The Archer's Paradox - The Travis Fletcher Chronicles Read online

  “I still don’t know what I …”

  The Mercenary held up a hand to signal an end to that topic of conversation. “Why don’t you ask me if I ever married?”

  The Journalist took a long swig of wine and took a deep breath, determined to follow this up later. “Did you ever marry?”

  “No, I just never got round to it. Just as well really.”

  “So, you were enjoying your life. What happened?”

  **********

  “Travis?”

  “Yes Mum?” Travis broke off the conversation he was having with his brother and sister and leaned across the aisle, giving his full attention to the small, grey haired woman opposite, looking even more diminutive in the oversized seat.

  “Do you think they would mind if I had another cup of coffee?” she indicated the two uniformed shapes slumped sullenly at the far end of the carriage.

  “Mum, you are sitting in a First Class carriage which I have paid LOADSA MONEY for,” he leaned forward, leering whilst waving an imaginary stack of banknotes, “their only purpose in their pitiful little lives for the next few hours is to satisfy your every wish, when you want it. If you want coffee, you shall have coffee!” he finished with a flourish. He put two fingers to his mouth and whistled shrilly. “Oi! Coffee, here, now!” he demanded, beckoning the attendants over. “And don’t forget the biscuits!” The two hostesses scowled at him. One finally got up and stomped off to find the trolley.

  “Do you have to be so coarse?” chided his mother. He smiled back, patted her cheek and kissed her on the forehead.

  “So, you reckon this computer thing is the game to be in, do you?" Alan, his brother, leaned over the intervening table in earnest.

  “Look at me,” he spread his arms to emphasise the statement. “I left school at sixteen with three ‘O’ Levels with crap grades to my name and I’ve bummed around in dead-end jobs for years. Then I blagged my way into a computer sales company. These new Personal Computers were just starting to take off and within two years I’m earning more money than I know what to do with. The best part is, is that it’s self-perpetuating.” he exclaimed, beaming broadly.

  “What do you mean?” chimed in Lucy, his sister.

  “People are excited by new technology,” he leaned forward as if taking his audience into his confidence, “they want these Personal Computers because they think it’ll free them from being held to ransom by their big, lumbering, expensive computer departments.” he sat back and smiled expansively. “No problem! I’ll sell half a dozen to a big company as a taster. They suddenly realise that they don’t know how to use them and their computer departments won’t - or can’t - help so I sell them training.”

  “Ok, but you can only sell so much training, can’t you?” Alan queried.

  “Yes, but when the users get better and start getting results, everyone wants one! I sell more, oh and of course they all need training.” he waved his arms expansively. “Then there’s the extras like printers, software, paper, forms, disks, and don’t forget the maintenance and support contracts. You can’t lose!” The hostess arrived with the coffee. “Bring me another vodka!” he demanded.

  “I think I’ll have another whiskey while you’re at it.”

  “That’s the spirit Dad!” Travis leaned over to his father, who had just woken up in the window seat next to his mother, and winked. His mother tutted and looked apologetically at the hostess. The hostess glared at them all and stomped off. His mother gave them both a pained expression. “It’s all right Mum, I’ll give them a decent tip when we leave.”

  “Make sure you do,” she chided wagging a finger, “You’re so sharp you’re going to cut yourself one of these days.”

  “Yeah, it’s running in the 2:30 at Aintree” he completed in a stage whisper to his siblings, who sniggered appropriately.

  “So, where did you meet….?” asked Lucy, indicating the sleeping form next to Travis.

  “Siân?” he finished, “Cute isn’t she? We’ve been seeing each other on and off for a few months.”

  “That’s a lifetime for you.” Lucy exclaimed in mock surprise.

  “I know,” he lowered his voice to a stage whisper again, “I think this might be the one: she goes like a train and doesn’t whinge if I don’t call for a week. We met in a night club, I asked her if she wanted to ride in my big red Beemer and she was all over me like a rash.”

