she replied.

Travis grinned. “You married, Flight Lieutenant?”

“Engaged, sir.”

“Well, there’s still hope for me yet.”

Lars looked at the flight lieutenant. “Do they actually have strange British breakfasts here?”

Flight Lieutenant Carslow laughed brightly at that. “That would be the full English breakfast. It is basically all three meals of the day at one go. It starts out with bacon and eggs, but then adds baked beans, sausage, black pudding, mushrooms, and toast. Depending on where you are over here, there might be a few other odds and ends tacked on. Not sure if you have the time for the full breakfast.”

“Holy Christ!” said Lars.

“Let’s stick to something a bit smaller,” said Travis, smiling.

“Right you are.”

“You’ll join us, of course.”

“Should I invite my fiancé? He’s a captain in the Paras.”

Travis smiled. “I’ve met a few Paras over the years. I used to be a Ranger myself. It’s so unmanly when they bow to us as we pass by. Now, if you come back with me to the States, you won’t have to put up with that.”

The pretty flight lieutenant laughed some more. “My great-grandfather was right. He dated back to the Second World War and he once said that the problem with the Yanks was that ‘They’re overpaid, they’re oversexed, and they’re over here!’”

Lars laughed. “Travis. I think she has you beat.”

Both men had a normal American-style bacon-and-eggs breakfast. They did, however, see the makings of the full English that the lieutenant had described. That seemed more than a bit much for them. “You never know, gentlemen,” said Flight Lieutenant Carslow. “If you are heading to the Cudlows, you might be dreaming about a full English breakfast soon enough.”

After breakfast she took them back to the Operations building to allow them to grab their gear, and then drove them over to the flight line, where she dropped them off at the flight operations office. She laughingly turned down one last offer to fly away with Travis and waved goodbye. Flight operations had an airman drive them and their gear to the flight line where a C-130 was waiting. A pilot officer welcomed them and ordered a flight sergeant to help load their gear on board. “Sorry for the accommodations, gents, but we aren’t rigged for passengers. Best we can do is rig a couple of web seats for you.”

“Not trying to be a problem. Web seats will be fine,” said Travis.

“Toss your bags over here, and I’ll get the flight sergeant to sort you out. We’ll be taking off as soon as base ops gives us the word.”

“What’s the weather supposed to be like?” asked Lars.

The pilot officer smiled. “Cold, rainy, foggy, and miserable. Welcome to Scotland, mate!” Lars groaned and Travis laughed.

The flight took a bit under two hours, and as promised, it rained the entire trip. The most interesting thing to Lars was when they were landing. The longest runway at Sumburgh Airport happened to have a public road crossing it, so when a plane was landing or taking off, they sent somebody out to close a pair of gates and shut down the road. It was bizarre to see a short line of cars and trucks waiting to cross the road as they rolled past. Once off the transport, they were directed to a spot where several helicopters were located and loaded onto a large helicopter for the next leg of their journey.

That leg ended on the wet tarmac of Cudlow B. They climbed out of the helicopter, stretched, and looked around. “I think you were right when you said this place was minimal,” said Lars.

“I might have been optimistic.” There were three permanent structures near them, what looked like a couple of warehouse structures and another that served the helicopters that were landing and taking off. Those buildings seemed to be older than anything else around. Off to one side was a collection of temporary structures with red crosses covering them. They seemed like they were mounted on large pallets, with hard sides and fabric roofs, and were connected to each other. “That’s a new field hospital,” he told Lars.