  “Mum’s right, you are getting coarse. Are you sure she didn’t GIVE you a rash?”

  “Prude.” he pouted.

  “Now tell us what really happened” interjected his brother.

  “No, it’s less fun.” Travis tossed down the rest of his vodka and whistled shrilly to the hostesses. “More vodka!”

  “So, how much has this little jaunt set you back?” Alan changed the subject.

  “Not your problem, brother of mine.” The vodka was starting to take hold; his words were starting to slur ever so slightly.

  “Your money is always my problem.” he said sullenly. “You have every immediate relative sitting in this carriage,” Alan pressed on “that’s twenty-eight people including ‘other halves.’”

  “Good job we only have a small family then, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but why? You never did explain properly.”

  “Truth?”

  “Yes.”

  “One hundred per cent?”

  “Yes.”

  “I need a drink.” he downed the shot in front of him. “More vodka! Never mind, just bring the bottle!” he waited, collecting his befuddled thoughts until the drink arrived.

  “Ok, the truth.” he took a deep breath and paused theatrically. “The truth is that for more than five years I’ve sponged off each and every one of you at one time or another.” he held up his hand to head off the impending protests, not that there were any. “I borrowed money and never paid it back, I’ve lied to you, cheated you, I’ve turned up at stupid times of the night pissed out of my brain and demanding somewhere to sleep. Hell, Alan, I even borrowed your car without your permission and piled it into a wall with no insurance!”

  “You bastard!” Alan exploded. “I didn’t know that, I thought it had been nicked!”

  “See what I mean.” Travis replied, spreading his hands to emphasise his point. “I went on a five year arsehole spree. Didn’t you think it was strange that I was in hospital about the same time with cracked ribs and a broken leg?”

  “I bought you bottles of wine and cigarettes!” Alan said peevishly, “You told me you’d been mugged. Fuck, I even gave you money!” Lucy giggled behind her hand. “Did you know about this?” he glared accusingly at his sister.

  “No one told me but I put two and two together; your car stolen and smashed up, Travis in hospital and a total arsehole.” she said, counting the points on her fingers.

  “Humph!” Alan sat back heavily with his arms crossed.

  “I suppose I was jealous because you all had better careers and jobs than me and I was using you to fuel a lifestyle I couldn’t afford.” Travis explained, apologetically. “Anyway,” he continued, “since I landed this job I have re-evaluated myself and I am trying to make up for the past five years. I earned a whacking bonus last month and I am spending every last penny on my family, partially to say sorry and partially to say thank you.”

  “Thank you?” Lucy asked.

  “Yes, not one of you ever said no to me or turned me away, or indeed turned me in.”

  “Never knew you’d smashed my car up.” muttered Alan.

  “You think that’s bad? Don’t mention to Grandma about her Victorian china tea service.” The two looked aghast. “Like I said, don’t ever mention it, I have little enough self-esteem as it is.”

  Travis heaved himself to his feet and stumbled to the front of the carriage. His progress was slow going, partially due to the occasional and unpredictable lurch left or right as the speeding train hit a bend or abnormality in the track, and partially due to the excess of alcohol in his blood. Onc
e at his destination he faced down the carriage with feet apart to steady himself and whistled long and loud.

  “Can I have everyone’s attention, please!” he shouted theatrically at the top of his lungs. He waited a second, running his hand through his unruly locks that refused to stay in the fashionable cut of the time. Every one stopped talking and turned to face the gently swaying man, including two businessmen at the far end who shook their heads in an exaggerated expression of displeasure. Travis caught their eyes and held them for a long moment. “If you don’t like the noise, you can fuck off!” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “At least I’m spending money on this train and not just trying to fiddle my expenses like you two tossers. The next carriage is nearly empty.” he continued to hold their gaze for a few seconds before breaking off. The two men exchanged a few hushed words, closed their briefcases and moved off.

  “Ladies, Gentlemen, family, friends of family,” Siân had woken up and peered bleary eyed over the back of her seat, “thank you for availing yourself of my hospitality. I hope you are all running up a huge bar bill, and remember that this is just the start.” he spread his arms expansively and nearly plunged headlong to the floor as the train lurched to the left.

  “You’ve not said where we’re goin’,” a voice boomed down the carriage, “or why. All I got was an invitation that said ‘pack for a weekend an’ t’ bring nae money an’ a car will pick us up.’”

  “Why are you here then, Pat?” Travis leered back.

  “I were intrigued; t’ Black Leach of t’ family sayin’ t’ bring nae cash, this I gorra see!” Other members of the family nodded in agreement. Pat had a reputation for straight talking. He was a big man with a huge chest and a broad Yorkshire accent; standing in excess of six feet tall, he dwarfed Travis by a good head.

  “Pat, you’ll never make a diplomat,” Travis laughed.

  “Nay, but thee’ll make a reet good orn’ment fer t’front of me wagon if’n thee fucks us over.” Other members of the family nodded vigorously.

  “Alan and Lucy already have some of the inside gen ‘cause I’ve had a few drinks and can’t hold my tongue. The rest of you will have to wait until tonight for the full story. However, you have my solemn promise that there will be no ‘fucking over’ on this trip, except between consenting partners.” he winked lewdly at Siân, who blushed furiously and ducked down into her seat.

  “For your information,” Travis continued, “we are making for the highlands of Scotland where I have hired a castle for the weekend. You are all invited to play golf, walk hills, drink scotch, whatever you want and there will be no bill to settle at the end. All will be revealed after the banquet tonight.” he finished, spreading his arms expansively again. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a sheaf of brightly coloured booklets. “I have brochures for you to devour.” With that, he made his way down the carriage, stopping at every table to leave one or two brochures, pointing out points of interest depending who was at the table. There was a trip to a lace maker for the grandparents, sailing boats or fishing on the loch, secluded walks for the teenage cousins with partners or for parents. The hostesses shuffled behind refilling glasses, leaving fresh bottles of wine and dispensing snacks. As he passed Siân he took off his jacket and tossed it to her. She folded it neatly and used it as a pillow.

  By the time he reached the end of the carriage, the mixture of vodka and the unpredictable swaying of the train was starting to play havoc with his equilibrium. As a precaution, he ducked into the toilet and sat down. His head was spinning a little too much for comfort. Maybe shouting down the carriage had not been such a good idea. It was still only eleven in the morning, shouting before lunch was never a good idea.

  A sudden jolt shook his body and threw him off the toilet and face first into the wall. He lay crumpled on the floor for a moment with his trousers around his ankles and blood pouring from his mashed nose. He struggled to seat himself, oblivious to the pain and blood, before realising that the toilet pan was now at ninety degrees to its normal position and he was sitting on the door to the corridor. It was then that his hearing caught up with his sight. A terrible screeching rent his ears like thousands of fingernails being drawn down hundreds of blackboards while dozens of malevolent dentists advanced with huge drills whining shrilly. Another jolt and the side of his head impacted with the crazily hung pan. His senses reeled, half-blinded by a curtain of blood issuing from a new wound above his right eye. Panic gripped his whole being, he tried to scream but he heard no sound. Time slowed to a crawl. A new mix of sounds grew in volume and intensity, like a non-stop motorway pileup where vehicle after vehicle inexorably careered into the melee ahead. Then it was Travis’ turn as a steel girder passed inches from his face and ripped away part of the roof, which was now the wall, and the wall, which had become the roof of the stricken carriage. Another jolt catapulted him through the tear. His body somersaulted slowly in the air until he was head down and facing his point of departure. He dispassionately watched as the train receded from his view. Then he stopped in mid-flight. The wrecked train continued its drunken journey while Travis hung in mid-air watching it go. He looked up, to the ground, which, as if it had just noticed him, suddenly rushed to greet him. The pain stopped as blackness enveloped him.

  Chapter 2

  The Moon was now behind them and the ship was well clear of the gravity wells created by the planet and its satellite. The fusion engines had accelerated the ship to its optimal cruising speed of around 200 000Km/s or 66% of the speed of light. As the ship accelerated, the RAM scoop had to be gradually reduced in size to compensate for the increased drag. Although the fusion engines could be pushed further, the law of diminishing returns took over and the ship would start burning more fuel than it gathered due to the increased drag and reduced RAM scoop size.

  The party atmosphere and air of excitement continued to grow in the bar as all eyes turned to the void in front as the fusion engines were throttled back and the RAM scoop reduced to a mere one hundred kilometre radius. The lights in the bar dimmed enough to accentuate the view outside.

  The Mercenary looked up and faced the front of the craft. “Do you like firework displays?” he asked “Because you are going to love this!” His face lit up in a rare moment of simple joy, this was his universe and he loved showing it off.

  “What’s happening?” she queried, picking up on The Mercenary’s sudden enthusiasm.

  “They’re about to kick in the Compression Drive.” The Mercenary explained. She gave him a puzzled look. “We can’t,” he paused for a moment as he remembered their overly theatrical arrival then continued, “correction: we shouldn’t jump to hyperspace inside a solar system. It is a very violent act and the effect can be felt for millions of miles. In a crowded system a badly planned entry or exit can cause havoc. It would take about eight days to clear the solar system using the main fusion drive; with the Compression Drive we can do it in one without breaking a sweat.”

  “We are going faster than light?” The Journalist asked in anticipation, her stomach lurching in a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

  “Travelling faster than light is impossible,” The Mercenary corrected her, “but we can bend the rules a little.” The Journalist looked confused. “Watch, and I’ll explain later.”

  He indicated the front view. She followed his direction where millions of specks of light filled the view, not just white as on first glance, but subtle yellows, reds and blues, all steady with no atmosphere to distort the view and enhanced by the transparent material making up the window. Lying over the black velvet were deep magentas and purples of distant dust clouds, picked out by the rapidly retreating sun. She wondered at the beauty and majesty of the greatest act of creation and destruction being enacted before her. How many of those distant points of light still exist? Which ones had died long ago? How many are too new for their light to have reached them yet? How many had inhabited planets orbiting them? The eternal question that had k
ept writers and scientists arguing for years and she was going to find out. Her heart suddenly began to beat faster and adrenalin coursed round her body as she digested the enormity of her thoughts. She was no trained astronaut or scientist; she was just a television journalist and minor celebrity, yet here she was, embarking on the adventure only dreamed about by scientists, children and science-fiction addicts for generations. She suddenly felt how inadequate her journalistic training was to describe what she saw. “I never knew that there could be so many stars and so many colours. Even space is not just black. I could look at that all day.” It was a lame comment not worthy of the moment, but she had to say something. The Mercenary gave a half smile and sipped his vodka.

  She mused idly at the world she had left behind. Since man had understood what the stars were, many had imagined and written stories about life on other planets, many others strove to prove that the human race was alone in the universe, or at least out of reach of any other sentient race. A few weeks ago all speculation had ended at the arrival of a five and a half mile long spaceship along with its multitude of exotic inhabitants. There could be no secrecy, no cover-up, no ‘weather balloon’ explanations; it could be seen in orbit, in detail, with the simplest of telescopes. At night it was the brightest object in the sky. The single most momentous moment in human history had happened, and to cap it all, the most important occupant was a human from Earth. He had come to deliver a message and now he was leaving, never to return. But now, the ship had two humans on board. They had left the planet in an uproar, politicians were pointing fingers at each other and denying everything, others were trying to prove it was all a hoax or a mass hallucination, the whole of the USA was now under Martial Law, and The Mercenary’s First Officer, closest friend and lover was dead. The message had been delivered so their future was now up to them. She had chosen her future, and it did not include banal news reports, endless chat shows, cocktail parties, the inevitable obscurity that goes with being a minor celebrity and dreaming of retiring in Spain.